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#A seeker of peace? No a seeker of death!

harleyification · 1 year

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ATLA Au where Sokka befriends a rogue Knowledge Seeker ✨

(More info under the cut)

Side A: Sokka Adopts A Stray Fox Spirit

- After a toddler Sokka gets lost in a blizzard, a Knowledge Seeker that is taking back a scroll wanders upon him. Knowledge Seekers in this world not only retrieve information for the library, but also protect it - sometimes with their life. - This particular Knowledge Seeker feels the need to protect Sokka (who, unbeknownst to them both, is going to be a genius who tilts the world of knowledge on its head), and disregards its former duty in order to make sure the tiny human makes it. - If Sokka dies, then so much knowledge will be lost to the world. The spirit can’t have that. It curls up around Sokka, giving the child warmth and saving his life. - It decides to stick around when it realizes this particular human is rather curious and thus drawn to danger, aiding this one in its destiny. And while spirits don’t need to eat (And can eat just about anything), it’s also a bonus that human treats are really good!! Side B: Sokka Becomes A Knowledge Seeker (or New Spirit Entirely...?)

- Everything is the same as above, except for the fact that young Sokka succumbs to the coldness despite the spirits best efforts... - The Knowledge Seeker, keen in fulfilling its duties, essentially thinks, “Well shit. Can't let this potential go to waste. I'll sacrifice myself in order to heal the world, aid destiny, and ultimately expand knowledge for the world. This human's worth it." - Doggo combines its essence with Sokka’s soul, and gives the child a second chance at life. - Sokka in return gets canine teeth, a bigger propensity for meat, can go Borf, probably has auburn hair (still not set on the design), and has most of the abilities of the Knowledge Seeker. - No ears or tail on a literal level (Maybe...), but these abilities include: enhanced hearing, the ability to innately and uncannily Know Things by accessing his past spirit life memories and having a connection to the library, a 6th sense for danger and spiritual activity, climbing up walls like Spider-Man, and eventually being able to walk back and forth between worlds! As well as typical dog traits, like growling, claws, teef, and a propensity for meat!

#ATLA #avatar: the last airbender #sokka #Yue #zuko #I wasnt able to imply Zukka but Zukka is intended to be here #Also implied Yuekka romance or bromance #ATLA Au #Knowledge Seeker Sokka #Fox Spirit Sokka #Yue and Sokka in Side B doing the spiderman meme like SAME HAT?? SAME HAT??#Hi Im sick and got in trouble for not going into work so I made these instead #Eventually I like to think that Sokka seperates his spirit side from the library and becomes his own spirit after death #More kitsune-like since Kitsunes are about wisdom and peace #But also Native American fox lore is so interesting and fits Sokka SO MUCH #I dont think Ill be drawing any more of this AU for a long while or ever write a fic for it #Unfortunately :c #My Art

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mischiefmanagers · 3 months

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Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

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cozzzynook · 7 months

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bumblebee was born with door wings.

It was known throughout Autobot territory that having anything relative to something deemed decepticon labeled you an automatic target. Sparkling or not, Autobots were not as kind as the history archives liked to preach and Bumblebee knew this first hand. Discrimination was a factor Bumblebee was far too familiar with seeing as he was born with door wings though he could not fly and had a ground alt mode. His alt mode was that of a car built for speed, he was no Blurr but he could rival him with how fast he could go. His driving was practically like flying once his wheels hit the pavement.

Not to mention his slender frame rivaled that of a seeker, he wasn’t bulky like a grounder something that put him at a disadvantage. He was not tall either, making him a prime target for bullying inside sparkling centers where all the other bitlets were not only bigger but stronger.

The overseers of the center always turned a blind optic to his bruises and dents. Not sparing him much energon since they didn’t like looking at his bright yellow painting even when his black paint came in albeit late since his frame was never given the proper nutrients to grow.

Bumblebee spent his early protoform days in a sparkling center since his creators were offlined when he was only days old after his emergence. His creators were not lucky. It was a high act of treason for an autobot or grounder to bond with a decepticon and seeker even if the war had ended, Autobots did not take lightly to such unions.

They were hurrying to get to neutral territory when they were caught and offlined. He was left to rust in his carriers gray arms before being found by a traveling bot who dumped him into a sparkling center out of pity for his fresh young spark.

Sometimes, on the nights his stomach rumbled and his door wings were once again scratched and painfully bent he wished the traveler had left him to gray. His young processor saw things weren’t going to get better at the sparkling center what with how all the others were adopted and he was sneered at.

So one night he snuck into the energon storage with a pouch and grabbed as much as he could before leaving. Life on the streets weren’t truly different for him save he was beaten less but he did have to hide more. Many bots gave him looks that made his tanks turn and he did his best to steer clear of them.

He knew to be weary of decepticons and autobots alike seeing first hand how cruel autobots could be all because he was born wrong and he knew from listening to the overseers how cruel decepticons could be. He wasn’t one to care for reading history or reading much in general but he did put it to use after teaching himself to read that decepticons had a point in their early cause. Even his young processor knew the counsel should’ve listened to their demands and reached an agreement. That could’ve spared so many pointless deaths including his creators.

He knew never to speak on his thoughts of course because Autobots spoke of being the side dedicated to peace while showing they had a pretty messed up definition of what peace actually was.

“Hey! Get lost!”

Scurrying without looking back Bumblebee was off.

His time running from bullies showed him he was fast and life on the streets taught him he could be even faster. Taking energon when absolutely necessary, speeding off with anti virus medicine that no bot would waste on him, dodging Elite guards who tried to take him into custody so he could be placed in a sparkling center. Yes, Bumblebee learned he was fast and he was good at utilizing it well into early adulthood when he would dodge servo happy mechs who wanted to touch him.

He wasn’t blind he knew his frame was desirable. He was small, lithe, and curvy in all the right places that left mechs and even a few femme’s glancing his way. At first it annoyed him. Being looked at meant trouble and as much as he wanted the attention, any attention when the days were crushingly lonely, he didn’t want to be damaged because someone thought they’d be doing him a favor ripping his door wings off again.

The first time it happened he was still a sparkling in the center. An overseer thought they’d be helping both of them by removing the ugly nuisance from his back. His memory file painfully kept the scene of him screaming energon murder as he laid in a puddle leaking his life away. The looks other overseers gave him after they were reattached made his circuits and mesh quiver even to this day.

“Look out!”

He turned his helm away from the mech sizing him up like a fresh cup of energon in the sunrise with his arms covering his chest plates when his optics met sight of large ship hovering in the sky before missile fire rained down on them.

He’d never run so fast in his life, transforming mid jump over a graying frame that laid on the ground before high tailing it. There was no stopping, no corner unfazed by the many mechs and femme’s running to safety and no where to go where the screams of innocent mechs and femmes alike were cut off only to be replaced as the process repeated over and over.

He was exhausted by the time the ship left. The autobot insignia was hidden but word later got out that it was an Autobot elite guard ship hunting down two notorious decepticons who were hiding in their area. They hadn’t managed to capture them so the group decided to take them by surprise and ambush them.

No apologies were given to the mechs and femmes permanently disabled by the elite guards reckless decision. Those that died were labeled a “tragic loss” and were used to encourage bots across Cybertron to join the Autobot forces to help snuff out any more decepticons so another incident like this would not be repeated.

Bumblebee remembers feeling an array of emotions when he heard the broadcast. He remembers seeing the poster with Ultra Magnus not long after covering the area and bots believing the nonsense. He seemed to be one of the only few bots who saw something wrong with all this besides those permanently disabled. Neither he nor they said anything though. It would be disastrous for them, the outcasts and undesirables, to speak out against it. They were already hated by their people for being different Bumblebee knew the mechs and femmes who were permanently damaged would no longer live the same life. They’d be just like him.

Tossed to the side.

Bumblebee suddenly felt like his body was covered in the life energon that splattered on him as he raced to survive the onslaught. He felt his optics sting and the late night break in to a “communal” cleaner did little to wash away the long gone life energon.

‘How can they live with themselves?’

Bumblebee asked himself this question countless times as he took what energon he could find before leaving the half destroyed town. It wouldn’t do him any good staying there not when bots were looking for another to take their anger out on. Many of those bots were joining the military and hoping to become Elite guards themselves. Bee figured it was misplaced hope and a need for safety.

He got it, he really did.

If he could blend in he would but sadly he can’t. He never could. Not with his yellow paint, door wings and femme like frame. He wasn’t proud of the way he learned to use these things to his advantage. It wasn’t always a guarantee he could scrounge up some energon without getting caught and since he was no longer a sparkling but a young grown mech, he needed to be careful not to get caught. He didn’t want to end up in a detention center.

It was hard at first. Truth be told it was still hard. Going to half decent but mostly seedy bars working for his keep to have a place to rest his head and keep energon in his tank. He wasn’t stupid. He knew this arrangement was not only dangerous but temporary. Eventually his luck would run out within twelve cycles and he’d be asked to accompany the bar owner to a more..private room. He always left immediately after saying he would meet them down there.

It led to him traveling a lot more than he originally planned but he eventually found some semblance of settling when he entered a camp full of seekers. There were a few grounders like himself, most likely mated to some of the seekers. He stayed clear of them seeing them just made him think of his creators and his processor just wandered to trying to remember what they looked like. So he tried to keep to himself no matter how lonely he was. He wanted to chat and get close with others, by nature he was a friendly mech and loved talking but he couldn’t risk doing so. Not here.

Not when he was always at risk of being hurt or…used.

“You know you don’t have to be so distant. It’s different here,” a grounder spoke, “a lot of seekers here just want to online peacefully and us grounders just want our sparklings and mates safe.”

The mech tried to put a servo on his shoulder but he flinched away, standing straight a moment later he looked anywhere but the mech and scurried off. His circuits were nervous for cycles after that encounter. Other grounders started coming to him trying to talk and soothe him as if he was a sparkling in distress and not a grown mech himself.

He didn’t need them trying to creator him, he was fine on his own and had been all his life cycle. They could frag off snd creator their own sparklings. It made him so irrationally angry every time they tried to take care of him he wasn’t some bitlet that needed consoling he was a grown mech that entered carrier heats alone when he was just a youngling living in a back alley. He was mech who survived the acid rains in the dumpsters or bots back garages in corners to not he seen. He’d kept himself from being interfaced by older bots all on his own.

He didn’t need them! He never needed a creator before when he was a lone sparkling and he doesn’t need one now as a grown mech.

“Aren’t jou a little young to be drinking jour sorrows away?”

“Aren’t you a little fragger for bothering someone in a corner who wants to be left alone?”

Okay so maybe he had a foul intake but he was justified, he wanted some peace to wallow in a bar he wouldn’t be asked to interface for shelter in for once he wanted to relax not this.

“Quite ze mouth on jou little one. Careful. Jou don’t seem ze type to be good in a mech on mech brawl,” the mech laughed in his foreign accent. He blamed the high grade in his systems for making him think it was attractive as well as warming his pleasure sensors.

“Yeah well you don’t know what kind of mech I am so frag off and leave me alone,” okay maybe he sounded bratty but he just wanted the mech to go away.

“Suite jourself,” the mech said with a slag eating grin in his vox. It made Bumblebee look up from his glass he was going to give this mech a piece of his processor until he looked at the mech. He was tall, really tall. Arms thicker than Bumblebee’s frame with a beautiful jawline that could offline. His face plate was a shade of blue he could never grow tired of seeing with the most beautiful red optics he’s ever seen. In the back of his processor he knew that meant this was a decepticon mech former or not he wasn’t sure. All he knew in that moment looking at the beige and purple painted mech was that he was beautiful, stunning, a sight he was truly gifted to behold.

His intake was left partially open as he swayed on unstable pedes before grabbing the counter to balance himself. His high grade filled helm was hard at work rushing energon south as his private plating grew hot. He could feel his valve growing wet with sticky energon slick and he knew he had to get out of there.

His seal was still in tact thankfully but with how attractive the mech before him was he wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case.

“Oooh? Nothing to say hummel?”

Bumblebee made a face at the name worry tinting his blurred optics as he gazed at the mech but the small part of his processor that was logic won out and he stumbled away from the mech. Forcing himself to be silent as he left the bar. He didn’t have a place to call his yet but the archive building always had a room they let mechs and femmes stay in who had no hab suite. Here in the camps shanix wasn’t as big a need like in the capital and their surrounding cities and towns. He still had less than the average bot but he had enough for fuel and thats all he really cared about.

He was just at the archive back-way when he stumbled and lost his peding. The rush of cold air didn’t turn to concrete and vaguely he could feel two warm servo’s on his hips before being lifted into cool arms. The bot that helped him was a mech and a muscular yet lean one at that. They were quite large with how far from the he was but he didn’t feel in danger. He couldn’t identify what he felt if he was honest.

Warmth. Comfort. Soft. His body wasn’t on edge for the first time he knew of. He almost missed the word he’d been unfortunate to experience until now.

Safe.

The mech holding him managed to make him feel safe when he didn’t even know them.

“Jou shouldn’t get so full on high grade especially since jou aren’t a regular size for that kind of high grade.”

‘Oh great, this mech again,’ he would’ve rolled his optics if he didn’t have such a helm ache.

“Put me down,” his vox was half static as he tried to get feeling into his frame. His servo’s wouldn’t listen to his circuits telling them to move and his digits just hung limp against the mech’s chest plates. They were thick, made for flight and battle. Oh how his private plating pulsed with life at the mere thought.

‘Why did I have to like em big?’

“And vhere vould jou go hmm? Do jou live here? In this little hole?”

Bumblebee had enough energy to get upset at the incredulous tone but not much else. He wanted to helm butt the nosey mech but he didn’t have the energy to.

“Not your business, put me down,” his venting wasn’t even and his frame was getting hot from all the high grade and his valve’s pulsing. He hoped the bot couldn’t smell his arousal, he really wanted to frag the mech but at the same time he didn’t want to risk getting sparked or a virus.

“Are jou sure jou want me to put jou down? Jou could barely stand on those little stabilizers just a moment ago. Jou think jou can make it inside?”

“Why do you care? Just let me figure it out on my own and go away!”

He was starting to lose his temper and his valve was starting to leak with every passing word from that thick accent. He wanted the mech and he wanted to feel his spike breaching his valve and breaking his seal but there would be consequences to that and the mech was most likely a decepticon. He didn’t get a good look at his chassis to see the insignia but Bumblebee knew he had one.

“Feisty little mech hmm?”

“I’m not that little,” with a sudden burst of energy Bumblebee managed to catch the mech off guard as he twisted in his arms. Lifting a servo to try pushing the mech away he was restrained faster than he knew possible.

“Interesting, jou have quite ze speed I’ll give jou that hummel,” the mech smirked unfazed, “but i’m faster,” he said leaning in face plate to face plate.

“What do you want from me?”

“Jou are interesting.”

“I’m not a pleasurebot,” Bumblebee glared, servo transforming to a stinger canon. He has never offlined another bot in his life cycle but he was willing to blue screen one on their aft if he needed to.

“I never saw jou that way little one. I simply think jour interesting. I’ve never seen a bot with yellow paint or wings as beautiful as jours especially since jour a grounder.”

That made Bumblebee freeze.

No bot had ever called him interesting, let alone beautiful. And his door wings? Well, they were betraying his vulnerability full throttle as they flicked and postured nervously. A tint of eagerness in how they didn’t pull away from the mech’s direction. Vents stalling for a nanoclick as his optics focus on honesty and want in the red optics bewitching him.

“you..you think i’m…”

He couldn’t get the words out his vox couldn’t form a single sentence and his optics betrayed him by blurring with leaking fluid.

“i..don’t..,” that ache in his spark coiled something fierce vice grip holding him immobile in the mech’s arms. Those red optics didn’t pity him, didn’t judge him, understood him.

“I vant to, hummel,” the soft blow of air from his derma’s cooled the heat clouding Bumblebee’s fave plate, he wanted more, so much more. “I vant to touch jou, show jou just how beautiful jou are, hummel.”

His derma’s wisp the tip of his audial and brush against the mesh under his optic. Bumblebee could feel his horns flicking with excitement, with need, reacting to the mech’s touch. He wanted more. Needed more.

His own dermas inched forward, soft vent brushing blue mesh as his optic lids fluttered, chest plates pushing out slightly to touch the mech more. He could feel his breast mesh beneath his plating grow aroused perking to rub uncomfortably, begging to be set free. He wanted this mech to touch him, caress him, feel him.

He needed him.

Needed to be more than just a no bot fading to the background for safety. Hiding away from bots who wanted to lend him a helping servo, never staying in one place for long out of fear. His overseers still had him listed as a criminal for running away with a lot of energon and the seedy bar owners and patrons he served high grade to wanted his valve and seal for their own disgusting servos. He dodged plenty elite guards who identified him as a survivor to the raid on the small town he once inhabited.

Turns out they not only used it to make the towns people enlist and join the autobot ranks, they down played the damage truly dealt. Hid how many sparks were snuffed out and how many bots were permanently damaged because of their horrible decision. He had an idea of what they would do to convince him to keep it under wraps and he wanted no parts in that.

All the running, always watching his back, never able to trust another bot or simply talk the way he wished he could. He wanted nothing more than to be a normal bot.

His derma’s touch the beige helm before he realizes, thats all it takes for the mech holding him. He’s being carried somewhere, their entering the deepest parts of the seeker district where some of the more dangerous mechs cohabit. They come to a building he recognizes as a seekers home. Its built for a lone mech instead of a trine and Bumblebee feels his nerves jumble as they enter inside.

His optics wander the room as he notes paintings hanging from the walls beautiful and perfection in every sense of the word. Molding clay in a corner with stone and hammers opposite of them. Paint lies in a cupboard far too high for him to reach but perfect for the mech that shifts to cradle him.

