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#sorry this is so long ;-;

hairmetal666 · 1 year

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It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

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theaceofarrows · 2 years

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Bruce: Boys, care to explain these headlines that came up on my news feed?

Bruce: Like this for example? [Pulls up a pic of a headline reading "Dick Grayson, is he in fact Gotham's gift to bisexuals everywhere? According to residents of neighbor cities the answer is a resounding yes. Here is their thought process"]

Dick: What do you do want me to say Bruce? That's the God honest truth!

Bruce: Just... Fine. I'll ignore that

Bruce: And Jason? [Pulls up an article reading "Jason Todd son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, recently nominated for Pulitzer price for his bestselling novel that was inspired by a fanfiction of Shakespeare's Hamlet he wrote in his teenage years"

Jason: Are you fucking kidding me?! After all my hard work. After I pour my heart and soul into that MASTERPIECE, they have the nerve to mention YOU?!

Bruce: Wha- no. That's not what I meant at all- I mean, just when did you have time to publish a novel? And when did it become a bestseller?

Jason: What? You think I don't have a life outside this family? You surprised I'm such a gifted writer?! Gosh Bruce! [Leaves]

Bruce: [tired sigh] Never mind... Tim, I'm afraid to ask. But what's this? [Pulls up a headline reading "Is young Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake, a know black coffee addict actually a pumpkin spice connoisseur? Local Starbucks employee claims to have witnessed it first hand]

Tim: That wasn't me

Bruce: This wasn't you...? [Shows a picture of a badly disguised Tim running out of a Starbucks with a Coffee cup]

Tim: [looking Bruce straight in the eyes] Nope

#incorrect batfamily quotes #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #batdad #batfam #batfam shenanigans #sorry this is so long #was this based on my previous shitposts?#yes. yes it is #i can't believe i spent so much effort on this #fanfic writer jason is real #sorry for my terrible grammer

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pinkcowzz · 2 months

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something about tim & dick’s relationship makes me feel so. !!!

they are both such complex characters and it really makes my heart feel so heavy to think about them for too long.

like. dick created robin out of his parents blood. the costume was inspired by his family's colors. the name was one he was given by his mother and the only reason he took up the role was because he wanted to get justice (revenge really) for his parents death. he was taken in by bruce who was SO YOUNG at the time and who was still learning how to cope with his own loss still. their relationship was built off of that shared grief and understanding. but then one day, dick learned to let go of that grief. he was able to not let it consume and control him. and he grew tired of living in the dark nest that bruce built for them. and bruce doesn't know how to deal with someone else he loves leaving him so he kicks dick out. like yes bruce is dick's father figure of course he is. but he was also his brother in a weird way. dick didn't want or need for his parents to be replaced so bruce offered him something different. he offered him a partnership. and partners are supposed to be equal but somehow bruce ended up placing himself higher than dick and it was suffocating so he had to leave.

and in dicks absence, bruce finds another kid. this time, it's a kid who does need a parent. jason's relationship with bruce is so different than the one that dick had and i have to imagine that it hurt. it hurts to see your father be better for someone else. it makes you think why? why not me? why wasn't i good enough? and to make matters worse bruce gave away dick's blood without a second thought. jason is given the mantle of robin and my god i cannot imagine the pain it caused dick to see someone else flying around in his colors. that was his name. and dick is still just a kid. yeah he's like legally an adult but his prefrontal cortex was nowhere near developed. so he's bitter and short and rude to jason. he has to take time to get used to having another kid at the manor and another kid in his colors but its fine! its fine! he does come around eventually and his guard starts to come down and he commits to being there for jason. but it was too late. dick leaves the planet to be a hero and when he comes back? jason is dead. the kid he was just starting to get used to is dead.

not only is he dead, but he's already in the ground and bruce? bruce goddamn wayne didn't even bother to tell him. how in the world could bruce ever consider them partners. as far as dick was concerned bruce was just as good as dead to him as jason was. and it hurts. it hurts to not be able to go home without seeing the ghost of a kid you chose not to protect, the ghost of a kid who died too soon wearing the same colors that your parents died in.

so dick doesn't go home. he doesn't speak to bruce. he builds himself a new life, the teen titans become dicks home. and he's okay with this. his origin is so similar to bruce's but he refuses to be the same as batman. so he faces his ghosts. he doesn't let them haunt him. he hears about haly's circus potentially getting shut down and he goes to deal with it.

and here is where dick meets tim drake for the first time. tim who tried to help him save haly's circus (albeit he accused the wrong guy but he was trying). tim tells dick that he needs to save batman.

and so dick brings him back to the manor. where tim tells dick just how important he was to his childhood. tim explains how that night at the circus shaped him just as deeply as it shaped dick. tim shares this complete and utter faith in robin, as if robin is enough to save batman from his own grief. but dick knows this isn't true. dick was barely enough to save himself from his own grief much less bruces. but nonetheless bruce saved dick when he was at his absolute lowest. gave him something to believe in. so maybe, just maybe, he can try again for bruce. but not as robin. it can't be robin. his partnership with batman died when he was kicked out and it was buried when he was kept out of the loop about jason. but tim knows that batman needs more than nightwing by his side. so he takes up the robin mantle. he takes it upon himself to 'save' batman. and in a way, he does. he helps bring bruce back from the edge.

and dick. the last time someone took up his families colors, someone died. and he refuses to allow that again. he refuses to be the reason that tim suffers. so he becomes the older brother he couldn't quite bring himself to be for jason. and to tim? he's wearing the mantle of two robins on his back.

his own standards are set so high and he tries his damndest to meet them every time that he puts on the mask because he knows where the colors of the suit came from. he knows why dick created this identity. he was there. he saw the grayson's fall.

and for a while, things are good between them. things are great even.

then the attack at titan's tower happens. and tim is told that he is just a placeholder (not a replacement like fannon likes to claim, but the words jason todd used were placeholder). and seeds of doubt start to be planted. was he ever wanted? was he ever truly appreciated? he did steal the suit the first time he put it on. was it fair for him to wear the colors that were born of dicks blood and that jason died in?

then tim loses his whole support system. stephanie. bart and kon. his dad. and finally, bruce.

dick has been so committed to never being like bruce. he has been so dedicated to relying on those who offer him help. nightwing is pillar in the hero community, but batman. batman was the foundation. he is considered a founding member of the justice league. he doesn't want to take up the mantle. it had never been in his plans. but jason proved too unstable to take up the role and of course he can't ask tim to. so he dawns the cowl he has grown to hate.

this just leaves one little problem. damian.

damian who has just been dropped off on bruce's porch by talia. damian who grew up in the league of assassins and is so out of place in gotham that dick doesn't know what to do. he never asked to be batman and he definitely never asked to be a father. yet here he is. having to do both. so he does what bruce did all those years ago and provides damian with the mantle that he created in order to give this kid some sort of outlet. he knows damian needs it.

by some unfortunate twist of fate, dick has unknowingly created such a painful parallel between his own firing and tim's.

and then tim discovers that bruce isn't really dead.

and this kills dick just a little bit more. of course he wants to believe tim. of course he wants his dad back. he wants someone else to be the one to make these hard calls and he wants someone else to parent damian. he doesn't want to be the one who has to fire his little brother in order to save the other.

but he can't take that chance. he can't risk the hope. because losing it would actually ruin dick. so he tells tim it isn't possible. because to dick? it can't be possible.

and this just furthers the wedge between the two of them. tim feels abandoned and lost and he feels as if he has nothing left.

and dick doesn't understand why tim can't see that he's right here. he's right here tim i'm still here why aren't i enough for you to stay?

anyway this got away from me a little bit but god their relationship could make angels weep it truly makes my heart stop if i think about it too much.

#batman #tim drake #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #a lonely place of dying #red robin #sorry this is so long #i just have so many thoughts #they mean so much to me #tim and dick #nightwing #robin

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bats-and-the-birds · 16 days

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I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

#batman #comics #dc comics #dick grayson #justice league #robin #batman and robin #dick grayson robin #dick grayson headcanon #batman headcanon #justice league headcanon #headcanon #sorry this is so long #i had more to say than i thought about tiny dick grayson #and kinda just kept typing #i'll write a fic if people want it

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captn-james · 2 years

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The Walkman - Eddie Munson

Eddie finds one of your favorite cassettes in your Walkman and can’t help but imagine the music is dedicated to him. Eddie’s friends are determined to make sure he does something about it.

Words: 4.3k Tags: Eddie x fem!reader, jealous Eddie, meddling kids, fluff

Warnings: just explicit language

Note: Here is a shameless self-insert POV to heal the cracks in our hearts. This is an AU where everyone is SAFE and the Duffer Brothers aren’t inflicting sadistic pain on everyone. Eddie is a HUGE softie in this one but it’s what we deserve.

____________________________________________________________

Almost everyone that Eddie had ever met had expectations for him. Expectations for who he was, what he did, what he could accomplish. And, for the most part, he fit those expectations pretty well. A useless metalhead who spent more time focusing on “cultist” roleplaying games and drug dealing than trying to graduate high school. Truthfully, he did care about graduating, about making more friends, but it was always easier to play the part of the Freak than try and conform.

Sometimes, he wished he could be the guy that could pass a class without failing it first. He wished he could effortlessly make friends, even if he didn’t always get along with everyone. He wished he could walk down the hallway without being harassed by students younger than him. He wished he could admit that he wanted to pick up girls like Nancy Wheeler, or Chrissy Cunningham, not the older women who hit on him at the Hideout.

He wanted, more than anything, to be Steve Harrington. Especially right now.

You had moved across the state to Hawkins several months ago with your father, moving in just a few doors down from the Harrington residence. Your father worked at the same company as Steve’s father, and you two had grown quite close. Steve had introduced you to his friend Robin and drove you both to school most mornings. He had also made it a habit to walk you to your locker and your first class before leaving for work. Eddie’s locker was across from yours in the wide hallway, meaning he got to witness your flustered reactions to Steve’s banter almost every day for the past semester. He hated it, but it was like a bad car crash – he simply couldn’t look away. Sometimes he wondered if he purposely sought out his own misery.

You stood with your head rested against the locker next to yours, looking at Steve who spoke to you with his hand holding onto your open locker door, where you had taped up an old picture of Paul McCartney with heart stickers.

It was stupid, really. Eddie had no chance with someone like you, least of all when Harrington was making you blush and look down at your feet regularly. Of course it was Paul McCartney. And of course it was Steve Harrington.

Eddie was infatuated with you, everything about you, from the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you always found a way to wear yellow and make it look good. The way your hair curled back like Farrah Fawcett’s. The way your eyes scrunched up and your head tilted back when you laughed. Your cherry-red nails and pink-tinted lips from your strawberry chapstick. He knew your taste in music was ridiculous: Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Chicago, The Beatles. But he knew he would listen to all of it, every second, for the rest of his life if it meant spending time with you. He was fairly certain he could talk you into listening to some of his music – Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, - but thoughts like that just led to more unrealistic daydreams, and certainly daydreams he didn’t need to be thinking about during school hours.

Eddie watched as Steve leaned in and whispered something in your ear, tucking your feathered hair behind it softly. He was holding up a tape from your Walkman in his other hand, and your eyes went wide. You covered your mouth and giggled, and Eddie could have sworn that you glanced up at him for a fraction of a second. So quickly it was imperceptible. You playfully hit Steve on the arm and grabbed at the tape. He held it above your head and laughed at your feeble attempts to reach it until he eventually gave in and tossed it back to you. You quickly shoved the tape back into your Walkman and slid the headphones over your ears, flipping Steve off as he walked backwards towards the door, saying something neither you nor Eddie could fully make out, before turning and leaving. You rolled your eyes and began walking toward Eddie with a smile on your face, adjusting the headphones on top of your head. Eddie’s heart sped up and he held his breath softly until you turned and walked into a classroom. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

He could hardly focus during his first class, replaying that split second of eye contact that he wasn’t even confident was real. Was Steve making fun of him? Was Steve teasing you about him? Eddie thought of all the reasons he may have been part of that sickeningly sweet display this morning, all the ways he could have been mentioned. Most of the ones he could think of were not flattering or kind, but he had come to expect that from people like Steve.

Second period wasn’t any easier to focus. Why was your cassette important? Surely Steve wouldn’t be teasing you about your taste in music, would he? Eddie thought about what music it might be and why you snatched it from Steve’s hands so fast, looking around to make sure nobody had heard your interaction. Maybe that’s why you had looked at Eddie. Maybe it really had nothing to do with him, you were just making sure nobody was watching you and Steve. Classic Eddie, overthinking every interaction he had with you.

He would give anything to see what was in your Walkman, what you have been listening to all morning.

Today was Eddie’s lucky day.

As he walked into his third class of the day, the class from which you were just exiting, he noticed your Walkman sitting in the basket underneath the desk. It was unmistakably yours, with your name painted on the side in bright yellow letters. Normally, he would grab it and chase you down to give it to you. And he should, he really should, but his intrusive thoughts took over, and he found himself sitting in the seat, guarding the player with his life until the very end of class. He preoccupied his thoughts with what he thought would be in there, driving himself mad with thoughts of you listening to various different pop albums, dancing in your bedroom. What he wouldn’t give to see your bedroom, too.

Eddie cut off his thoughts and tried to focus on class, more for the distraction than anything. As soon as the bell rang, he slipped your Walkman into his bag before anyone could notice and made a beeline for the bathroom. He casually walked into an empty stall, locking the door behind him and dropping his bag to the floor. He took your Walkman out from the bag and pulled out the cassette, his heart racing.

