#such things that drove these civilizations to despair

[impossible-rat-babies]

not me still v crying over the omnicron quests !

#there’s something so….human about the premise of the quests #utterly bizarre and deeply human and intensely compassionate #this way of nurturing and bringing these broken pieces back together again #I care so much about how they aren’t combat—they’re gatherers #gardeners. miners. fishers—what you bring in from the land #what you nurture not by violence but by growth. life #yes things won’t ever be the same as they were and the future #*future is riddled with fear and uncertainty #such things that drove these civilizations to despair #but the past is the past and looking towards the future…. #the directive of all #of the quests being simply: Live #is incredibly profound and these quests are such a wonderful little #follow up to the messages in EW #just. meteion’s song of hope for the future finding a place in a fuckin cafe at the end of the universe #where a new star has been born and is full of such beautiful and limitless potential #I sjdjdjdjd im deceased Goodnight #owen talks #ffxiv spoilers #me bopping my friends who haven’t gotten to this stuff back

[aro-screams-into-the-void]

Long post incoming! TCF NRC dorms, Choi Han Edition!

For me, he fits best in Savanaclaw or Scarabia, though he has traits of Heartslabyul, Pomefiore, and Octavinelle as well.

Choi Han is determined, strong-willed, and caring. After years alone and gaining and losing his first and second families (the Choi Family in Korea after he got isekai'd and Harris Village after Arm's attack,) he's especially protective of his third family (Cale and co.) Even in TBOAH, as despairing as he is, we know Choi Han still teams up with and cares for Rosalyn and Lock. He puts himself on the frontlines again and again and gives his all no matter who his opponent is. (Technically, he doesn't have to do that. He could take Cale out easily or just say no, but he doesn't because he's loyal and just.) There are very few obstacles that can stand in his way and actually stop him when he's on a mission. (Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw)

As the original protagonist of TBOAH and the one known survivor of the Forest of Darkness (for years, decades even,) he's gotta be adaptable, observant, and resourceful. Realistically, he had to survive with just the clothes on his back, fashion a weapon for himself (unless he had one on hand), figure out what was edible and what wasn't, and make a mental map of the forest for himself to get at least some sense of where he was at any given time if he needed to move quickly. He would've had to study the monsters and their patterns, their strengths and weaknesses, figure out where they resided and where they didn't go, etc. He would've needed to continue his training on his own and to develop his own aura and skills as a swordmaster with no one to guide him. And then! He would've had to presumably learn a whole new language and readjust to civilization once he got to Harris Village! Choi Han may not be able to act to save his life but the man is intelligent. (Scarabia, Octavinelle)

Choi Han is always talking about needing to get stronger. He needs to be better, to be faster, to be able to do just a bit more than before. He wants to achieve his full potential as a swordmaster (even though he could probably take out a whole army already if he wanted to) in order to better protect his loved ones (and keep Cale's self-sacrificial ass off the battlefield). He doesn't neglect his training at any point in TCF from what I remember, and he doesn't hesitate to take on strong opponents (ex Choi Han vs Toonka, Choi Han vs the fake Dragon Slayer, etc). (Pomefiore)

He's got a strong sense of justice as well. He wants to stop Arm for revenge for Harris Village, yes, but he also wants to stop Arm to protect his family and protect both the Western and Eastern Continents because it's the right thing to do. (He fully agrees with Cale's habit of smacking your enemies in the back for revenge-or taking a limb or two...) And! During the humilation/shame test, he gave young KRS warm food, shelter, warm clothing, and the care he deserved. Why? Because he cares about and it's the right thing to do. (Heartslabyul)

I'd also like to add that he's strong both physically and mentally. For example, he was able to break out of Elisneh's illusion of the Forest of Darkness in the Caro Kingdom because of his mental fortitude and determination. Also, while years of isolation in the Forest of Darkness drove TBOAH!Choi Han to despair (and probably insanity), TCF!Choi Han was lucky to have Cale this time around, but he still could've fallen to despair. Remember the fight with the golems (it was in the Whipper Kingdom if I'm remembering correctly). Choi Han was tempted to absorb the despair of the golems he'd defeated but he was able to pull back and strong enough to resist. He knows he doesn't need despair to achieve his full potential as a swordmaster. (Savanaclaw)

TLDR: Choi Han is an almost Avatar of the dorms, but is probably best suited for Scarabia or Savanaclaw

#god that was long #idk how y'all read through my rambles like this #choi han #tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #twst #twisted wonderland #aroscreams

[isaiahwarren]

OUT OF THE MOUNTAIN OF DESPAIR, A STONE OF HOPE.

Name: Isaiah Warren

Nickname: Zey

Gender & Pronouns: Cis male & he/him

Age: 34

Occupation: owner of Paradise Point Resort & Spa

Origins: Briar Ridge, South Carolina

Neighborhood: Briar Ridge Hills

Relationship status: Single

SUMMARY: Born and raised in Briar Ridge, Isaiah Warren was thrust into the fight for equality at a young age. First through an introduction from his father and then through his own experiences growing up in the south. He wants badly to just live a quiet life on his own, maybe have a family some day, but can't let go of the things that happened to him and continue to happen to others around the country. Like some members of his own family tree Isaiah can't help but dip his toes into the waters of politics and civil rights. After graduating with a business degree from Harvard and family money in his pockets he bought the Paradise Point Resort & Spa and makes a point of giving underprivileged teens and young adults opportunities.

Welcome to Briar Ridge … [ ISAIAH WARREN ]! Who is known as [ ZEY ] and was recently seen leaving their home in [ BRIAR RIDGE HILLS ]. he is currently [ 34 ] years old. he resembles [ KENDRICK SAMPSON ] and is the [ OWNER ] at [ PARADISE POINT RESORT & SPA ]. They’re best known for [ paying it forward by giving troubled youth opportunities ] and also, [ being active in political movements that would create social change ]. What is really important to know about them is [ the reluctant warrior, instances in his life have pushed him to take more proactive stances when he'd rather live a quieter life ]. 

tw: racism & racial hate crime

In the year of 1999, the then nine year old sat next to his father in a courtroom down in Texas to witness the trials and convictions of capital hate crimes that three white supremacist men committed against a black man. His father wanted him to see it. A part of him cheered internally when two of the three men were sentenced to death and the third sentenced to a life behind bars; the other part of Isaiah Warren believed it was only the beginning.

 Sitting in the courtroom in 1999 during that trial was something that felt extremely personal to Isaiah. As a young black man that grew up in the deep south he was no stranger to racism and the violence that it breeds. Sitting there, sometimes fuming and sometimes emotional, as he listened to testimonies of what had happened on that night of June seventh in 1998, it tore him up with the memories of the stories his own family members had shared of the past that seemed to be colliding with the then present day hate crime that was so brutal it had clearly shaken the prosecutor. Who had later said it was the worst he had seen in his twenty year career.

Isaiah had been jumped a few times in his life by white boys his own age or sometimes a little older. He spent a youth heckled by others because of the color of his skin, and was pushed around and put down more times than he could have ever kept track of. The harassment only lessened when his talent in sports drove the teams he was on to winning records and championship games. 

The only thing worse than being black and not white was that neither side fully accepted him as either. To his black community that he grew up in and identified with, Isaiah often wasn't black enough. His skin was too light. His green eyes were wrong. They were reflective of his white mother, who always meant the world to him, but he was also too dark to really be apart of her world too.

It still wasn’t enough to stop the night of terror that ended up leaving him with a beaten cousin dying in his arms and he, himself, needing to spend several days in the hospital to recover from his own injuries. His cousin had gone out on a date with a girl he had thought to be single, and a date between two sixteen year olds, something harmless and fun, resulted in being beat to death by the girl’s ex boyfriend and his friends. Isaiah and his cousin were attacked from behind and the worst of all of it had been directed to his cousin, his own injuries were mostly heavily sustained in trying to protect his family, whom he was forced to watch meet his end simply because of the color of his skin.

The trauma of that night was something the then fifteen year old took years to move past, though it became a strong driving force in his life. Not only did he testify against the attackers, he had to sit in the courtroom and listen to the defense attorneys tear the case apart to nothing. He sat there crying over the injustice served the day the attackers and murderers were let off with misdemeanors and from then on decided to be the change and fight against what had happened that day in court.

Ever since he was old enough to understand his surroundings as a child, Isaiah was aware of the differences of his skin color versus that of others. As a black person there was never any escape to it. As a boy in grade school he learned of his father and his connection to the great Dr Martin Luther King Jr, when the curriculum in school focused on the civil rights movement. He went home and shared the things he learned in class with his father, and his old man pulled out an old box of photos to show himself as a boy close to Colin’s age standing with Dr King and holding his hand. Grandfather was in the background of the picture and they were in the middle of a march. It was in Isaiah's roots to fight for equality, and he still keeps that photo with him and like his father always did, he lights a candle on the anniversary of King’s death. It was those things, his own brutal experience and his family history that motivated him so strongly to ace his way through Harvard and to continue onto business.

The thing is, Isaiah knows he's fortunate and spends each day grateful for the fights and sacrifices his father, and family before him had made. His great grandfather was involved in politics and business which set the family up for generations to come due to real estate savvy. That fortune gave Isaiah opportunities many young people of color never get, so with his degree from Harvard he bought the resort in Briar Ridge and made it his mission to offer and awarded as many opportunities as he can.

With the social climate around the country at a tipping point, he reluctantly re-entered the fray. The memories of his rough past come to surface and he knows there's no way he couldn't be apart of the fight for equality.

Isaiah strongly believes that every single human being deserves, in the least, the basic human and civil rights and ever since he was fifteen years old it has been his fight in the world. As one day he would like children of his own, or dreams of it and hasn’t been able to bring a child into the world with the state it’s in.

#& | introduction. #& | biography. #& | pinned post.

[600shekels]

2 Chronicles 35: 1-9. "The Dowry."

Josiah Celebrates the Passover

35 Josiah "relief of God's Despair" celebrated the Passover to the Lord in Jerusalem, and the Passover lamb was slaughtered on the fourteenth day of the first month.

 2 He appointed the priests to their duties and encouraged them in the service of the Lord’s temple. 

3 He said to the Levites, who instructed all Israel and who had been consecrated to the Lord: “Put the sacred ark in the temple that Solomon son of David king of Israel built. It is not to be carried about on your shoulders. Now serve the Lord your God and his people Israel. 

The Ark is to be carried about above the shoulders in one's head. It is the subtext to how life is lived, it should not be so much an effort to bear its burden.

4 Prepare yourselves by families in your divisions, according to the instructions written by David king of Israel and by his son Solomon.

5 “Stand in the holy place with a group of Levites for each subdivision of the families of your fellow Israelites, the lay people. 6 Slaughter the Passover lambs, consecrate yourselves and prepare the lambs for your fellow Israelites, doing what the Lord commanded through Moses.”

Nisan, the First Month, means "setting out", the Fourteenth Day means "God's hand on the Bulls."

The ceremony is the same as the one Solomon performed in his famous request to God for the sake of "wisdom to lead the people." The sacfifice of the bull is a vow not to compete with God for His Supremacy.

To sacrifice of the lamb, is to try with all of one's being to be free of delusion about the proper causes of happiness. To be not as a lamb, subject to the protection of a shepherd but to be subject to God, who expects happiness of His worshippers as the price for freedom from life in the wildnerness without a brand-new fresh pair of clean fashion underpants.

Just as it is the responsibility of the Crown at the top of the Kabbalah, on a man's own head to lead himself out of slavery in Egypt to Sinai, it is the job of the King, the President, the Czar, the Emperor, the Prince and the Princess, to prevent the Angel of Death from striking at us, to strike at the enemy instead, the fathers of lies and their sons:

7 Josiah provided for all the lay people who were there a total of thirty thousand lambs and goats for the Passover offerings, and also three thousand cattle—all from the king’s own possessions.

30,000= 3+10=13+10=33+ 10= 43...4+3= 7, = Shabbat.

For so long as the earth shall turn and orbit the sun, Seven Days a week, the human race shall, in exchange for life on this planet, become men who revere a God, not lambs in fear of a wolf.

Unlike lambs, we can learn, we stand up, we can make and unmake our quality of life as good or as bad as we choose.

Unlike cattle who are a source of income to their owners, we own ourselves. Who grazes their cattle and then gives them away to a stranger?

Who transcends the bull, the lamb, the goat and the cow achieves freedom from his animal nature and passes over the instincts that drove Israel, a thriving ancient civilization to the brink of ruin in modern times. It is the job of the King to ensure Israel is raised up, and its footprints do not disappear in the darkness.