A servo brushes so gently across the side of his helm holding his jaw to tilt making him look up. Red optics are warm to him now. A color he thinks he’ll forever find comfort in so long as its this bot before him.

He’s shy now, blue coating his cheeks as he feels the heavy thrum of the mechs spark pulsing through his thick armor. He’s a war build seeker that much he’s sure of, his gaze wanders to purple wings and his own flutter at the sight. He can’t help it. They’re so big, much bigger than his own and they could fly. He wished his could fly.

“Jour wings are beautiful,” the mech whispers, olfactory sensor rubbing his, asking for permission that Bumblebee grants him.

The kiss is slow, searching, fluid, curious.

They both want to get a feel on one another, servos tightening around his waist, his arms hooking behind the beige helm, stabilizers hooking beneath the large chassis. Digits digging into the armor when he feels dermas press harder onto his own. The mesh is soft, so soft he almost thinks the mech freshly glossed them just for him. He feels the cool shift in the mechs frame grow warmer, the shift in metallic wings fluttering. He’s vaguely aware of the bot taking him to the berth. High grade heightening his sensor nets while lowering his fire walls and the logic in his processor.

He feels his private plating heat unbearably, his vavle spasming as his back hits the soft sheets. His wings fan out in a desirable display and his hips rut against the mechs strong upper thigh that rests between his legs sinking into the berth. Their dermas part and Bumblebee flicks his optics open their hazy drunk on pleasure he knows will only grow. He’s faintly aware of the room growing in heat from their warming frames, the windows begin to fog and his olfactory senses pick up the scent of energon slick and transfluid, it makes him look down.

The mech on top of him has his private plating retracted he has no valve that much Bumblebee realizes as he feels his own private plating tremble in anticipation. But the sheer size of the mechs pink and blue energon transfluid dripping from his engorged black spike with bioluminescent purple and blue lines in an attractive pattern he wants has glossa to lick and trace, has Bumblebees private plating snap open.

He looks away in shame as his pathetic spike shows itself. It was small even for someone his size he wouldn’t dare compare it to the large spike about to penetrate him. He’s sniffling upset already thinking he’ll bd mocked, wings insecure as they shift awkwardly. But the beige and purple mech doesn’t allow him to wallow. Those purple wings flare to capture his attention and the icy digit lifts his head to look at him. Warmth enraptures those beautiful red optics and he’s left starstruck.

Subconsciously he’s aware of his servos lowering to hold both sides of the mechs face plate, feeling the seductive jawline move as the mech spoke. Words uncharacteristically gentle aimed his way has his chassis quivering and his optics warming in leaking fluid as he whimpers a pitiful whine at the mechs words.

“You’re a carrier,” the words are understanding, careful, sweet even, “I’m a sire mech, hummel,” Bumblebee didn’t really know much about sire mechs he only knew they couldn’t carry like he couldn’t sire. He had to know all that being a carrier entailed since he was one but he never bothered to learn much on sire mechs. He knew regular bots could spark bond and have a piece of their sparks enter-twine before going into a protoform. That was the norm of how their species reproduced.

And then there was mechs like him and the mech above him, the rarities who carry in tanks and sired through transfluid and spark energy. A carrier mech could end up sparked through either just like a sire mech could spark a mech using their chamber or transfluid. Usually the two types only stuck to each other simply because they were not only made for each other but because it was easier that way since a regular bot would have complications with either types and regular bots didn’t like their types.

“I’m sorry,” it felt right to say for some reason. He didn’t live a life he wished for others to experience and so he assumed the other mech may not have as well.

“No need to apologize hummel, jou did nothing vrong. Especially since i get to have jou here,” the mech said lowering himself. That thick spike dragging up his thigh plate made his hips rut and a smirk pulled at blue dermas that leaned back down to kiss him. His servo’s moved on their own, holding the mech’s chassis and shoulder optics fluttering as his neck moved back, wings spread out in invitation across the sheets. Hips lifting to rub his vavle along the thick pulsing spike that dripped transfluid onto his seal. He felt his valve squeeze on nothing and his grip tightened as he whimpered. He wanted the mech, this mech right here who showed him kindness he often ran from and rejected.

With him it felt different.

Maybe it was the high grade working in his systems, maybe it was the unparalleled beauty he saw in the mech that left him wanting more or maybe it was the growing heat that curled and coiled in his tanks with each touch the mech provided him. He didn’t know and he didn’t bother to care.

He just knew one thing.

“Spike..please,” he moaned as their dermas disconnected with a trail of liquid connecting them. His shinning optics took in the purple tint of the mechs cheeks and he felt his cheeks warm. This large mech was blushing at the sight of him, spike pulsing and hard because of him. Dripping the most delicious smelling transfluid onto his valve, all because of him.

“Hummel, are jou sure?”

“Yes, please,” Bumblebee pleaded, “break my seal, claim me as yours, mecha.”

There was a softness, a vulnerability that was partially guarded as the mechs red optics glossed slightly. A cool vent that left Bumblebee reaching up to pull the other closer as his wings lowered to stretch then spread in invitation. A shy invitation with shy confidence on Bumblebee’s part as he initiated a soft tender shaky kiss. Feeling the mech return it, servo holding the space between his door wings as he tightened his stabilizers around the mechs waist.

Digits slide to his valve and wait, he pushes his valve closer to them and the mech answers his welcoming. Sliding the first clawed digit inside breaking his seal. He gasps in pure pleasure, the mech inhaling his air sliding another inside. Twirling his digits slowly, working the fresh folds open careful to stretch them as slick pink fluid coated black clawed servos.

The dermas kissing his neck cables nipped at them, those sharp denta sent a shiver down his spine. Oh how he wanted the mech to open his chassis and bite his teat glands. He knew he couldn’t lactate but he wanted the mech to have the fun of trying.

‘Maybe I really do have carrier protocols that can be activated.’ That in itself was a surprise since he swore to himself he would never have a sparkling let alone take care of one.

The sudden pulse from his valve had his optics clouding for a nanoclick. The mech holding him had slipped two more digits inside him, he was impossibly tender and completely thorough in his stroking. He felt that sudden spike in heat wracking his frame his vents were starting to have trouble cooling him down and the mech bit a little harder when he felt the small bot in his arms gasp in pleasure.

“Jou like that? Hmm? Have I found jour bundle of nerves?”

Those skilled claws lightly rubbed the bundle of nerves and he felt his interior node spasm at the soft touch. His helm fell back at the sudden rush of slick fluid that spilled into the mechs servo. He felt his legs lock tighter and his hips rutting in tune with the mechs digits his own digits dug deep into the mechs shoulders scrapping his paint. And before Bumblebee could apologize he saw the mechs wings twitch in appreciation.

“M..mecha..your wings..so..ahhhh so beautiful,” he moaned. He wanted to touch them but he knew he didn’t like others touching his door wings so he was sure a full seeker wouldn’t want a mixed bot touching his own and Bumblebee didn’t think he’d be granted permission.

“Blitzwing.”

“H-huh?”

“My name, mein designation is Blitzwing,” the mech now known as Blitzwing, soothed to him pressing his helm against Bumblebees.

“Blitzwing,” the name felt like honey and riches on his tongue. He found himself repeating the designation over and over again as his valve pumped out slick fluid into the mechs servo. He felt so good all over, his frame may be hot and his tank felt like it would burst at any moment spilling out of his valve but he could care less. He chased that feeling, the unwinding bundle that threatened to swallow him whole as he bucked his hips keeping pace with the beautiful mech before him.

With the beautiful mech named Blitzwing that his optics just couldn’t get enough of.

“Hummel,” his groan was delicious to his audials but when Blitzwing pulled his servo back he whined like he was struck with pain.

“I vant to be inside jou, mein hummel, please,” Blitzwing moaned lining his spike to Bumblebee’s valve, “can I?”

When Bumblebee didn’t say anything Blitzwing pulled back ready to comfort him but Bumblebee’s stabilizers pushing him forward so the head of his spike could slip inside him, well it made them both groan.

Bumblebee’s valve was hot and soft to the touch, sucking Blitzwings spike in like a bot starved of the most delectable energon known in bot history. Blitzwing almost overloaded from just being inside the yellow minibot alone. He tried inching in slowly, allow the yellow mini time to adjust to his impressive thick spike but the yellow bug kept squirming and wiggling trying to lower himself onto his spike that he bit his lower derma to keep from thrusting in all the way.

“Careful zere hummel. Jou may rip something,” Blitzwing groaned as he almost bottomed out, servo curling around the yellow mini’s curvy mesh waist while the other held the back of his helm, Blitzwing watched the curve of his spike imprint the mechs tank. He felt his spike twitch spurting hot transfluid inside the soft meshy organ. Oh it felt so good to be fully sheathed inside the mech nestled in his arms.

His beautiful face plate was overwhelmed with pleasure, chassis heaving heavy vent after heavy vent in an attempt to cool his frame. His hips were twitching on his spike, he could see how full the mech was, so full of him that he almost slipped and overloaded inside him.

He didn’t want to hurt the neutral bot especially since he just broke his seal but he did want to make this experience last as long as possible. He wanted the mech in his servo’s to be ruined for anybot else. He didn’t want the yellow beauty to find comfort or solace in another mech or femme like this that wasn’t him.

He carefully cradled the mech closer pressing them chassis to chassis, covered spark plating to covered spark plating. Sucking what little air the mech had blowing cool air into his intake as he slid his glossa inside. Roaming every inch of the mechs intake when he felt servo’s hold his wings.

The sensation made him jolt in surprise.

This mechs touch, his small servo’s, his tiny digits, feeling along the expanse of his purple wings, feeling along the groves and long healed dents was the best feeling he’s ever had in his entire life cycle.

Blitzwing was so embarrassed his cheeks shaded complete purple as he moaned loudly, overloading inside the little mech who arched his back strut with impossible flexibility. Overloading slick fluid that sloshed and poured free from his valve mixing with the transfluid that dripped onto the sheets and down Blitzwings thigh plating and knee guards.

Blitzwing felt his wings fan out and stand at attention the same as the mech in his servo’s. He felt his processor crash for a moment, frame shaking making him thrust into the yellow mini’s interior node pushing him to overload once more. The sweet cries and moans coming from the bots leaking intake had his spike pulsing at attention and he couldn’t help himself.

Half crashed with his processor fritzing from overheat and excessive pleasure he kept thrusting. Their spark chambers thrumming at racing pace as they tried to connect through both the bots armor. Blitzwing had never been very vocal when interfacing save for some dirty talk but he couldn’t stop the moans and pleasurable grunts and growls as he soaked up all the attention his hummel was giving not just him but his wings as they interfaced.

He hadn’t touched the bots wings since one did not touch a carriers wings without permission. One didn’t touch a sire’s wings either but for this mini without question he made an exception.

“Ah, Hummel,” he felt his vox growl dangerously as another overload was building in his tank and circuits. Even with his ice powers blowing cool air on the air from his pistons it wasn’t enough. The windows were steaming, the berth was creaking as the metal frame slammed the wall making an ignored crack. The bot in his servo’s was trying to meet the rhythm of his thrusts his valve puffy and stretched out. Pink and blue energon surrounding it as their fluids mixed.

Blitzwing tried to stifle a particularly loud roar by biting so hard into his derma he spilled energon. His spike impaled the yellow mini’s interior node over and over until his little hummel overloaded with a loud cry of static before dragging his digits down Blitzwings wing plating then frizzing out into recharge. His frame spasmed in reaction to Blitzwing overloading inside him completely unaware of the large mech falling to his side and crashing into recharge after roaring loudly accidentally turning his thrusters on and firing his pistons. The last thing Blitzwing saw flashing across his hud before completely falling into recharge was that his processor had activated the protocol every seeker dreamed of.

His conjunx programming.

Neither mechs were in a rush to online their optics. Blitzwing was heading back into recharge when he felt his frame being moved and his arms lose the small warmth he’d held throughout the night cycle. His processor immediately took that as a threat making his optics shoot open and his pistons blare to life ready to shoot when a startled yelp rung in his processor and a flash of yellow dropped down.

He was quick to catch the little mech before he hit the floor boards, yanking him back into his arms as his optics searched for the threat. When he saw the berth room was empty save for the two of them he tilted his helm confused.

“Hummel, are jou okay?”

The mech in his arms was shocked and looked pretty shaken up though Blitzwing noted how he leaned into his touch instead of scurrying off.

“Hummel?”

“Stop calling me hummel. Thats not my designation.”

“Then what is jour designation? Jou never did tell me.”

“…”

The yellow mini looked down, face plate shifting to a hurt expression. His optics weren’t entirely clear but it couldn’t have been from the high grade. His scans showed the two worked it from his system during their first shared overload. His protocols were buzzing with worry something that didn’t show on his face plate but it did in his optics and closed off em field.

Deciding he would wait for an answer Blitzwing pulled the mech back onto the berth careful of sore stabilizers and his exposed puffy valve coated in dry transfluid and energon slick. He laid his back strut and wings comfortably against his pillows making sure the mech was comfortable against his frame. He could see the paint transfer on his thigh platings and he couldn’t stop the grin on his dermas. Em field motioning towards the mini he felt him jump slightly at the outside emotions.

“..b-127.”

His vox was low, it didn’t feel right to Blitzwing. The mech before him seemed so closed off, so closed in on himself Blitzwing was surprised he hadn’t split a circuit open. He knew the little mech had fire in him, that much was proven when he told him off at the bar. Sure he could be shy but that felt right. This. This didn’t feel right. And a designation like B-127? Thats not a real designation but he knows the yellow mech isn’t lying to him. So why was that his designation?

“B-127? Thats quite an odd designation for jour creators to give jou little one.”

“My creators offlined when I was few cycles old. Thats why I never got more than a sparkling center entrance number.”

The little mechs voice was cold and wavering as he spoke no matter how much he tried to stifle it Blitzwing could feel his em field howl with distrust, pain, longing, loneliness and sorrow at such a deep spark clenching grief. He was sure he could guess the type of life cycle the younger mech was tormented with. He knew well what the door wings on his back meant. The moved acted as wings a seeker would emerge with. He didn’t have the build of a grounder yet he knew the mech couldn’t fly. Sure he had a chassis like a grounder with no cockpit but that was it.

His plating was not build like that of a battling autobot but that of a civilian. He thankfully wasn’t framed like a pleasure bot but his natural frame was close. The yellow plating on his stabilizers went just above his mid thigh. His pedes had a small sharp strut to them and his hip plating wasn’t protective in the slightest. His tanks had no protective save for his back strut, the black plating blended well accentuating his curves that led to his yellow door wings with black opening handles just below the low window. His neck cables and upper chassis were exposed but his spark casing and tit glands were covered thankfully. His helm covering was yellow with black covering his audials, he had a strip of black on his forehead. That made Blitzwing get a good look at the antenna that drooped with his bots sad expression.

One he didn’t like.

“Jou didn’t vant to designste jourself?”

“Why should i? Not like anybots gonna call me by it.”

“It can be for jou, yellow one.”

“Yeah? And what if I don’t care about having a designation?”

‘Stubborn,’ Blitzwing smirked shaking his helm, “i think jou do but if jou prefer to be stubborn about ze subject.” Suddenly Bumblebee was pressed against the sheets. Blitzwing spike impaling him making the lingering transfluids sloshing inside of him slide back into his tank. His optics automatically began to haze as he felt some of the large mechs weight pressing him down. He never knew he would have a pleasure pressing kink, it was something he hoped the mech wouldn’t realize.

“Vhat if I told jou I wanted something to call jou other than the assigned numbers ze center gave jou. Hm?? Vhat if I vanted something better to moan during our bouts of interfacing? Hm? Ve seekers like spoiling our mates. Especially by calling their designations so every bot who hears us vill know who ve belong to.”

Blitzwing said the words as smooth as an icicle. They chilled him to his core in a way he felt heating his tanks just like the previous night cycle.

Bumblebee couldn’t stop his back strut from arching into Blitzwings middle plating. His valve slicking hot energon makes it so much easier for Blitzwing to pull his hips back, the tip of his spike keeping Bumblebee’s valve stretched as he made some excess transfluid and energon slick that was mixed together squelch out before it was roughly shoved back inside with a powerful thrust.

“Jou deserve a beautiful designation to be moaned in jour ear, hummel.”

Bumblebee felt his tank lurch and his gestation pouch pulse. His optics blew wide open at the assault on his interior node, lifting his helm to open his intake and defy the mech laying so comfortably on top of him. Ready to argue his words and the use of his magnificent spike that cured a loneliness he’d never known could be filled until Blitzwing slammed into his interior node again knocking his processor and vox off from their regulatory.

The mech was stroking him so deep with every pump of his spike he was sure that Blitzwing intended to hit the bundle of nerves on his interior node and even try slamming into his gestation pouch. The realization made his valve pour and he couldn’t stop his digits from digging into the sheets and as he arched perfectly into Blitzwings frame.

Blitzwing glued his frame to the mech below him and he decided his mating code picked a perfect mech to match him with. Sure he wished he could’ve gotten to know the mech better and know him for longer but if his sweet expressions were anything to go by. The parting of his dermas as static slipped free, his seductive arch, his tight little valve that went from relaxed to squeezing his spike like his spark depended on it. Every hum and whine and mewl the mech let out was far too great for Blitzwing not to bend down and steal for himself like the selfish decepticon he is.

“Nnnnnghhhhh,” those noises were music to his audial’s. He couldn’t help but open his optics as he kissed the yellow mech depely. Seeing up close for the first time just how beautiful the mech truly was. Smooth faceplate, glossy painted frame streaked with his colors with an incredible curvy femme like frame to pede. Not to mention his door wings.