Classics of the 50’s, of course. He wasn’t surprised in the least. He let out a small chuckle.

“The Teen Queens?” Eddie whispered. “This looks old as shit.” He rolled his eyes endearingly and popped the cassette back in, slipping the headphones over his ears.

The first track played, already a few seconds in.

Eddie my love, I love you so How I've waited for you you'll never know Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long

Eddie couldn’t help the full-body blush that washed over him or the stupid grin than took over his face. It was ridiculous. There was absolutely no way you were listening to an old do-wop love song because it had his name in it. That wasn’t possible. You had to be listening to any number of other songs on this cassette, which he could tell you loved judging by the scratches on the front. He thought back to your quick glance this morning, and Steve’s teasing. He shook the thoughts from his head.

Either way, whether it was for him or not, he found himself pressing rewind and listening to the song roar back to life. He closed his eyes softly and imagined what your prom dress might look like a month from now, how crazy he would look next to you slow dancing to this, with your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist. What corsage he would get you. He felt himself slightly swaying, getting into the music, before his thoughts drifted to you dancing with Steve, with Jason Carver, with anyone more suited to have the honor of dancing with you. He tried to ignore the pestering thoughts when the next song kicked in, “So All Alone”.

How appropriate.

He rewound the tape and cut it off with a loud click. He heard the hallways come back to life with students headed to lunch. “Shit.” He said out loud. Now he had your cassette. Now he had to find some way to give it to you.

Eddie sat at the Hellfire table, turning a pretzel over and over between his two fingers. His head was tilted down as if he was contemplating the pretzel, but his eyes were looking up through his bangs towards where you sat next to Robin. He thought of your music still in his bag. He knew he should return it, but the longer he had it, the weirder it would be that he had kept it this long. The more people would probably think he planned on stealing it for good. He resolved to return it to you at the end of the day and mention that he had trouble finding you, that he didn’t have time, that he forgot he had it – any obvious lie to get him off the hook for listening to your tape without asking. For daydreaming while listening to your tape. In the empty bathroom. Without asking. He was a creep and there was no excuse, really, but he couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face when he thought about the song, about you listening to any song with his name associated with love. He thought about you calling him “my love”.

“Eddie? You home?” Dustin waved his hand in front of Eddie’s face, and it took Eddie a split second to break himself from his thoughts, the tips of his ears a deep red under his mop of hair. He realized he had been completely ignoring everything said to him throughout most of lunch, staring at you across the lunchroom with a dopey grin. Shit. He was definitely a creep.

Dustin followed Eddie’s line of sight over to your table and then looked back to Eddie with a furrowed brow.

“Y/N and Robin?” Dustin questioned quietly, but not quietly enough. Eddie’s eyes went comically wide and he snapped his head down to his lunch in front of him.

“Shut up you goblin.” Eddie scolded Dustin under his breath. The rest of the guys at the Hellfire table looked over, quite obviously, towards you and Robin.

“Don’t look you idiots!” Eddie turned to look at Jeff as if they were in conversation when you looked up.

“Isn’t she with Harrington?” Jeff pipes up after a moment, and Eddie’s foot finds his leg under the table, giving a swift kick.

“I just… I found her Walkman today in class and I haven’t had time to return it to her. I was just waiting for the right time.” Eddie admitted, looking at his friends, who clearly didn’t believe that was the only reason he was staring at you.

“Well, hey, if you need, I can just give it to her when Steve picks us up after school.” Dustin offered casually, but Eddie didn’t miss the glint in his eye. Eddie’s immediate reaction was to tell him absolutely not, that he wanted to give it to you. But he could tell Dustin was waiting for that response. Besides, the more he made a big deal about the cassette, the more Dustin would be curious and figure out Eddie’s internal crisis. So Eddie took a deep breath, plastered on his best indifferent face, and said “yeah okay, sure. Thanks man.” And went back to his pretzels. Dustin’s face fell slightly.

The second the last bell rang, Eddie nervously walked over to his locker. He knew Dustin would be there shortly to pick up your Walkman. Eddie didn’t want to give it up. He wanted to steal the cassette for himself and listen to it every day, pretending that you listened to it just for him. Out of all the girls he’d ever met at Hawkins High, or anywhere, really, you were the only one that had completely disrupted his life. You were the only one who could get him to buy strawberry chapstick, or consider that yellow might be his new favorite color. You were the only one who could get him to listen to anything without heavy metal guitair.

“Hey, Eddie.” Dustin called out as he approached Eddie’s locker. “Got Y/N’s Walkman?”

“Yeah, here.” Eddie said in a hushed tone. “Uh, Henderson, I’ve got a question.” Eddie continued. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but his intrusive thoughts were winning again, and he couldn’t handle not knowing the truth.

“Sure?” Dustin replied somewhat skeptically, looking up at Eddie with an eyebrow raised.

“Y/N and Harrington… Are they….” Eddie trailed off, giving a look to Dustin that read ‘you know what I mean’.

“Are they dating?” Dustin asked quietly, and Eddie could only manage a small nod. He kept his face as neutral as he could, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He could not believe he just asked that. He had much more confidence than he had any right to have.

“No.” Dustin said, and Eddie relaxed. “Not yet.” Eddie tensed again.

“You fuckin’ serious, Henderson?” Eddie whined, and Dustin laughed, taking the Walkman from Eddie. Eddie huffed and opened his locker, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping and praying that if he kept his cool, Dustin wouldn’t investigate further. It was an innocent question.

“I was just curious. It seemed like they were. And, well, you know Harrington.” Eddie mumbled in his defense, and Dustin rolled his eyes.

Dustin looked at Eddie unintentionally eyeing the Walkman he now held, with a look of desperation.

“You sure you just don’t want to give it to her?” Dustin asked, and Eddie furiously shook his head

“No, no. It’s better that you do it. She’ll probably think I stole it or something. Or did something weird to it.” Eddie reasoned.

“Well, did you?” Dustin asked, and Eddie blanched. He didn’t technically steal anything, and he didn’t technically do anything weird to the player. Right?

“Uh- N- No. Of course not. She just left it behind in class. She’s probably been looking for it all day.”

Dustin smiled, watching Eddie stare at nothing in his locker for a humorously long amount of time. Dustin silently popped the cassette out of the player, wondering what you had been listening to, and if this was somehow contributing to Eddie’s odd behavior. Sure, he always seemed like he had the hots for you, but today he was extra spacey and obvious.

“The Teen Queens?” Dustin asked out loud, and Eddie’s head immediately snapped over to look down at him. He grabbed for the tape but Dustin stepped out of the way.

“Eddie my love?” Dustin asked incredulously. “Holy shit! Steve was right!” Dustin laughed, and then looked up at Eddie, almost apologetically. Eddie froze completely in his desperation to snatch the tape out of Dustin’s grasp.

“Steve was right? About?” Eddie asked after a moment of silence. Dustin smiled but looked somewhat guilty, like he had said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m so dead.” Dustin muttered as he tore out of the school towards Steve’s car.

“Henderson! Get your ass back here!” Eddie yelled as he ran after him, voice ringing through the hallway as their tennis shoes squeaked on the floor.

Running out to the parking lot, Eddie hot on his heels, Dustin slid the tape back into your Walkman and shoved it into Robin’s hands as he dove into Steve’s car, slamming and locking the door behind him. Eddie slowed down as he saw you approaching the car, and quickly smoothed out his hair, trying to act casual.

“Hey, look! Dustin found your Walkman.” Robin smiled, looking up at Eddie and holding your Walkman out towards you.

“Thank God! I was looking for it all day!” you sighed in relief.

“Important cassette in there. You better be careful.” Robin added, and your face turned a shade of red that Eddie had never seen before.

“You, uh, left it in class,” Eddie added, hoping to give himself some hero credit, but you just turned even redder. You sputtered out a thank you and climbed into Steve’s car, Robin following.

“Later Munson,” Steve called out as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Eddie standing there in disbelief. Was it true?

Eddie, my love

I love you so

Eddie was supposed to be doing something, anything productive, but instead he sat hand sewing a new patch to his vest while listening to the cassette repeatedly. It had been two days since he had found your Walkman. He spent the better part of his Friday evening searching high and low for a copy of the cassette, which he eventually found at a place a little closer to the city. The domesticity of it all was truly sickening, even Eddie could agree, but his heart was in an endless pattern of fluttering and dropping, thinking about the rare possibility you actually liked him.

Eddie was torn from his thoughts by the piercing ring of the phone. He rushed over, desperately grasping it from the wall to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be you. He heard familiar giggling on the other end, and he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, shit for brains?” Eddie grumbled, but he was still smiling.

“Who are you and what happened to the real Eddie Munson?” the voice said on the other end. “Is everything okay?” she was joking but sounded slightly concerned.

“Yes, Max, everything is fine. Why?” Eddie questioned, and then realized he had been playing the music out loud with the windows open. Very open.

“Because it sounds like some grandma music in there,” Max replied before Eddie could try to defend himself.

“Mind your business,” Eddie muttered and clicked off the cassette. “Better?”

“Thank God. Play something more metal,” Max said, and then hung up the phone. Eddie rolled his eyes and switched the tapes to one he thought would be appropriate enough for Max.

The following Monday, Eddie couldn’t seem to keep his stomach from flipping as he stood by his locker, watching you and Steve have your morning chat. He was telling you something very adamantly, and you were shaking your head repeatedly. He saw you take your Walkman out of your backpack and his heart skipped.

You continued your light argument with Steve and eventually walked away, leaving him standing alone at your locker. To Eddie’s disappointment, it didn’t seem like a very serious argument, more friendly. He looked back quickly at his locker as if he hadn’t just been outright staring at the pair of you, but he felt guilty, immediately.

“Edward, let’s talk.” Eddie heard a voice from behind him and he jumped.

“Jesus, Robin. Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“Ask her out. Please.” Robin said, though it sounded more like a demand than a request.

“Who?” Eddie questioned, playing dumb.

“You know exactly who I am talking about,” Robin deadpanned, and Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Robin sounded exasperated, closing her eyes.

“There’s no way she’d want me.” Eddie didn’t mean for it to sound so pathetic, but it did. And he had no idea why he was admitting anything to Robin, who was barely a friend of his at all.

“How do you know?” She asked curiously. Eddie could tell she was trying her best to be supportive, but all he wanted was for her to disappear.

“She’s so… I don’t know… Bubbly? Happy? Cute? I mean, she listens to 50′s classics–“ Eddie abruptly cut himself off.

“You DID snoop!” Robin’s mouth opened wide, and she jabbed a finger out at Eddie.

“I may have seen the tape... So?” Eddie defended.

“And then you bought the exact same one? That doesn’t sound like your style of music, Ed.” Robin added, sounding like she was an attorney questioning a witness, and Eddie stared at her. “I mean, 15 times, that’s quite a lot for one song.” She tried to keep her composure but she let out a little chuckle. It took Eddie a moment to register.

“That little shit! I’m boarding up her fucking window tomorrow!” Eddie groaned. There was no actual malice behind it, but Robin could tell he was becoming extremely embarrassed. Eddie wished he could crawl in his locker.

“Look, I’m not trying to torture you here. All I’m saying is, whatever you’re thinking about the song, you’re correct. And Steve is nowhere in the picture, at all. There are certain people at this school who don’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even like him a little.” She shrugged and stared at Eddie, waiting for a response. She made no indication that she planned on leaving until he responded.

“Goddamnit. Okay!” Eddie said after a few uncomfortable moments of Robin’s eyes on him.

“Good,” she smiled and walked past Eddie into the classroom.

“Thanks, I guess,” Eddie muttered, though Robin didn’t hear him.

Eddie was going to wait until the end of the day, but he couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart, especially with Robin looking at him expectantly every time she saw him. He never realized how many times in a day he truly ran into Robin until now. He waited until he saw you stand up and clear your spot, exiting the lunchroom, before he made a move.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he muttered under his breath, standing up to follow you. When he stood up, Dustin gave him a questioning smile. Eddie sighed and nodded his head. Dustin turned to look at Mike, and Max a few tables away, who perked up and gave a thumbs up to Eddie. He needed friends his own age.

Eddie walked somewhat quickly out of the lunchroom and to the hallway, heading towards your locker. You stood there looking at something in a textbook, chewing a pencil in between your soft lips. Eddie’s breath stopped short.

“Uh, Y/N.” Eddie started, still standing several feet away from you. You turned around and gave him a warm smile.

“Yeah? What’s up?” you asked, shutting the textbook and setting it back in your locker.

“You left your Walkman yesterday in Mr. Hill’s class,” Eddie stated, walking closer.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, finding his awkwardness endearing.

“Oh, I know, uh, I was just saying that, uh, I’m sorry. I should have given it to you sooner, but I maybe took a peek inside to see what you were listening to. That wasn’t cool of me, I should have grabbed it and chased you down or something.” Eddie admitted, and your face turned white.

“You… saw my cassette?” you asked weakly, and Eddie nodded, smiling. He had a small burst of hope that Robin wasn’t completely lying to him.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s no Metallica, but it wasn’t bad,” Eddie shrugged. Your eyes went wide.

“You listened to it?” Your hands went up to cover the redness and heat of your cheeks.

“Well of course I did. I kind of like you, and I wanted to see what you listened to.” Eddie looked at something behind your head, because he knew if he looked at your flushed face and gaping mouth he would be too far gone to continue asking you out. After a brief moment of silence, he continued, feeling a surge of bravery.