8 His officials also contributed voluntarily to the people and the priests and Levites. Hilkiah, Zechariah and Jehiel, the officials in charge of God’s temple, gave the priests twenty-six hundred Passover offerings and three hundred cattle. 

The Officials, the Rabbis in the Torah and real life are charged with:

Hilkiah=to seduced using the slippery stones of the speech

Zechariah=remind about the animals and the men

Jehiel=and how things work together in the Nation

The Gematria for the 2600 Passover Offerings plus 300 cattle is 51, Ha, or "to live life."

The opposite is to be swept away by all that...hair:

The general root שער (s'r) appears to primarily express intense negative emotion or the experience of violence. Curiously, it also yields words that have to do with hair.

Noun שער (se'ar) means hair or hairdo, and noun שערה (sa'ara) denotes a single hair. The derived denominative verb שער (sa'ar) would literally mean to be hairy or "hairish" but in fact is solely used to mean to be very afraid. Taking the liberty to back-engineer this verb yields the observation that a single hair would have to be associated with a single fear, a full head of hair with lots of concerns, and a bald pate with either a stoic mastery or else a blissfully empty head.

Noun שער (sa'r), means horror. Adjective שעיר (sa'ir) means hairy. Noun שעיר (sa'ir) denotes a he-goat (a bristly guy or a fear guy?) and its feminine counterpart שעירה (sa'ira) means she-goat. Noun שערה (se'ora) means barley, the bearded grain.

Verb שער (sa'ar) means to sweep or whirl away, usually in relation to a storm wind. Nouns שער (sa'ar) and its feminine counterpart שערה (se'ara) mean storm. These words also occur in an alternative spelling, namely as the verb סער (sa'ar), to storm, and nouns סער (sa'ar) and סערה (seara), storm.

In the Middle Ages, scholars began to add dots and points to the Scriptures. All previous words they equipped with a dot on the left tooth of the letter ש, hence שׂ (sin), whereas the following words were spelled with a dot to the right, hence שׁ (shin). To the original authors and the first thousand years of their readers, this difference did not exist.

Verb שער (sha'ar) exists in other languages with the meaning of to break, tear through or split, which obviously repeats the general theme of the experience of violence. The adjective שער (sho'ar) means horrid or disgusting, and nouns שערורה (sha'arura), שערוריה (sha'aruriya) and שעררית (sha'arurit) denote horror or horrible things.

Much more neutral are the nouns שער (sha'ar), gate, and שער (sho'er), gatekeeper or porter. These words suggests that the ancients associated a hair emerging from skin to traffic emerging from a city gate, like words flowing from an overfilled heart. This in turn suggests that when a grieving person pulls his or her hair out, he or she becomes silent with grief.

The verb שער (sha'ar) is also used to mean to calculate or reckon, obviously with an emphasis on the verbal conveyance of something internally experienced. Noun שער (sha'ar) is also used to mean "fold" in the sense of "a hundred fold."

9 Also Konaniah along with Shemaiah and Nethanel, his brothers, and Hashabiah, Jeiel and Jozabad, the leaders of the Levites, provided five thousand Passover offerings and five hundred head of cattle for the Levites.

Konaniah= To establish the place

כון

Root כנן (kanan) and hence verb כון (kun) mean to set, establish, fix, and so on. Nouns כן (ken), מכונה (mekona) and מכנה (mekona) denote a base or pedestal, noun מכון (makon) describes some fixed or established place, and noun תכונה (tekuna) means place or arrangement. Noun כון (kawwan) expresses a sort of ritualistic or sacrificial setup.

Shemaiah=to understand and obey the rumors

Nethanel=about all that God has given

Hashbiah=learn all that can be known

The verb חשב (hashab) means to think but instead of mere musing or theorizing this verb emphasizes mental activity with a practical (synthetic, technical or artistic) purpose in mind: to think up, to plan or devise.

Noun חשבון (heshbon) describes the entire library of artistic and technological knowledge. Noun מחשבה (mahashaba) denotes a thought, a plan, a device, an artistic object.

Jeiel=work together to make a living organism and human minds working together to make a living nation, a vibrant community.

Jozabad=the Lord's Dowry.

[forestmushroom]

Movie: The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)

I picked this movie randomly - I wanted to go watch a good thought-inducing movie by myself and out of all the movies the cinema offered, this one seemed like the most interesting. To my surprise, it was one that I had written down in my notes list a few months ago and had completely forgotten about. And I absolutely loved it!

To me, The Banshees of Inisherin is a movie about the human condition. About the inevitability of death and the frustrated knowledge that one day we will be forgotten. At first glance, it seems like a movie purely about friendship - the story of Pádraic, who suffers with the sudden and inexplicable ending of his friendship with Colm. But it's more profound than that. Together, Pádraic and Colm guide us through two completely different perspectives about life: one of a man who is aware that life will end some day and that he still has a lot of time so he lives his day-to-day with simplicity, finding happiness within the people and animals of the small island; and then another of a man who can't help the suffering and the despair that come with knowing that someday we will die and nobody will remember us. Or so he thinks.

This is a story about lashing out on the ones you love and who love you. This is a story about depression, about suicide, about not knowing what to do with yourself. About seeking desperately for some way of never being forgotten - of leaving a mark in this cruel world.

And, in my eyes, it is mainly a story about kindness. In a movie with a limited number of characters, we get to know a few people and their personal struggles, like the sister Siobhán who wants more for herselft and the unsettling fortune-telling old lady. The boy Dominic who lives an unfortunate, abused life - who, although a side character, was a central piece of the story, to me.

Because loneliness is real, depression is real, trauma is real, the unsettling void some of us feel deep in our chests is real. Because being kind and being nice to those around us is the only way to survive.

Dominic was my favorite character for this very reason, as he felt first-hand the effects of the absence of kindness. From his father, from the island and, towards the end, from Pádraic himself. Pádraic, the only true good guy in the island, who apparently Dominic held onto for dear life ever so indirectly, proved that he was capable of cruelty. This was a life changing moment for him, along with his conversation with Siobhán. The lack of kindness provoked by a series of events was what drove him to his fate. Barry Keoghan's performance as Dominic was mind-blowing and utterly meaningful, making it one of my favorite things about the whole movie - along with the gorgeous views.

All in all, The Banshees of Inisherin translates how being nice to others can go a long way. Through seemingly funny dialogues that are in fact deep and raw and allude to the Irish Civil War, this movie portrays the true essence and the struggles of every living soon-to-be-dead human being (all of us). It will stay with me for a very long time and I highly recommend it 🌾

(Also the Irish accent was TO DIE FOR, I would've watched this movie solely for it 😆)

Disclaimer: This is 100% my opinion and the meaning I built around the movie by myself ♡ Feel free to interact!

#Forestmushroomthinks #The Banshees of Inisherin #Martin McDonagh #Colin Farrell #Brendan Gleeson #Kerry Condon #Barry Keoghan

[tarryloesinne]

OMNITRANYL - 11. A fit in the schedule

Kevin started his investigative journey as soon as he left the Plumber Headquarters. He needed to keep his mind occupied so as not to screw up, so looking for clues and trying to understand Albedo's plan was something that could keep him "distracted" for quite some time.

What he would do when he found the Galvanian, he could no longer say for sure: How great was his willpower to keep the promise he made to Gwen?

In his car, Kevin traveled around the city in search of information. He went to biker bases and Undertown, passed TV networks and alien technology dumps, drove through abandoned amusement parks and quirky zoos. In a matter of hours, he traversed almost all of Bellwood.

Unwillingly, he was forced to revisit old acquaintances. To call them friends was perhaps too much, for most of them would like to see his head served with barbecue sauce on a silver platter.

And it was in a series of chance encounters with Argit, the underworld's porcupine trickster, that Kevin discovered one of his most relevant pieces of information:

"Come on, Argit, tell us what you know!"

"W-wait a minute, Kevin, my man!" Argit found himself upside down, being held by Kevin by only one of his legs. Below him was a fall of about 20 floors. "What's the need for all this aggression?"

"You've been running away from me since the first time you saw me."

"Yes, but..."

"The second time, you ran over my car and scratched the paint with your claws."

"Really? Look, you can pay for it."

"The third time, you tried to shoot those nasty spines of yours at me just as I was about to grab you."

"But you were covered with metal, and I knew it wouldn't hurt you."

"The fourth time, you threw a garbage can at my windshield and made me crash my car."

"I can't pay for that anymore..."

"Then you ambushed Octagon and Rhomboid in the Undertown to capture me."

"They told me they were going to throw a surprise party for you. I didn't imagine that they would try to rip your head off..."

Kevin looked up, staring at Argit, with the boulevard just below. The trickster flashed a yellow smile. The young man followed the good manners of the social contract and said with a smile:

"I'm glad you were able to find a space in your very tight schedule to talk to me, dear friend."

"H-hey, that's the kind of thing a friend is for..." Argit felt the wind swaying his body from side to side "B-but couldn't you put me down so we can talk like two civilized people?"

"No way."

"Got it." Argit watched the cars passing below him like little colored ants. "S-so tell me, how can I help you?"

Kevin got a serious expression and said:

"Albedo."

"I don't know any Albedo."

Kevin opened one of the fingers of the hand that held the porcupine.

"W-w-wait a minute!" Argit tried to move as little as possible so as not to slip out of Kevin's hand "I-I think I'm remembering a-something."

"I imagined you were."

"Albedo... Albedo..."

Kevin opened another finger. The wind was blowing violently at that point.

"Albedo! I remembered! Y-yes, he came to me. He wanted information about some equipment and materials."

"What for?"

"I don't know."

"Argit..."

"I'm serious, I don't know!"

Kevin trusted the answer. He bent his two fingers again around his interrogated man's leg.

"What is he looking for?"

"C-can't say."

Kevin opened three fingers.

"Oh my God!" Argit despaired, covering his eyes with his hands to try to avoid the dizziness and fear he felt when he looked down.

"What he wanted, Argit. Let's just say it!"

"H-he'll kill me if it turns out that I said anything, Kevin, and you know it!"

"Relax, I won't let him. I've got your back."

"Like this? I don't need it!"

Kevin wondered if Gwen would approve of his methods. Certainly not. He closed his hand again and held the porcupine firmly. He stepped off the edge of the building, carrying Argit, and dropped him to the roof floor.

The trickster groped the ground around him, trying to make sure he was back on solid ground and trying to calm his racing heart.

"Argit, I need some information. Come on, help me."

He stared at Kevin with anger in his eyes. He wanted to shove a thousand thorns into his face right now and run away. It wouldn't be that hard, just lean forward a little and...

◇───────◇───────◇

Kevin was walking into the cave.

"Tadenita," was what Argit said before turning around and walking away. Their relationship wasn't the best, but let's just say that both of them had enough "scoundrel credit" with each other that they could "let this one go..."

The interior of the cave showed signs of mining. One or another transport cart was standing on a rail. There were several pickaxes lying along the way. Sometimes a small piece of Tadenite ore was found lying isolated in a corner. And it is a fact: the cave was too quiet and empty...

Kevin continued on his way, following the transport trail until he came to an opening with voices and sounds coming from within. The trail followed the opening and descended in a gentle curve until it reached an intersection of rails in the middle of a large space inside the cave. In the center, Vulkanus and about fifty pickaxe miners were gathered together.

The small Taedenite miners were walking back and forth, carrying parts and equipment. Vulkanus was out of his armor. This armor gave him at least two more feet of height. Together with his physical stature, this allowed him to reach a total height of 2.60 feets.

Kevin heard behind him a sound approaching and jumped through the hole moments before he was almost hit by a miner's pickaxe. The young man jumped onto the rail and slid down the iron, like a skateboarder on a railing, until he reached the ground, standing a few feet away from Vulkanus and surrounded by mining minions.

"Hey there, Vulkanus."

"What do you want, osmosian?" Vulkanus didn't turn around. On a mobile platform that changed height according to his will, he continued to tinker with his armor.

Kevin noticed that the famous armor was extremely damaged. An arm was missing, and there were holes, some plates were missing, and wiring was sticking out of openings in the exoskeleton.

Vulkanus was annoyed that he was being watched, so he asked again with more brutality in his voice:

"Say, what do you want?"

"Albedo," answered Kevin.

You know when you are talking some nonsense with a friend in class, and suddenly everyone is silent and you let out that embarrassing information that resonates and makes everyone turn around and stare at you? Well, that is how the cave reacted to Kevin's speech.