Blitzwing wouldn’t ever admit it to any other mech besides himself and maybe his hummel but those wings. He watched those wings twitch with sad expression for literal joors as the yellow mini sat at the bar drinking high grade too high for his frame. He wouldn’t have really cared if it were another mech about to be taken advantage of. He knew what the bar tender wanted by giving the mech such expensive and tasteful energon. He hadn’t really cared until he saw just who the mech was.

He didn’t really know the yellow mini outside of seeing him in passing since the day he wandered into town. Expression blank in a way all too familiar to his own when he used to live in the slums of Vos and Kaon. He didn’t have a place to call his habsuite or home after his creators offlined. Surviving the cruel streets taught him to look as reserved and untouchable as possible. The same look he once adorned on his face plates was the same look the yellow mini possessed as he went about in town.

Many tried to chat with him and each bot was either rudely turned down or he shut them down before walking off. He intrigued Blitzwing at first, his first time seeing the mech up close he was in his alt mode. Seeming to be cruising to himself far from the other grounders who drove and raced together. Blitzwing admired the sleek form of his alt mode as he watched him from afar, vox stolen along with his helm and processor as he watched the yellow mini transformer into root mode and walk into the archive halls. Those wings were pressed flat on his backside, one that Blitzwing admired in its entirety as he took in the shapely aft and slender stabilizers that had small heel struts holding casual grace as they moved.

He was star speckled when he first saw the mini and ever since he kept his optic out for him. Engine almost purring at every chance he got to see his cute little aft bent over as his door wings bobbed in natural response. He never saw himself having a thing for grounders but seeing as the mech was half grounder half seeker he was more than happy to make an exception.

So seeing the little mech all alone at the bar with a cup of high grade had been a gift he was not willing to pass up. No he wasn’t intending to berth him but it had been a welcome surprise. One he wasn’t planning on letting him escape from. He was more than happy to show his hummel all the ways in which they were perfect together and if it meant starting in the berth room, well.

He was more than happy to get their odd courtship started.

“Ah! Ah! Bli-bLitzWing!”

“Go ahead, hummel,” Blitzwing moaned into his intake, glossa sliding inside for a quick taste before slipping out, “I vant to hear all of jou. Every whimper, every gasp, every whine. Go ahead. Don’t hold back on me. Mein hummel,” Blitzwing uttered against his derma, ever the secret romance bot, “Let me feel jour body tremble.”

With a loud optic leaking static cry Bumblebee felt Blitzwing intwine their digits together digging them further into the sheets. Spilling energon transfluid into his valve and gestation pouch as it burst from the round tip of his spike. Filling his tank quite noticeably as it swelled from not only his humungous spike imprint but the sparkling fluid drenching him with pure creation.

He couldn’t focus his helm circuits long enough to know the difference between opening his intake or his valve that greedily drank as if his life energon was at stake. His vox wouldn’t shut off no matter how many times he tried to shut his dermas and even the sheets he bit down onto wasn’t enough to stop the pleasured cry as he felt his spark chamber crack open.

The loud rumbling hum of a spark too big to be his own roared behind him. The life wisping energy of his untouched passionate bright orange spark began to mix in perfect harmony with Blitzwing’s mixed hues of orange and red life spark energy.

The two were in awe and amazed by the colors of each other’s spark. Blitzwing would never have guessed the yellow mini had orange in his spark or that a spark could even be pure white. Sure he’s heard rumors but thats all he thought they were rumors. He never believed they were real for a second but oh how wrong he was.

‘Orange and red? I’ve read about them but I never thought I’d see a bot with one! I never thought I’d see another bots spark at all to be fair…’

While Bumblebee and Blitzwing were awed at the sight of the other mechs spark and the beauty of the others essence, they completely forgot one important detail.

Their sparks were merging, becoming one, permanently.

The two mechs had just permanently sparkbonded becoming conjunx and hadn’t even realized until their energies permanently sat mixed within one another and their chassis closed.

Lingering specks of energy littered the air around them. Their digits were seemingly glued as their frames melted to each others. Bumblebee could feel a wave of warmth, confusion, anxiety and the ache of an overthinking helm in the pit of his tank and in the center of his spark. He reached his em field to touch it and the feelings burst to life with a static screech of his vox as he felt electricity burst from within.

His valve clenched tight around Blitzwing’s spike making the mech shake. The larger had been caught off guard by the sudden pleasure and discomfort around his spike after such an optic stopping moment as seeing a spark as ethereal as this. By Primus his spark put the stars in their galaxy to shame. He felt the symphony of the arts floating around his helm and the urge to paint his now bondeds spark on canvas to capture its immortal flawless core.

He needed to build. To craft such perfection and magnificence for him to behold in and out of the mechs presence. No not the mech presence, his mechs presence.

The yellow mini was not just a random bot anymore. This yellow mini who captured his attention without lifting a digit or batting an optic his way, was his.

And oh how he feared the clicks passing by as his affections and fascination grew.

“Hummel,” the mech groaned, digits clasping the mini’s tighter as he felt jolts of electricity stinging the core of his spark with fear and a warmth he’s never been granted past his creators.

“We bonded, oh frag we bonded!”

The panic settled in the form of his vox and vision glitching with fuzz and discolored sights in leaking optics that burned to his over working vents. He could not bring himself to release Blitzwing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop panicking.

“I just bonded with a mech I don’t even know! Oh frag I’m bonded to another mech! Frag, frag, frag!”

“Are jou telling me jou think jour on the femme attraction hummel?”

The raised taunting mesh above red optics annoyed Bumblebee especially when he could see the smugness in Blitzwing’s expression, though he refused to acknowledge his wanting to comfort the hidden fear in the mech he grasped tighter. Not because he cared and felt grounded by something as simple as touch but because he was running on high energy. He could delude himself for the moment he’s earned it.

“Shut up,” his cheek curves were blue with energon as he avoided that stiff smile, “its not that! I just don’t know you.”

“Vell ve are bonded now. Ve have all eternity to get to know ze other,” Blitzwing said accepting this a bit easier. Sure he was freaking out on the inside but the use of slightly taunting humor and the pretty mech still beneath him helped soothe him. That and he was still pumping transfluid inside the little mini and he was becoming fascinated with just how vast their size difference was. He was aware of his war frame being bigger than most bots but he was so used to being around other war frames and average sized bots, even heavy weight bots, that he forgot about mini bots.

Though now that he looks at the mech he didn’t exactly fit the form type of a mini bot. His protoform was far too…curvy and slim in all the right places to be a mini. They tended to be more round and husky, stout really. They were perfectly balanced in being heavy weight to make up for their short stature. But this mech didn’t seem to be stout he wasn’t even chunky. He was just curvy and little too slim.

‘Kind of like…oh..’

It would be best not to ask.

‘It vould be best to wait until ve’re more familiar vith each other to talk on our pasts..though I’m sure I know ze answer..’

“This isn’t funny! Do you have any idea what we’ve done?!”

“Jes.”

“And you’re just okay with that?!”

“Jes.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough. I can spot a good bot from a bad bot and jou hummel are a good bot.”

That seemed to catch his hummel’s attention. He was glad for it, he could feel a warmth grow within their new bond. A pulse of something thready beginning to form and a piece of his spark broke as he pin pointed the emotion.

Praise.

His hummel had never received praise or appreciation before.

‘Just how lonely a mech are jou?’

His mating protocols were kicking into gear. His instincts spurred him to drown his bonded in the affection he so desperately craved and needed. There was an abundance of emotions and needs both physical and mental that his hummel had never received. So many things were empty inside his hummels spark and the memories he barely touched were only of pain and basic mecha comforts. The care and affection he sent out through their bond was unrecognizable to the mini and as he heard sniffling and felt shoulder struts shake at the rush of overwhelm and confusion from below, he did his best to guide and comfort him through the torrent of unfamiliarity.

It took two joors to get his hummel to calm and by then the lunar and solar cycles events and lack of fuel had caught up to them. He wanted to get his hummel and himself fuel but the tiny servo resting on his spinal column had stopped him. He knew then he was weak for the pretty mecha as he curled around him drifting into recharge. Though the nights recharge was not helpful.

After bonding bots will share certain memories through the conjunx endurea bonding and it will be completely solidified. There would be no surgery or repairs capable of undoing their bond. Blitzwing had felt it necessary to share this information with his hummel who responded by loosely holding his larger servo between their chassis. He didn’t meet his optics but closing them and leaning close did more than words could.

Currently he was shifting an optic back at his hummel, he was sitting at the large table watching nothing but that was to he expected. Blitzwing knew a lot of memories of his life cycle were not at all pleasant. Sure he had moments where things were good but the horrors he committed in the great war. The painful experiment he went through granting him the ability and title Triple changer along with his long held curiosity and attraction to his hummel before meeting faceplate to faceplate.

Well, he was surprised his hummel was still sitting at the table let alone being in the same home as him.

Blitzwing attributed that to shock and his hummels own personal history of horrid memories one would like to leave behind. The care center, the casualties autobots often caused, the discrimination and hatred he faced on cycle to cycle basis. Coupled with having to survive on the streets while hiding carrier status at such a young age. Blitzwing stood no chance in shutting down his protective protocols the moment they onlined from recharge.

The yellow mech was finally able to escape his arms because his tank rumbled for fuel which is why they were in the fuel room. If his protocols deemed it safe Blitzwing would be carrying his mini mech around as he prepared them an early cycle fuel. He learned from the mini’s memories he never received a home fueling. Blitzwing was determined to change that no matter how much it tugged at his spark to think he could still taste his carriers home fueling while his mini mech has not.

“Here, jou need fuel and zis vill help jou feel better.”

“Thanks,” his vox was tired, empty, overwhelmed with his past and Blitzwings important memories through the ages he’s been functioning. They both were having a tough time seeing what the other had been put through. Neither were having any luck being separate for more than a nanoclick—another side effect of their newly formed bond.

Blitzwing hadn’t been making their morning fuel for a full eight clicks before both their frames grew cold from lack of touching the other. He was sitting beside his hummel before he’d realized he still needed to make his own morning fuel.

“Here,” he felt something warm press against his dermas, smooth liquid tickles the sensitive mesh filling his olfactory senses making his tanks growl. He opened his dermas allowing the energon blend to slide down his pharynx with a soft groan.

“No, jou must fuel,” Blitzwing took his own energon and held it to the smaller mechs dermas, “drink.”

The flush of blue to the minibots cheek plating was adorable. Blitzwing accidentally activated his internal cams taking in the slow rise and fall of his chassis watching his intake curl around the cup as he finished the last of his energon.

“Jou’re beautiful.” Blitzwing spoke without conscious, his words deepened the blue along his hummels cheeks to color his entire face plate. “I vill imagine this face in the midst of every battle, I vill gaze at jou every lunar cycle and every solar break. For I vant jou to be the ethereal that greets me every dawn und every dark that guide me through every trouble that aggrieves me.”

“You-you liquid tongued mecha! Stop it,” his hummel exclaimed covering his optics with black and yellow digits. “We aren’t in the heat of interfacing you don’t have to play smooth with your vox. I’ll frag with you again just not until I can walk properly on my stabilizers.”

Slowly inching his hummels digits away, Blitzwing locked optics with him, “I mean every word I say, whether in ze berth or not. Jou are mine now mini one und I make it a goal of mein to spoil that which is in mein possession.”

“Oh yeah? Well last I checked I’m my own bot conjunx or not so stop trying to velvet vox me,” the yellow mini spoke with fire that ignited Blitzwings spark.

“I hope to see jour fiery spirit more often, hummel.”

The curl of blue derma was enough for Bumblebee to try frowning at the larger mecha but the sound of their tanks growling made him look away with a huff.

“Let us properly fuel then ve can talk more, hm?”

“Fine,” his hummel said with defiance that turned liquid when Blitzwing pressed his dermas to soft grey mesh on his hummels forehelm.

The cute static and beep was much appreciated on Blitzwings part, though not so much on his hummels part who swatted him.

Halfway through the solar cycle and the freshly bonded conjunx were relaxing in each other’s arms. Content to feel the others spark thrum while talking things through.

It was obvious between the two Blitzwings home would be shared and the room Bumblebee was staying at would be given back. They spoke on Blitzwings status as a decepticon and what that meant for Bumblebee.

“Jou von’t be forced to join the ranks but jou vill be vith me if I am ever called for battle, should there be a battle. Jou von’t ever have to fight if jou don’t join but I vould feel better if I could train jou to defend jourself. Neutral or not, being vith me brings danger that I vill do anything to keep jou from.”

Bumblebee felt assured oddly enough. Sincerity flowed through their bond and he reached out in acceptance. He knew Blitzwing was high ranking from his shared memories and learning he’d been living in small towns like this for almost three million stellar cycles. After Megatron gave the call to hide Blitzwing did just that as he awaited for Megatron to call upon him once more.

“Truthfully I am not so sure I vant him to call me. I rather like living in peace especially since I have jou now, hummel.”

“What does that mean?”

A raised brow and Bumblebee specifies.

“Hummel. What does it mean? You keep calling me that so it has to mean something.”

“It is ze german vord for bumblebee. An insect found on certain planets. I once ventured on an insecticon ruled planet. Jou remind me of the few I witnessed fluttering about. Especially when jou bob jour wings.”

That made Bumblebee blush and as his optics grew wide. His intake fell when he felt the form of a memory tug at the back of his processor. He was confused on what it was until he felt Blitzwing smooth a digit over his servo and he looked into the large mechs optics.

He felt himself lean in and his processor opened allowing the image of a large insectibot with his colors bob and flutter around a gigantic organic planet before landing. He had to admit Blitzwing was correct in the resemblance, though he didn’t have any fuzz or fur on himself he did have similar antenna save for the sharp quality.

“Jou remind me of them. Though zey aren’t anyvhere near as beautiful as jou mein hummel.”

There was silence for a long time as Bumblebee replayed the memory on a steady loop in his brain module. Blitzwing sat patiently enjoying the awe on his hummels face plate until the silence was broken.

“Bumblebee.”

“Hm?”

“My designation,” Bumblebee uttered with some hesitant but budding confidence, “my designation is Bumblebee. I want that one. I want that to be mine.”

His vox was small, personal, mystified.

Blitzwing felt a warmth in his spark grow that he didn’t know possible. The care he held towards his hummel grew and he knew then he this was truly it.

His hummel. Bumblebee.

‘This is the mech I vant for the rest of my life cycle und the next.’

He was never one for smiling but for Bumblebee he knows it will be easy.

“A beautiful designation, mein Bumblebee.”

It felt like cyberhoney on his glossa and he knew then he was sparked further.

“I guess being with you won’t he so bad, Blitzwing.”

The delicate kiss on his dermas further cemented his revelation and Blitzwing rested a servo on the back of Bumblebee’s helmet pulling him closer to deepen it.

He did not want to interface with his hummel. He just wanted to feel him and his em field reflected as much and so did their bond.

Blitzwing was more than happy to feel the sentiment returned.

First & foremost Free Palestine & Free Sudan & the Congo. Please share their stories & protest so that the cruelty they face may be stopped.

Second - I did not expect to make this story so long in the beginning. I hope all who read it enjoy.

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argonianfeather · 16 days

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Been seeing people make Daedra OC and wanted to join but I didn't want to do any of the typical humanoid ones, so, Here's Scryer!

(OC Lore-Dump Under Read-More!)

Originally an aspiring elven mage (though in the millenniums past, they have forgotten which type of mer they were, having partial amnesia on much of their mortal life) they were appointed as one of Miraak's personal Seekers back in the Merethic Era and

Fucking hated it.

While mildly above average in terms of combat prowess, they much prefer their study and research to fighting. Now thanks to the LDB soul sucking dragon man to death, they took the chance to bail from Apocrypha and now live deep in a secluded cave on Solstheim, were they can be a cranky old book-demon reading there esoteric tomes in peace.

#daedra #daedra oc #tes #elder scrolls #skyrim #skyrim seeker #my art #Scryer #''hey jester does this daedra choice have anything to with ur bg3 obsession'' :) may bee #also spoiler alert they were a chimer #finds vardenfell on the whole ''oddly familiar and nostalgic'' and no one is still alive 2 say ''you lived there idiot''#Scryer prefers They/She but also doesn't give to much of a shit really

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justcallmecappy · 1 year

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One of the criticisms I've seen DA players have in response to Anders' actions at the Kirkwall Chantry is some degree of, 'his actions forced innocent mages into a war they had no choice whether or not they wanted to be involved in'.

What a lot of these players seem to miss is this: The mages were already involved. They have been involved since childhood, when their magic manifested.

If you are born a mage in Southern Thedas, you are marked. The Templars will find you, or your neighbors who were conditioned by the Chantry to fear magic will turn you in, and you are brought to the Circle where you are at risk of Tranquility, or Annulment, and subjected to a Harrowing. Your children born to you in the Circle will be taken from you to be raised in a Chantry orphanage (like Wynne's child was). You are not allowed to get married, or start a family, or own land. You are not allowed to leave your Circle ever, unless conscripted to fight in the army (like in the Fifth Blight) or fulfilling some whim or need of those in power (like Malcolm Hawke being made to entertain nobles at a party). You might be thrown into the dungeon and left to starve to death, like the mage child Cole (and other mage apprentices of the White Spire) did. You are at risk of physical and sexual abuse, like the mages of the Gallows were.

Innocent mages were already involved. They were already being killed, they were already fighting for their lives for centuries since the inception of Circles, long before Anders' actions.

Also, in the case of the Gallows specifically, Knight-Commander Meredith had already called for the Annulment as early as the beginning/mid of Act 3. The mages' lives were already in danger, even before the Chantry was destroyed.