“I don’t know if it’s too early or too late to ask this, I mean I’ve never really done it, I’ve never even actually gone but-“ Eddie began, then cut himself off to take a breath. “Would you want to go to Prom with me next month?”

Eddie had only meant to ask you for a dinner date, something small, but again, his thoughts won over. You sucked in a squeaky breath.

“Yes. I would love to.” A huge smile broke across your face, and Eddie almost couldn’t believe it. But, of course, he was willing to push his luck a little.

“And maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you want to hang out sometime before then? Like this weekend?” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling hopefully.

“Hell yeah-“ you blurted out and your hand slapped over your mouth. “I mean, absolutely!” You and Eddie both laughed and you loosely wrapped an arm around him. He leaned down, his face suffocatingly close to yours, in the best kind of way.

Before either of you knew it, your lips were connected softly. Eddie’s heart raced. If only you weren’t right in the middle of the school hallway. You smiled into the kiss.

A few seconds in, the bell rang. Eddie expected you to jump away from him, to shy away from receiving physical affection from the Freak, but you kept your arms around him and placed a chaste kiss to both his cheeks as the hallway flooded with students heading back to class.

And Robin was right, there were people at this school that didn’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even loved him.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #i love the idea of writing neighbor!max and eddie #sorry this is so long #i havent written in such a long time I miss it so much #if I do a part 2 it will either be the events from your POV or an extension where you go to prom?#maybe #probably not

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delicatefestcloud · 8 months

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I just saw someone call movie firstprince toxic bc Henry told Alex "sometimes I feel like you don't know me at all..."

I can't believe people, especially those who read the book, could miss the point of that scene entirely: Henry was terrified. He believed that coming out was not an option AT ALL for him. So what he meant by "you don't know me" was "you don't know that I can't do what you're asking of me" which is to fight for their love. During that whole monologue, Alex was quiet, listening as Henry let all his frustrations out:

" I didn't grow up with a loving family"

"I have centuries of history bearing down on my shoulders"

"I can't afford to be reckless"

"I will not trade one prison for another"

These are legitimate points that Henry was making, and Alex respected that, but he also understood that Henry was looking at what Alex wanted: for them to be happy together - not out (yet), just together- as impossible because it's not sustainable to live in different continents and have a secret relationship forever when you're a prince and he's an aspiring politician. With the spotlight on both of you like that, you will be found out. Alex finally understood just how "out of the question" Henry believed them being together publicly to be. That's why he told him "fine, I'll leave, but nothing will ever happen to you (if you decide that you can never let anyone love you. You will live the rest of your life alone, is that what you want?)."

Henry was then forced to see that he is at a crossroads:

Either he lets Alex go, never see him again, live his life in a way that the crown approves of, and never be happy.

Or,

Admit to himself that the love he has for Alex and the happiness he found with him are worth the terrifying notion of one day facing his grandfather and the country and saying "This is who I am, this is the man I love, I know you'll never accept that, but i'll take your disapproval over not being with him -over being miserable for the rest of my life."

He chose the latter. How could he not? when Alex, the love of his life, the man of his dreams, flew across the ocean for him, and was standing right there, in tears, fighting for them, all while making it clear that he will respect Henry's wishes if he tells him to leave.

This scene started with both Alex and Henry seeing something that the other did not see: Alex did not see just how walled-up Henry was about the idea of them ever being able to love each other in public. And Henry did not see that there just may be a chance for them to be happy. That him living his life alone and miserable is NOT set in stone.

I love this scene so much because they actually listened to each other. They both considered the points the other was making. Neither of them was trying to "win" the argument. They were both stripping themselves bare, being the most vulnerable they've ever been in front of each other.

Henry did not just change his mind out of nowhere: for the first time in his life, he was given a glimmer of hope, and he let himself be brave enough to take it.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #red white and royal blue movie #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox #rant #sorry this is so long #it's just frustrating to see people not get it #or think Henry just suddenly changed his mind out of nowhere

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bunnystalker · 4 months

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albert wesker hcs pt.2 (re1-re5) (18+)

a/n; overall headcanons for whiskers himself! both nsfw and sfw, mostly nsfw. these are just my opinions and if they're ooc, i'm sorry. i'd like to say that im so down bad it's horrible and laughable. probably my longest post yet my computer is killing itself.

cw; nsfw content (i.e. kink talk, genitalia discussions and descriptions, mentions of dubcon and CNC, collaring mentions, cockwarming, impact play, light bondage, bdsm themes, dom/sub relationship)

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ hex codes ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

applies to all variants

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - overall skintone is #F6E5DE

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his eyes are #adcfe6

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his cock starts with #f6e5de, fades to #F1D8CD. tip is #ffc8b5.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his hair (pubes included) is #F0E2B6

₊˚⊹♡size and habits ₊˚⊹♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he's 8" in length, definitely can't close your fingers around it. thick vein on the underside.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 6'2 in height, more lean than muscular. towers over most.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - definitely well groomed. not very hairy in general, thus he doesn't have very much hair to groom. cuts his hair (in the bathroom by himself mind you) every month.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - re1 eats as needed, the healthy 3 times a day, and plenty of water to stay on top of his game. re5 doesn't have the need to eat or drink. he's no longer 100% human and his appetite diminished within months of taking doses of Uroboros.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - reads a lot when he's not working. non-fiction, science-based literature to expand his knowledge. his wits came naturally, sure, but that doesn't mean he can't maintain them. at home, when he's truly by himself, he doesn't wear his sunglasses. he has an actual prescription pair that's a similar style to his sunglasses, just without the tint.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his guilty pleasures are romance novels. the vampire kind, specifically. he finds them entertaining though he often makes fun of the cheesier ones. when he stumbles across the occasional good one, he rereads it over and over again until he's worn out the spine.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he drinks wine. not one for beer, truthfully, but will drink some here and there. whiskey is his second choice.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙kinks⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

୨୧ - (re1) at the beginning of your relationship, he'll only do something if you ask him to. he's never thought much about sexual exploration given his long, *long* history of solitude. he refuses to do anything that might injure you- knifeplay, gunplay, impact play (light or hard), etc. sure, he'll tie you up if you ask, he doesn't mind. he plays into your desires.

୨୧ - (re1) the more he researches, the more he finds he likes. he buys some ribbon to bind you with- the flimsy kind you can get out of quickly should you need to. he loves pink on you. he only binds your wrists together, nothing too intense. maybe he blindfolds you, uses a toy on you, or overstimulates you. consent checks regularly, as well. you use safewords should you need them.

୨୧ - (re5) fully established kinks. he's less human and less rational, but he knows to respect your boundaries. he leaves bite marks all over you and demands that you don't cover them up with makeup or clothing. he likes owning you. you're given a collar, of which you can put on or take off as you please, but during which you are fully submissive to him and whatever he wants you to do.

୨୧ - (re5) consensual nonconsensual (cnc) is his favorite. of course, you have to be wearing your collar for him to take advantage of you. safewords are a must for the both of you. he's never submissive, definitely a hard dom. he doesn't feel the need for knives or guns, but he does love impact play. loves shutting up your bratty mouth by slapping you and manhandling you. he's switched to handcuffs instead of ribbon if he deems them necessary.

୨୧ - (re5) since Uroboros has diminished his humanity by a good chunk, he's more animalistic towards you. aside from marking you up, he's obsessed with breeding. adores cumming inside you until you're leaking it. he knows you love it just as much as he does. at some point, it becomes routine. "such a slut. can't go a day without being fucked full of cum." he degrades you lightly, nothing that would genuinely hurt. simple things i.e slut, whore, toy, doll, dumb, stupid, etc.

༘⋆✿ favorite positions ༘⋆✿

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re1) he likes seeing your face. he loves watching your face twist and contort with the pleasure he gives you. adores being able to see all of you, all of what he does to you. eye contact drives him crazy. if you're blindfolded, he won't finish until you're done. he'll ask if he can take your blindfold off between kisses to your face.

๋࣭ ⭑ - missionary is a must. your first time with each other is missionary- the romantic first time you'd see in movies where he takes his time to make you feel valued. the lotus position is another one he likes if you're going to be on top. he's okay with you riding him too, if you really want, but he'd prefer to be the one in control.

๋࣭ ⭑ - if you both aren't feeling sex, he loves getting you off by having you sit on his face or using his fingers on you. he doesn't need anything in exchange either. he's found that he doesn't like receiving head, as he finds it to be degrading towards you, and that's the last thing he wants. but if you insist, he allows it. he mutters praises as you take him down to the base, swallowing around him in an attempt to not gag.

๋࣭ ⭑ - mutual masturbation is something he's weak for. he loves watching your hand try to fit around him as you stroke his cock so eagerly, his fingers buried in your weeping entrance.

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re5) he prefers less intimacy, not like how he used to. he thinks it's too human, something he's made quite clear that he's not anymore. he'll fuck you just about anywhere. he prefers doggy with his arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold. bonus points if you beg him to breed you in this position.

๋࣭ ⭑ - what he gets, he'll give. you give him head, something he's come to enjoy, he'll give you head with the same enthusiasm.

๋࣭ ⭑ - cockwarming is a must. prefers it while he's either reading or working at his desk. sometimes, he'll make you read to him and thrust up into you occasionally so you stumble over your words. when he gets impatient, he pins you down and fucks into you until he comes at least twice inside of you.

๋࣭ ⭑ - wearing your collar? he'll fuck you while you're cuddling. spooning is preferred, but whether you're sitting on his lap, lying on top of him, or him on top of you, he's putting his cock inside you. very rarely does he do slow and soft, but if you're both tired, he'll be careful with you. he loves sitting you in his lap, his forceful grip on your hips, and moving you like a ragdoll. superhuman strength pays off in situations like this. his fingertips leave bruises that make his cock twitch whenever he sees them.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re1) calls you darling, dearest, dear, little dove, dove. adores praising you and could for days on end. (i.e. "that's it, dear, you're doing so well for me. are you alright? should i stop?)

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re5) calls you pet, dear, bunny, darling, slut, whore, dolly. praises and degrades you. (i.e. "what a good fucking whore, taking my cock so well. you were made for taking my cock, my personal whore. i'm going to ruin you for anyone else." )

#bunny's headcanons ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ ｡꒱ྀི১ #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#resident evil headcanons #albert wesker headcanons #albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker i love youuuu #writing #resident evil smut #sorry this is so long #im down horrendous

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triaelf9 · 7 days

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hey folks who interact with creative works online! just a tiny PSA

If you don't like a character, that's totally fine! If you have a different reading of a situation in a show & have issues with stuff that's going on, that's also fine.

What is NOT fine is to ACTIVELY SEEK OUT fans of the characters you don't like and talk shit about them, the characters they have feelings about, or the content they've posted b/c you, Freddy McHatesalot really needs to tell everyone how much you dislike a...fictional character.

You are totally welcome to consume content in your own space in whatever way you see fit. It is disrespectful of the fandom space to try to drag other people into your space and interact with you if they don't want to. And dunking on a character in writings or art of them is fucking rude as hell to the person who put work into into the creation they made out of some feelings they were having.

Also. side note, it is possible to enjoy a character who is Wrong About Some Things or Isn't Doing The Right Stuff In The Right Situation. Sometimes it's possible to like a character and disagree with them, and shitting on people b/c you can't see what they see in a character is pretty trash garbage and is 90% of why I just make silly little art for me and my own silly feels and hope folks get a chuckle or some enjoyment out of it too.

#Behave better #and if you can't behave yourself I'm not going to play into your little hate roleplay #you can do that elsewhere while I enjoy the nuance in my media thankss #don't pull me or my work into your weird vendetta against fictional characters #I draw art for me and for anyone who is feeling like I am #to jump in and be like “this person is the shittiest & I hate them” on that creation is ummmmm #why I don't interact with fandom like I used to #b/c if people can't control themselves it spoils the whole pot #I don't like some characters and stories and ships #does anyone here who isn't a close friend of me irl even know what they are?#no b/c I don't find that worthwhile to spend my time doing #I don't fill my page with hate for fictional characters. I post what I enjoy and share it to put more joy out there in the world #sorry this is so long #I'm just fucking pissed b/c I thought we were past this bad behavior #and I'm too old too tired too busy and too stressed to have to put up with this shit. Grow up.

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esoterictboy · 1 month

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frat tboy x sorority tgirl…

idk this makes no sense outside my own brain but ur posts are making me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🫐🐾

(no that’s really cute haven’t felt like answer these in a minute but this got me!!! sister and brother sororities/frats sometimes like assign pledges to help one another)

I think it’d be cute if we were at the same party manning the drinks and you couldn’t make eye contact cause you were shy and since I’m shy too so I get it. Im making eyes at you and you’re wearing one of those cute pencil skirts and my hand brushes up against your thigh, while Im making you laugh. Until I’m standing right in front of you and you can feel the front of my jeans pressing up against you since I’m crowding you against the counter. You can feel my bulge through the fabric and I can see your eyes starting to get all big because you’re trying not to smile. I can see the strap of your thong peaking out so I slip my finger under it and tell you it’s cute a pull it back so it snaps against your waist. You bite your lips trying to ignore the heat between your legs. Then I’ll make some joke about how you should join the wet tshirt competition and you say it’s too embarrassing and so I’ll lean in until you can feel my breath against your neck and say “it’s just cause I wanted to see your tits”, like a secret. My hands will slide up the back of your shirt and I’ll scratch my nails down your skin. You tell me that you want me to see so you take my hand and pull me into the bathroom and lift your shirt up, you’re looking away like it’s embarrassing but your tits are really cute and your nipples are so puffy and when I tell you this you smile. I’ll ask you if I can touch them cause they just look so soft I wanna squeeze them, and when you say yes and I start rubbing my finger over them you’re covering your mouth so you don’t whimper to loud and have people hear us, I’ll ask you if I can put them in my mouth and you nod vigorously. I laugh cause that was cute, and you can feel my breath against them. I start mouthing at them, and sucking one before moving to the other and switch off by massaging them and getting them nice and wet while you try to stay upright humping against nothing but the fabric of your panties because your so turned on. I stop and your skin is still wet when I ask if you wanna fuck.