Many of the miners dropped the pieces and equipment in hand and wielded their pickaxes, ready to attack Kevin at the first command. Their leader, however, kept a close eye on the repairs to his armor.

"I don't know anything," replied Vulkanus.

"I'm pretty sure you do," Kevin watched as the villain welded a plate to the side of his exoskeleton. "This armor didn't crumble all by itself..."

"You think this is funny, kid?" Vulkanus dropped his tool and finally faced Kevin.

"Actually, I do."

"I've always thought you were a cheater, a liar, and irresponsible," Vulkanus gritted his eyes angrily, "but I never thought you were stupid. Do you want me to kill you, Osmosian?"

"What is it? Are you ashamed that you got beaten up by Albedo and are making threats to try to cover it up!"

The seconds that followed seemed to last for hours. Maybe the tense mutism was an important variable in the construction of the uncomfortable environment in which they found themselves.

The silence was broken the instant the villain gave the order:

"Finish him off!"

The miners attacked all at once. Kevin was firing kicks and punches, throwing minions everywhere. The cave was coated with the sound of battle.

Vulkanus turned his back to the confusion and continued repairs on his armor. With pliers he cut some wires and repositioned them inside one of the side panels.

Kevin jumped over a transport cart and kicked it towards the goons coming towards him. A miner jumped up ready to hit his head, when he grabbed him still in the air and threw him into the nearest wall.

Vulkanus lowered the platform to the knee height of the armor and bolted the right joint. He was looking for a screw, when he realized that it was between his lips. He thought a "wow, how distracted am I" and continued to screw.

Kevin shook off two minions that jumped on his back, throwing them against some wooden pillars that supported the rails. Two other minions were running toward him, one of them struck with a pickaxe to the right of his face. Kevin dodged, then punched the minion hard enough to propel him against another minion.

Vulkanus, meanwhile, with the platform at chest height on his armor, was finishing replacing the shoulder plates and finishing the last touches. Then he realized that the sounds of the hubbub had stopped. Only a single gasping breath could be heard.

"Vulkanus!" Standing up, surrounded by several fainted henchmen, Kevin kept his gaze fixed on the villain, who was trying his best not to show the intensity of his discomfort.

"..."

"Albedo, where did he go?"

The villain kept silent. His arrogance wouldn't allow him to assume he had lost. Twice more.

A remaining miner jumped toward Kevin, pickaxe in hand, ready to pierce the young man's thorax. Kevin held the tool and punched the henchman in the face, causing him to drop the pickaxe.

Vulkanus felt a wind blow past his face the instant the pickaxe hit the center of the chest of his armor.

The core of the armor turned into a fireball as it exploded, turning the exoskeleton into thousands of pieces. Vulkanus was thrown with the shockwave and slid backwards across the floor until he was stopped by Kevin's foot, resting on his huge head.

"I'll ask you just once more" Kevin was clad in Tadenite, his arm deformed at one enormous point, resembling a green stalagmite, which dangled over the villain's eyes "Where. Is. Albedo?"

◇───────◇───────◇

Kevin stopped the car as soon as he reached the place. A huge building, with its architecture based on 16th century castles, adorned with red flags. Knights walked from one side to the other, securing the place.

#ben 10 ultimate alien #ben10 #ben 10 uaf #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 #writing #fiction #fanfic

[narrators-journal]

Hi can I ask for yandere chuuya comforting his s/o who’s been secretly self harming like in the bathroom pls🤍 love your writing☺️

Hi! Sorry this took so insanely long! I've been going through some shit, so I hope this is okay, and not too dark for you. I'm, once again, sorry for your wait!

A year. You'd been captive for a whole year now. The thought churned your stomach, souring further at the memory of how your boyfriend had changed with the flick of a switch. Chuuya had been such a caring boyfriend before, bringing you gifts, messaging you adorable good morning messages, it was almost too good to be true. It was.

You didn't know why, but all of a sudden he'd grabbed you out of your bed one night and locked you away in a secluded house, and just like that, you were a princess guarded by a hot-tempered dragon.

The home wasn't the reason you now sat beside the tub, watching as a fresh cut dripped crimson liquid into the basin, it was admittedly gorgeous. It was the sudden loss of all of your friends, family, and acquaintances, because now that you were relocated, Chuuya didn't even let you outside without him, let alone around anyone else, so your social life had swiftly shrivelled up and died before your eyes. It drove you mad.

You'd tried before to run. Waiting until Chuuya left you alone for one of his jobs and then trying to break out a window to run to civilization. However, a bandage-clad brunette had intercepted you. Convinced you he would help.

All he'd done is give you back to Chuuya, costing you a broken leg.

So, trapped with nothing but your lonely hopelessness, you resorted to more drastic means of escape. After all, running was useless, so why try? You'd instead found a forgotten piece of glass beneath the couch, the only remains of your broken window, and used it to vent your frustrations and despair onto your wrists, stomach, whatever part you felt like in the moment.

Honestly, it hurt a bit when he didn't find out soon after you'd begun, but, in a dark way, it also gave you a thrill. It disgusted you, but at the same time, it became the most entertaining thing left for you to do.

However, your fun couldn't last forever.

Usually, Chuuya's work kept him away long enough for your wounds to heal a bit, but this time. He came over earlier than you expected.            "(y/n)! I'm home," he called as he shut the front door, making you jump in your spot by the tub. In a hurry, you did your best to wrap your wrist in some bandage and yank your shirt sleeve down over the scars decorating your (s/c) skin before you went out to see the redhead who held you captive here.

It wasn't like you really spoke to him anymore. Ever since he'd decided to kidnap you, conversation hadn't moved much further than you cursing his existence and getting into screaming matches, but some shameful part of you still enjoyed greeting him at the door like a dog. Like usual, he tried to kiss your cheek, grimacing when you leaned away still, but he said nothing about it and just went on to make you dinner.

For a while, it was just your usual routine. Him making you dinner, you blandly watching television and ignoring him. However, things took a turn when you sat up to eat and Chuuya suddenly grabbed your hurt wrist, making you wince,          "(y/n), why is your wrist bleeding?" He asked, concern lacing his words as he watched you glance at your wound, spotting the same growing patch of red he had on your sleeve. Shit.          "I...don't know," you tried, Chuuya's sapphire eyes narrowing at you,          "Liar."          "I'm not lying!" you argued, trying to pull away before the redhead could get your sleeve down to show your wounds, but he easily over powered you and saw your many scars and fresh cuts.

          "What the FUCK. Why are you cutting yourself?!" He demanded, letting you yank your aching wrist out of his grip, matching your sneer, "How else am I supposed to escape you?! Or the unending boredom here?!" You demanded, seeing the way your words stabbed into him, but there was also understanding in his ocean-colored eyes, so he didn't question your urge to escape him.          "Why are you bored? You have tv, wifi, you have everything you can have to entertain yourself." He instead pointed out, making you throw your hands up in frustration,           "Oh yeah, because youtube and netflix can totally fill the lonely void that comes with having my friends ripped from me." You shot back, beginning to tear up from the mixture of frustration and loneliness, "I want my friends back, Chuuya! I want to go out again, and actually do something!" You shot back, pushing yourself up from the couch to storm off into your room, but Chuuya hooked his arm around your waist and yanked you back,            "How are you lonely?! You have me!" He snapped, ignoring your attempts to squirm away,            "you're never here! I'm constantly alone, and I hate it here!" you ranted, tears finally falling down your (s/c) cheeks as you tried to pull away from him without success. so, you just finally broke down and sobbed, letting Chuuya hug you and gently shush you.

For a few moments, Chuuya just pet your hair and let you cry, sighing a bit,         "I'm sorry that you're so lonely." He eventually said once you'd stopped blubbering, "I can't let you go back to living like you were, but I can at least be here more. Okay?" You just tried to wipe the tears from your eyes and speak simultaneously,         "Why can't I just go home..."         "You just can't, okay? I'm sorry, but I can be around more, so you can go outside more, okay?"

It wasn't much, and you still weren't happy, but for now, you accepted the small comfort it gave. Wordlessly, you just let him pet you and cuddle you, trying to comfort you more.

#Chuuya x reader #Yandere Chuuya #bsd #Bungo stray dogs #x reader #yandere #ask

[captainofthetidesbreath]

A smaller but super interesting thing in the Tal'Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn are all the new tidbits that feel to me as connected to the lore built out for the upcoming Call of the Netherdeep.

"For eons, this mighty champion of the gods has been imprisoned in the darkest depths of Exandria. His name has been forgotten, as have his heroic deeds. Languishing in despair, he calls out for new heroes to save him. [...] this adventure begins in the Wastes of Xhorhas and leads to the glimmering oasis-city of Ank'Harel on the continent of Marquet, and from there into a sunken realm of gloom, corruption, and sorrow known as the Netherdeep. Above it all, the red moon of Ruidus watches, twisting the fates of those who have the power to shape the course of history." (Call of the Netherdeep)

Prologue to the Song of Alyxian O Ruidus, grant humble chorus leave // To sing the song which hails the zenith of // Your accurséd, thrice-blessed Apotheon; // Remember'd best by deeds in war, and yet // Whose acts were driven oft by fate most foul. His kindly brow bore gifts from gods of change, // And art, and moon, yet in his soul was pain, // The suffering of your vermilion light // Drove the Paragon to a desert realm // Bestrewn with blades and drenched // in crimson blood. So hear, O moon of curséd deeds and fates! // The song of he who rose above your great // And mighty pow'r, to save Exandria. // From flames of war fanned by the Ruiner's blade. (TCSR 10)

"One tale even tells of a champion blessed by three of the gods in their times of greatest need. Now all but forgotten, this Apotheon was forced by fate into terrible battles across the world." (TCSR 15)

"Some well-preserved ruins of the ancient civilizations remain, such as the Drowned City of Cael Morrow in the lands of Marquet..." (TCSR 16)

"This sandy wasteland is rumored to have once been verdant jungle brought to ruin by the spear of the Ruiner in the Calamity. Some stories tell of a great hero that sacrificed himself to save Marquet from utter annihilation, but only scattered fragments of this tale endure." (TCSR 146)

"...the grand city of Ank'Harel, known as the Jewel of Hope. This city, built atop the Drowned City of Cael Morrow..." (TCSR 146)

#I feel like I am one of maybe three people reading TCSR and going 'Call of the Netherdeep connection???' #Critical Role things #Critical Role #TCSR spoilers

[silkling]

Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

#silkling request fics #request fic #tfp #transformers prime #tfp sierra #tfp starscream #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp optimus prime #Sierra joins Team Prime #smokescreen is her partner #maccadam

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Five Words

I’m back again ... this time with a requested ‘Leonard Betts’ follow-up ...

this tried to kill me a little bit ... not lying ...

@laurenclare88 @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

No surprise to either Mulder or Scully, he was awake when she called, “hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, me, you okay?” Twisting his head back to see the clock behind him, “it’s almost midnight.”

“Feel like getting some hot chocolate? Coffee? Platter of waffles the size of your head?”

He heard something in her voice, and not sure if she’d been crying or sound asleep until five seconds before she called, he sat up, “well, Waffles and Stuff is open and in the middle so we can meet there, if you’d like, or if we hit Rolls and Holes, I’ll come pick you up.”

It was actually called Benny’s Café but they specialized in homemade cinnamon rolls and peanut butter donut holes, hence Mulder’s highly inappropriate, yet completely fitting, nickname.

She didn’t laugh like she normally did, juvenile as the nickname was, and he headed towards his shoes, wondering what could have happened since he left her yawning, at her front door, two hours ago, “Waffles and Stuff is fine. See you in ten.”

She must already be in the car because it took ten minutes to get there. Hurrying now, he tossed on a sweatshirt, then his jacket, heading out the door a minute later, turning left for the stairs instead of right to the elevator because hoofing it would be faster. The car ride there was quiet, traffic light, pavement dry.

Waffles and Stuff was empty this time of night, and as he parked, he spotted her already in their booth in the corner, having graduated from the counter a year or so back. Waving to both the cook and lone waitress, Max and Catherine as they had learned some time ago, he slid into the bench across from his partner, “fancy meeting you here.”

She didn’t feel like banter tonight, heavy burden weighing but not forming concrete thoughts able to be spoken out loud just yet. Instead, “you want to split the waffles or fly solo?”

“Scully.”