Anders tried for six years to make people listen and show how magic is not meant to be feared and can be used for good -- by publishing a manifesto, by providing free magical healthcare in Darktown -- to bring people's attention to the plight of mages and change things for the better. It took the imminent threat of his people being slaughtered wholesale for him to resort to what is aptly titled 'The Last Straw'.

If players want to blame anyone for subjecting mages to a conflict they did not want, look no further than the Chantry and their system of exploitation and oppression over the mages. Put blame on the Chantry for forcing mages into lives they did not choose, and asserting methods of culling and control over them, simply for how they were born. It was the Chantry that gave them no choice whether or not they had a say in staying alive or dying.

And if DA players would still say that the mages could have tried for a more "peaceful route" to alleviate their circumstances (despite seeing how Anders' manifesto, his Darktown clinic, and years of trying to negotiate with Elthina failed and Meredith was calling for Annulment anyway): very rarely do the oppressed win change by pandering to the morals of their oppressors.

Innocent mages were already suffering and being murdered in droves, for centuries. Innocent mages were already involved in this struggle, whether they wanted to be or not. And Anders' actions at the Chantry was like a rallying cry: If we're going to die anyway, then I'd rather die trying to take them down than giving them what they want.

(Also, I have not yet gone into detail on what actually started the mage-templar war, which was the Seekers hiding the cure for Tranquility, and Lord Seeker Lambert's decision to dissolve the Nevarran accord and take the Templars hunting for the free mages across the countryside because he decided dead mages were better than free mages -- because that's a whole separate post.)

#da fandom critical #bioware critical #anders defense squad #da meta #in defense of anders dragon age #anders #dragon age 2 #chantry critical #templar critical #elthina critical #anders was right #mage rights #plight of mages #mage-templar war #sometimes the da fandom makes me want to flip tables #my meta

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lets-try-some-writing · 7 months

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Immortals

Cybertronians are ancient beings, but even they age. Their frames deteriorate, and if that isn't what puts them in the grave, then eventually their sparks grow weary and fade. It is the way of things, and with time, every Cybertronian reaches the end of their road. All accepted this reality, but with the passage of time, a few mecha have found that they simply do not suffer as the rest.

Megatron more so than others.

[Please note this is a solid 10k nightmare that was also posted on Ao3 so be ready to READ if you click on the read more.]

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Death was by no means a new concept for Megatron. He was raised amidst it, lived relishing in it, and now wandered through the remnants of places that once flourished. In a way, it was part of him just as much as he was part of it. He brought death wherever he went, as such it was only fitting in a rather poetic sense that death spared him its embrace. He offered so many sparks to satisfy the appetite of the void, why would it not reward him by refusing him the chance to perish in peace?

For several long vorns, all he did was wander the stars after being freed from Unicron’s control. He had no purpose without his cause, and he had no desire to see any suffer as he did under the great devourer. Whatever urge to conquer once plagued his spark was long gone. In its place… he felt the desire to instead try and find himself again. So much madness and devastation. He forgot who he was, and he desperately wished to recover that lost sense of self.

He wasn’t entirely sure when the decision was made, but at some point during his wanderings, not even a millennia after he fled to the stars, Megatron meandered his way back to Cybertron. There was no hiding who he was, nor did he really bother trying. What was the point of that? Everyone was bound to know him based on his face alone regardless of whether or not he went through the trouble of filing down spikes and rusted armor plates. He fully expected to be met with raised blasters and blades, however, he was instead greeted by familiar faces and smiles.

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“Look who crawled in from the asteroid belt. While you were off doing who knows what, I Starscream was given a senatorial seat!” Starscream stood as proudly as ever, a slag-eating smile on his face as he gestured toward the badge on his shoulder. Megatron could only be thankful it wasn’t a crown or gaudy cape the seeker had chosen as his designator of profession and rank.

“I can see that, Starscream” Megatron hissed as the seeker continued to preen with pride. Beside him, Soundwave and Optimus stood. The former refused to even look at Megatron, an unsurprising reaction when all things were considered. The latter merely smiled as kindly as ever, his frame still bulky and unsightly, no longer the smaller more mobile form that he possessed before their Primus forsaken war.

“It is good that you have returned Megatron. I believe there is much to discuss.” The Prime stated simply as if Megatron hadn’t fragged off for almost a millennia and then sauntered back to Cybertron still carrying the burden of the many lives he ended. Then again, if the Prime allowed Starscream of all mecha to have a seat of power, perhaps Megatron being greeted kindly was not totally out of the question. Optimus was always a soft sparked fool.

“You aren’t going to try and blast me to bits, Prime? One would think after a war as bitter as ours that the people would demand justice.” Starscream scoffed, Soundwave twitched from where he was looking over a datapad, and the situation as a whole grew somewhat tense until Optimus replied.

“The war is over Megatron. You are no longer leader of the Decepticons, nor am I the sole leader of the Autobots. Things have changed, amends have been made. I will not say there is no lingering bitterness, but there is a second chance for you if you wish to take it.” A long silence reigned as Megatron considered. The world around him was not the one he knew or wanted, but it was Cybertron, it was his home. He had no intention of lingering for long, but what was the harm in remaining for a time?

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Arrangements were made and Megatron took up a job as a simple poet. His spark demanded he climb the ladder and try to wrestle some form of control away from the senate that formed in his absence. However he did not trust himself to not abuse that power should he gain it, not when the power of Unicron still tainted him. He remained quiet, contemplative, and docile as he worked on his various philosophical writings, largely uncaring of the world outside. Too many new faces, too many strange places with new names that were once locations he considered ‘home’.

Most only recognized him from their history lessons and thus treated him fairly normally. A few of the older bots wandering around sneered or hurried away in fear, but as a general rule, Megatron was left alone when he did go to the cities for whatever reason. He had no need for fuel, Unicron’s taint made the inherent necessity of energon null and void. It was disturbing at times, but he preferred it that way. It meant he was not required to head to cities often to restock. The newness of Cybertron was unsettling, and he was perfectly content to remain far away from the cities out in the renewed spire forests near what was now titled New Kaon. He didn’t want to or rather didn’t trust himself to get involved in the changing state of his homeworld. Thus, he kept quiet, held his helm low, and focused on himself.

The only ones he interacted with were old companions and enemies, mecha he knew well from war. He never left his hideaway out in the woods save for when Optimus dragged him away to do something or other or give his opinion on a legislation. The Prime seemed to have made it his life mission to redeem everyone and everything if his growing collection of reformed Decepticon and Autobot advisors said anything. Still, it was a comfort in a way. It made Megatron feel… normal, especially once he finally began dealing with old wounds.

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“Megatron: Abandoned the cause.” Soundwave sat beside him on his porch, looking up at the stars above. He had not spoken to his former second-in-command since his arrival on Cybertron. Neither was willing to speak to the other despite how much it ate away at them both. It hurt too much.

“I know,” Megatron replied simply. There was little else to say. What could he say? Soundwave gave everything to their cause, believing in Megatron and what they fought for. Then without warning, Megatron abandoned that cause, leaving all their efforts to waste away and Cybertron to fall under Autobot rule, at least technically. The senate was composed of mecha from all factions. Optimus was a fool, but he and his inner circle were good about trying to have a wide variety of opinions.

“Megatron: Left Soundwave to rust. Left Shockwave in Autobot servos. Left loyal followers to be captured and imprisoned.” Again, his oldest friend spoke and Megatron repeated his prior phrase.

“I know.”

Soundwave sat still beside him, his visor keeping Megatron from knowing what expression he was making. They said nothing for what had to be at least a long thirty or so kliks, both lost in their thoughts. The stars shone above them, a testament to the glory of their world when the skies were not blackened with smog and the fumes of burning cities. He could still smell the plasma in his olfactory sensors, he could still hear the screams in the dead of his recharge cycles. Despite that, there was peace to be found just… sitting and observing with his dear friend as if they were both still young and hopeful.

“Will you stay? Will you abandon us again?” A soft and grim voice called out to him in the gloom of the cycle. Megatron hummed, feeling his thrusters warm a degree as he considered again retreating to the stars. This world was not home anymore, but those he cared for remained. It would not do for him to leave them for good, not after the torment he dragged them through in the name of freedom.

“I will Soundwave. Until there are none who care for me, I shall remain.” Spindly digits reached out and gently touched him. Megatron did not need to look to appreciate the weight on his arm where Soundwave offered a degree of comfort. They needed each other, more than anything else, they needed familiarity.

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Time was something Megatron did not often pay close attention to in his quiet dwelling. His servos were occupied with his written works, his mind consoled by the occasional queries sent to him by Soundwave and Optimus, and his spark was eased as he watched the forest around him thrive. The anniversaries of Cybertron’s restoration were his only true method of keeping time. First, there was the 691st, which Optimus dragged him off to in order to show the people how much old wounds were healing. Then there was the 843rd where Starscream threw a tart at his helm and spurred on one of the most impressive fuel fights Megatron had ever seen.

The 927th where Soundwave scared Optimus’s favored medic so badly that the spymaster was nearly met with a blade. The 1034th where the Earth team Megatron fought against during the last days of the war threw all their collected blackmail at one another. Then there was the 1130th where a whole batch of younglings managed to convince Megatron to tell them a few stories…

Vorns passed and yet not once did it seem that anyone he cared for changed at all. Starscream was still a glitch, Soundwave was as dutiful as ever assisting the Prime and his senate in handling internal affairs, and Shockwave remained a genius in science once he was allowed to roam on parole. Knockout was doing something or other and evidently making a great profit off it, and the Autobots Megatron recognized seemed to be doing just fine. The world changed, but the mecha he knew stayed the same for the most part, that is save for the odd paint change such as Starscream’s botched attempt to sport gold for a short time.

They were constants, stable reminders of who Megatron was and what influence he had aside from the pure devastation he wrought. But of course, that mindset did not last. Not once he made the decision to visit the rebuilt city of Iacon on a whim. When he arrived, Optimus sat with the elected senators discussing policies and other things that Megatron had little care for. However, as he looked around, concern and a degree of shock were quick to worm their way into his spark.

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“Did you really invite him to assist in these matters, Optimus? I can’t exactly patch you up like I used to if he goes off the rails!” Ratchet, the Prime’s loyal lap dog, raised his cane into the air with a scowl as he gestured toward where Megatron stood in growing horror near the door. He hated the fragger with a vengeance, yet he couldn’t help but wonder… When did the medic get a cane? When did his plating dull so much? At what point did his joints begin cracking every fourth step?

“I did not invite him, old friend. However his presence is welcome, he has much he can contribute.” Optimus smiled gently and gestured for Megatron to take a seat in an empty chair a few seats down from him. Megatron obliged, albeit with a degree of hesitation as he examined the rest of the senate members.

Most were new faces he did not know well aside from what he gathered from the data Soundwave occasionally sent him for review. However, those he did know were… different. Perhaps the celebrations clouded his judgment, but now that he saw them without the atmosphere of cheer and remembrance, their differences were stark and clear.

“Finally done with your self-imposed exile Lord Megatron? I am sure there is some position I could have you fill serving under one of my officers.” The urge to chuck something at the arrogant seeker was strong, but any retort died on his glossa as he observed his former officer. Starscream had gotten a frame change long before Megatron returned from the stars, and it never really struck him how drastic the differences were until that moment when he really looked.

Starscream’s plating was darker, no longer lustrous, and a sure sign of nanite failure. His wings, which he religiously held high throughout all of his youth, now dipped to a degree due to tiredness in what were once strong cables and hydraulics. His face was sharper, still polished and shining, but covered in small nicks and creases in the metal from long vorns of continual activity. What was most startling to Megatron was the way in which the seeker sat. No longer did he hold himself as if he were attempting to impress everyone, instead he sat perfectly composed, still proud, but with an air of earned respect. Shockwave and Soundwave were not much better off. Both sat slightly hunched in their seats, their armor dulled and any exposed components appearing far frailer than they once were.

Where had his proud warriors gone? Megatron had not experienced any signs of wear and tear, so why should his officers be dealing with it so seriously? If they were being overworked, he would have words for the Prime…

And yet, seeing how Ratchet all but hobbled along with his cane as he grumbled his way to his chair, Megatron began to doubt it was Optimus’s doing. The others at the table were perfectly fine, almost exuding youthful energy with how vibrantly their plating shone and with how energetic their voices were as they put forward ideas and debated.

“Let us continue, shall we?” Optimus guided the conversation along with expert precision that left Megatron slightly bewildered. The Prime was always an excellent speaker, but now he seemed older, wiser perhaps. His optics were tired even as he maintained his smile and welcomed the late arrivals.

Megatron sat in silence throughout the meeting for the most part. All he could do was watch and finally see how much those he knew had degraded. He struggled to believe it, especially when his armor still glinted and his spark hummed with power. This wasn’t right, it couldn't be right. How could those he knew be falling to pieces while he endured? Perhaps he was overreacting. Optimus seemed fine after all.

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After the revelation of his compatriots' degradation, Megatron made far more frequent trips to the cities to visit them. Death was nothing new, and yet he could hardly comprehend it in those he once saw as functionally immortal. Cybertronians did not wither as other species, it was not in their nature. However, given time, their frames would break down, and should that fail to bring them to their end, their spark would weaken and putter out at some point, regardless of the newness of a frame.

Most simply never bothered trying to hold themselves together once their frames started to fall apart if they lived long enough to reach that point. Self-repair systems could keep a mech up and running in prime condition for millions of years. As such when they finally started to show signs of aging, it was often taken as a sign and allowed to be. No matter how many components were replaced or how many times mind and spark were transferred, once the original frame started to crumble, it was only a matter of time. Some like Ratchet could last far longer than others for any plethora of reasons, but sooner or later, death would come for them, one haunting step at a time.

After that meeting, Megatron knew it would happen eventually. He knew sooner or later those he cared for would start to fall one by one. Even still, when he came to visit Shockwave and found the mech dead in his laboratory, his spark long had gone out and his frame undisturbed due to his lack of friends… Megatron found it hurt more than he thought it would.

Shockwave’s funeral was a short and sweet affair. Those who knew him from before the war bid their final goodbyes, a few loyal Decepticons offered condolences, and surprisingly, the Predacons who had taken to ruling over the still undeveloped west came as well. They knelt before Shockwave’s gray and lifeless frame and offered quiet words of thanks to the scientist for giving them life. As Shockwave left no will behind, there were no objections when Predaking took the body of his creator to be laid to rest in the lands he had dominion over. A great scientist, a master geneticist, and once upon a time, a true friend.

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“Thank you for all you did Shockwave. I do not know if this is what you would have wanted, but I doubt you would have minded this outcome all that much.” Predaking had taken care to ensure that Shockwave’s memory was properly upheld with a memorial engraved with abstract images of the scientist weaving life from mere bones. Megatron appreciated the effort, especially once blue crystal flowers began to grow around the headstone of his old companion.

He hoped Shockwave would have at least found a degree of satisfaction in knowing that his creations endured. The reforged Predacons held little love for their creator, but Shockwave was the one who gave them life, and their appreciation was quite clear in their efforts. The memorial was spotless and the newly emerged Predacons that climbed from the Well were all brought before Shockwave’s grave at least once.

Megatron liked to think Shockwave would have been pleased to know that his life served as an example to his creations. Last Megatron checked, there were a few Predacons who had opted to follow in the pedesteps of their creator, aiming to be scientists and researchers like Shockwave. There seemed to be an underlying urge to surpass him amongst all of the newly forged Predacons. Megatron personally found it rather amusing. None would ever be as brilliant as his head scientist.

“Rest well Shockwave. I will return to visit you soon.” Megatron smiled as he watched younger Predacons meander around, observing him in silence. He sighed and patted the memorial once before turning to leave. A growing heaviness weighed down his spark, but he paid it little mind. His old comrade would want him to be strong. Shockwave always despised it when emotions overcame rationality.

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It really shouldn’t have surprised him when the old bag of bolts finally offlined. But it did despite the fact that it was a long time coming. Ratchet’s death was devastating for many of the Autobots, but Optimus more so than any other. It had been a rather sudden thing apparently. According to Soundwave, Ratchet had bid Optimus a good recharge cycle and then passed quickly sometime during the early groons of the cycle without warning. No one suspected much until he failed to arrive for his shift in the clinic. At that point, it was Ratchet’s apprentice and caretaker First Aid who came to check on him only to find his frame lifeless but still warm to the touch.

Ratchet was a cranky glitch who, while often right in matters of science and medicine, was not the most pleasant to be around. Despite that, hundreds of former Autobots came to his funeral. Ratchet was buried in the forests of Southern Iacon, as per his will. Optimus was too large to be part of the procession carrying the medic’s coffin, but that did not stop him from bidding his companion farewell with the most saddened and sorrowful song Megatron had ever heard from the vocalizer of his former foe.

The medic was given military honors and his will was seen to. Megatron only came to the funeral partially to spite the fragger with his own continued functioning but largely so that he could be there for the Prime. Bumblebee and other mecha Megatron knew were close to Ratchet stayed for several groons, but they eventually left after their coolant stores ran dry. Despite that, when the other Autobots cleared out and the last came to bid their farewells, Optimus Prime did not move from where he stood at the side of the freshly made grave, his sword dug into the ground and his expression firm as he gazed resolutely ahead.

Even when acid rain rolled in from the Rust Sea, Optimus did not so much as twitch. He remained quiet, standing guard over the grave of his comrade in what Megatron could only imagine was one final act of loyalty. The rain did not hurt Optimus much, not with how sturdy he was built, but as his paint melted and was washed away by brutal winds, Megatron decided to linger.