15 minutes later my pants are around my knees and I’ve got one hand on your waist and another on your tit pounding into you from behind and telling you to look how pretty you are in the mirror. I’ll slide my hand down and play with you until you cum so loud one of your sisters comes to the door asking what’s going with my dick still inside you and your knees buckling. You’re still shove yourself back on my dick and stuttering out “e-everything’s f-ine” to try and get her to leave.

#sorry this is so long #it ran away from me I should do more like this this the concept is so fun #t4t nsft #mtf bottom #mtf sub #mtf nsft #trans nsft #🫐🐾 anon #asks

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project-sekai-facts · 1 month

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Pre-broadcast station commentary

The next broadcast station will be held on the 27th, featuring Chiruriin, Jiena, Itoken, and Minoringo. The guest during the VOCALOID Music SEKAI segment this time will be Shishi Shishi.

Rotation 4 is nearly done and only has one event left, that being Ena's 4th event! We can definitely expect her event to be announced on stream. Her event will be 2DMV and the rateup at the very least should feature Mizuki. Hopefully pure attribute so Niigo can finally get a pure vsinger 4* card.

That said, there will be one other event too! Since Chiruriin is here, I'm tempted to say it will be for Saki, but Ichika works too I guess if there's any card distribution issues.

For the 3.5 mixed event... well Akito not getting a card at all on concerto seems to pretty much confirm him for the event. This happened to Mizuki back in December. As for the other cards, there's surprisingly few people it could be. The 5 most likely characters are Akito (likely the banner character), Airi, Saki, Honami, and KAITO (mmj or n25). Miku (vbs or mmj) also works if clpl doesn't care about vsinger lim balance. Rui and Nene work too, but it's pretty much confirmed that Tsukasa and Emu are the fes cards, so is clpl cruel enough to put 3 of 4 wxs members on lim rateup 8 days after wxs lim rateup? I think Akito/Airi/Saki is most likely, with mmj kaito as the vsinger card.

And for April lim, I actually have an idea already. April's lim slot has consistently been unit lims. Every year. Here's the thing though: like with 3.5, there's barely any units that actually work. It won't be niigo because of Ena4 being the same month. It can't be MMJ because 3/4 of their members are maxed for lims (and if airi's on 3.5 you can make that 4/4). It's incredibly likely that either Saki or Honami will be lim on 3.5, which puts you with 3/4 being maxed for lims (plus the chances of saki5). WxS in theory works with Nene/Rui/Luka lineup, but you hit a snag with the fact they already have 4/6 vsinger lims.

If April is a limited unit event, it will probably be for VBS. There's some other evidence to back this up too, namely the fact it kinda has to be An/Toya limited if it does happen. Akito 3.5 will max him out for lims, Kohane had valentines recently but long enough that it could justify her getting a lim. However we know already that An and Toya have already gone more than a year without lims, the absolute maximum time to go without a lim (as of posting) is 15 months, 15 months after white day Toya puts him on the wedding banner, and he already has a wedding card. He has to be april limited unless colopale hates him lmao. And obviously, An works for the banner card and also has gone ages without a lim. Luka, Rin or Miku could work as a vsinger card.

This stream will also reveal the songs for the 3.5 anniversary vsinger song campaign, as well as possibly give us a sneak peek of this year's april fools prank.

#mod talks #speculation #sorry this is so long

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aukiq · 10 months

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Deltarune Prediction: Possible upcoming members of the Fun Gang in future chapters

The files of deltarune have two specific naming schemes for dialogue portaits.

If the character is a member of the main cast (Which I'm defining as any major ally who visits a dark world), their dialogue portraits are labeled "spr_face_[character's first initial]". For example, all of Susie's dialogue portraits are labeled "spr_face_s", all of Noelle's are labeled "spr_face_n", and all of Ralsei's are labeled "spr_face_r".

The other characters who follow this pattern are Lancer, Berdly, and Toriel (Who will presumably be very important in chapter 3).

For other characters, full names tend to be used. Asgore's portraits are labeled "spr_face_asgore", Burgerpants' are "spr_face_burgerpants", Sans' are "spr_face_sans", etc.

It's worth mentioning that despite being very important to the story, characters like King and Queen who are primarily antagonists fall into this category. It's not necessarily an indicator of importance, but rather seems to be one of whether the character is a part of the Fun Gang (the group as a whole, not just the playable Fun Gang characters).

There are three characters who seem to break this scheme. Jockington interestingly doesn't fall into either category, having his portraits abbreviated as "spr_face_jock". He's the one character to have an only-partially abbreviated name. You could pass it off as Toby simply shortening a long name, but Burgerpants' name is even longer and that's written out in full. Whether this means he'll have a major role in future chapters is unclear.

More significantly, Catti (not Catty) has dialogue portaits labeled "spr_face_c". Other than Toriel, who will definitely have a big role in chapter 3, Catti is the ONLY up-until-now-side-character with just her first initial used in the portrait naming. This is pretty damning evidence that she'll be a main character in the future.

It's worth noting that in Susie's chapter 1 sprites her eyes are covered by her hair. Jockington's eyes are similarly covered by sunglasses, and while Catti's aren't hidden, she does have pretty intense eyeliner. It might not mean anything, but all of the major characters with the exception of Noelle seem to have a pretty consistent "eye" theme. (Even with Noelle, you could argue that her eyes going blank while she uses Snowgrave and the shadows cast over them after using it fits.)

The third character is honestly kind of a long shot, but it's important to point out. I'm sure most of you have seen this unused MS Paint Ralsei portrait:

What many of you might not know is that it actually isn't labeled like the other ralsei sprites. The filename is "spr_smallface_a2".

"a". not "r".

This goddamn image might be our first look at deltarune universe Asriel.

The fact that its "a2" implies that there were two other "smallface" Asriel portraits that were for whatever reason removed from the files.

Full Character Categorization

Current/Future Fun Gang Members (first initial used)

Susie (spr_face_s)

Ralsei (spr_face_r)

Lancer (spr_face_l)

Noelle (spr_face_n)

Berdly (spr_face_b)

Toriel (spr_face_t)

Catti (spr_face_c)

Asriel (spr_smallface_a)

Other Characters (first names)

Sans (spr_face_sans)

Asgore (spr_face_asgore)

Catty (spr_face_catty)

Bratty (spr_face_bratty)

Burgerpants (spr_face_burgerpants)

Rouxls Kaard (spr_face_rurus) - "rurus" is the Japanese translation of his first name.

Undyne (spr_face_undyne)

Rudy (spr_face_rudy_ch1) - Interestingly, Rudy is the only character who doesn't have non-ch1 sprites. Even Catti, who doesn't have any actual new sprites between chapter 1 and 2, has two duplicate sets of files (spr_face_c_ch1 and spr_face_c). It's almost definitely just a tiny little oversight, but I may as well mention it.

King (spr_face_king)

Queen (spr_face_queen)

Alphys (spr_alphysface) - weird break in naming pattern but still not abbreviated

Jockington

Jockington (spr_face_jock)

Final Comments

Please let me know if I missed anything. Also keep in mind this is all very much a theory, and kind of a questionable one at that. While I'm personally pretty convinced about Catti in particular, it's all kind of up in the air—I just noticed an interesting pattern and wanted to share it.

#deltarune theory #deltarune #toby fox #catti deltarune #jockington #asriel #sorry this is so long #i hope this isn't just my deltarune brainrot taking over and this all actually means something???? maybe????#this goddamn game is the only thing keeping me going istg

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theaceofarrows · 1 year

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Group text

Dick: [laughing while looking at his phone] Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing this

Tim: [looking at his phone] Oh my gosh

Damian: What? My phone is charging. Just spit it out

Dick: [in a Bruce voice] Weekend safety brief, One: don't add to the population; you know who you are. Two: don't SUBTRACT from the population; once again, you know who you are- [brakes off into more laughing]

Jason: [reading off the list] Three: stay out of the hospital, the newspaper and jail; please. Wow ye of little faith much?

Tim: [reading off the list] Four: if you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly and non lethally. Yeah, wow...

Damian: Tt. Of course he sent that knowing you heathens

Jason: Hey, "don't subtract from the population; you know who you are" your grouped right in there with me kiddo

Damian: [grumbles]

Tim: Well, at least us three aren't the "you know who you are" in the first one [looks at Dick]

Dick: [gasp] Hey!

Damian: True

Dick: [arms crossed] I don't know whether to be offended or laugh

Tim: [shrugs] If it makes you feel any better for all we know Bruce could have been referring to himself

Jason: [chokes on laughter]

#incorrect batfamily quotes #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #batbros #batfam #batdad #this is a joke #sorry this is so long

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lets-try-some-writing · 5 months

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Broken Record

It all started that first loop, when Smokescreen was branded. Now he is stuck in a loop and absolutely determined to make sure Optimus Prime survives. The only problem? It seems that Primus himself has other plans.

(This thing is bloody LONG so be wary if you decide to start reading. I am not joking this thing is crazy so PLEASE if you are going to read be PREPARED.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

It was the greatest cycle of Smokescreen’s life when he landed on Earth. There could have been no greater honor than coming to a world and being given the chance to serve directly under the one and only Optimus Prime. And for a few short Earth months, Smokescreen learned and fought alongside the most elite of their kind, growing and coming closer to the team all while being able to interact with the leader of the Autobots. It was a dream come true… until Megatron found their base.

Optimus decided to stay behind. Smokescreen and the rest of the team hated it, Ratchet most of all. But who was he to argue against an order? And so Smokescreen fled when he was told to, at least at first. He could not allow his Prime to die, especially not without honor. And so he threw himself back into the groundbridge, emerging into fire and ash just in time to find Optimus and drag him away with the help of the phase shifter.

It was bad, and even after what had to have been millions of years, Smokescreen recalled the distinctness of that first loop with crisp clarity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t worry Optimus! I’ll get Ratchet and he’ll patch you right up!” Smokescreen attempted to soothe despite seeing Optimus’s optics flicker more with every nanoklik. This was bad, this was very very bad. He wasn’t trained in this-

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” Optimus’s voice called out in the darkness, his vocalizer straining with each glyph he uttered. His frame heaved, his battered body failing more every time he vented. Smokescreen wanted to panic, but Optimus’s field washed over him sadly and in understanding. There was something sorrowful in his optics, something that did not seem to be the languishing of a dying mech. His field spoke of… pity for Smokescreen of all beings. Why?

“And I believe in my spark, that… that leader stands before me right now.” What?

“Optimus, I can’t-!” He tried to object, to step away. But Optimus held firm, grabbing his arm with strength a dying mech should not have had. His gaze held a fierceness that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend as the failing Prime again spoke into the darkness, his will so mighty that for a split second, Smokescreen found himself afraid.

“The will of Primus is absolute. This is the calling, and you cannot escape… none of us can.” Optimus’s field flared, his optics blazing as Smokescreen felt a searing heat creep into his spark. He cried out as he fell to his knees, looking toward Optimus in terror. The Prime however merely gave him a pitying look before he sighed, his vents fluttering before he ultimately fell still, his spark sputtering out.

Smokescreen could only gape as his spark flared in agony, a brand now placed upon it that ached unendingly. Optimus’s broken torso split as the Matrix revealed itself, shining in all its glory. And yet when Smokescreen viewed it, his very being cried out in terror. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want that accursed thing in him. Something deep down within him told him that the relic before him was dangerous.

“No, this isn’t how the story is supposed to go.” He attempted to get up and run, primal fear directing his movements. However when he ran, leaving the body of his Prime behind, something shifted. The brand in his spark burned with such fierceness that by the time Smokescreen managed to track down one of the team, he all but collapsed. He didn't recall what followed perfectly, but he was sure it was Bumblebee who tried to hold him up and figure out what was going on.

Smokescreen could do nothing as his vision swam and he purged until he had nothing left to give. It BURNED and there was nothing he could do as he heard Optimus's soft voice in the back of his mind and the world became a mess of colors before fading to black.

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Just as quickly as it all ended, Smokescreen found his optics booting online again to the sight of his stasis pod opening. He found himself climbing out into a burning crater, unable to figure out what in Primus's name was going on even as Vehicons swarmed his pod. He knew this scene. He had lived this scenario. However he had no time to figure out what was happening as the Autobots arrived with a very much alive Optimus Prime leading the charge.

He decided not to question as he threw himself into battle, a little wiser and better trained than before. He quickly jumped into formation, flanking Arcee and laying down suppressive fire as she had directed him before. By the time he was finally questioned, Smokescreen found himself in total disbelief. He had watched Optimus die and yet here the Prime was asking for his designation and thanking him for his efforts. Arcee was still as snarky as the first time and Ratchet was firmly sitting in the boat of suspicion. But this was just as things played out before.

"I'm Smokescreen, a member of the elite guard." He stuttered, his optics wide and his spark flaring as the brand pulsed. It ached and all Smokescreen could do was stare up at the mech he thought dead until Bumblebee stepped forward in concern.