Hands on the table, she raised one in his direction, fingers waving absently, wrist bobbing in a ‘give me some time’ gesture, “I think I’d like to split a set of Belgian with extra butter and get bacon and sausage on the side. How’s that sound?”

Now she was just freaking him out. Stopping her flopping hand, “Scully? What happened? Is it your mom? Bill? Talk to me, please?”

She jerked her hand away from him, nearly taking out her water glass in the process, “just … they’re fine … I just …” frustration made her words stutter, nostrils flare, jaw tighten for a moment, “I haven’t …”

Not pushing in the moment, he leaned forward, holding his pointer finger up to stop Catherine’s approach, “do you want to eat here or get it to go? We can share in the car if you want.”

Eyes shutting, she took a deep breath, palms flat on Formica. Exhaling slowly, she found her center for a brief second, “just some hot chocolate for now.”

Mulder called the order to Catherine, adding a ‘thanks’ before returning to Scully, speaking slowly again, “are you okay?”

Her head shook a ‘no’, eyes glued to the table, fingers white. Mulder’s stomach tightened but venturing a guess that she’d had a nightmare about Betts and couldn’t form the words yet, he nodded, trying again to touch her, tracing his fingers over the cold knuckles on the back of her hand, “you’re fine here, okay? We can stay as long as you like.”

Caught between crying and screaming, she let him run his fingers over her for another moment before sliding back, hands dropping to lap as eyes bounced from his chin, then to his chest before landing on his still extended hand, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She knew damn well she didn’t wake him up, but both realized she needed to steer them back to middle ground, neutral conversation, “you didn’t. I was watching ‘Golden Girls’.”

Not knowing this particular vice, she met his green eyes, almost smiling, “who’s your favorite?”

“Um, Sophia. What kind of asinine question is that?”

Hot chocolate arrived amidst the debate of Sophia vs. Rose and ordering their smorgasbord, things stayed light through another side of bacon and a second helping of hot chocolate. Stuffed by 1:15am, Mulder saw her drifting away again, heaviness settling where frivolity had been moments earlier. Tapping her ankle with his shoe lightly, she didn’t startle but refocused on him, “that better be you.”

Continuing, “it is.”

“Good. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to come here again.”

Catherine somehow managed to clean their table without disturbance, in, out, feeling the odd pall over them. Neither so much as glanced her way.

Subtly lifting his leg, he set his foot on the booth beside her, preventing any escape from his next questions, “what happened? Did you have a nightmare about Betts? Did you see something? Hear something?” He felt microscopic pressure against his ankle as her thigh muscles tensed to move but he held steady, not letting her leave. Voice dropping to a whisper, he leaned forward, “you’re starting to freak me out.”

Her face crumbled for a moment, then snapped back to normal 1 am, shifting gears a third time when her eyebrows crashed together, lip curling, chin wobbling in an instant, then back to normal. The gambit of emotions that crossed her face in under four seconds was heart-wrenching and Mulder followed along, panic about to overrun control.

Moving his foot, he shifted in beside her, arm around her shoulder, fear growing exponentially, his voice wobbling quietly in her ear, “what happened?”

“Betts told me I had something he needed.”

With the speed of a fucking bullet, realization froze his heart, and his other arm completed the circle around her, pulling her into his shoulder, burying his face in her hair, “Betts in a psychopathic fucker.” She couldn’t quite find words to tell him about the bloody nose that had sent her spiraling so she tried to move closer instead, wishing for a way to crawl into his lap without rebuke or reprisal. Ice still coursing through his veins, he choose denial mode as opposed to depths of despair, comfort instead of chaos, “he’s certifiable, Scully, why would you give him a second thought? A first thought, even?”

When she didn’t respond, he let go of her, standing, tossing money on the table and taking her hand, “come on.”

When he pulled away from her, she nearly sobbed, missing him in that second more than she’d missed him in … well … possibly ever. Seeing his extended hand started the roller coaster all over again and shifting, she followed in silence, little hand wrapped in big, not waving goodnight to their hosts, not seeing anything but his jacket inches from her nose.

Her nose.

And the slightest headache thrumming behind it.

She stumbled over the curb, running into his back, catching herself before hitting the ground. Her control was gone, her walls blown to hell, her mind focused on five words, four years, three drops of blood, two people, one soul and the suddenly ticking timebomb of a six-letter word.

She couldn’t say it.

Mulder had her face in his hands, trying to comprehend the unimaginable, eyes darting between hers, betraying any kind of cool exterior both knew he didn’t have, “you’re fine, Scully. You are going to be fine. Betts is … was … and ever shall be … nothing to us. He wanted to get under your skin and he knew how and he did it and he’s burning in hell right now and you can’t listen to anything he said. Do you hear me?”

Held still by large palms and calloused fingers, she let the tears escape, her voice reaching his ears in a wet, spitty, stilted stutter, “you … you didn’t hear … how he said it … Mulder. He … he had sympathy in his words, the look …” eyes closed for a moment, swallowing hard, “he looked genuinely sorry.” Choking inhale in, one sob shook both to their core, “he wasn’t saying it to be cruel. He was saying it … to be kind … and he’s dead and he can’t … he could have …”

Shaking his head, he finally pulled her into a hug, most of her upper body disappearing into his embrace, “he couldn’t have done anything, Scully. He removed tumors because he needed them. Doctors do the same thing. He didn’t cure, Scully,” he kept saying her name, needing to hear it out loud, prove she was still standing in front of him, his denial in place but his fear still winning, “he removed. Doctors cure, he mangled, he cut, he … he couldn’t have helped you but Leonard Betts doesn’t matter anymore because your fine and he’s gone and he was just fucking with your head because he could. He would have said the same thing to me had I been in the ambulance with you. I know enough about these people to know it would have ended with that phrase regardless of who was in the truck.”

Neither was sure who he was trying harder to convince and neither dwelled on it.

Instead, she stayed up on the curb while Mulder was one notch below in the gutter, hug evened out, height difference conquered with concrete and asphalt. A cone of silence enveloped them, traffic noise, barking dogs, airplanes overhead, all fading away, until, Scully, mess of emotions somewhat in check, spoke quietly into his chest, “will you take me home?”

“Of course.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Leaving his car behind, he drove hers to her apartment, both climbing stairs and locking doors behind. Her microwave clock now read 2:09am as she held out her hand to take his coat, walls still down, mind and heart exhausted, “would you mind sleeping in with me tonight? I wouldn’t normally ask but …” sentence running off to nowhere, she waited, eyes pleading in that Scully way.

“You got any sweats for me?”

Once in bed, not as awkwardly as either expected, they remained a civil distance apart but facing each other, eyes tired, eyes burning, eyes not breaking contact for fear the other would disappear in the time of a blink. Mulder, desperate to reach out to her, kept his hands to himself, “you’re fine. You will always be fine. You’ll go to the doctor if you need to tomorrow and he’ll tell you there’s nothing to worry about and then we’ll go ride roller coaster somewhere or run through the fountains of DC naked in celebration that I was right and you were wrong.”

She had already planned the following morning in her head but staying silent about that, she instead flashed him a small smile, trying her best to make it look genuine, to force her eyes to sparkle in amusement just enough to allow him to fall asleep in peace, “naked, huh?”

He saw through her bullshit like she was a plate glass window, “not on the roller coasters.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not on the roller coasters.”

Trying to keep his voice steady, “you’re going to be fine.”

Finally reaching towards him, his hand met hers halfway, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Sleep eluded him, preferring to listen to her stuffy inhale than to drift into slumber but even the great Fox Mulder eventually had to give in to sleep, drifting off around 4:15. Scully, faking until 3:30, woke at 5:45, slipping out of bed, five-minute shower, out the door by 6:30, leaving her partner behind.

Three favors later, she was trying to hold herself together in the MRI tube, magnets banging, head aching, muscles tensing with each new sound. How could that machine capture anything when her mind was racing so fast the images should just be a blur of thoughts, smudged terror captured in black and white, brought to you by the marvels of science?

She wished he was there so she could hold his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder could fake a few things as well. He woke when she left the bed, stayed still, eyes shut, while he listened to her shower. He heard her come back in, sort through her closet, open dresser drawers, felt the air in the room change as she did, donning armor for her day ahead. She was at the foot of the bed so not in his possible waking view but to know she was comfortable enough to do her routine with him asleep five feet away made him quake inside. He held it together, even as she returned to the room, keys lightly clinking in hand, to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, to brush his hair back as her thumb ran over his forehead.

He waited five minutes after he heard the front door lock before rolling over, stretching, missing her beating heart and radiating heat. Staring at the ceiling when done, he refused to ponder, instead, two grunts and a back crack later, he was up, standing, heading to the shower.

Problem was, the warm water, the smell of her soap, the view of damp towel on rack and dry one beside, just for him, caught him off-guard. Halfway through soaping up, he broke down, standing under the water, sobbing tears covered by loud water pinging off the walls. He gave himself what felt like five minutes before straightening back up, finishing his shampoo and wash, ending with a steamy-mirrored pep talk during which he convinced himself Scully would be just fine.

Making the bed, he headed out, calling a cab to get him to the diner, then driving himself home, waiting impatiently for a phone call he knew was inevitable. He could have heading to the basement, he could have taken a nap, he could have stared at the wall and had a panic attack the size of Montana but instead, he read his email, his phone never far from his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully saw the mass, a bright white spot of dread in her sinus cavity, doctor explaining, in the background, diagnosis and treatment options, but most of her attention was filled with it.

It.

IT.

That thing settled comfortably next to her brain.

IT.

Mesmerized, she nodded when they asked if she’d like to be alone for a minute; if she would like to call someone.

And then it was quiet, the snick of the shutting door the only noise in the room.

Leaving just her and the bright white mass on the light board.

“Mulder. Could you come down to the hospital, please?”

She could hear it in his voice as he said, “which area?”

“Oncology.”

The sound of a fight building. The sound of defiance taking root.

Or denial.

“I’m on my way.”

#msr #MulderNScully #leonard betts #x-files fanfic #My writing #five words #four years #three drops of blood #two people #one soul #and the sudden ticking timebomb of a six-letter word

[dontcallmecarrie]

in the hypothetical case that thanos, and the snap, happens: would justin get dusted? how would his surviving loved ones/acquaintances react to him being gone?

Going right for the jugular, I see.

Okay then...ooh boy, that would be a mess.

First, let me preface this with the fact that this situation could only be hypothetical, because in NHDD the Avengers are going to actually be a team instead of a hot mess and even if we were to stick closer to what happened in the MCU, Cabal would step up and get shit done and save the world— which would be hilarious on a number of levels, since, again, League of Supposed-to-be-Evil-but-just-Mostly-Vibing, but not the point.

Also, for the purposes of this thought exercise, only one person's getting snapped, on the basis of "more drama that way". Warning for suicidal ideation and thoughts, and lots of survivor's guilt.

.

So, okay. Um.

Remember how Justin Hammer and Tony Stark are foils? Since both are the only sons and heirs to their families, and end up being the CEOs of their respective corporations in the defense industry? [So's Ivan Vanko, for that matter, though for different reasons.]

If Thanos were to go "I'm going to cut everything in half", then...I think you see where I'm going with this, especially since Tony's life was part of the deal for the Time Stone.

...it would not be pretty.

Especially since this Justin's greatest strength is his charisma, he's unintentionally weaponized his status as the mom friend and has unironically spent practically his entire life supporting everyone around him, pushing them to be the best version of themselves they can be— he's very, very well-liked and respected, and would be sorely missed. To say the least.

...I don't think Spider-Man even needs to be dusted, for the Snap to nearly break Tony.

I mean, that's his rival, one of the only constants he had left in his life, has been there for almost as long as he could remember— and he was gone.

Just because Tony failed.

Just because Tony trusted the team to...

Justin was gone.

.

This Tony's more proactive than in canon, and when he gets pushed, his knee-jerk reaction is to push back.

So when this happens?

The minute the shock wears off and he remembers that time travel is a thing, you can bet he's going to find a way to fix it, or die trying.

No waiting for the team, no trying to move on— he'd made a mistake in trusting them, fine, he'd learn and move on and fix it. One way or another.

.

Victor von Doom survived.

Survived a bloody civil war, survived a decimation some were calling a Snap—

And then he found out who didn't, and almost wished he hadn't.

.

Ivan Vanko clung to his anger.

It was just about the only thing that kept him from going, kept him from falling into despair because the man who'd given him another reason for living was gone and he didn't know why he'd survived but so help him, he was going to make whatever entity was responsible pay.