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“These rains will continue for cycles, Optimus. How long do you intend to remain here?” Megatron stood beside the Prime as the wind howled as the rain assaulted his frame. It didn’t hurt, his armor was touched by the Unmaker. Next to nothing save for the strongest of weapons could damage him. However, Optimus was not the same. The Prime was hardy, that much was true. But he was still mortal in the end, at least in frame. The rains chipped away at his paint and had to be aggravating with their sting as acid puttered against increasingly sore plating.

“I will remain until I have fulfilled my promise.” Megatron raised a brow at the Prime’s words, watching on curiously as Optimus started to hum quietly, his blade still driven into the ground and his stance firm.

“And what is that promise?” He questioned cautiously as the wind picked up in severity, battering his and Optimus’s frames with a greater vengeance. The Prime remained quiet for a long few kliks, seemingly lost in thought before at last, he replied.

“It was one of our rites we performed during the war. We made many promises that cycle, not all of which we were able to fulfill. But one of them was that should one of us fall… the other was to stand guard one last time.” Megatron said nothing as the Prime continued to stand, his expression stoic and strong. Optimus and Ratchet’s relationship was something Megatron never fully bothered to look into. It was not relevant to the war, and after his return to Cybertron, it simply was not important. Whatever their connection, they never made a show out of it.

Still, it was quite clear that their bond, regardless of its type, ran deep enough for Optimus Prime to wish to endure the long watch, unmoving until their final rite was complete. It was sweet in a sense, but Megatron found himself more uncertain than anything else as he observed the slight crease around Optimus’s optics. Reaching up to touch his own face revealed nothing of the sort, and for that reason, Megatron worried.

Optimus’s frame was biologically far younger than his due to his reforging at the behest of the other Primes. Combined with the Matrix ensuring the Prime could not die due to his spark puttering out… there were worrying implications. How was it that Optimus and so many others were aging when Megatron did not? Was he like the old medic in that death was taking its sweet time getting to him? Or was there something else, something far grimmer to be concerned with?

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After Ratchet, things seemed to fall apart far faster. Almost as if a switch had been flipped, suddenly Megatron could see the differences in everyone.

Soundwave became frailer, even reaching the point where he physically required the aid of symbiotes to function. His sight grew weaker and his senses poorer so that he could either find himself confined to using a cane or getting symbiotes. Soundwave was quick to choose the latter. Megatron’s former spymaster was not pleased in the slightest when he was offered a few young symbiotes without carrier units, but he accepted them begrudgingly. Often he would shoo them away during Megatron’s visits, usually complaining off and on about how energetic they were. Deep down though, it was quite clear Soundwave cared a great deal about them. They were too high energy for his tastes, but the former spymaster tended to them dutifully and they in turn showered him with assistance when it was required.

Even still, Megatron was always somewhat distraught when he visited. It was not hard to realize that he simply… did not age. It had been millennia and Megatron felt no weaker in spark, body, or mind. He had no need to visit a medic to confirm it. He could sense it in his very core whenever he took Soundwave’s arm to help him walk. They were almost the same age and yet Soundwave had a cloud of death lingering above him at all times. It was harder to accept than he thought it would be when he watched Soundwave trip and break his leg for the first time from a simple fall.

Speaking with his dear friend in the hospital was optic opening for him to say the least.

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“I apologize for not catching you, Soundwave. I was not paying close enough attention. I thought the fall would not have affected you so greatly.” Megatron stood by the berthside of his former spymaster. Soundwave for his part lay still in the berth with his arms placed at his sides and his venting was so shallow that it was downright disturbing. He looked so very thin from where Megatron towered over him. His wrists especially seemed two kliks and one stiff breeze away from breaking like a rust stick.

“Soundwave: Understands. Megatron: Has not fully comprehended situation.” Megatron gave his companion the most befuddled look he could manage, and in response, Soundwave laughed.

It was a broken and raspy sound that led his vents to hitch in what had to be a painful manner. Soundwave’s symbiotes were quick to flock around him, wiping down his vent filters and adjusting his berth settings so that he was sitting up a bit more. The little things were worried sick, but Soundwave merely hummed and waved them off with one stick-thin arm. They obliged and stepped back after a moment. It hurt Megatron somewhere in his spark to watch the scene. Less than a millennia ago he wouldn’t have put it past Soundwave to be able to eliminate him in the arena. Yet now he laid in a medical berth, his leg welded back into place but his frame so small and fragile looking as to make the repairs seem far from satisfactory.

“Megatron: Has not aged a cycle since Cybertron’s restoration. Forever youthful. Frame still strong. Mind still sharp. Spark still powerful. Megatron: Untouched my time.” Soundwave gestured toward Megatron’s shining armor, particularly his shoulder plating and his optics with one painfully thin digit. The symbiotes made noises of agreement from where they huddled nearby but otherwise said nothing as Soundwave continued.

“Soundwave: Not like Megatron. The others: Not like Megatron. We age. We decay. We will die.” Megatron paused as the words registered. His spark flared in his chassis in denial. Logically he knew Soundwave was right. He was different on a fundamental level now. Whatever Unicron did to him changed him, made it so that unless he was cut down, nothing would touch him. Shockwave had already fallen, it was only to be expected that others would soon follow…

“That won’t happen yet, not for some time. You still have strength in you, my friend. I know you can endure.” Reaching out, Megatron was as gentle as he could be in taking Soundwave’s servo and holding it. The former spymaster shook his helm slowly as he grasped Megatron’s far larger digits with such pitiful strength that Megatron felt true fear worm its way into his spark. Soundwave had always been by his side, ever since the beginning. To lose him-

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Soundwave: Will one day offline. Megatron: Will be left alone.” Soundwave lifted his other arm and with both servos held Megatron’s far larger one. There was a hint of desperation in Soundwave’s field as he pulled himself up as much as he could and began to speak again.

“Soundwave and others: Will not be here forever. Megatron: Will endure?” Silence reigned for a long moment as Megatron’s spark flared in pain and grief. He did not even wish to consider losing Soundwave… but now he knew it would one cycle be reality. It was going to tear him apart, but he refused to leave Soundwave without comfort.

“I will try.”

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It hurt to think on Soundwave’s words, even if Megatron knew he was right. His fellows were aging, younger mecha were taking their place. Soundwave was quickly forced to retire after the incident with his leg, and a younger model bearing the same designation was swiftly pushed into the vacant position. The original Soundwave taught his younger namesake as much as he could, but he was weakening and many of his cycles were spent in his hab in the center of Iacon where he could still be of use if need be.

Starscream was not much better.

Over the vorns, he and Starscream had largely reached a strange agreement that bordered on true friendship. Megatron would visit Vos off and on, and in return he would be welcomed and treated as a guest, sometimes even helping Starscream run the city he had dominion over. But it became painfully clear that Starscream was weakening. He still looked his finest at all times, but more tasks were delegated to his younger assistants, and his flights were shorter and less in sync with those he traveled alongside. Starscream’s steps were slower, his wings held lower, and his voice deeper and with an undertone of wisdom, Megatron never expected to hear in his former officer.

At some point, Starscream had Conjunxed a Speaker from a colony world, one whom Megatron only knew as Windblade. Megatron missed their ceremony since no one informed him of it, but from what he knew, she was far younger and tended to handle rulership when Starscream could not. Supposedly the Conjunxing was merely political, but Windblade seemed to genuinely care for the ailing Lord of Vos, if only in a manner not too dissimilar to an Amica. They even took on a whole gaggle of sparklings of their own to raise, a surprise to Megatron who all but expected Starscream to try his best to be an immortal ruler for as long as physically possible.

The named Aerialbots were highly skilled due to Starscream’s training, but their existence and excellence only served to further show Starscream’s age. Every vorn his sparklings grew stronger and his Conjunx took more control. It was a slow and sad decline, one that Starscream surprisingly handled with grace. By the time he actually sat down to speak with Starscream one-on-one around Cybertron's 5491st anniversary of restoration, Megatron found himself even more distraught.

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“Thank you for coming to visit, Megatron… I worried I would not be able to see you again.” Starscream’s voice was deep and rumbling from long vorns of use. His usual snark was nowhere to be seen as he gazed up at the skies, taking occasional sips of his energon as he observed the Aerialbots performing feats of flight above. His optics were dim and his plating dull, and yet he still smiled softly as he watched his five sparklings soar through the skies in perfect sync. Megatron wanted to be awed by the display and pleased with Starscream’s success in teaching, but he couldn’t let go of Starscream’s words. The seeker he knew would rather find him dead in a gutter than talk to him for any reason that did not have an underlying benefit.

“They remind me of Skywarp and Thundercracker.” Starscream mused as the Aerialbots performed a perfect roll, leaving twisting trails of smoke behind them. Following his gaze, Megatron had to admit it was impressive. And yet… it wasn’t Starscream and his trine. They were new, not mecha that Megatron cared to know or was particularly attached to.

“You have taught them well.” Megatron settled on commenting as the Aerialbots performed a few twists that Skywarp and Thundercracker performed with far more eloquence alongside their trine leader. If Starscream shared that opinion, he said nothing as he merely hummed and continued to watch for a long few kliks.

“They are good mecha, Megatron. They are young and just as arrogant as any other seeker, but with time, I know they will do well.” Confusion radiated off Megatron in waves until he saw the wistful smile Starscream had plastered on his face. It seemed so… wrong for the ambitious fragger that Megatron both loved and hated to be bearing anything close to a smile of contentment and peace. He seemed older, wiser, and more ancient than Megatron despite the fact that their ages leaned more in Megatron’s favor in regard to experience.

“Why did you call me here, Starscream? You have always been ambitious and a pain in the aft. Seeing you like this is unsettling.” It took a moment, but as Starscream registered what was said, he chuckled in what was almost a fond manner before he put down his energon cube and turned to face Megatron properly. Starscream had always been a spindly thing, but seeing him so small was a bit of a shock, especially so soon after really seeing Soundwave’s state. The cape the Lord of Vos wore did give him a bit of extra bulk, but beneath it all, he was thin, weak, and aging.

He was no longer the Air Commander Megatron relied on for so many millennia during the war.

“I doubt you’ve noticed much until now considering your circumstances, but I’m old Megatron. All of us are. Even Prime is getting on in vorns. We are all tired, and all those little things that meant so much even a millennia ago simply no longer matter.” The Winglord coughed somewhat harshly, causing him to grip the table and shake for a moment. Megatron reached out to assist but was waved off as Starscream collected himself and continued.

“I’m out of time. Windblade will be the next Winglord and my sparklings will assist her in leading. I tell you this because I want you to keep an optic on them, just to make sure they stay on track. The Aerialbots are arrogant little glitches just like I was. They will need someone to remind them of their place every now and then.” As if to prove his point, the five Aerialbots hooted and hollered as they flipped overhelm, diving toward the ground and shooting up at the last possible moment. Pretentious and arrogant indeed.

“I understand. I won’t be soft with them though.” Starscream laughed again, this time with more of the gusto Megatron recalled. Only it lacked the malicious undertone he was used to, a fact that threw Megatron for a loop despite being well aware that Starscream lost most of his aggression vorns upon vorns ago. Megatron just hadn’t been able to see it amidst the cloud of his thoughts.

“Give them a few beatings. The little glitches will need it once I am gone.” No more words were exchanged between them as Megatron abruptly stood and marched off. Starscream frowned but did not stop him. A hint of regret prodded at his spark, but he paid it no mind. He had no interest in hearing his former Air Commander discuss his death, not when Megatron was not acutely aware that he would likely never be faced with such a prospect.

Not anymore.

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Starscream’s prediction was right. Within the next half vorn, the Lord of Vos passed away quietly in his gardens, held aloft by a thin hammock so that he could feel the wind gushing past his wings as his spark, at last, went out. Megatron attended the funeral alongside Soundwave and Optimus. Both his companions offered words of condolence for the loss and offered Windblade their sympathy. Megatron followed in their pedesteps and even went so far as to give Starscream’s grieving widow a few old trinkets he’d kept around from his former Air Commander.

He was unsure if it did anything, but Windblade offered her thanks all the same. Megatron merely felt… nothing. Even deca-cycles afterward, he was void, cold, and unfeeling. He didn’t want to feel. It hurt too much to think about the newest absence in his life. Shockwave was one thing, but Starscream was another.

He tried not to contemplate the loss of another familiar face or the increasing number of new ones that took Starscream’s place at the odd meeting he attended. Instead, Megatron spent more of his time with those who remained, clinging to Soundwave and oddly enough even Optimus as much as he could. Occasionally he would fly to Vos, and as per Starscream’s final request, beat around the Aerialbots to remind them that they were not in fact as amazing as they thought they were. It was humorous to a degree, but largely sorrowful above all else. The defiant look in the optics of the Aerialbots was far too similar to Starscream for Megatron’s liking.

He tried to only come to Vos when required, but when he was there, he always made sure to walk past the statue dedicated to Starscream, usually leaving some random piece of jewelry behind as well. He liked to think that a younger Starscream would have been both pleased and offended, and that alone made the effort worth it.

Then as if to pour acid into the wound, a mere twenty vorns after Starscream’s passing, Soundwave passed away in the comfort of his home, surrounded by his symbiotes. Megatron hated himself for not being there, he despised that he was not made aware of Soundwave’s passing until he returned to his residence and only became concerned due to a lack of messages, resulting in him reaching out to Optimus. His spark screamed in denial, grief, and rage. However, there was nothing he could do aside from bite back tears when Soundwave’s funeral was held and his last will and testament read out.

Soundwave wanted his frame to be cremated and his ashes turned into gemstones to be given to each of his symbiotes and to Megatron. It was such a small thing, but when the eldest of Soundwave’s symbiotes came to him and offered him a small black jem already within a pendant and ready to be worn… he wept softly and held it close. He didn’t want to believe that Soundwave was gone, not while he remained pristine and not so soon after Starscream. Optimus was his only comfort in the following few vorns. The Prime took up the position Soundwave left in Megatron’s life, and soon enough, Megatron retreated to his hab in the forests and received reports once a deca-cycle.

For a long time, Megatron could not bear to leave his place hidden away in the forests. He warded off wandering mecha who came too close and convinced Optimus to give him the land so that none could intrude and break him from his reverie. He hated the new faces, he hated the new sights. It was so different and always changing on the surface of the world he once called home… and yet he did not change with it. Forever a remnant, a relic of a war that ended millennia earlier.

He did not weep when he was informed of Knockout’s passing, then of Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and countless other names that he recognized as both Autobot and Decepticon in origin. He did not attend their funerals, nor did he visit what remained of his former comrades. No, instead he stayed hidden away, unwilling to deal with it all and instead trying to comfort himself by wearing the pendant made of Soundwave’s ashes.

He managed to get away with his behavior for roughly a dozen vorns before Optimus seemed to have had enough as the next thing Megatron knew, the Prime was on his doorstep and promptly invited him to visit Iacon. The prospect caused his spark to ache, but the familiarity of the one he once knew to be a foe and long before that a friend…

He couldn’t find it within himself to object, not after seeing the weariness around Optimus’s optics.

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“You are the Master Archivist now? How are you managing such a position alongside being the head of the Council?” The archives were deep and dark, just as they were back when Megatron was still but a gladiator and Optimus not yet a Prime. In the back of his processors, he was nearly certain the archives would have been renovated to match the newest trends, but it seemed Optimus had kept the pre-war aesthetic. It was a comfort despite the mix of good and bad memories that befell him in response.

“I imagine you have not been keeping track of current affairs, but I have not been head of the Council since Ratchet passed. I handled some affairs for them from here, but otherwise, I have focused my efforts on keeping our history preserved.” The Prime walked softly despite his towering frame almost matching Megatron’s. Many of his gaudy outer plating attachments had thinned and his frame overall seemed somewhat weaker, but it was nothing as prominent as the frailty Starscream and Soundwave showed before their deaths. Optimus’s words almost didn’t reach him amidst the storm of it all, but Megatron still found it within himself to feel a degree of shock.

How out of touch was he?

“What of your scout and the rookie you took a liking to? How do they fare?” Megatron asked, partially to try and distract himself but largely to try and get Optimus to speak on something Megatron actually knew. The yellow nuisance and the elite guardsmech rookie were two mecha that Megatron despised for their efforts during the war but also held respect for due to their show of skills. He didn’t care for them, but if they got Optimus talking and discussing subjects that didn’t cause Megatron’s spark to flare in distress and loss, he would take it.

“They are just fine. Bumblebee has long since risen to the upper echelons of the ranks of Enforcers and Smokescreen has been focused on integrating the Wreckers, DJD, and Elite guard all into one cohesive unit. He’s had limited success so far, but he is trying his best.” The Prime smiled as he led Megatron to the heart of the archive and stood before a console. For a moment, he looked just like Orion Pax, the brother Megatron thought lost to him so long ago. It hurt, it ached.

“I brought you here because I do not wish to see you suffer alone. This burden you bear is great. As such, if you would allow me, I would be here to help you endure it for as long as I am able.” Optimus reached out and gently grasped his arm, pulling him a little closer so that he could see the screen. On it was an image of him, Orion Pax, Soundwave, and Ratchet before everything went to slag. They were all smiling, save for Soundwave who projected a smiley face on his visor. Tears he had long tried to suppress clouded his optics as he clutched Soundwave’s pendant, unable to hold back any longer.

“I do not desire death, but I do wish that I would not be left in this state, untouched by time while all I know fades away before me.” His words came out between harsh sobs. Optimus merely held his servo and drew him into a comforting hug, understanding filling his field. Why was it that all he had left was the mech he once hated the most? Why did his companions have to wither while he did not?

“All will be well Megatronus. This reality that plagues you is not one you need to endure alone. I am here, and I will remain until my end draws near.” Optimus’s ominous final statement flew right over Megatron’s helm as he wept and truly felt the grief of all he lost for the first time. His cause, his Decepticons, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, Knockout, and so many others. All of it was gone, and nothing remained save for echoes, shadows, small trinkets, and the odd mention of them in the history books.