"Are you alright? You are leaking coolant." Reaching up to touch his face, Smokescreen found coolant falling from his optics. That wasn't right. Why was he crying? Optimus was alive. It had to have all been some sort of relic induced fever dream. He had been abusing the phase shifter before all this and he had been guarding the Hall of Records. Strange things happened to mech who worked there. Maybe it was doing things to him, giving him visions.

It couldn't have been real. He refused to believe it was.

"I'm fine. Just a bit out of it. It's not every day you meet Optimus Prime of all bots!" He shelved his memory and forced himself to smile. Arcee glared, Ratchet scoffed, Bulkhead nodded, and Bumblebee got back in position. Optimus for his part merely made a soft sound, his optics glinting before he ordered a groundbridge back to base, regardless of Arcee and Ratchet's complaints.

Smokescreen simply smiled. The brand burned, but he did his best not to feel it. Everything had just been a bad dream. It was all going to be fine now. He would use what he knew to his advantage, and this time, he would ensure Optimus Prime survived.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He did his best to warn his Prime without putting too much faith in his vision. He directed the team away from dangers and jumped into the fray with more wisdom than before. Nothing changed all that much, but there were a few less scars than in his vision and that was a small relief. Despite Smokescreen's efforts, Megatron found their base again. It was not ideal, but this time Smokescreen knew how damaged Optimus would be. He couldn't get Optimus to change his decision, he knew that much. But if he could get Ratchet to stick with him, then he could stop the devastation he knew was coming.

"Ratchet, he's going to survive the blast, but he won't last much longer afterwards. He needs a medic on call." Smokescreen murmured as he pulled Ratchet aside. The medic gave him a sharp look, seemingly about to say something snippy before Smokescreen shushed him.

"Listen to me! You won't believe me if I tell you, but I know what is going to happen. The blast will hit, the Cons will arrive, and Optimus will survive for a few more days after the attack." Ratchet's optics blew wide, his field radiating pure suspicion. Smokescreen grabbed the medic's shoulders, trying to convey his conviction as much as he possibly could. Ratchet was a hard nut to crack, but not impossible.

"Are you a traitor? Is that how you know what's coming? Did the guilt of knowing eat you up inside? Is that why you are telling me this now that it's too late to stop our base from being destroyed?!" Ratchet's voice raised as the ceiling shook. It wouldn't be long now.

"You just need to trust me! I'm no Con, but I saw the future! So please, listen to me!" Optimus and the rest of the team began to return back into the base through the elevator shaft. Smokescreen could only curse as he hurriedly hissed.

"There is a cave system under the base not far from here! I will take Optimus there after the blast hits! Meet me there with your medical kit!" The sound of blaster fire and the team rushing into base had Smokescreen pulling away, but before he left, he did his best to nod toward Ratchet and pray that his words were taken to spark. The medic glared, but his servos shook enough that Smokescreen could hope.

He was right to hope. When Smokescreen pulled Optimus from the ash this time, Ratchet arrived not an hour later and began to dutifully tend to the ailing Prime. It was bad enough that even the medic seemed to be on the brink of a mental breakdown, but as wounds were welded shut and energon siphoned into Optimus's battered frame, Smokescreen found himself hopeful. Things were still rough, but Optimus wasn't about to die anymore. They could make this work-

"Smokescreen." Optimus called out from where he lay on the ground, Ratchet still fussing over him. The medic stilled and Smokescreen paused as the brand burned. Coolant began to fall from Ratchet's optics as his scanners blared.

"No no no, Optimus please no." Ratchet pleaded, his voice edging into static as he desperately tried to weld more wounds shut and repair the extensive damage to Optimus's systems. Smokescreen shook his helm, this couldn't be possible. He had made things better. His vision couldn't have been real. He was meant to stop this from happening.

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." The same line. The same look. Optimus stared at him in understanding and again Smokescreen found himself afraid. This wasn't right. Optimus wasn't meant to die.

"Not again! I am not doing this again! I am not letting you die, Optimus!" Smokescreen cried out even as the Prime repeated that same pitying stare. Smokescreen did not wait for the inevitable as his brand burned. He ran faster than he ever had before as Ratchet wept behind him. He wouldn't stay, he wouldn't wait for what was now a certainty.

He ran until he could run no more, falling somewhere in Nevada far from Darkmount. His processors screamed at him to return to the team, but as he lay on the ground, the brand burning just as hot as it had in his vision... he knew that was no longer an option. Optimus was dead. He had failed. As his vision began to swim once more, he found conviction lacing his very being.

This was not how the story was meant to end.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Again he found himself coming online to meet the familiar sight of his stasis pod. This time, he wobbly emerged. He looked around in disbelief, glancing down at his servos and the Vehicons surrounding him in absolute fear. He was back again. There was no way that was all just a vision.

When the team arrived, he was too shaken to help. He hid within his stasis pod, watching the fighting playing out from within. Vehicons were shot at until they fled, and despite feeling like a coward, Smokescreen remained huddled up in the only space he knew to be safe until at last the team neared. From the inside, Smokescreen could see them arguing over whether or not to open his pod. Smokescreen made the decision for them with unsteady digits.

"A youngling." Optimus mused as the pod opened and Smokescreen's shaking form became visible. He tried to still his movements, but his vents came in broken sputters and he could hardly move with how much it all was. He was back again. HOW was he back again?

"Part of the Elite Guard based on his badge, although he doesn't look the part." Arcee taunted, her blasters lowered but still ready to turn him into scrap metal if Smokescreen acted out of line. The rest of the team made similar comments, all appearing highly unimpressed. Smokescreen wished he could speak in his defense, but he was shaking too much. His spark ached, the brand still burned, but it was easing. The fragging brand had to have something to do with this. Whatever Optimus did to him the first time had changed him, he could feel lit.

"Youngling, you are safe with us. Can you tell me your designation?" Optimus knelt down and reached into the pod, offering a servo to help Smokescreen up. It was all so very wrong, but Smokescreen accepted the aid and stood before the team, trying desperately to find his voice. He was back again, he didn't know how, but he was. And if he was back-

He could change things.

"Sorry Sir. I was... not expecting my arrival here on Earth. I'm Smokescreen, an elite guardsmech." He saluted, but he did not smile. This was no laughing matter, not anymore. What he thought to be some sort of dream last time was evidently something else entirely. He refused to fail again.

"I will not fail you." He bowed, his oath flowing from his vocalizer smoothly despite the way his doorwings still twitched. He was going to make things right or die trying. Maybe then whatever this was would come to an end.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I want you to teach me to fight." Smokescreen proclaimed as he stood before the team. Bulkhead paused, Miko silenced her guitar with a strange look, and the other two children glanced over at him. Arcee glared, an act he had long grown used to, and Bumblebee's faux vocalizer whirled in confusion.

"You fight well enough to hold your own. What brought this up?" Arcee questioned as she crossed her arms. She didn't seem upset but rather intrigued. This time around Smokescreen had not made the best of impressions considering his hiding away in his pod. But he knew what he needed to do now. He needed to be better, fight harder. Then he could turn the tides and hopefully make it so that the team's base didn't get discovered at all.

"You are all elites. I want to know everything I can so that we don't lose any more good mecha due to my idiocy." A few raised optics ridges met his statement, but none outright rejected him. A long silence followed before Arcee made a hum of understanding and nodded.

"I'll teach you what I can. Just don't die rookie. I won't be going easy on you." The two wheeler smiled for the first time since Smokescreen's arrival. He returned it with glee. Finally, he could begin trying harder to make things right.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Learning under Arcee was its own form of torture, but Smokescreen was devoted. When he wasn't training, he was reviewing his memory to prepare for what was to come. Battle after battle met him and each time he walked away more skilled. He was no longer the barely trained recruit who arrived on Earth two loops ago.

He moved faster, utilizing his size and the phase shifter to his advantage. Arcee became a close friend, at least as much as one could call Arcee that. She was there to guide him, and when he started working himself toward exhaustion, she was there to smack him back down to earth and give him a reality check. She cared about him in her own strange way, and Smokescreen appreciated it. Every smile she offered told him he was improving, and for the first time he felt as though he was really part of the team, if only because Arcee approved.

"I thought you were just a skittish deadweight, but you've proven me wrong." Arcee patted him on the back after a training session well done. Smokescreen grinned even as the brand ached. Soon, the time for the Cons to attack was coming. As he threw himself against a training dummy, he felt that maybe this time, he would be ready.

He was wrong. Despite his efforts and the additional victories for the Autobots, Megatron found their base again. He had no clue how the fragger did it, but somehow, regardless of whether or not Smokescreen gave up the base's location by accident, their whereabouts found their way to Megatron. Optimus stayed behind, and again Smokescreen pulled him from the ash. This time he tried something different, running to Darkmount to attempt to reclaim the forge of Solus Prime.

He tried to get it the first time around, but it had meant so little in his shock that he had forgotten to use it. This time he would not make that mistake, especially not now that it had been proven not even Ratchet could repair his Prime. But by the time he dragged the relic back to where Optimus again lay dying, the Prime once more gave him that pitying look that Smokescreen was quickly coming to associate with failure.

"Optimus! I brought the forge! It'll fix you up good as new!" Smokescreen pressed the hilt of the forge into Optimus's servo, but the Prime shook his helm in distress.

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." Frag it all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Smokescreen didn't hear the rest as Optimus's spark went out. He grit his denta, feeling rage run hot in his spark alongside the brand. He was doing something wrong. He had to be.

Twenty eight more loops Smokescreen threw himself into training. He was inadequate, and that he could fix. He learned under all of the team, doing everything in his power to train and become better. The novelty of waking up in his pod stopped shaking him sometime around the fifth loop and from that point onward, he moved directly into his next plan as soon as he was able to. Sometimes he learned under Arcee, trying to squeeze all the training he could from her and doing his best not to think about their lost friendship. Other times he worked with Bulkhead, learning the ways of strength and training with a hammer instead of a blaster. In a few instances he served alongside Bumblebee, learning the ways of the scout and exemplifying his already present skill with speed and stealth.

There were moments of levity amongst it all. Times when he would play video games with Bee and laugh until his vents ached. He missed those times most, especially the handful of loops where they became friends. Sometimes he would banter with Arcee, enjoying the short victories he earned before Arcee shot back at him. He missed her snark and fond chastising, more so during loops where he threw himself into training with another. Occasionally he even spent time with Bulkhead, reveling in dealing with the children and causing a degree of chaos. The Wrecker was not a mech Smokescreen would have normally befriended, but during the loops he worked with him, Bulkhead was a good teacher and Smokescreen enjoyed the stories the elder mech told.

The children themselves were plenty fun to converse and play with. Jack he found he had the most interesting interactions with. More than one loop he helped the boy get revenge on his bully. Miko was entertaining and quite a few times during his loops he ended up joining her collection of favorite bots due to his increasing skill in battle. Rafael and him never really got along, they had different focuses, but he came to appreciate the child. There were several instances where he spent quiet nights up with the boy, ready to take him home as soon as he finished attempting to decode Cybertronian glyphs. He tried not to think about those lost moments when he started the loop over again.

It was never enough. Every single time he always ended up at Optimus's side after the destruction of the base listening to that same line over and over again. Sometimes he dragged Optimus farther away to different locations, wondering if that would change anything. On other occasions, he left Ratchet with Optimus and went with the team to raid Darkmount alongside the mighty Ultra Magnus. That too was never enough. Optimus always died, and soon after he did, Smokescreen found himself once more in his pod.

It enraged him, but it taught him a lesson. Fighting would not save Optimus Prime. He needed to try something else. And so he instead turned to Ratchet. The doctor was one of Cybertron's finest, but he was only one set of servos. If they could repair Optimus after the blast, then all would be well. As such, when Smokescreen awoke for the twenty ninth time, he went directly to Ratchet.

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"You want to become a field medic? You are a guardsmech." Ratchet looked him up and down, that same disgruntled expression on his face as always. Smokescreen nodded, his conviction thrumming through his entire being. He'd already attempted battle as a means to fix things, and that had failed. Being a medic was the next best option.

"I know that. But the team come back injured far more often than they should and you only have one set of servos." Smokescreen pointed out with a raised optical ridge. Ratchet tisked and looked ready to object until Optimus spoke up.

"I see no harm in Smokescreen learning the art of medicine. You are overworked and we could use the additional skill, Old Friend." The Prime rested his servos on his hips, smiling fondly at Ratchet who waved dismissively even as he covered his face in what could have been embarrassment. Optimus chuckled softly as he continued.

"You have trained plenty of apprentices. What is the harm in one more? Smokescreen has already proven capable of fighting if need be. We would not be losing a soldier and would instead gain an additional medic." Ratchet grumbled, but after a moment, he sighed and shoved a series of datapads in Smokescreen's arms.

"Read all of those and come back when you can identify all outer components of the Cybertronian frame. If you can do that, then I will know you really want to do this." Smokescreen internally winced, but he did as he was told.

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That loop he learned under Ratchet, and while he was not skilled enough to save Optimus that time, he did not despair. Again and again he returned, devoting himself to his task. When he had free time he trained in combat just so that he wouldn't lose what he'd gained, but almost everything else was put away in favor of his medical training. He missed conversing and bonding with the others, but Ratchet was a good teacher, if a little gruff.

The cycles repeated, but every time, Smokescreen learned a little more about the medic who came to be a mentor to him. His education progressed, and he understood more and more why Ratchet was so very tired. Too many loops ended with one of the team coming close to death, and in one loop, even offlining permanently. Ratchet worked himself half to death just to keep the group operating, and for that, Smokescreen came to respect him. At first, he could hardly handle the sight of wriggling internals, but as he continually worked with Ratchet, he calmed. He stopped being concerned by the sight of innards strewn across the ground or energon spilled after the forty third loop. He watched bots die, he put torn limbs back into place, and he was no stranger to plague.