...after he made sure Victor didn't kill himself, because dammit, if he was going to change the world and probably invent time travel, then he'd need all the help he could get.

.

It still didn't feel real.

Bucky had been in the middle of some of the worst of the fighting, had seen people crumpling into dust before his eyes, but... part of him still expected to wake up, for some reason.

To call him and get something other than his voicemail, to...

It didn't matter anymore.

He still had a granola bar stowed away in his pocket, of that brand Justin always kept on hand even though it was incredibly overpriced and it was probably nothing more than crumbs at this point— but he couldn't find it in him to throw it away.

.

Loki is the one who sees it happen. Is the one who has to make the calls afterwards, to let the other survivors know what happened.

Is the one who has nightmares about it, every time he closes his eyes and there's something cruel about his last memory of Justin to be of his confusion and fear and horror— instead of who he had been.

Loki...

Knows there's another way.

He is now one of the last surviving experts in magic on Earth, and while temporal magic was a nightmare and a half to even think about, it cannot be worse than what he has to live with now.

So he rolls up his sleeves, grabs every single notebook he'd ever filled out about arrays and sigils and runes, and sets to work.

.

Ivan dragged Victor out of his stupid castle with absolutely no opposition from the guards, which was alarming on a number of levels.

Victor's scarily silent, listless, and doesn't resist him even as he shoved him into the car and drove off. He just... goes along with it, which is so far from the man Ivan knew it was a special sort of terrifying.

So he broke the silence, and didn't bother with his brain-to-mouth filter as he made his way to one of the safehouses Justin had spent way too much time gleefully picking out furniture for.

"Okay, so I'm going to need your help, you're the one who knows magic and Loki's never shut up about how you get ideas he'd never thought about and I have no idea how temporal bullshit would work if we mix technology with magic but—"

A glance tells him that it was working— Victor's gone rigid and there's a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

It wasn't much, but...it was something.

.

Loki entered a house that was a storm of pens, paper, and ink. Journals were scattered across the floor in different languages, and there was an ungodly tangle of red string and thumbtacks along the walls.

"You're using the wrong rune if you want stabilize that array," he called, and both Ivan and Victor whipped around to face him.

"Trying to figure out how time travels works?" Ivan asked, looking more haggard than he'd ever seen him— not that he could say much, considering— and he nodded.

"Good, join the club. The ideas that went bust are in that corner, if it's our calculations or we didn't draw something right, let us know? Because I have no goddamn clue how we're doing this."

.

Bucky had stopped by just for a safe place to sleep.

He had not expected the place to look like a bomb had gone off at some point. Or for Justin's friends to all be crowded around the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and nursing something probably overly caffeinated as they talked about something that flew way over his head.

"What's going on?"

The answer gave him pause.

...and then he remembered another genius with that exact same goal, and had an idea.

.

Tony had not expected to be kidnapped from his lab, but if he had, he would have expected to have woken up in, say, a cave. Maybe an abandoned warehouse, or some house dozens of miles from civilization.

Not a house that was a mess of paper, sticky notes, and sharpie just about everywhere he looked. Actually...weren't some of those his notes?

And then someone— not someone, Justin's friend— noticed he was awake, and said, "So you're researching time travel? Join the club."

.

...aka Tony and the entirety of Cabal join forces to right a wrong.

Screw acceptance, these guys are stuck at the bargaining stage of grief and if there's no known way to go back and undo the Snap, then damn it all they'll invent one.

One way or another, they'll fix it.

#No Hero [Downward Descending] #I got an ask! #Naught replies #replies

[kadeu]

Accepted — Hyun Soomin

♣   Hyun Soomin looks like Kim Chungha (solo) ♣    She was December 17, 1918; making her 106 but she appears 25 years old ♣   This Kumiho is Pansexual, Heart Defector, and a Three of Clubs ♣   She is an attendant at the Dragonfire Hotsprings and an errand girl

BIOGRAPHY

Bora was born to a single mother, a three of hearts serf full of dread and regret. It wasn’t always like that, though.

Her mother was a thousand years old kumiho who had been aging quicker than before during the past century, due to the stress and poor quality of life she led after losing all her money and, with that, her previous nine of hearts rank. Being a successful drug merchant wasn’t exactly the safest profession, with fierce and ruthless competition to go against it didn’t come as a surprise, even though it turned into a traumatic, life changing experience, to be framed and driven to bankruptcy. Never married to the father, he took that as a chance to abandon them, since his rank hadn’t been affected by the scandal. She lost everything except for the baby in her womb. All the way down to a three and with the little savings she had outside the Zuihuo Bank -not enough to change her rank- she was left with a huge debt, a large belly and almost no options for a new job. Homeless and having a hard time facing reality she wandered around directionless. She almost didn’t survive giving birth to Bora if it wasn’t for a spade healer that took pity on the kumiho trying to do it alone in an alley, her water breaking in the middle of the Joker moments before. Wondering what would be best for her and the baby, deserting hearts and trying to join spades seemed like her best bet, but she never made it to the spade territory. For some time, other lower rankers in the heart faction helped her and the newborn survive, she didn’t even feed in a long while because the stress caused migraines and slowly drained her power, but the incessant cries of her baby drove her insane until she reached a turning point. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted Bora to do so, she had to let her wild nature as a kumiho come out and be as ruthless as they were to her. The day Bora turned one year old she went into a feeding frenzy. She stole and hunted. She lied and deceived with her illusions. She hid. Every human heart and every human kidney she could get in her hands was split into halves, one for her and one for Bora. She wanted her daughter to come into her power as soon as possible while she gained enough strength and courage to initiate her next move. It came soon as a conclusion that it was either selling her body, taking part in morally dubious business or serving a rich family, and if she was going to do so, then the family she was indebted to was the most reasonable choice. At that moment she didn’t have a place to call home, nor any income. It was a blow to her already humiliated soul, but she would take it for her daughter. You would think an infant wouldn’t notice any of this, but Bora knew and felt, she absorbed all of it as she watched her mother work and take care of her at the same time to the point of exhaustion. Years later, when Bora was old enough, she began serving as well under the name Wisteria. Every serf working for the family received the name of a flower, and she decided to take the meaning of hers as a mantra; longevity and endurance defined foxes accurately. In a fresh bank account, she saved and saved, hoping to one day rise in the social scale and help clear her mother’s debt. It was harder than it seemed though, not earning much as a serf led her to contact people in the darkest alleys of the heart borough whenever she had a chance to go out. She ran errands for the house and for a drug dealing gang always going by Wisteria and not her birth name. A kumiho’s illusions and transformations came in handy for many things as it would appear. Her mother wasn’t happy with her decision, but Bora couldn’t stand watching how the serving life was weakening her day by day. It took decades to take a step upwards. Many times, she thought it would be impossible, but keeping an eye on her own -almost nonexistent- expenses and limiting her social life she became a four of hearts. Did anything at all feel different? No, but it actually gave her the opportunity to consider other means of living.

IN RECENT YEARS

Even though it sounded like a good idea, Bora never left the family she worked for, not even when she made it as far as five of hearts. She couldn’t leave her mother there, still being paid with just food and a bed to sleep on. There were so many things the young vulpe could do now, but she had grown used to the job, the faces and the fake sense of security that even her questionable side job gave her. And still, every once in a while, she could feel a tingling sensation all over her skin, her blood rushing through her veins and her trembling hands trying to reach for something invisible. She couldn’t help but wonder if this life was really meant for her.

Sooner or later things would change -her gut told her- but the way it happened marked her whole existence and dictated her future.

In the middle of the 2023 winter, January, her mother passed away. Depression and anxiety took her slowly over time, but too fast for a kumiho. She hadn’t turned into her fox form in a long while, even though Bora tried to make her. It was like she was giving up and her daughter couldn’t do anything but watch her fade away.

Was it unfair to feel betrayed by her mother and those she worked for? Bora didn’t know. All she knew was that everything hurt. Becoming orphaned and indebted by inheritance, which automatically demoted her to one of hearts, were never in her list of aspirations. Even the family she served for years started treating her differently, even though she was the same person. Her own existence started losing its meaning.-“Sorry for leaving so soon, Bora. I don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, but I can feel that I won’t stay with you for much longer. Take care. You’re the only reason I haven’t left before. I love you.”

It was written on a letter she found among her mother’s belongings, next to a stack of older looking ones that after inspection revealed the strangely close relationship her mother maintained with a club, and not just a lowranker like her, not even a regular highranker like she used to be, he was a jack of clubs.

Making sure her tears didn’t smear the ink on the letters, she read through all of them, starting from the most distressed looking, the oldest. She learned that they met through work around the time her business saw enough success to branch out to other districts. Their relationship seemed merely professional at first glance, but Bora quickly caught up with the little affectionate terms and endearments they exchanged more and more frequently. It was also very clear that her mother was already involved with Bora’s father, but it didn’t seem to affect their mutual flirtation. She also learned that he was a kumiho as well as they casually talked about feeding, transformation and everything that was quintessentially a fox spirit’s concern.

Bora wondered if they got to meet in person and how often. If their longing for each other ever saw compensation. Hyperfixating on the letters for a whole month kept her from drowning in the despair she felt every time the world reminded her of the current situation and when she finished the last one, already more than ten years old, an epiphany took place.

Maybe this mysterious, at least in her eyes, jack of clubs was her ticket to a new life. All she had to do was leave everything behind, unpaid debt included, and flee towards the club district. They wouldn’t send anyone after her, right? They didn’t care for her mother until she offered herself in exchange for a roof.

Meeting him wasn’t as easy as she initially thought, though, the club borough was recovering for the recent civil war after all, everyone was extra vigilant. It turned out to be hard enough just to find his whereabouts, not to mention he was surrounded by heavy security, a necessity for a drug and gem trader, plus there was no apparent or justified reason for him to direct his attention to a one of hearts kumiho that had nothing but the bag she carried on her back. Unfortunately for him, Bora wasn’t going to give up as she couldn’t turn back. There was nothing but emotional pain waiting for her back in hearts. Yes, in clubs she would have to endure the physical kind, but her determination wasn’t running low.

It was during the third of her futile, middle of the street at night, ambushes that she mentioned her mother for the first time since she died, in a cry for help as his bodyguards slammed her to the ground. That was enough to discreetly take her back to his place and hear her out.

It was then when Bora learned his name, which the letters didn’t mention for privacy matters. Kwon Iseul sounded as serious as he was, at least from what Bora could grasp during the first conversation they had. He agreed to help her, but only under a long list of conditions that included a fake name and limiting most of her activities to the night.

From that moment on she would be known as Hyun Soomin.

Iseul covered her tracks so her debtors back at hearts couldn’t easily find her, a bit of personal rivalry getting in the mix, he also found her a place to stay and immediately commenced the mentoring and training she desperately needed. As kumihos, feeding in clubs wasn’t as easy as it was before, they no longer turned a blind eye much to Bora’s disappointment, but there were still ways that he taught her. Regarding fights, she had no experience, she only knew how to use her powers at a basic level. There was so much to do. A few days later, already in the third month of the year, she was officially a one of clubs under his wing.

Little by little she proved her worth as a warrior, from using illusions to transforming into a beautiful black fox, she used every advantage she had to very slowly raise her rank. Always letting some time pass between battles as the last thing in her interest was to call attention upon herself.

Nowadays she is a three of clubs.

She got a job at the hot springs as part of her façade and to make some money of her own, but until the Dragonfire reopens she just keeps running errands -in the dark and away from the heart district- for Iseul.

PERSONALITY

In the eyes of strangers, Bora is a quiet, observant, maybe even a judgmental person. She usually speaks in a low voice that holds her real personality back, unless provoked. Indeed, this is far from her true self, it’s just a reflection of who she used and fakes to be. Slowly, she is developing a daring and bold attitude that sometimes comes out at unexpected times. She’s simply getting to know herself better now that she doesn’t have to obey anyone. She responds to her sponsor, but she isn’t serving him. Plus, the fights are basically forcing her to be more assertive, she knows that presence and psychological dominance can play a big part when you’re physically smaller than the majority of your opponents. It’s not like she was a submissive small fry before, never acted like one, but it is now she’s finally starting to match her potential.

Smart, cunning, analytical, untrusting, individualistic, dominant, fearless. She is driven by nothing else than proving her own worth to herself, she has found out that she thrives in violence and that she is pretty good at beating people up. Her fighting style is full of tricks and backstabbing.  Sometimes she shows another side of herself, more relaxed, flirtier and charmingly mischievous, a side she’s coming to after meeting new people, mostly those working for Iseul.