He hated this, but at least he was not alone.

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He took comfort in Optimus for many long vorns. The Prime understood him and was the only one who really knew who Megatron was. Often his routine for the following few millennia amounted to retreating to his abode in the forests where little ever changed and going to Iacon a few times a vorn to visit Optimus and teach the sparklings his former foe gave lessons on history to. Surprisingly, the little ones did not fear Megatron when he stood before him. Whatever anger from the war still remained only seemed to linger among the first generation of forged bots who came from the Well. Most war veterans were dead or too old to care, and for that reason, Megatron did not mind teaching at the archives as required.

Time was a blur for him for the most part, a mess of emotion that largely consisted of grief, reminiscing, brief flares of joy, and apathy. Lots of his time was spent in his hab, writing down his experiences, his poetry, and his wisdom. Those things he brought to Optimus who in turn published them under Megatron’s name. He would have preferred he remain anonymous, but the Prime insisted, and Megatron did not have the spark to say no when Optimus was all that remained.

There were moments of joy and comradery, but overall his life was a mess. Optimus helped and proved to be an anchor, but the way of the world meant that when Megatron finally saw, it was too late to do much of anything.

As with his old comrades, Megatron remained unblemished whereas Optimus suddenly grew to be frailer. Optimus was a Prime, the Matrix kept his spark ablaze and youthful, but it did not maintain the vitality of his frame. As such Optimus rather quickly deteriorated. At first, Megatron said nothing. It was not his place to speak on such matters. He assumed that Optimus was merely biding his time, enjoying the familiarity of his frame for as long as possible before going to get a new one, as was customary amongst Primes who lived long.

They were functionally immortal. Why would they not wish to continue on when all it would take was a quick frame change? Megatron understood better than ever why immortality was a curse more than a gift, but despite that, he still could hardly believe his optics when Optimus continued on, never getting a frame change even when he obviously needed it. The Prime’s armor fell off in droves, leaving him thin and emaciated to the point of requiring one of his younger archivists to guide him around. Then his vision began to fail so much that whenever Megatron visited, he often needed to read things out to Optimus if the print was too small.

Even still, he said nothing for vorns. He was positive Optimus had a reason… up until the Prime tried to go fetch a datapad for Megatron to review only to instead trip, fall, and break his hip in three places. That was the final straw for Megatron.

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“Why won’t you get a fragging frame change?!” Megatron demanded as he marched into Optimus’s office, noting with grief the stabilizer that was now welded onto the Prime’s hip to keep it in place.

“Because I have no need of it,” Optimus replied simply as if he weren’t using reading glasses and didn’t require three pillows just to sit upright in his chair. Megatron growled in outrage, anger boiling within his core to cover for the fear and sorrow that threatened to break loose.

“You are falling apart, Orion!” He all but screamed, his fists shaking as he tried to make his point. Optimus merely put down his glasses with a sigh and turned to face him, suddenly looking so much more tired than Megatron remembered. His old foe always had an air of exhaustion around him, even when they were both still young. But the mech before him was wearier, darker, and seemingly so done with it all that even his spark lamented life.

“I know, and I allow it to be. I am tired Megatronus, I have lived long enough and I want nothing more than to rest with my loved ones in the Allspark.” White hot rage ran through every fuel line and processing unit in Megatron’s frame as he marched forward and grabbed Optimus’s servo, holding it gently despite the way a dark part of him wanted to crush the weakening limb.

“You want to abandon Cybertron? You archivists? Your position? Do you really want to leave it all behind? Are you truly so selfish as to have me endure this reality alone!?” He wasn’t sure when his tears began to fall, but as his wrathful questions poured from his vocalizer, he knew Optimus had already made up his mind. The Prime met his gaze calmly and squeezed his servo in that fond manner only Orion did back before the war.

“I take no joy in this, but I wish to make this singular choice for myself. I want to rest.” Sorrow, rage, denial, and so much more drowned out all logical thought as Megatron tore his servo away and fumed. Memories of the High Council and Orion’s ascension to the rank of Prime plagued him as he marched off, saying only one final thing before he left the archives for what was going to be a very long time.

“FINE THEN! FRAG OFF AND DIE FOR ALL I CARE, PAX!” He slammed the archive doors behind him and took to the skies in a rage, unwilling to heed the messages Optimus sent to him. He couldn’t handle them, not right now.

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Megatron retreated back to his hab and fervently refused to so much as look at any messages from Optimus for vorns on end. He didn't want to hear it. He didn’t want to listen to Optimus’s slagging reasoning for essentially offing himself. The Prime was a selfish fragger and always had been. He could be the one to wait until Megatron was good and ready to come back, at least, that was Megatron’s thought process as he fumed.

Optimus wanted to leave him alone. The Prime was the only other living mech who could essentially go on living forever just like Megatron. Why did he have to decide to abandon him? Why did that hurt so much? Why couldn’t Megatron move on already?

Thoughts plagued him, his anger simmered into remorse, and by the time Optimus contacted him again after a lull of a whole three vorns… he, at last, returned to Iacon.

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“Orion…” His voice echoed in the near-silent room. The only other sound was the tortured venting of the mech before him. Optimus Prime lay on a simple berth in a small hospital room. There was a pile of audio recordings beside him that he had evidently listened to quite frequently if the marks all over them were any indicator. But aside from that, the most notable and startling part of the situation was just how far Optimus had fallen.

He was stick thin, even slimmer than Soundwave was before his death. His plating was all but gone and his limbs were so frail that Megatron doubted the Prime could raise his arm for more than a half klik at most. Despite that, he seemed content as his dull and useless optics remained uncycled while still managing to look in Megatron’s general direction.

“You came…” Optimus murmured, his voice so gravelly and filled with static that it was hard to hear at all. Megatron moved to his ailing companion’s side and gently took the servo that reached out for him. This time he held no anger in his spark, and instead he felt nothing but regret. Vorns he could have spent enjoying the closeness of a former foe and friend were lost because of his bitterness, and now all he had was a few short kliks at best.

“I did. I’m here Orion.” A weak smile met his words and never more did Megatron wish he was capable of aging. He wanted to have been able to age alongside his fellows, to banter about the woes of growing older, and to have the slagging peace that all of his fallen fellows seemed to have right before the end.

“Thank you… for coming… one last… time.” Optimus’s optics flickered and his field crumpled. He was out of time.

“Sire, rest easy, we will take care of things.” Bumblebee came forward from wherever he was previously loitering in the room and took up Optimus’s other servo. The former scout was aged as well, but it did not show with how kindly he cradled the dying Prime’s servo in his own. Megatron did not even bother trying to fight back tears as Optimus continued to smile so hopefully as if he were but a youngling again, just so pleased to be with those he loved.

“I know… you will both… endure… I know… that one cycle… we will… meet… again.” Optimus’s voice started to fade and Bumblebee began to sob. Megatron held himself upright, wishing he could spill out the millions of apologies that he had rehearsed during his trip to Iacon but knowing he had no more time to utter them. Optimus was fading, and if he could hear the words Megatron wished to speak, he would not have the chance to respond.

There would be no comfort from his dear old friend, and so all Megatron could do was listen and obey.

“One day… an Autobot shall rise… from our ranks… and use the… power of the Matrix… to light… our darkest… hour.” The Matrix pulsed, its light shining through Optimus’s thinned armor and causing his optics to glow.

“Until that day… till all… are… one…” And just like that, Optimus’s frame went still, his venting ceasing and his spark chamber opening so that the light of the Matrix could bathe the room. Megatron did not stay. He carefully allowed Optimus’s lifeless servo to rest at his side and allowed Bumblebee to do whatever he wanted with the slagging relic as he stepped outside and flew back to his hab in the forest.

He did not care to linger, and as soon as he was home and the door firmly shut, he collapsed against the wall, weeping and clutching Soundwave’s pendant as if his life depended on it.

“Forgive me Orion… forgive me….”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Megatron stopped bothering to keep track of time at all after Optimus’s passing. He stopped writing, he stopped doing much of anything. He left his hab with only Soundwave’s pendant and a datapad Optimus gave him vorns prior to read from. Once he had those two items, he merely… wandered.

He contemplated ending his life by blaster or blade, but he found that reprehensible considering how pathetic it was compared to his comrades who died content and with honor. And yet he also had no desire to really continue living. As such Megatron fell to marching on, wandering the forests, seeing the sights of Cybertron, and avoiding cities like the plague. On the off chance he met another mech, he was quick to fly away.

Loneliness ate at him, but he disregarded it. He could have left Cybertron and fled back to the stars, but he couldn’t bring himself to. That felt… disrespectful in an odd way, especially after all his comrades did to care for the world he walked. A strange sense of duty kept him firmly planted, and the rational part of his processors explained it away as him keeping his promise to Starscream. He was, by continuing to be present, ensuring that if things really needed to be looked at, he could come to handle the issue.

At least that was what he told himself as cycles bled into one another and countless deca-cycles were spent laying flat on the ground staring up, unmoving and uncaring of the world around him.

He wanted to be left alone to wallow, and for what could have been but a handful of vorns of countless millennia, he was allowed to do just that. But of course, Optimus’s final words had a way of following him, and eventually, he was greeted by a new and old face while resting along the edges of the Rust Sea.

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“You’re Megatron, right? Megatron of Kaon? Lord of the Decepticons, the great and mighty slag maker, the Herald of the Unmaker, and Champion of the pits? Do any of those ring any bells?” A young mech, one likely not older than perhaps millennia, stood above where Megatron lay on the ground uselessly. He sat up quickly and waved a servo dismissively, agitation blooming in his spark as he moved to gather his datapad and leave. But that didn’t seem to be enough for the pesky thing to leave him alone as quickly the orange, gold, and red youngling stood in front of him, stopping his path.

“Got any time to spare for an adventure?” The youngling asked with a big smile that seemed slightly unnatural to Megatron. He grunted and tried to sidestep before Bumblebee of all mecha hit his leg with a cane the former scout had evidently acquired.

“Been looking for you for quite some time Megatron. We have a situation on our servos that requires somebody with actual experience to deal with.” The yellow scout scowled as he glared at the youngling who sheepishly whistled, seemingly uncaring of whatever distress he was causing.

“Something’s gone wrong with Cybertron’s core. The Well is turning up empty with less and less sparklings every vorn. We found some of Optimus’s old texts talking about the ‘Knights of Cybertron’ and we could use your assistance hunting them down.” Surprise was quick to override agitation at the mention of the fallen Prime. Megatron stopped trying to get away as Bumblebee tried to speak only to be interrupted by the youngling before him.

“Bee’s got it mostly summed up! My designation is Rodimus Prime! Just got the Matrix, not all that long ago and I’ve already got a crew ready to go and find these Knights!” A Prime? Megatron could feel his brow raising in cautious curiosity as he looked the mech over. He didn’t at all match any prior Prime Megatron knew of, but then again, it was a time of peace. Odd things happened during peace just as they did while at war.

“According to Bee, you’ve just been wandering around for the past few millennia since you can’t die. So what do you say? Want to go on an adventure and shake things up? I’ve got stickers!” The stupidity was astounding, and yet Megatron found himself compelled. It had been so long since he’d really attempted to connect with anyone, and quite frankly, Cybertron held too many painful memories to continue hanging around. He kept his promise to Soundwave and Starscream as much as he was able.

Maybe it would do him some good to leave for a while. If nothing else, he might find someone out there to kill him in an honorable fashion.

“Only if I can be co-captain of this expedition.” He settled on a compromise, not fully trusting the so-called Prime before him. Rodimus seemed only partially let down before he gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up and grabbed Megatron’s arm.

“Then let’s get going! Cybertron won’t save itself!” Rodimus smiled, Bumblebee grumbled, and Megatron sighed. Whatever was going to happen, at least he wouldn’t be alone.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #megatron #soundwave #starscream #ratchet #bumblebee #rodimus prime #post war cybertron #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic #emotional hurt/comfort #immortal megatron

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dragonagecompanions · 8 months

Note

How do you think the Dragon Age Inquisition advisors and companions would react to Child Inquisitor being the child of the Champion of Kirkwall? Also could you make Fenris the child Inquisitor's father?

Cassandra: This is...problematic.

Varric had told her enough of the Champion's husband to know that Fenris will already be desperately hunting for his child, and the Champion...so much of their family is lost, it is unthinkable that Hawke will not be in the same state. Trying to convince them both that the inquisition has not kidnapped their offspring for political reasons will require all the tact she does not have.

And will rely on the very little goodwill she can wring from Varric, who she technically did kidnap for political reasons. She will need to keep Josephine close by at all times.

Solas: For so young a child, the dalen is already a political firestorm waiting to happen. The guilt he carries from having his magic stitched into their very flesh (and the pain this child is feeling from it) was already enough to convince him to stay, but being so close to the power center of both Inquisition and the Champion of Kirkwall is an unexpected boon. He will keep his finger on the pulse of all things anchor related, and keep himself close to the actions that are working to restore Thedas to order.

And by helping this child now, keep himself on the right side of a very angry elf who might be a problem before the Dread Wolf has his power returned.

Varric: Okay so, here’s the most important thing: he should have known.

Logically there is no way that Varric Tethras-Kirkwall’s author in residence and nominally a captive of the Right Hand of the Divine- could have known that the child of his best friend in the entire world had somehow snuck away from home AND traveled halfway across the blessed world AND infiltrated a highly secure theo-political conclave designed to reign in a burgeoning civil war to enact some sort of temporary peace. He has contacts and resources and keeps an ear to the ground, but that doesn’t mean the Merchant’s Guild can tell him everything the minute it happens.

And yet the fact that a child exists in the world who is half Fenris (impulsive and quick to defend what is his) Hawke (and carries the legacy of that family) really does mean that there wasn’t anywhere else they’d end up. It’s not a comfort to Varric when the Seeker and his best friend’s kid crest the hill toward them, but it certainly changes his standing with the Inquisition. So long as the kid is there Varric’s not leaving-- he owes Hawke at least that much and more. One way or another things are going to have to be put to rights.

Blackwall: Once, as another man in another life, his actions had led to the death of four children. Even then, in the height of his arrogance and conceit, Thom Rainier had stood over those small shrouded forms and would have given his own life a hundred times over to spare them. Nothing could have brought them back, of course, and no matter how many times he had knelt before Andraste's statues and begged for Her forgiveness it was not a burden he could lay down himself.

This child, Andraste's herald or not, is not a replacement for Collier's children. Defending their life will not wipe out the debt he owes to that slaughtered family. But as he shoulders his shield and sword in their defense, it just might be a start to that forgiveness.

That will be enough.

Vivienne: Children are not in a Circle mage's destiny, no matter how high her star may climb. The dreams of children with her perfect bone structure and Bastien's eyes will forever be only that. Madame de Fer has come to accept this, has spent her entire life accepting this. If she is softer with the new apprentices newly torn from their families, more patient with the young mages still struggling with a life behind walls, that is no one business but her own.

The Herald of Andraste is a child. No matter their illustrious parentage or the fame carried by those parents, they are too young to be bandied about as some sort of divine tool to rescue the world. The Game has no minimum age, of course, and Vivienne is not naive enough to think that Hawke's offspring will not have to play it in time, but she will be taking special care to to keep both eyes on the child to whom they will ask so much of.

And a sharper eye on those who would use them. Fenris is not the only one who can glow, when needed.

Sera: Little people need looking out for, and not much littler than a sprog. From the first jump their tiny Herald has an ever devoted guardian, one who ensures there is as much fun as serious herald business, and cookies for all.

When the parents do eventually arrive, her general distrust of all things magic and ardent desire to preserve their childhood will endear her to Fenris like none other in the Inquisition. Someone must look out for the little people, and while their methods are not the same each can respect the other.

Dorian: Vishente Kaffas, this is a child. In the light of that discovery a great many of his opinions on Alexius's plans (mostly on how his mentor is simply desperate to save Felix and not thinking clearly) and brutally altered. This man who wants to murder someone hardly old enough to see over the table is not the man he once knew, and there are no excuses he can make that will make it less barbaric.

By the time they are escaped from that terrible Not-Future Dorian has formed a trauma bond with this young person as profound as any he has known, and their safety is now absolutely his priority. Despite his disinclination for their creation Dorian is not opposed to children, and along with others is very content to take over their education in all things both mundane and magical.

Fenris's arrival is still loud and bright and involves quite a few angry comments between former slave and not yet magister, but in the end Dorian's unshirking resolve toward the young Herald will carry the day. When Fenris eventually finds out that his child is set to inherit Dorian's seat in the Magisterium as the heir to the current Pavus heir, that argument will be even louder.

Iron Bull: The Qun is very clear on the care and feeding of children in their charge, and it has never been in his destiny to be a Tamassran. Nor is the Iron Bull ignorant of the identity of the Inquisitors parents. But seeing how small the Herald is, something deep and protective in the mercenary captain surprises even himself.

(His Tama is both surprised and not to get a letter from her former charge, and if her memories of the little boy hold true he will read her meaning in the otherwise clinical advise on the care and keeping of young children.)

Watching the Chargers adopt the little Herald as one of their own has another lasting effect. There is no decision on the Storm Coast, not with this true understanding o family, and in truth Bull was lost to the Qun long before Gatt came south with an unbeatable test.

Cole: "So young, so bright, wanted to come south to find Uncle Varric, never meant to hurt anyone. You just wanted to help, to heal the hurt and make it whole. I want that too!"

The innocent and ardent desire of children to do good, and the boundless compassion that comes with youth, makes the Herald and Cole perfect companions. This friendship is strained by the arrival of Fenris's Anders driven loathing of abominations, but a more patient Hawke might ease the way there.