Most loops followed the same old tune, but every now and then, there were differences. Optimus always died, but the small differences taught Smokescreen valuable lessons. Serving under the doctor gave him ample time to learn and observe. He was familiar with the team and their past from his time training with them in prior loops, but working as a medic gave him greater insight. Arcee had aches in her joints from being stuck in the arctic. Bulkhead's hydraulics sometimes locked up when he tried to stand too quickly. Bumblebee's vocalizer always bothered him, and Ratchet himself had enough aches and pains that Smokescreen had to question how the medic still functioned. Optimus's medical files were extensive enough to have Smokescreen simply put them down quite a few times.

He learned, he grew, and loops passed by in a blur.

To learn of the war and its origins as he cleaned tools in the medical bay was by far one of his most favored memories with Ratchet. Odd as it was working in the dark and listening to Ratchet talk, Smokescreen cherished it. The conversations distracted him from the loss of friendships that plagued his mind.

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"You would hardly believe how much Optimus has changed over the vorns. Before the Matrix, he was a bit like you. Not much mind you, he had more political awareness." A slight jab, but Smokescreen did not react. He had long grown used to Ratchet's manner of speech.

"He was a cunning character, that's for sure. He walked on a knife's edge all throughout his time in the Archives. But after the Matrix, something changed in him." Ratchet stalled in what he was doing, his shoulders falling. Smokescreen looked up from where he was putting away the scalpels he was tending to, his fresh medical insignia glinting in the light. This was the eighth time Ratchet had deemed him skilled enough to bear the mark.

"He looked at everyone strangely. He stopped trying to connect with anyone. He seemed almost... defeated. I tried asking him about it, but the only answer I managed to get out of him was that the Matrix put him through a trial when he took it." The elder medic scowled and Smokescreen listened attentively. All details were important. He couldn't afford to waste what Ratchet was giving him. Building up trust with the medic in each loop was a time consuming affair.

"Do you know what the trial was?" Smokescreen asked cautiously. Talking with Ratchet required a degree of skill. Too informal and he wouldn't get anything, but being too formal had earned him the status of co-worker rather than confidant. He needed this information.

"No. All he's said is that every Prime goes through it so that they make the 'correct' choice." Smokescreen paused as the words reached him. What was it Optimus said during the first loop?

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy." He murmured to himself. Ratchet all but did a complete 180 to turn and face him, suspicion written all over his features.

"What was that?" The medic questioned sharply. Smokescreen waved him off.

"Nothing important. Just some old script I read." He had long become proficient in the art of warding Ratchet off. Besides, in the worst case scenario, he could just rebuild the relationship by making the correct verbal statements next time.

"Old script my aft. You are keeping secrets Smokescreen. I don't know what they are, but... I am here if you want someone to listen." Ratchet's field brushed over him in a fond manner. The doctor offered a rare smile and Smokescreen found his resolve shaken. Who would believe him if he spoke? Besides, Ratchet was already overworked enough.

"Maybe next loop." He whispered as he turned back to his work. Ratchet's concern washed over him, but the doctor did not pry. It was both a comfort and a curse.

Loops passed by, and every time he returned, he came with more knowledge and maturity. No longer did he find himself as energetic as before, likely an effect of Ratchet rubbing off on him. What used to leave him thrilled meant so little. He enjoyed praise and comfort from the team when he developed friendships during a loop, however, he simply wasn't as active. Patience was his priority and greatest asset... no matter how much it hurt to return again and again only to lose the bonds he formed.

Even still, the mission came first.

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"I find it hard to believe you were a guardsmech before this, Smokescreen. You have the skill to rival Ambulon prior to the war." Ratchet commented as he watched Smokescreen patch up Bulkhead's shredded arm. The Wrecker made a noise of agreement even as Smokescreen swatted him for trying to scratch at a fresh weld.

"I've been trained by the best doctor on Cybertron. I pin all of my success on him." Ratchet raised an optical ridge with an almost coy smile.

"Oh? And who would that be? I doubt Pharma would take an apprentice like you." Smokescreen knew this game. He returned the smile, and Bulkhead froze up on the medical berth.

"Guys?" The Wrecker called out before promptly attempting to claw at his welds again. Smokescreen smacked him upside the helm without even looking away from Ratchet. Bulkhead for his part cursed as Smokescreen spoke.

"Would you believe me if I said that I learned everything from you?" Ratchet scoffed and rolled his optics.

"Don't be ridiculous. You've been here a few weeks at most. Even I didn't learn that fast in medical school." The elder medic wandered off to do something or other, and Smokescreen returned to his task mechanically. It wouldn't be much longer now. Soon he would have enough skill to fix Optimus.

He waited, and finally during the sixty seventh loop, Smokescreen felt confident.

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"Smokescreen? What are you doing?" Bumblebee asked, his optics cycling in worry. Smokescreen did not look up at him as he feverishly reviewed his tools. Weeks had been spent working up to this moment. He had patches, faux fuel lines, energon packs, replacement parts stolen from deceased Vehicons, and so much more. He was going to do it right this time. Optimus Prime was going to live.

"I'm going to make sure Optimus lives." He answered honestly. He saw no point in playing pretend. When the loops ended and all was well, he would tell the team about his experiences. But for now, there was no use worrying them with things they couldn't do anything about.

"This isn't healthy. Ever since you got here, you've been... on edge." Smokescreen wanted to glare, but he kept his optics firmly on his tools as he loaded them into his pack. The phase shifter thrummed against his arm and he checked it over, ensuring it wouldn't go anywhere. Everything relied on his skill and the relic.

"I have work to do. I refuse to fail." He replied curtly, unwilling to bother with the details. It wasn't worth the effort anyway. However, when he turned to leave, he was met with the towering form of Optimus Prime blocking his path. The rest of the team loosely circled him, their gazes uncertain.

"You've been taking rations from storage and behaving suspiciously, Smokescreen." Optimus watched him critically, and for the first time, Smokescreen found himself looking around to see the team's equally calculating gazes. He hadn't been the most social this time, but he wasn't that suspicious, was he?

"I am not taking them for my personal gain, Sir. I am preparing for what is coming, and I will ensure that we come out on top of this war. You may not believe me, but I am not asking you to." Optimus's optics cycled, and his helm tilted as he thought. The brand on Smokescreen's spark flared as the Prime before him seemed to reach a conclusion.

"So it has chosen you... I understand now. Continue with your work, I will not impede your efforts." Just like that, Optimus walked away. The team gawked, and Smokescreen did so as well. What in Primus's name did that mean?

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He tried not to think about it, not when the time was so close. When Megatron finally destroyed the base, Smokescreen again dragged Optimus from the rubble. Only this time, he was fully prepared. With Ratchet coerced into joining him, he worked alongside his teacher in the dark of the tunnel system beneath the base to repair the ailing Prime. Ratchet did not question his preparations and instead got to work in silence. Wounds were shut, fuel lines sewn back into place, cables tied to their appropriate skeletal structures, and constant scans were run.

They worked like a well oiled machine, and Smokescreen at last allowed himself to feel giddy as he managed to get the worst of the damage closed off. According to all his calculations, Optimus would at least have another Earth year in him, so long as he remained still and received energon supplements. He was no longer critical, he was going to be fine. Years upon years and loops upon loops were finally yielding results-

"Smokescreen... How long has your trial gone on?" What?

"I don't understand." Smokescreen replied in confusion as the Prime's venting eased. Ratchet was passed out on the ground nearby, long groons of work exhausting him to the point of being forced into recharge. It was just Smokescreen and the Prime, and somehow that made the situation so much worse.

"You know more than you should... you are trained more than what I would have expected... I know these signs... I know what the trials look like." Optimus gently held Smokescreen's servo, his gaze again returning to that pitying look that Smokescreen feared and despised.

"Optimus, you are still in recovery. You must be a little disoriented." He tried to divert the conversation, but the Prime held firm, his optics cycling down and his gaze sharpening.

"How long?" The question hung in the air. Smokescreen's spark fluttered in terror as the brand burned and Optimus remained stony. He was unyielding. Smokescreen could not find it in himself to deny the question.

"Sixty nine loops. They start with my arrival on Earth and end when you die." Tortured venting filled the tunnels as Optimus began to tense up. On instinct, Smokescreen began running scans and preparing his tools. But again, Optimus grabbed his arm, just as he had in the first loop so long ago.

"You cannot stop this. It will continue until you give in." Optimus's optics flickered and his voice weakened.

"There is no escape." The Prime's field flared and Smokescreen cowered as his spark blazed in agony.

"This is the will of Primus." Optimus uttered before his entire frame seized up and fell still. Ratchet startled awake as his alarm blared, but it was too late. Smokescreen stepped back and watched on in total silence as Ratchet tried everything to restore Optimus's frame and force his spark to continue to blaze.

Optimus told him to give up, to let him die. After so many long years and countless hours thrown into his training? No, Smokescreen would not be giving up. He was going to save Optimus Prime, whether the Prime liked it or not. He made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

He woke in his pod, but this time, Smokescreen's processors whirled with a new plan. He had written off trying to keep Optimus from sacrificing himself simply because he thought it would be impossible to convince him. That was likely still true, but Smokescreen was wiser now. If he could get the team to listen, he could make this work.

Again, he was accepted amongst the Autobots without much argument. Optimus took one look at him and allowed him access. He was far more agreeable than the first loop, but Smokescreen was different now. A trained warrior and medic, he had skills that put him on par with the rest of the team. It made sense for the Prime to allow him amongst the ranks of the team.

It certainly saved Smokescreen trouble.

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"The Star Saber is on Earth and Megatron will arrive to try and take it. He will not succeed, but if he knows how powerful the blade is, he will create his own weapon. The Dark Star Saber." Smokescreen rattled off what he knew as he stood before the team, his expression steely.

"How do you know that?" Arcee's question came off as more of a threat, but Smokescreen remained unfazed. He knew the team far better than they would ever know.

"I have seen what is coming. I know exactly what the Decepticons are going to do and how they will do it. I know every possible variable for the most important events ahead, and I can tell you now that unless you listen to me, you will lose." The team froze, Optimus regarded him with something akin to shock, and Smokescreen stood firmly. He would make them listen, no matter the cost.

"So you're a Con?" Bulkhead all but growled before charging forward, not heeding Optimus's command to stand down. Smokescreen did not so much as flinch as he tucked and rolled, bouncing back onto his pedes and dropping down into a combat position. The Wrecker huffed and came at him again, but every time he swung his hammers, Smokescreen moved out of the way with expert precision. He knew Bulkhead better than the Wrecker knew himself. He trained under the heavy hitter and performed enough examinations over the loops to know each and every seam by spark.

"Enough. You are wasting your time." Slipping under Bulkhead's arm, Smokescreen landed a solid punch to the exposed cabling on his shoulder. Bulkhead's arm immediately went limp, and he fell to a knee, clutching the limb and looking up at him in anger.

"You little-!" Glaring, Smokescreen walked away from the cursing Wrecker and again stood his ground.

"I mean you no harm. I am only here to help you escape the doom that is coming. So please, listen to me." The team had their weapons ready, all save for Optimus who regarded him in interest. Smokescreen prepared to run if he needed to, but he had no intention of leaving until he got what he wanted.

"Stand down. We will listen to what he has to say." The Prime spoke and the team gawked.

"Optimus, you can't be serious!" Ratchet began before he was silenced.

"We will heed his wisdom for a time and see what it brings." That was the end of that. Smokescreen grinned, and he was quick to begin further explanations.

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He had not fully expected things to work out during his first attempt at piloting the team. As such, he did not despair when he failed to keep the team out of trouble the first time. There were always new variables, always new data points to consider. Loops came and went. Sometimes Megatron found the base earlier, and sometimes he did so later. Optimus always died in the tunnels in those loops. Other times, Smokescreen managed to convince the team to drag Optimus kicking and screaming away when the blast rained down. In those instances, the Prime was always killed by a stray bullet or through some other totally unexpected means.

It was infuriating, but Smokescreen learned and he adapted. Again and again he tried different things, moving the team in different ways and trying to avoid any and all potential causes of death for the Prime. However, as the deaths added up, there was a need for him to begin recording his thoughts and plans.

He began to keep a log each loop, just to ensure he didn't miss anything. And through those efforts, he found himself working alongside Optimus at the main console far more often than he anticipated. It was unsettling the first few loops, with Optimus often just standing by watching in silence. However, as the loops wore on and Smokescreen grew more and more passive as he worked, Optimus crept closer. Eventually, during the one hundredth and fifty seventh loop, Optimus spoke to him.

"You carry the weariness of the trial. I assume this is far from your first time experiencing these things." Smokescreen, no longer surprised by just about anything, nodded once and kept up his typing. Optimus hummed as he continued.

"You aren't willing to give in. I understand. I behaved similarly during my trial." Again, Smokescreen said nothing. He had no clue what this 'trial' was, but frankly he didn't care. The 'trial' wanted Optimus to die, and so Smokescreen would give it the middle finger regardless of the specifics of its nature.

"I would like to teach you." That gave Smokescreen pause. He looked away from the screen, only now feeling the weariness hanging on his very core. Optimus smiled gently and placed a servo on his shoulder.