Her vulnerable side comes out at the memory of her mother and her mental health, especially during the last few months before dying. She doesn’t like at all talking about her or her past. This also leads to paranoia, wondering if one day someone will manage to take her back to the heart district, her debt still unpaid.

On another note, she rarely shows her fangs, tail, fluffy ears or anything that indicates her nature, which isn’t that common in the club borough and would give her out. Although, when she’s around people she trusts, mainly Iseul, she likes to display her foxy attributes.

She doesn’t discriminate based on ranks, knowing perfectly well what is like to be on the bottom, but she can be very judgmental towards highrankers if they show that very same kind of demeanor.

She has heard of the resistance many times, but she doesn’t care about it unless they mess with her lifestyle. It’s not like she disagrees with everything they stand for, but she obviously can’t accept their policies regarding vulpes’ feeding. Yes, humans are living beings, but she needs it to stay healthy and strong.

Congratulations Kisu your app has been accepted and we’re excited to have your muse on the dash with us.

PLEASE FOLLOW AND WELCOME @cunningtype TO KADEU!

#accepted; #clubs;

[psycheterminal]

I HAVE AN IDEA!!! When Ghost gets frustrated they go Dance with Grimm bcs his fight and presence is actually pretty grounding to them. But they been going too much there and Grimm getting worried about them

The little dancer Grimm had been summoned by seemed to take the ritual seriously, collecting the flames and fostering his child upon their person. He rested out of sight; his life was nearing its end and outside the dance, he had increasingly less energy. He needed to sustain his mortal shell for until the Grimmchild was ready to take up his burden.

All the exhaustion of his long years fell away in the joy of the dance where sense and reason could be thrown away for the sake of the audience. The small knight came so very often, silent and yet unyielding. Trying again and again, even when they left behind the little void shade that only saw their shell upon return.

They had, technically completed the ritual. The usual thing would be to pack up and move on to the next stop. Some reasoning drove Grimm to stay. He knew what waited below in chains. A carrion moth like himself could always smell when things were close to expiration, but even watching as either the Radiance prevailed or died was not his reason.

He heard small steps as the ghost-leaving warrior came to him, standing patiently. He appeared in a trick of partially magic, partially slight of hand before the little knight. "Do you wish to battle me again, dear friend? For pleasure or for geo, the choice is yours."

Their nail came out, a nod. Their mask was inscrutable as usual. This was the third time they had approached Grimm this cycle. He had quietly approached Devine and had asked her if the little knight had something they wanted to buy from her, but no. They had bought all three of the charms she had eaten already and sent a mate to her that she had enjoyed eating in the end. It was her one desire that held her back from joining his troupe fully, which he did not begrudge her for. He had even checked in on the two shopkeepers in Dirtmouth on if they held some big purchase the knight might like but no. Greed didn't seem to be a motive for his friend.

The little knight didn't need the geo.

That had left Grimm at a loss. They seemed to fight beautifully, yet their void-soaked heart didn't seem to be in it either. There was certainly drive, but no passion. He didn't fight seemingly for the pleasure of it either.

He obliged the fight this time. The knight was distracted and was surprised by Grimm when instead of the killing blow on their void-leaking form, heaving in pain and weak, the Troupe-Master picked them up instead.

Grimm pulled away the shining nail and simply hugged the little knight. The wavering turned into shuddering movements of silence. He felt droplets of void as well as the miasma around the knight on his shoulder. He could feel the small one's destiny and choice weighing heavily on their shoulders. Finally, he set them down once the silent sobbing had eased. They were so terribly young in form, though aging was halted in Hallownest for those in the kingdom proper, not to mention the effect of the void on the knight. Grimm doubted they were as young as they seemed, but that they weren't mature of heart either.

"Come. I have some parchments and a quill you can borrow. Tell me what drives you to throw yourself at me once more. I can listen and perhaps give advice my friend. You have done much for so little in return! A discerning eye and a shoulder to cry on is nothing next to the service you have rendered." Grimm spoke with an easy smile, hiding the worries he still had.

He brought the knight to the desk and the story the knight spilled was something that he had heard in many lives from survivors of dead kingdoms and civilizations. Curses, prisons, seals and required murder. Each time the knight had come, some conundrum had been posed. Some seemingly impossible thing had stood in their way, like facing Uumuu or figuring out where the Dreamer of Deepnest was or some other problem over the course of their adventure.

What troubled him most was how the knight wrote about their own self.

It. This thing. This shell. Grimm held his tongue for once until the knight got it all out. A friend had died at the Blue Lake. They wanted to believe Quirrel was alive, but their nail... They understood what that had meant. The lost ones they had to fight or find as corpses. The thing that had stolen the grubs. How the nailsmith asked them to slay them.

Grimm knelt as the knight's tears came once more. "My friend. Look at me. Look at me and listen. None of this... Nothing about Hallownest here is your fault. People were dying before your return. People asked you things they had no right to and it's alright that it weighs on you so. You are burdened for the sins of the lost ruler here, not your own. You couldn't stop the way the magic stopped keeping your friend alive. Sparing the nailsmith was the right thing to do in this broken place. Seek out the people who have helped and supported here, not some wily Troupe Master who feeds off of fear and despair. By my own nature, I too will die and live on through the Nightmare Heart, leaving the Troupe to the Grimmchild you raise so splendidly. But there will be those here that care about you here, even once I am gone. Perhaps you and I shall even meet again as higher beings alike in nature, that possibility remains to you. But fighting me in your grief and frustration cannot fix those things." He explained, patiently... And less theatrically than usual.

"You proved yourself worthy, give yourself the respect you've earned, knight. You are more than your origins or your failures. It is in your returns and temerity that you are admirable. You never know when to give up and quit." He smiled broadly.

The knight made a gesture. "Yes. You may permanently die still or be claimed by the trap that perpetrates this place. It is entirely possible. Given your fight ahead and your performances past, I believe you have reason to hope to find success for the struggle ahead. I will stay to watch how it all unfolds. You can come to me, tell me what you have seen or I shall visit your mausoleum and pay my respects. That much I can linger for." Grimm smiled broadly, showing off his fangs.

He cannot promise any more and it makes his chest ache. He cannot stay forever here. The Nightmare Heart makes its demands upon his body and self that he cannot deny.

The little knight touched his face briefly, bowed his head and headed off to rest, after all-Grimm had still thrashed them to a breath of their life.

The knight did not challenge him again, but they did come with tea a time or two.

When the world of dreams began to quake and quiver, he knew that he only needed wait a very little more time for the result of it all.

#hollow knight fic #hollow knight #grimm #hk ghost #character study #hurt/comfort #fanfic

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | mild angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | mild angst

master list | AO3 link

_____

"You have a lead on Bucky already?" Sam asks, climbing into the passenger side of Steve's car. It's only been a few days since Natasha gave Steve the folder containing information on Bucky Barnes's Winter Soldier transformation.

"Not exactly," Steve says, "But I know someone who might be able to help. We're going to New York."

"So, who's this mystery informant?"

"Kate Stark."

"Stark? As in Tony Stark?" Sam pushes, looking at Steve incredulously.

Steve nods, "Tony's younger sister. She's supposed to be some genius hacker and pretty good at tracking people. Nat says we can trust her."

"And you think Tony will be on board with this?"

"No, but from what Nat said, Kate won't have a problem keeping a few things from Tony."

_____

When they pull up in front of a brick townhouse in Tribeca, Sam whistles.

"I'm pretty sure Taylor Swift lives in this neighborhood," he says.

"I actually know who that is," Steve replies, climbing the steps to the front door, and Sam laughs.

Steve met Kate Stark following Loki's attack on New York, and the only thing he's certain of when it came to her is she is somehow both exactly the same as and vastly different from her older brother. She's quiet, a little aloof, and lacks Tony's easy charisma, but the Stark charm isn't completely lost on her and neither is Tony's sarcasm. Steve sees more of Kate's father, Howard, in Tony, but she shares their cockiness. Tony describes her as "too smart for her own good" and "prone to bouts of Millennial ennui" (always said with an eyeroll). She works for her brother at Stark Industries - mostly so he can keep an eye on her - but Nat told Steve that before SHIELD imploded, Nick Fury had been trying to recruit her for years.

"Captain America," Kate says with a smile, answering the door, "Natasha said you'd be dropping by."

Steve returns her smile.

"Come in," she says, opening the door further and ushering the two men inside.

She leads them to a small, dark study just off the entryway. Three walls feature floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, crammed with books, wrapping around the doorway and picture window. The final wall is covered in computer monitors. It makes for quite the contrast, and Steve has the feeling this room is a perfect reflection of Kate herself – both modern and old-fashioned, connected and cloistered.

"Kate Stark, Sam Wilson. Sam, Kate," Steve introduces, then continues, "Nat said you could help us find Bucky."

Kate nods once, "She filled me in on the details, sent me a somewhat redacted copy of the Winter Soldier file. But I can't make any promises. He's a trained assassin; he knows how to avoid detection. But I'll direct some Stark tech toward it, see what I can do. Tony doesn't need to know."

"Thank you," Steve says, "We should get going."

She shakes her head, "You drove all this way, stay for lunch. Do you like Thai?"

"Yes," Sam interjects before Steve can turn her down. He didn't sit in the car for four hours to have them turn right back around again.

"Brilliant. I'll order."

When the kitchen table is sprawled with empty takeout containers and Kate has pressed Steve for as much information on Bucky that wasn't in the file as he was willing to give and then pressed both Sam and Steve for a full play-by-play on their takedown of HYDRA, she shows them out.

"Thanks for lunch," Sam says.

"And thanks for your help, Kate," Steve echoes.

"Of course. I'll let you know if I find anything," she says, smiling.

Then she closes the door, locks herself in her study, and gets to work.

_____

"You found something?" Steve asks, looking at the wall of monitors in Kate's study. Each screen displays a continuous scroll of faces from CCTV footage around the globe. Kate's trying out her latest upgrades to Stark Industries' facial recognition software in her bid to find Bucky.

It’s been more than eight months since Steve asked for her help, and she’s finally had a minor success.

"Yes and no," she says, directing his attention to one screen, "I got a hit in Kiev last week, but I haven't gotten anything since." She pulls up a grainy CCTV photo of a man with long, dark hair and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. "My software is telling there's a 99.999% match, but since he hasn't shown up anywhere else in the city, I think he's moved on."

Steve sighs, "At least we have confirmation he's alive." He scrubs a hand over his face and continues, "He pulled me from the river, I know he did. And he wouldn't have done that if he didn't remember me."

"I'll keep looking," Kate says, "Now that my software has spotted him once, he should be easier to find."

_____

He wasn't easier to find.

Another eight months pass without a single lead in her hunt for Bucky. Kate is caught somewhere between obsession and despair. She flips through his HYDRA file obsessively. She stares at his military photo for hours, trying to reconcile the man with the soft eyes and smug smile with the horrors of the Winter Soldier. She reads books on Captain America and the Howling Commandos, and her stomach cramps at the thought of telling Steve she can't find his best friend.

In a bid to distract herself from what she considers her failure, she throws herself into her work at Stark Industries. Tony would be delighted if he weren’t facing his own regrets and heartbreak following Sokovia.

She leaves her software running 24/7 but stops checking it so frequently. She's practically avoiding her study and that wall of monitors that remind her that she hasn't succeeded in finding Bucky yet. She's set up a workstation at her kitchen table and run through the new updates for FRIDAY three times already when she hears the faint beep of her software finding a match. Her breath stalls.

Kate thinks about ignoring it. If she ignores it, she can't be disappointed when it turns out her software is wrong.

But she can't ignore it.

The beeping grows louder as she makes her way to her study, a mixture of hope and dread forming in her chest. She opens the door and flips on the light; and there he is on her monitor: Bucky Barnes.

_____

next chapter

_____

A/N | It's been quite some time since I've written anything creatively so let me know what you think. Just trying to flex that writing muscle again.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes romance

[crimson-ace]

Basewarming Party

Archive of Our Own Link

It’s been a few months, but here’s another Miraculous Transformers AU story! This time with some backstory.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino were leaving school when they saw three familiar vehicles nearby.

Nino ran over to the green dump truck and got in, planning to play some new songs for Stoneheart.

Alya headed over to the yellow sports car and groaned as Queen Bee told her to not mess up anything inside her.

Adrien got on the red motorcycle and smiled when Ladybug asked how his day was.