Josephine: She has younger siblings, and is currently responsible for the fate of House Montiliyet. The care and feeding of one small child is...well, child's play. If only Cassandra would not keep pulling her aside like some talisman against the Champion of Kirkwall.

If it were less entertaining, their ambassador might have informed the Seeker that her letters to Aveline Vallen have already abated much suspicion...

Leliana: There are one or two amongst her agents who have some experience with children, and she assigns them watch over their Herald. Beyond that, the spymaster keeps a distance. A child need not know all the brutal things done to keep the world turning. That is sacrifice enough.

If, every once in a while, the young herald is soothed after a nightmare with Ferelden lullabyes in an Orlesian accent, few are brave enough to share it.

Cullen: Maker's breathe, he'd thought he left Kirkwall behind him. Like Leliana he assigns soldiers who either are parents or who are good with children to keep a weather eye on the child, and adopts Cassandra's strategy of using Josephine as a shield against Champion and/or Lyrium Ghost rage.

Once was enough.

Mod Fereldone

#dragon age inqusition #child inquisitor #solas #dorian pavus #blackwall #cassandra pentaghast #vivienne de fer #the iron bull #cole #cullen rutherford #josephine montilyet #lelianna #hawke #fenris #varric tethras

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vesora · 6 months

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original post by bumlehri on instagram

"Death gives freedom and power.

To be free in the world, you must die to the world. Then the universe is your own, it becomes your body, an expression and a tool. The happiness of being absolutely free is beyond description. On the other hand, he who is afraid of freedom cannot die.

You live, you feel, you think. By giving attention to your living, feeling and thinking, you free yourself from them and go beyond them. Your personality dissolves and only the witness remains. Then you go beyond the witness. Do not ask how it happens. Just search within yourself.

Once you realize that the world is your own projection, you are free of it. You need not free yourself of a world that does not exist, except in your own imagination! However is the picture, beautiful or ugly, you are painting it and you are not bound by it. Realize that there is nobody to force it on you, that it is due to the habit of taking the imaginary to be real. See the imaginary as imaginary and be free of fear.

Learn to look without imagination, to listen without distortion: that is all. Stop attributing names and shapes to the essentially nameless and formless, realize that every mode of perception is subjective, that what is seen or heard, touched or smelt, felt or thought, expected or imagined, is in the mind and not in reality, and you will experience peace and freedom from fear.

Questioner: Does one need to abandon one's profession and social standing in order to find reality?

Maharaj: Do your work. When you have a moment free, look within. What is important is not to miss the opportunity when it presents itself. If you are earnest you will use your leisure fully. That is enough.

As long as you are a beginner certain formalized meditations, or prayers may be good for you. But for a seeker for reality there is only one meditation – the rigorous refusal to harbour thoughts. To be free from thoughts is itself meditation.

It is always the false that makes you suffer, the false desires and fears, the false values and ideas, the false relationships between people. Abandon the false and you are free of pain; truth makes happy – truth liberates.

Having realized that I am one with, and yet beyond the world, I became free from all desire and fear. I did not reason out that I should be free – I found myself free – unexpectedly, without the least effort. This freedom from desire and fear remained with me since then. ♨️ — Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj ❇️.

#nd #nondualism #nonduality

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artist-issues · 3 months

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On the Percy Jackson series, now that the season has concluded, do you have any thoughts on it, whether standalone or as an adaptation, about what worked and didn't work in it? I ask partly because I want to analyse it as its own thing but I can't stop getting hung up on the changes and I'm not completely sure why.

Of all things, Gabe is the big one for me. They turned him from a repulsive abuser to a pathetic manchild who lacks the power dynamic of his book counterpart and was so consistently treated as comic relief that I actually pitied him. The fact that he shares the fate of his book counterpart actually kind of angers me and it's hard for me to look past that. It left a mean-spirited taste in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve talked enough about what did work, and I do think there’s a place for talking about that, so I’m glad you asked!

I think Walker Scobell could play a really excellent Percy Jackson. And I think Leah Jeffries and Aryan Simhadri are both very endearing in their roles.

I’m not going to throw shade on 14 year-old actors and actresses. There’s no shade to throw. Acting is vulnerability combined with introspection and understanding. No teenager is going to have the same level of vulnerability, understanding, and introspection, expressed with the same skill, as we’re used to seeing in adults, period. And the show doesn’t do them any favors by giving them very adult lines and very adult-behaving characters to play.

Which segues nicely into—the character’s “arcs” are completely different in the show, but they feel more like…”alternate universe” characters than “out-of-character-rewrites.” For the most part.

I already touched on how Grover is a completely different Grover in the TV show. His fear is both too serious and not extreme enough. He’s not comedic. Instead, he is a voice of reason, and he does have a maturity the other two don’t have. He’s written to talk to the other adults differently than Percy and Annabeth are—more like equals, less like teen-vs-adults. You can easily believe that Grover is a 24 year-old in a kid’s body during those scenes, like the ones with Ares.

But there’s a reason he’s not like that in the Percy Jackson books; he’s comedic, and he’s Percy’s best friend. Percy’s only 12 when they meet; it’s weird for a 12 year-old to be best friends with a 24 year-old—who BEHAVES like a 35 year-old, with all the gravity, and maturity, etc. But if the 24 year-old is a magical creature who, for his species, is still pretty young, and has a comedically immature personality, then the chemistry works much better. Anyway. Not my point.

My point is, Grover might not be Grover, but you can still see trace elements of Grover in him. Like how you can see echoes of Spider-Man in Spider-Gwen’s story. It’s an alternate-universe, not a do-over.

Grover still wants to be a seeker.

Grover still feels guilty about not taking better care of Thalia.

Grover still gets the most outraged and cares the most deeply about nature and crimes against nature.

Grover is still a peace-lover at heart, so he’s the most gentle in relational interactions.

‘That kind of stuff is still there. It’s just re-contextualized and…made less fun. That’s all. More serious. More grit.

Same thing with Annabeth:

Annabeth still wants to prove she’s the best of the best.

Annabeth’s still given up on her normal family and is most comfortable in life-or-death strategizing.

Annabeth’s still smart, but specifically wise enough to notice Percy’s heart of gold while everyone else is busy being afraid of or disappointed in him.

Same thing with Percy:

Percy still has the stubborn rebelliousness we all know and love.

Percy’s still a guy who goes with his gut first and foremost.

Percy’s still willing to sacrifice the future for the present, if the present means saving the people he loves.

Percy still makes wise-cracks at wildly inappropriate times.

And I think some of the show is really well written. Some of it. Two parts in particular stand out. The first is when Annabeth and Percy have the post-killing Medusa conversation, and they have that, “she tried to get me to betray you. What did you say? I killed her sister. What did you say? I cut off her head.” exchange. That’s great. The point of that conversation is “you can trust me because no matter how I might be tempted, this is the line I won’t cross.” But they don’t come out and say that. They have the characters say it without saying it, if that makes sense.

The second bit of good writing that comes into my brain was Luke’s conversation with Percy about being small and scary. It was such a good way to introduce the important concept of why gods need demigods/why gods fear demigods, while also lore-dropping things like “Annabeth is afraid of spiders” and “this fantasy world does have rules.” And on top of those boxes getting checked, you can also see the conversation from Luke’s point of view—he’s bitter about being thought of as a small thing to the gods, but now he’s starting to embrace the scariness part.

So some moments are good, writing-wise. Especially if you tilt your head and say “this is an alternate universe.” I just think they’re not always the right moments for Percy Jackson.

#Percy Jackson #Luke castellan #Annabeth chase #pjo #pjo series #percy series #Percy Jackson and the lightning thief #pjo tv show #Disney+#Rick Riordan #Walker Scobell

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peachdues · 11 months

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Kyojuro’s Nightmare — Tell Me to Stop (pre-part 2?)

Part 2 is slowly coming along (I think I’m like 75-80% done with it?) but unfortunately I keep wanting to expand other things that I probably don’t need to include in the story. So here’s an example of something from an earlier draft of Part 2 that probably won’t make it in the Final Cut. Really this just helps set up his attitude more than anything (and also my first stab at horror?)

Massive TW: violent nightmares/death/corpse

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Kyojuro POV

Every night for the last two months, he has dreamt of her.

They are not pretty dreams, not like those he had before, when he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she laughed, the two of them living in a monster-free world and at peace.

Now, he dreams of vacant eyes tinged blue, unseeing and unblinking and frozen, just like the rest of her. He dreams of iced skin and blood and poison pouring from her mouth and her nose until she chokes, her chest rising once with a final rattle before it falls still.

He dreams of Upper Three, smiling deviously as he aims his fist to deal his final blow, and Kyojuro wrenches his blade down, desperate to finally win.

Only, his blade decapitates Y/N, not Upper Three and he is helpless to watch her head bounce pathetically to the ground. His hands are covered in her blood, and instead of disintegrating, her body falls uselessly to the side. Human.

As quickly as he kills her, the dream changes. He is in a lively street, filled to the brim with street vendors and women and men offering their services. It is night but the lights of the shops and gambling dens and pleasure houses are so bright that it looks like daytime.

He recognizes her by the back of her haori, and his feet move towards her, relieved to see her amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, her name whispering on his lips. But she turns before he can make contact, and though she appears as beautiful and as healthy as ever, she looks at him with eyes that are white and unseeing.

I don’t understand, she pleads with him, It doesn’t make sense.

Kyojuro looks around in alarm and they are no longer standing amongst eager entertainment seekers, but among flame and wreckage, the once-ornately decorated stalls now smashed to splinters as fire slowly consumes the skeletal remains of the entertainment district.

He turns back to her right as a blade pierces through her gut, lifting her from the ground before letting her drop.

His hands shake as he reaches for her, desperate to check her wounds, but when she looks up at him, he stumbles back.

She is all wrong. Her skin is mottled and rotting from her face, and her hair is gray and matted. Where her eyes once were are black holes, empty and cold.

Why can’t I come with you? Why can’t I go home, Kyojuro?

Please take me home.

Every night for the last two months, he has awoken screaming.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It’s not ✨delivery✨ it’s ✨de-trauma✨

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kyojuro x y/n

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someonexsomeone · 10 months

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Love to Keep Me Warm

Title: Love to Keep Me Warm

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Harry has learned to keep secrets from his best friend, but it helps when his best friend is a dense as a pile of rocks.

Authors Note: Day 3!...Week...3? Anyway, this fic was kinda heavily inspired by Lily's Boy by SomewheresSword on ao3. I literally devoured it in like a week, it was so good. I hate JK with a passion, but her characters are so yummy. Shorter this time, but I hope you guys like it all the same!

Love him to death, but there was only so much Ronald Weasley Harry could put up with. His best friend, to be fair, was a teenage boy with about 8 times the usual amount of sibling jealousy coursing through his veins which made him act irrationally more times than not. And, no doubt being best friends with the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior of the World, the Boy With the Scar - you get the picture - made those jealous spikes just a tad worse, especially now that his Mum saw Harry as one of her own children. So, Harry being the good friend he was, something he said to himself to justify his action, tried his best to be on his good side, sometimes bending to his will more than a standard friend would. Hermione, for instance, never made him feel like he couldn’t spend his money on an expensive new pair of Quidditch gloves, or a Wireless to keep up with the news. A glare, maybe, if the purchase was a little reckless, but that was her just looking out for him. Ron on the other hand…

Harry knew it was selfish, to want to spend the money he had on anything he wanted, but having grown up with nothing to his name, objects found themselves being a nice, new addition to his wizarding life. He got into the habit of buying two of everything, just to make sure Ron felt included. Ron’s bashful smile was more often than not a nice reprieve from his unknowing jealous glare.

All this being said, there has been a lot Harry had learned to keep private. Yes, the big things are harder, he still remembers the outraged look on his face when Harry told him about making Seeker, but the smaller things, those have gotten easier to cover up. Spending more time with Hermione? Easy deflection towards Ron’s recent tutoring sessions. Got a high mark on an essay? Ron trusts his word enough that paper proof is not even needed. Getting along better with the twins? He volunteered to be their new test subject so Ron didn’t have to.

Harry does feel a little bad. Should it be this easy to lie to your friends?

If that wasn’t enough, Harry was starting to feel strangely proud about being able to navigate his way through Ron’s troubled attitude. After all, a year ago he couldn’t imagine being so cunning without the fear and shame of deceit.

Peering across the Great Hall, he locked eyes with a certain green-tied classmate, blushing to the tips of his ears when he was met with a wink.

“Maybe if you followed the essay plan I made you, you wouldn’t be so far behind,” Hermione snarked, flicking her pen accusatorily at Ron across the table. Ron grumbled, waving the feathers away from his face.

“I can’t help it, ‘Mione! You have to admit that even you struggle to stay awake in History of Magic. It’s bloody awful,”

“Some of us actually like to learn, and any subject is interesting if you find something you like.” Harry could barely hear her, too preoccupied with the gentle smile he got in response to his goofy one.

“That’s not fair! You like to learn and you think everything is bloody interesting.” Ron huffed again, pushing away the heavily edited draft Hermione was passing over. “Let me get one minute of peace, at least while we eat. It’s nearly Christmas anyway, no one even cares about papers right now.” Harry subtly caught the flying kiss that was sent in his direction, mouthing ‘Seeker’ with a devilish The responding giggle made his heart flutter.

“Yes, they do! There’s a reason we get work over the holiday, mind you, because they want us to learn as much as possible before exams.”

“You’re being ridiculous! Binns is just as excited for the break as we are, he’s not going to expect O level work.”

“He’s a ghost, Ronald! And he doesn’t even celebrate Christmas.”

“Harry!” This made Harry finally peel his eyes away, jumping out of his skin now that he realized that both of his friends were eyeing him. “...what are you doing?”

“What?”

“Were you looking at…the Slytherin table?” Ron’s face only looked so disgusted for two reasons - when he thinks about his time belching slugs, and when he thinks about Slytherins. Harry’s knee started to bounce involuntarily.

“Just trying to get a rise out of, uh, Malfoy, you know. Not important. What were you two saying?” Ron looked mildly skeptical, but there was a little twinkle in his look at the prospect of annoying Malfoy. He spared a single glance to the other table - crap! Malfoy wasn’t even looking in this direction, let alone pissed at all - before deciding it wasn’t worth the extra thought.

“Tell Hermione she’s crazy for wanting to work so close to Christmas.”

“No, tell Ronald that he is going to get a T if he continues to do work like this.” The two stared at him, both daring him to oppose them. Harry scratched the back of his neck, guilty pushing a breath between his teeth.

“Please don’t get me involved with this.” He was thankful that Ron’s betrayed look didn’t affect him as much as it used to, but Hermione’s glare still made his blood run cold. There was something, however, in his eyes that made him suspicious.

“Since you both insist on sacrificing your grades before the holidays, I’m going to the library alone. You can finish your paper on your own!” Ron’s eyes widened, scrambling to grab his things as Hermione stomped away.

“Bloody-” Harry narrowly dodged an elbow, though his lap did get a nice Yorkshire pudding companion in Ron’s haste, “I can’t believe you’re not coming with us to the Burrow. I’m going to be stuck with that all break!” Harry snickered, reaching across the table for a napkin.

“Just be thankful she always ends up helping you anyway.” Ron’s bag fell one more time before he was finally able to pull himself away from the bench, racing out the door to beg Hermione for her help. Merlin knows what will happen if he brings back another P to his Mother.

In the chaos, there were still distinctly Ron things scattered around the table and floor. A quill, for one, and his Transfiguration textbook that Harry knew Ron would need by this afternoon. Harry chuckled to himself, bending down to pick up a fallen piece of paper, pointedly ignoring the little doodle of Hermione’s name with a heart. When he righted himself, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Across from him, with equally devastating smirks, were the infamous Weasley twins. Harry gulped.

“Ah. What can I do for you gentlemen on his fine day?” Harry asked awkwardly, shufflings Ron’s stuff into a pile just to have something to do other than admit that he was just a little bit nervous. Especially when the twins have that look.

“It’s the strangest thing, you know?” Fred started, leaning towards Harry. They boy didn’t dare speak, but leaned forward too, not knowing if he wanted to hear what would be said next.

“What is, Forge?” George said, mirroring his twin. They all looked a little silly, butting heads over the great, big table, but Harry couldn’t find himself laughing at the moment.

“Well, Gred, I think my eyes are started to trick me.”

“Trick you?!” George said in mock surprise. “Whatever could you mean by that?”

“What else could it be, if not trickery? You see, I was just enjoying my breakfast-”

“What a lovely breakfast it was, too.”

“=when I looked over and saw our very own Harrykins with bright red cheeks!”

“Bright red, you say?”

“As red as a baby’s bum!”

“Oh, my!” Harry felt his face burning once again.

“So I looked over-”

“And what did you see?”

“-to see our very own hero fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Wait!” Harry whispered, yanking them in closer. The devil twins had equally large smiles on their faces. He thought of coming up with an excuse for a split moment, but, Harry realized with dread, that those smiles only meant one thing - the twins already knew the answer and were only waiting for confirmation. Whether that confirmation was verbal or not was of little issue for them. A rock formed in his stomach. Knowing the twins, if they didn’t get an answer now… “No one can know.” At this, their eyebrows raised.

“Am I hearing things correctly?” Fred mimed cleaning his ear, George staring at him with blazing eyes. Harry gulped, nodding his head, unable to meet their eyes. Dread for inevitable pranks turned into dread at rejection, a bubbling fear that the twins would do what he always feared Ron would do one day, turn their backs on him.

“Our little Harrykins is all grown up!” George whispered loudly, ruffling Harry’s already crazy hair. Harry’s head shot up, looking up to see equally smiling faces. Mischievous, as always, but there was a certain softness at the corners. Harry’s confusion quickly covered all his other bad feelings. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us.”