"I did not have the luxury of a teacher during my trial. I wish to give you what knowledge I have, so that when yours ends, you may perform better than I did." Confusion laced every part of Smokescreen's mind even as he processed the words. Optimus, with far more kindness than Smokescreen had ever seen him, drew Smokescreen in for a hug.

He remained stiff for a klik, but as tears began to fall from his optics, he leaned into the Prime's embrace. It had been so long since he allowed himself to be cared for, to feel. The mission always came first... and yet in Optimus's arms, he found himself safe and comforted. He couldn't help his tears.

"I will not remember you when you come back, but speak the words you were imbued with when you were given the brand, and I shall know what you are." Comforting touches to his helm had Smokescreen nodding even as he sobbed. Oh, how it hurt. So many deaths, so many loops. The same cycle, never-ending. He hated it.

"I wish that it was not you who was chosen to bear this burden, but there is nothing that can be done now." The words hurt, but Smokescreen understood. Whatever this trial was, Optimus was familiar with it. The Prime knew and understood. He refused to believe that there was nothing he could do to change Optimus's fate, but he would relish what comfort he was given.

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He continued attempting to pilot the team, guiding them around the various key events he now knew as well as his own designation. He failed to save Optimus each time, but he did not allow himself to give up. Every instance was recorded and each time he returned, he rewrote his records. Somewhere there was a set of choices that would ensure Optimus lived, and Smokescreen was going to find it or die trying.

"Speak with confidence, Smokescreen. A leader must be able to convince those under him to follow a cause even to death." Optimus was a distraction in the extreme. Ever since that loop, Optimus had taken the time to teach Smokescreen everything under the sun whenever there was a spare moment between them. He should have really stopped allowing Optimus to teach him, but he couldn't help but crave the attention and understanding.

"Broaden your brushstrokes. The Praxian dialect requires less formality and more elegance." Language, culture, and history were a part of every loop now. Evenings once spent training with the team or under Ratchet were instead dedicated to study of Cybertron and the ways of rulership under the Prime. Smokescreen quite frankly enjoyed every single lesson. There was always something new to learn, and he never ceased to marvel at the stories despite his general apathy toward life in general.

"That strategy would work in most cases, but you must consider all the variables. Let us review the battle for Kaon and the siege of Iacon to review." War tactics that Smokescreen might have found boring long ago were now the staple of his life. He loved every lesson, and he adored the fact that despite the rest of the team failing to remember their bonds, Optimus remained static. As soon as Smokescreen uttered the words and mentioned what the Prime taught him, Optimus would immediately ask how far his education had progressed and work from there.

It was a comfort. However, with every loop, his agitation grew into boiling anger. None of the variables were working. His calculations always came out wrong. Every combination of choices led to Optimus's death, regardless of what was done. The forge's usage meant nothing, the deaths of teammates were irrelevant, and it seemed as though nothing could be done to stop the most impossible slag from killing Optimus if he didn't die after the blast struck the base.

It accumulated until Smokescreen could take it no longer.

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Three hundred and seventy three loops. None were successful. HOW were none of them successful?! He had done EVERYTHING.

"Why won't you live?" He murmured as he was brought back to the base for what felt like the billionth time. The team looked at him in confusion, but Optimus understood. He always understood.

"It is inevitable." The Prime answered simply as if he were talking about the weather. Smokescreen, despite being long hardened by every imaginable outcome and horror, scowled and flared his plating before clamping it down tight around him.

"I've done EVERYTHING, Optimus! Every possible variable! Every conceivable set of choices! I have made them all! WHY WON'T YOU LIVE!?" He cried as tears pooled in his optics. How hard was it for a mech to be kept alive? Evidently, if the mech was Optimus, it was fragging impossible.

"You always speak of this fragging trial and tell me to give in, but HOW CAN I DO THAT!? You are the PRIME! We need you! How can I just let you DIE?!" His vocalizer strained, and his voice dipped into static as he screamed. Everything had reached a boiling point, and he was unable to stop the stream of tears that poured down his cheeks as Optimus ushered the team back and stepped forward, kneeling down to Smokescreen's level.

"You must make the correct choice, Smokescreen. This torment will not end until you do. There is nothing in this universe capable of defying the will of the divine." Smokescreen wanted to scream more, but in the end all he could do was cling to Optimus uselessly as the Prime drew him in for a hug.

He heard the team murmuring as Optimus took him to an unused hab, the one that always ended up being given to him. Optimus stayed with him as he cried and blabbered, pouring out all his woes and his anger. He told Optimus everything, not sparing anything as he described the pain of lost bonds and the frustration of never being able to win. All the while, Optimus hummed a simple song until at last recharge took him.

He did not get up when the dawn came. He didn't want to. He stayed in his hab and huddled in the corner. Why should he care what the team thought of him? It was useless anyway. The only time he did much other than lie around and lament life was when Optimus brought him energon and coaxed him into drinking. He didn't want to fuel. He wanted it to be over.

Eventually, Ratchet started to bring him energon as well. Part of Smokescreen languished in the guilt of being a deadweight, but he was too tired to care. Optimus never shouted or scolded him. Ratchet made attempts to talk him through it, but Smokescreen remained silent. There was no point. It made no difference anyway.

The loop ended as it always did, and Smokescreen was dragged out of the base by the team despite his uselessness. They treated him kindly even while on the run, trying to help him even as his vision began to swim.

“Smokescreen, can you look at me? Please, we need you to be aware.” Ratchet knelt in front of him, true grief etched onto his features. He needed hope, but Smokescreen had nothing to offer.

“There is no point. He always dies, and he always will. I’ve tried everything.” Smokescreen muttered into his arms as he sat curled up in the junkyard Ratchet had hauled him to. The medic rubbed his face, trying to hide tears as he attempted to stay composed.

“I don’t understand Smokescreen. We need to get back to the team before the Decepticons-” Ratchet went on about a variable Smokescreen had already considered to the point of true apathy, but the mention of the Decepticons caught his attention.

The Decepticons.

What a fool he was. They were the one variable he had never considered properly. He’d tried moving the team to his specifications, but he had not even so much as attempted to touch the source of the problem to begin with.

“You have given me a new variable to test out.” Smokescreen managed a crooked smile as his vision continued to swim. Ratchet looked at him in absolute confusion, but Smokescreen merely chuckled.

“You are so going to hate me for this, but this next run, I am going to become a Con.” The elder medic looked absolutely baffled, but in his emotional turmoil Smokescreen merely laughed.

Finally, a new variable to consider. He could still prove Optimus wrong and save the fragging Prime from a universe that seemed dead set on killing him.

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The loop began and Smokescreen steeled himself. This was going to suck big time, but at this point, there was no other option.

“Soldier, what are you doing?” Optimus called out to him, but Smokescreen merely stood in the center of the crater coldly. He needed to play the part to make this happen. As much as he despised it, this was the only choice he had.

“My allegiance is to Lord Megatron of the Decepticons.” Raising his blasters, Smokescreen fired on the team. He took care not to hit any of them, as Vehicons finally saw that he was an ally and joined him on the battlefield, pushing the team back. The expressions of shock on their faces hurt him more than he thought, but this was what needed to be done.

The Decepticons were rightfully dubious, but he was brought to the Nemesis, where he knelt before Megatron. It felt foul to do so, but after so many loops… there was little he would not do for the sake of his mission.

“An elite guardsmech betraying the Autobots to come to me. That seems too good to be true, don’t you think so, Starscream?” Smokescreen remained in his kneeled position, but his sensors blared as he noticed the Lord of Vos nearing him. The skinny flier smiled evilly before strutting toward Megatron’s side.

“Indeed my lord. Not to mention, this reeks of a trap . A grounder has little use to the Decepticon cause anyway.” Frag-

“Then I believe it is decided. I have no need of you guardsmech.” Smokescreen only had time to regret his life decisions before he was face to face with a blaster and promptly knew no more.

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Again, he was in his fragging. POD.

It seemed that not even death could save him, and evidently, Megatron would not be easy to fool.

“What is your name, soldier?” Ah, there it was again. Smokescreen stood stiffly before the Autobot leader, the one he was trying so slagging hard to save. He sighed and gave his designation for the millionth time as plans formed in his processor. This was going to take far more work than he thought… but he could be patient. He’d long ago mastered the art.

There was a great deal of trial and error involved in the recruitment process. He had to get very good at remaining inconspicuous. Since death was apparently no longer an issue for him, Smokescreen took more risks over the next few dozen loops. He attempted the rushed recruitment a few more times before becoming acutely familiar with the pain of getting his helm blown off and promptly deciding that it wasn’t worth it in that manner.

From there he developed a plan to move slowly. Getting in contact with the Cons was not hard at all, and becoming an inside agent was even easier. He took absolutely no joy in feeding information to the Decepticons, but he needed an in. So when the relics came into play, it was the best information he could give without jeopardizing the team.

Not that it mattered much. He just needed to exploit this variable until Optimus survived. Then he could deal with the fallout. Even still, it took a hundred or so loops before he managed to find just the right line to walk. If he was too eager, the Cons would kill him on account of suspicion. If he didn’t tread carefully enough, the Bots would get him. He was not exactly the most pleased when Ratchet killed him once after catching him. Arcee cut him down a few times. Bulkhead was too heavy to land a hit and Bee generally didn’t aim to kill, but both still slagging hurt . Not to mention, he never enjoyed having to off himself afterwards in order to reset things.

Perhaps it was an abuse of the loop, but he simply didn’t care. Wounds hurt less now that he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. He hated betraying his fellows, but they wouldn’t remember in the end, just like they didn’t remember the bonds they forged over so many cycles.

Optimus found out he was a double agent every single time, though. Smokescreen had no clue how the Prime did it, but as soon as Smokescreen began negotiations with Megatron, the Prime was onto him. However, he never stopped Smokescreen, not once. He never helped, that much was for sure. Yet, he would still teach Smokescreen as if nothing were different about him. The lessons continued, and Optimus took the time to give Smokescreen access to spy training videos left behind by Jazz before the Exodus.

He didn’t like thinking about how much it must have hurt Optimus to watch Smokescreen do what he did. Smokescreen didn’t like thinking about the team much at all anymore.

Finally, after what was likely over eight hundred loops, Smokescreen managed to swap sides with reasonable credibility. He gave Megatron the location of relics and sabotaged the team in a manner that wasn’t really meaningful. Bulkhead would walk off the burns, and Arcee was small enough that being chucked wouldn’t be all that bad. Walking onto the Nemesis was terrifying, even more so once he had to begin blending in.

“Since you have proven capable in a variety of fields, you may decide who you wish to serve under directly.” Megatron gestured toward his lieutenants. Starscream made a disgusted face, Knockout shrugged and moved on, Soundwave said nothing as usual, and Shockwave did whatever the pit it was Shockwave did.

More variables to consider.

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Deciding it would be best to cover his bases, Smokescreen stuck with Knockout for a few dozen loops. He appreciated the mech and managed to weasel all sorts of juicy information out of him once he proved a capable doctor and showed himself willing to polish the elder medic’s plating. It honestly wasn’t the worst experience. Smokescreen never looked better, but the position of Knockout’s fellow doctor simply wasn’t high ranking enough to get him anywhere, even if it did yield valuable information on the Decepticons. Of course, having spent so long training under Ratchet, there were a few interesting interactions in his loops before he moved on.

“What are you doing? Using a circular saw on a regular patient is asking for disaster!” Smokescreen exclaimed as he reached for a normal saw. Knockout pouted and activated his in-built saw to emphasize his point.

“It is more effective, though, is it not?” It was at times like these that Smokescreen wished he was with Ratchet again.

“The patient is AWAKE, Knockout.” He stressed while rubbing his face. Obviously, he had maintained a few bad habits from his time as a medic. He could really go for some high grade. Ratchet let him sneak a few sips off and on, and Primus, he really wanted a bottle at this point.

“And? Anyone who walks in here knows that it's my way or the highway.” The red medic smiled lovingly at his perfectly polished saw and Smokescreen lamented life. Knockout was a pain in the aft, but he was a good distraction.

Of course eventually he needed to get back to work, and so after an extra loop just to blow off a bit of steam, Smokescreen turned to the next mech on the list.

He went to Starscream next simply because he was familiar enough with the seeker in his many many visits to the medical bay. Starscream hated him, and he hated Starscream. It was by far the least productive few loops Smokescreen had ever dealt with. He spent more time taking Starscream’s punishments for him than actually doing anything. Starscream got him killed twice by framing him, and that was enough for Smokescreen to decide it wasn’t worth it.

Shockwave was next on the agenda, and much like Knockout, while a valuable learning experience, there was not nearly enough influence in his position to help him. He could do nothing to assist the Autobots from the labs. He attempted releasing creatures a few times, but that simply never ended well. He tended to wind back up with the Autobots in restraints until everything came crashing and burning down. Science was never his best class anyway.

Finally, he settled on Soundwave. With the others already tested and Smokescreen being totally unwilling to risk it with Megatron without further information, he resigned himself to serving under the creep fest that was the spymaster. Smokescreen lost count of how many times Soundwave sniffed out his intentions before they could even begin. Those times ended with him being thrown off the edge of the Nemesis to his death. He was not fond of crushing as a form of offlinement. It took too long.

After what must have been a series of loops entering into the thousands, Smokescreen at last got himself together enough to last more than a cycle under Soundwave. He religiously studied Jazz’s instructional videos while with the Autobots as an inside agent and did his very best to play his part. Then, when he got onto the Nemesis and chose Soundwave, he went through what quickly became a very routine series of interrogations. Smokescreen found that the best way to not be caught was to never think of anything Autobot or mission related. It was a hard ask, but he learned a few meditation tactics over the loops that worked well enough.