The three headed off and separated for a little bit to not draw suspicion as they soon met up on an empty road.

“So we spent the last solar cycle setting up an area of the base for you.” Ladybug explained to Adrien while they drove. “It’s normally used for human liaisons to present top-secret information when they need our help, but Pegasus thinks we did an okay job setting it up.”

Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart soon made it to a road in Fontainebleau Forest and drove to a secret area that led to the location of the Autobot base. After giving their security codes, the three Autobots drove into the base and let the humans out, immediately transforming to their robot modes.

They noticed there was a banner hung up near one of the base’s computers that depicted the faces of Adrien, Alya, and Nino, as well as the Autobot insignia, with something written in an incomprehensible language.

“Uh...what does that say?” Nino asked.

Stoneheart tapped Ladybug’s shoulder lightly. “Ladybug...” He pointed to the banner, causing Ladybug’s optics to widen.

“Oh, scrap!” Ladybug hit her own head in frustration. “I forgot to write that in your language, not mine! Sorry!” She replied. “I meant to write ‘Welcome, Humans!’.”

“You made this?” Adrien was impressed with the level of detail in the banner.

Ladybug nodded. “Uh, yeah. I used to be an artist back on Cybertron. It was more of a hobby I picked up while I was in the Autobot academy. Why don’t you check out what we set up for you?” She added, realizing she was rambling on, and pointed to a staircase for the humans to walk up.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino walked up the stairs and were surprised by what they saw.

There was a couch set up in front of a small television which looked like a model from the mid to late 2000’s, and in between those was a “table” made from a board of wood on top of four cinderblocks. There was also a minifridge nearby, though most of the Autobots didn’t know what the humans ate, and planned to ask them later before getting snacks.

“So? What do you think?” Stoneheart asked as he walked over to the area and looked over them.

“Dude, this place looks awesome!” Nino chimed. “You guys did a great job!”

“I still think we should have put a cage here.” Queen Bee snarked, earning a glare from her fellow Autobots.

“So. what do you guys want to do now?” Alya asked the others.

“Well, earlier today, Stoneheart asked me about what Earth’s greatest warriors are like, so...” Nino took out a Blu-ray player and a container of the original Star Wars trilogy in the same format. “I said I would introduce him to Luke Skywalker.”

So the three humans sat down on the couch with Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart sat down behind them to watch the movie. Even though they asked if this was based on Earth’s actual history, the Autobots were surprisingly invested in the film. When Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed by Darth Vader, Stoneheart cried out in despair, surprising everyone.

Apparently, the noise was enough for Pegasus to walk down, wondering why everyone was being so loud. “Can you all please keep all that noise down? I’m busy performing system diagnostics here.”

“Okay, C-3PO, we’ll be quiet.” Ladybug snickered as soon as she finished the sentence. “Did I say it right?” She asked Adrien, who nodded with approval.

Pegasus let out a sigh of frustration at the commotion. “I wasn’t built for this…” He grumbled. “What exactly are you doing anyway?”

“We’re learning about Earth history, obviously.” Queen Bee smirked. “Optimus said we need to familiarize ourselves with the planet.”

Pegasus scoffed. “We came here for a reason other than to watch human entertainment, Queen Bee.”

“Hey, why exactly are you here anyway?” Adrien asked. “I know you guys fought a war over control of your home and its energon, but why did you come all the way to Earth for it?”

Queen Bee smirked. “Well, as Optimus Prime’s second-in-command...”

“You mean acting second-in-command” Pegasus added, earning a glare from the Autobot.

“I, uh... I can explain what happened and how we got here, provided you don’t tell anyone else...” Queen Bee started to explain

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The civil war between Autobots and Decepticons had lasted for a very long time, so both sides were forced to abandon the planet Cybertron to find new sources of energy. For some reason, our ship’s scanners found your planet to have an a lot of raw energon. Like, we've never seen a planet with this much energon before.

Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones to find out...

"Hull breach on Decks 3 to 5! Shields are also damaged!” Ladybug cried out.

“We’re taking heavy fire, sir! We also just lost one of the thrusters!” Pegasus added.

While the Decepticons had a majority of their resources with them on their ship, which they called the Nemesis to show how friendly they were, it was only the five of us on a much smaller ship not nearly as armed as what the Decepticons had.

After another onslaught of fire from the Nemesis, a majority of our systems were knocked offline.

“Brace for impact!” Optimus ordered as our ship plummeted to Earth. It was a miracle we managed to survive.

We all came back online after about a few of your Earth hours and assessed the situation with our ship.

“Diagnostics say the ship is beyond repair with our current resources.” Pegasus said solemnly. “Some of the computers are still online, but we don’t have a lot of working parts right now.”

“So, now what? What can we do now?” Ladybug seemed to be the most nervous about our predicament. Then again, she had the least amount of experience out of all of us. (Hey!)

“We came to this planet in search of energon, but it seems we have an additional mission now: to protect it from the Decepticons.” Optimus stated. “Is the ship’s probe still online?" After checking the systems, Pegasus nodded, causing Optimus to walk over to one of the ship’s control panels. “Teletraan I, scan the area for local lifeforms. We will take on their appearances to blend in to avoid suspicion from the Decepticons.”

So the ship’s probe flew around for a little bit and not only came back with data on forms we could take, but also an image of an energon mining site the natives had set up.

“Carbon-based lifeforms?” I scoffed at the idea of these inferior lifeforms being able to harvest energon. “Do they even know what they stumbled upon?”

Pegasus continued to browse through the footage and gasped. “I’m detecting Decepticon signals converging near that area. They must have noticed the energon too.”

“Nevertheless, we must scan an alternate mode and try to obtain this energon in a discreet manner before the Decepticons. We must disguise ourselves as what these lifeforms view as vehicles.” Optimus declared as a mechanism on the ship popped up while we all browsed through ideas for possible alternate modes.

Ladybug saw something with two wheels and smiled “Ooh, that looks nice.” she said as the ship’s systems reformatted her so she was able to transform into that.

Stoneheart saw what looked like a green vehicle designed to carry heavy objects. “So is this supposed to be like one of Earth’s more powerful vehicles? Either way, I like it”. Soon, he was reformatted as well.

Pegasus saw a yellow and white vehicle with brown highlights and emergency lights, reminding him of the Rescue Bots on Cybertron. “This seems like a suitable form to take.” He was the next to be reformatted.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I couldn't really find anything like this in brown, but the motorcycle isn't spotted either, so just work with me, alright?)

Optimus chose a large red and blue vehicle with a trailer attached to it without saying anything as he was reformatted.

I on the other hand, had looked through the options for a form to take for a few nanoclicks. Naturally, a bot as beautiful as myself needed an appropriate form. Thankfully, I found something just as interesting, and one of the few good things about this planet. It was one of your Earth cars with a sleek design and yellow paintjob. I stood still as I eagerly waited for the machine to finish reformatting me.

“Remember, we must keep a low profile and only reveal ourselves unless absolutely necessary.” Optimus ordered. “For now… Autobots, transform and roll out!”

With that familiar command, we all transformed into our new vehicle modes (except Pegasus, who stayed to see if anything else on our ship was working) and left for the excavation site the humans had set up.

Granted, it took us a couple of run-ins with some other Earth vehicles to get the hang of this planet’s traffic laws, but we eventually made it to where the energon was. There was also a sign written in your language that said something like “GOPHER-MINT PROPERTY/NO TREE-PASSING”. In hindsight, we really should have familiarized ourselves with the language before we headed out.

It didn’t seem like the Decepticons had attacked yet, although we were in trouble with a different form of opposition.

“This is Officer Raincomprix! Step out of the vehicles right now! You have violated several traffic guidelines, and are now trespassing on government property.” Someone from your planet’s law enforcement had apparently been following us. The strange thing was that he had a human partner who looked much younger than he did, almost like she shared genetic qualities with the man. “I’m going to give you until the count of ten to get out of the vehicles. Wait… where are the drivers? WHY DO NONE OF THESE VEHICLES HAVE DRIVERS?!”

Before we could really say anything, a stray shot from the distance hit the ground, signaling the Decepticons were here. The officer ran back to his car and tried to drive away as the Decepticons made their way to the surface.

“So, Optimus Prime. I see you and your little band of Autobots managed to survive the trip to this planet.” That raspy voice taunting us belonged to only one Decepticon. The very same Cybertronian who started the Decepticon cause behind the civil war that had caused so much suffering across the galaxy for megacycles. The Emperor of Destruction and leader of the Decepticons, Megatron.

“I see you’re trying to maintain cover on this strange planet rather than simply harvesting all the energon the local life forms have managed to discover for us. Typical Autobot weakness.” Megatron smirked as he and his Vehicon troops opened fire on the mining site. “Take the energon, and see if these lifeforms found any more locations with it. If you find nothing, leave no survivors.” He gave that last order with a sadistic grin.

“What should we do?” Ladybug asked nervously.

“Even if it means exposing our cover, these organic lifeforms need help. Autobots, transform!” With that order, we all transformed into our robot modes and activated our weapons. “Autobots, make sure none of the local lifeforms are hurt. Now, split up!”

So we all scattered to engage the Vehicons. I armed my stingers and fired off electrical blasts at some of the Vehicon forces. Of course, the organics were afraid of a superior being like myself, so they ran away like cowards… or maybe that was because another Decepticon was right behind me.

“Reckless as usual, I see.” That stoic voice came from my Decepticon counterpart, the (actual, not acting) (shut up, Pegasus!) second in command of the Decepticons, Malediktator. I slowly turned around and saw he was armed with his signature weapon, a rocket launcher.

“Maybe, but at least I know I’m fighting for the right side.” I quipped as I aimed my stingers at Malediktator.

Malediktator began to open fire, shooting several heat-seeking rockets at me. I tried to blast some of them, but there were some rockets that still managed to hit their target. I was knocked to the ground and struggled to get up.

Malediktator was going to fire again, but he was hit in the head by Ladybug’s “weapon”, her yo-yo, causing Malediktator’s weapon to misfire. It was probably the only time she actually helped out in a fight before. (I’m standing right here, Queen Bee!)

One of the stray missiles went towards the human law enforcement and his genetic experiment in the distance, until Optimus ran over and covered the two, taking the hit in the process. I think they talked a little, but my auditory processors couldn’t pick up their conversation.

Ladybug and I kept fighting to disarm Malediktator, but even though it was two on one, he still managed to overwhelm us. We tried our best, but it was really hard to keep up with the second in command of the Decepticons. While we were fighting, I noticed Optimus fighting Megatron one on one, but it was hard to make out who was winning.

Malediktator knocked both me and Ladybug to the ground and took aim at us with his rocket launcher. He was about to open fire when we all heard a crash to the ground. We turned around and saw Megatron slowly getting up after presumably losing to Optimus.

“If you are to harm the humans, Megatron, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you.” Optimus said, raising his ion blaster and pointing it at Megatron.

Megatron simply laughed in response. “Very well. If you’re so determined to protect this pitiful race, I’ll let you have this victory. But be warned, the next time we meet, I won’t have such mercy.” He stated grimly as a ground bridge appeared behind him. “Malediktator! We’re leaving. You can scrap those two another time.” He said as he turned around and walked into the portal with the remaining Vehicons.

Malediktator lowered his weapon and nodded. “Yes, Lord Megatron.” He said before walking away into the ground bridge. I tried to blast him, but Optimus raised his arm, silently ordering everyone to stand down.

As soon as Malediktator entered the ground bridge, the portal closed.

We all got up and collected ourselves as the humans swarmed around us. Strangely, the law enforcement unit and his experiment were the closest to Optimus. It was like everyone was afraid of us except those two.

“Did you really mean what you said back there? That you’d protect us?” The law enforcement unit asked.

Optimus leaned down so he could look the human in whatever optics were for him. “Of course. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.”

The unit was amazed by how serious Optimus sounded. “Is there anything we can do to hel--what am I doing? W-Who’s the highest ranking officer here?” Another human ran up, calling himself a “Colonel”, or something along those lines. He said he would talk to his superior about what happened.

After a mega-cycle or two, some vehicles I assumed belonged to this planet’s government arrived. One man came out, who was referred to as the “Prime Minister”. I didn’t really see what made him a Prime and I certainly didn’t know Earth had their own Primes, but everyone still listened to him.

“So, from what I’ve heard you’re at war and have come to our planet.” The Minister said. “What exactly are these ‘Decepticons’ you’re fighting after?”