“...what?”

“I knew you were the savior type, but I didn’t know you’d go as far as actively searching a snake pit.” Fred’s wiggling eyebrows made Harry smile sheepishly.

“It wasn’t on purpose…an accidental meeting, if you will, last Christmas.”

“Oh, ho! We finally have the real reason Mother’s beloved adopted child is not joining us this year.” Harry blushed again. “Now, do we have to go over all the safety procedures of a healthy relationship, Can’t have our special boy be defiled by evil, now can we.”

“No, we can’t, Gred.” Their smiles turned devious again. “Now, what was it Father-dearest said to us? Oh yes, the contraceptive charm is very useful in these types of situations-”

“And you can never be too safe, so remember to take a potion afterwards-”

“Okay!” Harry yelled, standing up. He hastily gathered his and Ron’s items, hurrying to the door. “Thank you very much!”

“We haven’t even told you about the dangers of teen pregnancy.” One of them, Harry couldn’t care anymore, yelled at his back, the other cackling loudly.

“Or the dangers of STDs-”

“That’s quite enough, you two! 10 points of Gryffindor for inappropriate language.”

Harry dared to look over his shoulder at the green table across the room as he exited the grand doors, blushing, something he seemed to be doing a lot recently, when he locked eyes with the one pair he desperately wished wouldn’t have noticed the frankly humiliating interaction. The mischievous twinkle in them made Harry dread the teasing that would come, once most of the school left for the holiday and they were finally able to do more than exchange glances across a sea of unsuspecting classmates. Sappy as it was, Harry thought, he couldn’t wait.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

#harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x slytherin!reader #harry potter one shot #laufeyfest #someonexsomeone #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts one shot #harry potter fluff

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adventure-time-news · 4 days

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As the Kickstarter campaign for Adventure Time: The Roleplaying Game enters its final 24 hours, here's everything that's been announced since the last time I posted an update.

First of all, the number of player character species that will be included in the core book has increased to 25. In addition to the 21 listed in the last post, you will now also be able to play as a shapeshifter, a gnome, a wolf person, or a breakfast person.

Next, we have a name for the fourth chapter of Quest for the Shadow Gems, the adventure book. It will be titled Tower of Night and it will take place in the Nightosphere and feature the Lich.

Next we have the newly announced list of subclasses. Pretty much every base-5E class has received a wizard subclass. Cryptozoic said about this decision "We figured that the traditional Wizard Class was more like Princess Bubblegum: a scientist of study who figures out how magic works and what it is. And everyone else in Ooo with magic powers is a Wizard, so we chose to make an abundance of Wizard Subclasses for the many other spellcasting Classes of 5E (plus a few others)." The subclasses are as follows:

Bard subclasses: Dance Wizard or Peace Master

Druid subclass: Grass Wizard

Fighter subclasses: Weapon Wizard, Adventurer, or Strongman

Monk subclass: Laser Wizard

Ranger subclasses: Hunt Wizard or Seeker

Rogue subclasses: Fortunetelling Wizard, Calculator, or Rebel Leader

Sorcerer subclass: Nuclear Wizard

Warlock subclass: Elemental Wizard

Barbarian subclass: Stretchy Powers

Cleric subclass: Auditor

Paladin subclass: Oath of Party

Wizard subclasses: Scholar of GOLB, Scientist, or Void Caster

Definitely a very wacky mixture of things. I like the idea of being a paladin to Party God. This also answers the question of how players could make a Jake-like character; it's a Barbarian subclass. There's also a shapeshifter species so we'll see how that factors into the whole system. As previously announced, there is also a totally new base class for princesses.

And finally I will rattle off the list of various other content announced alongside stretch goals. Death and Gunter have been added as Algebraic Allies (so the social media vote didn't end up mattering), the Time Room has been added to the core book as a location for adventures, six additional candy kingdom monsters have been added to the core book, and four "scoundrel" subclasses were also unlocked. It's not clear if those subclasses are included in the list above or if they are further subclasses yet to be named. And in terms of merch, the two main books will now have foil covers, additional item cards have been added to the Sweet Dosh deck, and some more pre-made character sheets have been unlocked.

The last two stretch goals are for the fifth chapter of Quest for the Shadow Gems (already surpassed at time of writing but not yet revealed) and the final dice set.

The campaign closes in 24 hours. Remember that backing a Kickstarter project is not the same as buying a product, and there is no legal guarantee that you will receive everything promised. But for now, Adventure Time: The Roleplaying Game is aiming for a March 2025 release.

#adventure time #adventure time ttrpg

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dalishious · 1 year

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youtube

Let's discuss one of the most divisive characters in the Dragon Age fandom; specifically, the single action that makes him so divisive.

Full transcript below:

Anders is a very divisive character. Most people either love him or hate him. Personally, I lean towards loving him, as I think he is very interesting and has a lot of qualities in a character I find appealing. I also think he is overall a good person. That is not to say he is without faults, just that I believe his merits outweigh said faults.

The most divisive part of his character boils down to one specific action he takes at the end of Act 3 of Dragon Age II; the Chantry explosion. There is a large part of the fandom that believes this action entirely defines him, choosing to ignore the rest of his part in the whole game. But anyone actually paying attention to his character beyond this single event, and the setting in general, would know that Anders blowing up the Chantry does not exist in a vacuum. There is a reason the quest is called “The Last Straw”; it is the last effort of a desperate man in the face of oppression.

Anders spends the entirety of the game up to “The Last Straw” working to help mages and protest the Chantry’s abuse peacefully. He works with the Mage Underground to help people escape from the Gallows. He writes his manifestos demanding an end to the oppression of his people. He tries speaking with the Grand Cleric. And not one bit of it makes any monumental change, because no one in power will listen. Despite all efforts, he still witnesses the mass increase in the use of the Rite of Tranquility, on mages who have passed their Harrowing even; this is supposed to be against Chantry law, but no one has stopped it from happening. He witnesses raids on the families of mages, and the formation of what is called “Templar Death Squads” harassing Lowtown inhabitants who sympathize with the mages. None of this is secret. The citizens of Kirkwall are well aware of these abuses, and many of them are vocally against it. But the Chantry doesn’t care about that. They only care about maintaining the status quo of control and domination. This is fully demonstrated by the Divine sending Leliana to warn Elthina that the Chantry is considering an Exalted March on Kirkwall, because in Leliana’s words, they fear the threat of a mage uprising is the biggest danger to Thedas since the Qunari invasion. Elthina even somewhat defends this, saying that even if it will harm innocents, the Divine’s first duty is to “protect the faith”.

Anders tried peaceful measures to protest the Circle’s abuses. Orsino tried peaceful measures to protest the Circle’s abuses, too. But these peaceful protests are met with worsening conditions, not the betterment. At the beginning of Act 3, as in before Anders even gets his magical bomb ready, Knight-Commander Meredith has already gone above Elthina’s head to request the Right of Annulment directly from Val Royeaux. It is established in Dragon Age Origins that a letter is all it takes to grant permission to slaughter every single mage in the Circle, when Greagoir writes to Denerim for the same request. Another example of no actual investigation prior to granting this Right is from the Magehunter shield item description in Dragon Age Inquisition, which states that it wasn’t until after the Right was conducted and all the mages were slaughtered, that the Seekers of Truth discovered the Annulment was used to cover up the mass murder of mages that had already occurred before permission was granted.

Backed into a corner, Anders lashes out in the only way he can think to force change. The fact that Meredith had already sent for the Right of Annulment means in all likeliness, Anders saved lives by acting when he did. This allowed the mages the opportunity to fight back and for some to escape.

Is Anders a murderer? Yes. But so is every single character in the Kirkwall party. Even Sebastian has killed people in his quest for revenge against those who murdered his family—how does that separate him from Anders doing the same against those who are torturing, mutilating and killing his people? The Chantry is not innocent. Elthina is not innocent. She is a perpetrator at worst and enabler at best of systemic oppression. It is within her power to oppose Meredith—as Grand Cleric, she is in fact the only person with any power to do so in Kirkwall—but she chooses not to. The only action she takes is to silence Orsino’s right to speak publicly. It makes perfect sense to me for Anders to target her.

Why did Anders choose to target Elthina by blowing up the Chantry itself, though? The out-of-universe reason I believe, is simply that the developers wanted to trigger a gut-punch reaction to Americans with the imagery of an exploding building. BioWare is very centrist, and has a strong history of making “both sides are wrong” arguments out of oppressors versus the oppressed. The goal of making Anders do this is to turn off the player’s brain enough to place doubt in the mages and think Templar Order might be right even a little, despite all evidence to the contrary. The in-universe reason is just that between the two targets, the Chantry and the Gallows, attacking the Chantry had less collateral damages to mages in Anders’s view, I suppose? But it’s hard for me to put reason behind this when it’s so overshadowed by outside influence that feels less organically part of the plot and more shoved in for the sake of pushing their centrist agenda. What really drives home for me that it’s an agenda is the fact that post-Dragon Age II, they keep adding more to what happened. First they increase the death toll way beyond anything actually suggested in the game, then in Trespasser they even write a codex entry saying the explosion changed the shape of the Kirkwall harbour, somehow. I can’t help but find it at least a little amusing, and look forward to hearing how actually, the explosion unleashed another Blight upon the Free Marches next.

If you want to call Anders a terrorist, fine. I don’t give a shit, because I can think of so many real life people who have been called terrorists by the government for standing up against colonial enforced inequality, to the point where I question the very meaning of the word. But I ask you go do it somewhere else, because I’m kind of tired of the fandom debate over The Chantry explosion controversy. I’ve said my piece, and I’m confident about my opinion. More confident than BioWare is able to sway me otherwise, that’s for damn sure.

#dragon age #da2 #anders #meta #video #Youtube

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stretchyyonko · 7 months

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❗LAWLU❗

- Just my imagination of lawlu since I found them cute 😭💗

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

- jealous luffy(?)

- idk I just randomly thought of this 😭

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After defeating kaido a grand party was held by the people of wano for those who gathered up to help defeat the rests of the beasts pirates and of course big mom.

There trafalgar law just enjoying the party by sitting and watching in the corner when suddenly women and men began surrounding him asking him random questions like, "How did you defeated big mom?" "Can you introduce us your crew?" Or either offering drinks on his mug as he doesn't mind the ladies sitting beside him and just casually answering their questions one by one.

Meanwhile luffy who was just also having fun in the said party holding the usual food in his hand and shouting "SO GOODD!" and kept munching more, not until nico robin tapped his shoulder amd sat beside him.

"Erwh? Rwobiwn? Whawt'ws twhe mwahtter? ( Erh? Robin? What's the matter? ) He asked while he kept munching food on his mouth.

"Are you okay with your ally being surrounded like that?" She said emphasizing the word ally as she pointed using her index finger to where law was being surrounded with people very close to him specially the random woman who tried flirting with him like she was his but it wasn't.

Luffy gulped the food first as he stopped eating as he processed first what was that he saw and went silent for a while and he lowered the meat he was holding and began havig questions on his head.

"Who's that girl?"

"Hmm? You mean the woman beside law? I remember her she was in the court house where I performed as a geisha before and she's an attention seeker...beware of her antics she might get him too luffy"

"...."

Luffy went staring back again where law was at and saw that he was happily talking with the woman nico robin just describe with and his heart felt weird after seeing him happy by just talking with her.

Due to this luffy stood up from his seat still holding a meat on his hand as he left on the pavillion to go back to the docks as he kept thinkig what that woman have that he does not to the point where law was happily talking to her.

He was always like that too to him.

He was always smiling sweetly to him everytime they meet.

He always gives him the warmest and tightest hugs.

He always tease him by chasing him with bread.

Then what was he lacking then?

He didn't realize tears are already falling from his eyes when he felt his chest hurt and even stopped eating his favorite food.

He then thought what if he also do what that woman was doing with law in front of law himself....he just need someone he can associate with it..

"HUUUH? YOU WANT ME TO GO ALONG WITH THIS STUPID SHI* OF YOURS MUGIWARA?"

There Eustass kid shouted ay him as he enjoys having party in peace with his crew and other people

"Tch...Just a request you loser it wasn't that hard to pretend like that" luffy clicked his tounge at him since he won't go along with his plan.

"HAH?! WHO YOU CALLING LOSER YOU ASSHOLE?"

"ITS YOU ASSHOLE CAN'T EVEN HIT KAIDO WITH THAT METAL ARM OF YOURS"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, I BET YOU CAN'T DEFEAT ME IN A BATTLE SHISHISHI"

"YOU ASSHOLE COME LET'S HAVE A BATTLE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW THEN"

Their argument seemed to caught half of the attention and they began laughing at their childish antics as the two was about to get ready to fight each other.

So they fought like little children hitting each other not until ussop who was just enjoying the scene decided to throw a banana for them to slip on the floor and eustass fell on top of luffy.

Let's just say eustass kid went questioning his sexuality there for a moment.

"MUGIWARA-YA"

The two were stopped when they both heared Law interferring their fight and was about to yell back at him when law sent a death glare at eustass kid

"Hit him and i'll be having your heart in a second" he threaten him with his usual pose where his thumb, his index finger and middle finger in place.

"Ahahaha okay now stop stop this should be a happy feast not the three of you getting worked up in a fight" nami interferred as killer took eustass back to their seat as law faced luffy looking down at him like he was about to commit murder.

"Ahahaha t-torao?" Luffy asked and in one scoop he was on law's shoulders.

"T-TORAO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PUT ME DOWN! OI! ANYONE HELP"

"We pray for luffy to walk properly tomorrow"

"OI TORAO! DON'T BE TOO HARSH TO OUR CAPTAIN OR ELSE I'LL CUT YOU!"

Even the strawhats are supporting the said newly found relationship.

"YOU GUYS ARE WORSEEEE!!!!" luffy shouted as the strawhats just chuckled and continued partying as law bring luffy to the thousand sunny and sat luffy on his lap.

"You have 60 seconds to explain why are you suddenly under that eustass loser" law said as he went gripping luffy's hips.

"W-Wait torao i was just having a rematch fight with him and we both slipped in two banana peels i don't know who throwed that there!"

"Mmm okay you're forgiven..."

Law began leaving light kisses on luffy's neck as luffy let out whimpers in his lips but was stopped when luffy pushed him away gently.

"Why are you here making me explain where you're the one who needs explaining?"

"What will I explain to you?"

"Well you're clearly flirting with a woman back there and you are clearly enjoying it."

"What woman? That was a man just like that fella who name kiku"

There luffy went silent as he was being jealous in a childish way plus does robin told her earlier was a lie too?

Law smirked and went back on giving light kisses on his neck when luffy pulled him away again and he became irritated that he grabbed his head and tilted it sidewards and gave him a bite.

"It seemed that my plan along with robin to make you jealous is effective then" law smirked as he scoffed and gave luffy kisses in his face.

The next morning luffy was fussing out on robin for lying to him just to make him jealous now knowing that the woman beside law was really a man.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

SORRY FOR THE BAD GRAMMAR AND CONFUSING PLOT 😭

#lawlu #one piece lawlu #trafalgar law x luffy #jealous luffy #one piece #oneshot #jealous law

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transingthoseformers · 5 months

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Poor Deadlock with the Ambulance Sparkling looking at Fusion Cannon Wedding!Megatron expecting something horrible. Instead he's confined to quarters on maternity leave and Ratchet's being aquired for the wedding. Pharma bursts in at speak now or forever hold your peace and nearly dies. He was trying to rescue his beloved and win him back. Instead he got shot, let down bluntly because "gently didn't work," discovered as much as he might have wished to he cannot of embarrassment, and ended up in the brig with seekers droping by to hit on him via consolation that grounders dont know how to treat a jet right. The air force went seduce the mean pretty medical jet to the cause. Pharma wishes neither to be seduced or consoled. His bitcheyness is not driving away mechs that deal with Starscream on a daily basis. Pharma, instead of the Delphi mess, has to deal with the fact most of the 'Con Air Force are into him for the whole war. They will get injured and captured to just hit on him. It is infuriating and charming.

Tarn knows what's expected of him. It's only right and proper. He won't fail. His team wont let him worm out of it. Even if it's Starscream. And the twins, his little stealth bombers? He's terribly afraid he will fail them. When they started Wailing and only calmed down pressed to his spark? They have their little chubby servos wrapped around his spark. Also the fact the Twins have the same Outlier suprised Tarn. Untill he discovered Starscream's outlier is spark immortality because he overheard Skywarp kvetching to Thundercracker about how Starscream's sigma allergy to death ment even his frame was destroyed he'd be haunting shit and making chaos.

And KOBD definitely "accidentally" had both of their baffels fail. Breakdown was the one to get sparked up though. Definitely tried to mutually baby trap each other. Each trying to smuggle fertility stuff in. They both find it hilarious with the braincell sharing going on when they catch each other pouring fertility boosters into each others energon.

Megatron's backing him up on it this time

... in his own Megatron-ey way

Vhsdhk oh pharma my poor little meow meow, your crush does not want you even though all the hot Decepticons in the air force do

No one makes decisions quite like decepticons do don't they

Sdf Tarn's doing it for the Cause and for his Children and all that is Right in his opinion, and he's making such a fuss of it too.

my god that's so sweet yes

MMN YES, ACCIDENTALLY. Kobd our beloved, they're trying their best to invoke the wedding-maker, and they've always wanted sparklings but war was threatening to get in the way of that. "Mutually baby trap" yes. They had the same goddamn idea.

#maccadam #g1 starscream #g1 megatron #g1 skywarp #g1 thundercracker #pharma #tarn #g1 breakdown #g1 knockout #i think he exists in g1 #kobd #tarnstar #ratchlock #deadlock #g1 ratchet

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