He made a few valiant attempts at getting to know Soundwave for information’s sake, but the spymaster never told him much. The best he got was access to the Decepticon databanks, an event that changed his perspective on things wildly. It was also the only time Soundwave ever actually spoke to him.

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“Soundwave… is this really what happened at the high council?” Smokescreen asked hesitantly as he reviewed the file. Ratchet and the Autobots always spoke of things as though it were Megatron who caused the war… but looking at this, it seemed the betrayal went both ways.

“Megatronus: Wanted power to free our people. Orion Pax: Was politically tied. Both made decisions in their best interest. Neither could comprehend the other.” Soundwave spoke and Smokescreen listened. It was no wonder Megatron wanted Optimus dead. If things were as it seemed, then the war was the result of one big misunderstanding turned into a grudge.

How ridiculous.

“Why are we still at war? Why couldn’t they both have just talked?” He found himself asking as he looked over the footage showing the rapid changes in both Autobot and Decepticon values over the vorns. Each side grew more and more radical to the point of detrimental behavior taking sway. Optimus taught him much of the old history of Cybertron, but not much about this.

“Megatron: Was humiliated. Orion Pax: Was coerced. Something changed. Megatron: Became darker. Orion Pax: Became Optimus Prime.” The spymaster replied emotionlessly as he typed away at his console. Smokescreen nodded grimly and returned to work. Was this really all the war was? Frag it all, he just wanted Optimus to live.

“Megatron isn’t right in the helm anymore, so why are you still loyal? Whoever he was isn’t who he is now.” Datacables hovered above him threateningly as the spymaster turned to face him. Smokescreen froze, but he did not back down. Soundwave seemed to think about the proper response before he settled on calming back down.

“Megatron: May not be fully sane. But Megatron has vision. Megatron: Is not a dead mech walking.” Soundwave’s spindly digit pointed toward a screen, and Smokescreen’s optics widened a fraction as he saw an image of Optimus standing in what looked to be a proud manner.

“What do you mean by that?” He questioned sharper than he intended. Soundwave regarded him with suspicion, and Smokescreen knew he was done. Even if he got his answer, he was fragged.

“Optimus Prime: Has been waiting for death. Smokescreen: Shall be there to greet him in the Allspark.” Smokescreen only had enough time to process the information before a blade sliced straight through his neck. He fell to the ground with a pained gurgle before his vision turned into a mess of color, and he woke in his pod once more.

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He made valiant efforts to use his position amongst the Decepticons to help. He really did. But attempting to help the Autobots from the Nemesis was an impossible task. Again and again he returned, only to meet the same roadblock. If Megatron didn’t find the base, he found Optimus. The result was always the same. No amount of smuggled information, swapped allegiances, or dedicated spying ever did anything. Nothing. Ever. Worked.

He even tried to kill Megatron a few times. He might have had the experience of a mech with millennia of combat experience on his belt after so many loops, but Megatron was large and in charge. Smokescreen just wasn’t fast or old enough to do the necessary damage needed to offline the fragger. Thus, he changed his approach yet again. He attempted to try and play therapist to the warlord in an effort to possibly convince him to sign for peace. It was a vain attempt, and he knew it, but still, he tried.

And surprisingly, despite how much he still despised the mech, he came to understand him, just as he did with all the others he served under.

“My Lord, why do you hate Optimus so much?” He asked firmly but without any tonal indicators. Megatron killed him a few times for being too mouthy. He had long learned to question carefully.

“Inquisitive today, aren’t you?” Megatron shot back with a hint of venom. Smokescreen held his ground, Megatron respected those who did not flinch.

“I joined the Decepticons to help end this war that has gone on for too long. I want to know your views, why you began all of this, and why this war has continued.” Smokescreen explained simply as he stood at attention. He was not fond of the darker purple tones he had been painted in since he began his infiltration, but he appreciated how it shone now. Knockout had taught him a thing or two about plating care, and it showed.

“Well, since you are so eager to know, allow me to keep things simple. I created the Decepticons in order to give our people equality and freedom from the caste system.” Megatron began, his voice becoming softer and less… harsh as he spoke. Smokescreen tilted his helm ever so slightly in curiosity as he listened. This was… informative.

“Cybertron was torn between the high and the low caste. The latter were treated as cattle, slaves to be abused, while the former relished in the gains of millions of mecha unable to get proper fuel, much less go anywhere in the world.” Passionate. That was the way to describe Megatron’s words. Not the vicious, angry rants that Smokescreen knew among the Autobots, but rather a soft and true care for the issue.

“I rose up with my fellows to speak for the people. I took Orion Pax under my wing, teaching him of the issues of our world and showing him all that he could not see in his comfortable middle caste position.” Smokescreen observed as for a split second, Megatron looked young and hopeful again. The scowl he always wore faded away, and his optics glinted as he stared into space. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“When we stood before the high council, Orion Pax, whom I trusted with everything, betrayed me. He shot down my proclamations and stood for what he saw as peace. He took everything from my cause, humiliating us.” Megatron’s servos shook with renewed anger, and Smokescreen stepped back on instinct as the warlord turned to face him.

“You remind me of him. Curious and cautious. Maybe that’s why I haven’t killed you yet.” The warlord growled, his digits twitching before he turned away again. Smokescreen’s vents fluttered as he struggled to return to his normal cooling cycle, fear thrumming in his fuel lines.

“Or perhaps you remind me of myself. You have that spark of determination in your gaze… and that makes me wonder, what is it you are fighting so hard for? What conviction has taken your spark so fully as to abandon your faction for mine?” The tables had turned. Smokescreen stalled, panic beginning to flare in his spark alongside the brand. He expected to lie, but instead he ended up speaking the truth.

“I was told to give in. I refuse to accept that order, and so I am fighting against it in order to stop needless death.” Silence reigned for a long moment before Megatron nodded once.

“A noble goal, guardsmech. You will make a fine Decepticon.” Megatron stalked away and Smokescreen stood in shock. However, as he returned to his quarters and thought…

Was Megatron really wrong? At this point, his goals had long since shifted away from the Autobots and more toward ending everything.

Perhaps he was a Decepticon deep down.

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It wasn’t fair. So many loops, and it was all for nothing.

He did everything in his power to work with the Decepticons, and yet absolutely nothing worked. And after his discussion with Megatron, he began to come to a realization.

What was it he was really fighting for? Obviously he wanted to save Optimus, but he wasn’t trying to really stop the Decepticons anymore, was he? In the beginning, he put everything he had into fighting back, into giving the Autobots their victory. But now? After so many loops? He just wanted the war to stop. He wanted everything to end and for the needless death to cease.

It hit him rather suddenly, but after what could have been thousands of loops, Smokescreen at last admitted that he was… tired. Truly tired. He fought so very hard for so long. He rose up time and time again, hoping for things to change. And yet, just as Optimus said, there was no escape.

He wasn’t sure when he made his way to his quarters or what look it was, but Smokescreen made a choice. It had been so very long…

“Optimus.” He spoke into the communicator softly, hoping the Prime would hear him.

“Smokescreen, are you alright?” Optimus asked immediately, concern lacing his tone. Smokescreen merely sighed, rubbing his face. He had no more tears to shed, not anymore.

“You were right. There is no escape… is there?” Optimus remained silent for a long moment, and Smokescreen could hear the nervous flutter of the Prime’s vents before he answered.

“No. There is no escape. I have tried, we all have.”

The words echoed like a weight in his spark chamber, and all Smokescreen could do was darkly chuckle as a dry sob built in his throat.

“What do I do now?” He asked gently as he rubbed at his face, trying to keep his composure. Optimus sighed across the line and spoke as though he were soothing a wayward sparkling.

“Finish this cycle, and when it ends, come back to me. Let things play out as they should. I believe you finally understand.” A small part of Smokescreen wanted to keep fighting, to ignore the Prime’s advice. But as he thought, it made sense. What would further struggle gain him now?

“Alright… I’m sorry Optimus. I’m so sorry. I tried to save you. I tried so fragging hard.” His words came out in a choked mix of static and sobs, and he wept. Optimus, the kind mech that he was, uttered a single sympathetic phrase.

“I know Smokescreen. You would not have been chosen otherwise.”

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When the loop began again, Smokescreen didn’t fight, he didn’t weep. Instead, he joined the team quietly and mingled with them as if he did not know what was to come. He kept his skill and knowledge behind wraps and pretended just to gain a sense of normalcy. The only times he allowed the mask to drop were when Optimus came to him, and they would sit and speak. Smokescreen told him of all his experiences, and the Prime in turn nodded in understanding.

Optimus did not share what he knew, but he didn’t need to. Smokescreen didn’t want to know. Not anymore.

Something in Smokescreen’s spark told him this would be the end of his endless loop. And so he devoted himself to bonding with the team. He did not laugh as he once did, but he played with Bumblebee, enjoying the familiarity of video games and good times. He trained alongside Arcee and Bulkhead, remembering bonds now long gone, as he pretended to match their moves and flounder despite having more experience than they likely did at this point. He went to Ratchet regularly, asking to be taught the art of medicine as a pastime. The doctor was a crankpot, but it was familiar, and that was all Smokescreen wanted.

The children kept him busy, the team gave him a home. Beneath it all, he knew what was to come, and so did Optimus. Neither fought against it when the time came for the base to burn. And when Smokescreen dragged Optimus from the rubble down into the tunnels, he did not cry as the Prime spoke.

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” How very familiar. Smokescreen almost didn’t hear with how many times he had endured the same line endlessly.

“I know. You’ve said this before.” He muttered as he sat beside Optimus, holding his servo in a comforting way. He was older now, wiser. No longer did he panic at the sight of his ailing leader.

“You show no fear… your conviction has eased… you are… ready.” Optimus’s hoarse voice caused Smokescreen to frown, but he nodded all the same. For once, the brand did not burn. Instead, it soothed the pain of his long memory.

This was meant to be. He knew this now.

“Forgive me… for leaving you like this.” Optimus gasped, his frame tensing up as he clung to life. Smokescreen washed his field over the elder mech and Optimus attempted to do the same in return. They understood one another. There was no point in fighting it now.

“I pray that our kind… have no more need for a Prime… once this war… comes to its end.” The Prime whispered as his frame failed him. Smokescreen merely nodded again as he replied softly.

“No other should endure this torment.” He agreed quietly. Optimus coughed and managed a smile before squeezing Smokescreen’s servo.

“I do not remember all you have endured… but I know in my spark… that a true leader stands before me… right now…” They shared their fields in silence as time dragged on. Smokescreen didn’t bother keeping track of it as he waited until he had the strength to make a new oath.

He failed to save Optimus, but he had not failed his people… not yet.

“I won’t let you down Optimus. I promise you, Cybertron will be restored, and this war will end.” With the last of his strength, Optimus smiled and Smokescreen returned it. Then, just like that, the Prime vented his last and fell still. Smokescreen remained with him, holding his servo for a klik until Optimus’s chassis split and the Matrix revealed itself.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. He had no reason to be.

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The world was brighter now in a strange way. No longer did knowledge of the future loom over his helm. For once, all was calm. But of course, there was still work to be done. Admiration could come later.

“Where is Optimus Prime?” Megatron growled, his blaster aimed at the team who were held in chains. They glared at Megatron, but their expressions quickly turned to shock.

“Optimus Prime has become one with the Allspark. I am Nebulous Prime, his ordained heir.” Nebulous now stood at around the same height as his predecessor, but it did not concern him. The Matrix sat heavy in his spark chamber, but it did not burn. With the memories of his fellow Primes imbuing him, he now knew that one day the weight would kill him.

But for now, all was well.

“I come with an offer of peace and a plan to restore our world.” The team gasped, and Megatron regarded him with pure suspicion. Nebulous did not falter as he strode forward, uncaring of the weapons aimed at him. He was no longer functionally immortal, but death did not shake him.

“What is it you offer Prime ?” There was a hint of sorrow in Megatron’s tone. Nebulous noted it with a hum. Perhaps he had not thought this far, but whatever the case, it was irrelevant now.

“We shall repair Cybertron together. I shall retrieve the Allspark, and as co-leaders, we shall fix our shattered world.” The team looked ready to object, but Nebulous paid them no mind. They would not understand. How could they? So very blinded by war and hate. They did not know the agony of reality.

“How am I to be assured you won’t eliminate me the moment it becomes convenient?” Megatron questioned with a low hiss. The Matrix thrummed comfortingly, providing knowledge which Nebulous happily accepted as he spoke again.

“I am not my predecessor. My trial was different from his… and I know that what you seek to gain at your core is also the goal of all Cybertronians.” All those present paused, and Ratchet looked ready to purge. Megatron for his part lowered his blaster and seemed contemplative.

“You truly desire peace, little Prime?”

The question hung in the air as Nebulous approached and extended a servo.

“More than anything else. This war has dragged on long enough, so please, let us bring it to its end.” He and Megatron locked optics for a long klik before the warlord nodded and took his servo, shaking it with considerate strength.

“For Cybertron.” Megatron murmured, his expression returned to that hopeful visage Smokescreen saw so many loops ago.

This was not the end Smokescreen wanted, but it was the end Nebulous strove for. Personal connections and petty grudges meant little now. All that mattered was restoring their home. Enough had perished as it was.

Optimus would have wanted this.

Nebulous would not fail, not again.

“For Cybertron.” He agreed.

And he meant it with all his spark.

Wherever Optimus was, Nebulous hoped that he was finally at peace.