“They are after a powerful source of energy and the lifeblood of our kind, energon. Your planet seems to have an abundance of it for some reason.” Optimus explained.

“And your ship crashed so now you need a new base of operations?” The Minister asked, earning a nod from Optimus.

“That is all that I ask for.” Optimus replied. “You kind need not interfere in this war. Even depleted of their resources, the Decepticons could lay waste to your planet if you aggravate them enough.”

This made the Minister sigh. “We can have some of our best men work on helping you construct a new base. Other than that, we’ll try and let you fight this war as long as you keep it a secret. If things heat up, we inform the United Nations about these... Decepticons. We’ll also expect status reports from you to make sure things are okay.”

Optimus nodded and stuck out his hand. “Understood.” He extended it to shake the human’s hand, but because the human was so small, he could only shake Optimus’ finger.

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“But yeah, after a few orbital cycles, the humans helped us set up this base in the forest, and we keep in contact with them through a liaison.” Queen Bee said, finishing her story.

“Wow...” Adrien was impressed by everything Queen Bee had told about their journey to Earth. “And you really can’t get back?”

“Not unless we fix our ship or create a working space bridge.” Pegasus sighed.

“Oh...” Adrien felt bad for all the Autobots. “I’m so sorry...”

“You have no need to apologize.” Everyone turned around to see Optimus Prime entering the room. “Although we were forced to abandon Cybertron, Earth is not a prison. We are more than willing to protect any world from the Decepticons.”

“R-Really?” Adrien asked, earning a nod from Optimus. “Are you sure we can’t do anything else to help you get used to the planet?”

“Can we, Optimus?” Ladybug got up and asked. “It’s a good learning experience.”

Queen Bee got up next to her. “Ladybug has a point. Learning about Earth culture can help us better understand these strange organic lifeforms”

Optimus took a few moments to think about it and smiled in response. “Very well. Maybe this can be the humans’ way of repaying us for protecting them.” He said, making them all cheer.

“This is so lit!” Nino cried out, which only confused Stoneheart.

“What does ‘lit’ mean?” Stoneheart asked.

Ladybug shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with lighting things on fire?”

“Maybe we can teach you all about memes first! That’ll be fun!” Alya suggested. “Ooh! Let’s teach them about Rickrolling!” She took out her phone and started to look something up.

Queen Bee rolled her optics. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to know about Earth culture.”

“And now you know how I fe--” Before Pegasus could finish his sarcastic comment, they were all interrupted by a song playing on Alya’s phone that all three humans were dancing to.

We’re no strangers to loooooooove~

You know the rules, and so do I!

“Welcome to Earth!” Alya and Nino cried out to the music while they kept dancing

Optimus sighed. He had a feeling he really should have put more consideration into letting the humans educate the Autobots.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!

Never gonna run around and desert you...

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug crossover au #transformers #transformers au #transformers crossover au #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #ivan bruel #stoneheart #max kante #pegasus #andre bourgeois #malediktator #optimus prime #megatron

[major-trouble]

Jaskier writes a heartbreakingly despairing love song, everyone but Geralt catches on that it's about him (until he does)

Are you ready?

**

It had been a bitterly cold winter. Bitter winds had blown through the mountains. Bitter cold had seeped into every stone at Kaer Morhen. Bitter thoughts had settled in his head. And bitter loss wrapped around his heart. But with the Spring thaw, Geralt was determined to leave all that bitterness behind. Even if it meant forgetting bright blue eyes and lightening quick smiles. Even if it meant never again feeling the warmth of hands on his strained and bruised shoulders. Even if it meant resigning himself to walking The Path alone. As he was meant to, he reminded himself. Alone. Bitterly. 

They hadn’t parted on good terms. 

Jaskier had been asking, over the last month before the snows had really started to stick to the branches of the trees overhead, about coming with him. Wintering in the crumbling halls of the Witcher stronghold, he’d said, would give him fodder for an epic song cycle. He could meet the others of the Wolf School and learn more about the ways of The Path. Geralt had brushed him off at every turn, refusing to commit to an answer. And Jaskier had seemed content to wait him out, even as the snow became a more treacherous barrier to their journey.

Finally, in a village three days’ journey from the base of the mountain leading to Kaer Morhen, a letter had found its way into the bard’s hands. An invitation. A summoning. To play at the court of the King of Temeria and spend the long, deep winter there. For Geralt, it was a relief. Now he wouldn’t have to say anything - Jaskier would obviously take the post and be glad of it. 

Instead, he dismissed it almost immediately. “No need for stuffy court edicate and endless recitale of poetry to simpering maidens on the mountain!” 

Geralt had turned to him, confused and not a little wary. “I thought you liked court edicate and simpering maidens?” he’d asked, all whilst carefully packing his things into two sturdy canvas bags. There was another inn at the base of the mountain, but he didn’t want to stay there if he could help it. 

“Well, yes, but Kaer Morhen will be so much more exciting! There’ll be a whole keep of Witchers smelling like heroics and heartbreak!”

“Or onion.” He paused. “You’re not going.”

Jaskier dropped his arms from where he’d spread them out in his theatrics. “I - I’m what?”

“You’re not coming with me.” He slung his packs over his shoulder and headed down the hall and out the door of the inn they’d been staying at. He could hear Jaskier sputtering behind him as he attempted to make sense of what he’d just said. He made it into the stables and started tying his possessions to Roach’s saddle before the bard became coherent again.

Finally he settled on, “That’s not what we agreed to.” He studiously tuned out the bard’s ranting after that, uninterested in hearing him try to persuade and cajole his way into the trip. Once Jaskier had yelled himself out, and they were coincidentally at the crossroads on the edge of the village, Geralt turned and laid a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, who suddenly shut up. “Go to your court intrigues, Jaskier. You’re better suited to them than anything I can offer. You’d never keep up anyway.” And he’d turned away, unwilling to meet the other’s eye. He hadn’t been able to shut out the sharp intake of breath or the sharp smell of anger and hurt, but Jaskier hadn’t followed him - hadn’t even yelled out a parting shot - and Geralt had spent the rest of the journey in cold, quiet silence. 

And now he was coming down the mountain in the same way. He drove these thoughts from his mind as he settled in for the night, staring into the banked embers of the campfire and listening to the sound of the wind brushing its way through the trees. He walked The Path alone. 

**

For a month he travelled deeper into the heart of civilization, following the coin. Now that spring had started to thaw out the edges of the land, creatures were beginning to stir. Monsters prowled out of their winter dens in search of food, and they were drawn to the bustling bits of life in the scattered villages and towns. So he had no trouble earning his way from place to place, and was even welcomed into a few, subjected to the all too familiar strains of that blasted song Jaskier had created to sing his praises.

He wished to gods someone would forget it. Or write something better. But he couldn’t deny that it made people hopeful when they saw him, instead of instantly afraid or disgusted. 

So it was he was sat in some tavern, a few days’ travel from Novigrad, when the cheery evening crowd clamoured for songs from the visiting minstrel. She was a stout, red-haired woman, with flashing brown eyes who carried the huge twelve stringed guitar with ease. It was obvious she was well trained, and she’d already entertained the crowd with several good drinking songs and at least two ballads Geralt recognized from Jaskier’s repertoire. 

“Come on, Leigha! Sing us the new one! The sad song!” someone from the front of the crowd called to her, and several voices raised in agreement. 

“Oh, you’re sure are you? Want to cry a bit into your ale?” she asked, grinning and strumming the guitar slowly. When the crowd yelled out again, she laughed and started playing with more purpose. 

The music took on a more mournful tone, and she began to sing. 

“It’s not like I care,

She said, with a flick of her eye,

It’s not like I care what happens next.

There’s a sharp knife

And it pricks like a thorn.

Keep up! 

She yells, with a flick of her wrist,

Keep up or I’ll leave you behind.

A husk of yourself,

Nothing more, nothing less.

There’s always something missing

There’s always something lost

But it’s not like I care

Bury me in silks and wrap my hands in thistles

Strangle me with noise and take my voice

I’d rather sleep in the earth, in the cold

Then care anymore

Hold me tight

I whisper with a flick of my hand

Hold me tight

Until I feel you here

Underneath my skin

There’s always something missing

There’s always something lost

But it’s not like I care

Bury me in silks and wrap my hands in thistles

Strangle me with noise and take my voice

I’d rather sleep in the earth, in the cold

Then care anymore.”

It was haunting. Despite himself, Geralt felt the words resonate with something deep inside him. Looking around the tavern, he could see the effect it had on the other patrons: the tears that ran down the cheeks of some and the cold stony looks of others. They all applauded though, and Leigha bowed before striking up something more lively to bring them out of their revery. 

He finished his ale and set out for the next contract. 

After that he heard the song over and over. Sometimes sung well to an audience in a tavern, sometimes hummed by someone he passed, and once sung in a high, reedy voice that seemed soaked in tears. It was despairing, and tragic: whoever had written it had obviously been heartbroken by someone.

As always happened when he wasn’t paying attention, he entered some Lord’s keep to collect his coin after dispatching some monster, and came face to face with Yennefer. She was standing at the front of the receiving room, having an audience with the Lord, her voice bored, but forceful. Once she’d gotten whatever she’d wanted - she always did - she turned to see him leaning against a pillar watching her.

She smirked. “Brooding in shadows is extremely cliched,” she quipped, walking up to him and crossing her arms. She looked up at him with one delicate eyebrow lifted. “Where’s your bard?”

Geralt grunted. “Not my bard. What are you doing here?”

“Not your business,” she shrugged. There was a break in the procession of petitioners to the Lord and the small band of minstrels started playing. He watched in some consternation as Yennefer’s face lit up as the first strains of that damnable song started playing. “Oh, I do like this one though. He really outdid himself. Not that I’d say it to his face, of course, but it’s so sad and full of despair. Nothing like those ridiculous flowery ballads he usually writes.” 

Geralt’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at her words. “Jaskier wrote this?” he asked, teeth nearly catching his tongue in surprise. He must have been spurned by some love over the winter to write something so dramatic. 

“Hmmm, oh yes.” Yennefer had turned to listen to the minstrels, something almost soft flickering across her face. He was frowning at her when she looked at him again and her eyes widened. “Oh! You don’t - I see. Well. That is interesting.” 

“What? Speak plainly, Yenn.”

“Not my place to do so. Not today,” she smiled, patting his arm, and leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, Geralt. Tell Jaskier he needs to stop moping about and grow some steel in his spine when you see him.” And she left him there, slightly confused and baffled. She obviously knew something he didn’t, and just as obviously wasn’t willing to share. 

He sighed heavily. Why were all mages such unrepentant bastards?

*

The next time he heard the song being played, he knew the voice. It floated out from amongst the trees in the early evening, just as he was thinking about making camp. The words were changed slightly, but still held that melancholic sadness and longing. 

“It’s not like I care,

He said, with a flick of his eye,

It’s not like I care what happens next.

There’s a sharp knife

And it pricks like a thorn.

Keep up! 

He yells, with a flick of his wrist,

Keep up or I’ll leave you behind…”

The voice trailed off and only the sound of the lute remained. Geralt followed it until he was standing at the edge of the firelight, staring as Jaskier hummed to himself and plucked the strings. Roach nickered behind him and it was at that sound that Jaskier looked up, shock evident on his face, his hands stilling.

“What - what are you -” he started before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello! Care to join my meagre fire?”

“Hmmm,” Geralt intoned, leading Roach over to the edge of the camp and unloading his packs. He took his time, unsaddling his horse, smoothing out her coat, feeling Jaskier’s gaze on him. Finally, convinced that Roach’s coat couldn’t take anymore brushing, he turned back to the fire and carefully approached the other man, sitting down beside him with his back to the log Jaskier was perched on. He let the silence go for another minute before, “Keep playing. Please.”

Jaskier winced but dutifully took up the lute again and started on the chorus. 

“Bury me in silks and wrap my hands in thistles

Strangle me with noise and take my voice

I’d rather sleep in the earth, in the cold

Then care anymore.”

He lapsed into silence again, though his hands kept playing. Geralt could see, from the corner of his eye, the tiny sparkle of tears. 

“I do care,” he said quietly. 

Jaskier’s hands stuttered to a stop on the strings. “I - you - what?” 

Geralt smiled. “Is my bard suddenly at a loss for words?”

“Your bard?” he definitely didn’t squeak. 

“Yes,” he said simply, reaching up to brush away the tears.

#my writing #geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #writing prompts #i love this song #i'm halfway through recording it #fanfic