#rust in peace era | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jazz-miester · 1 year

Note

Yandere Bayverse!Optimus x Decepticon Mech reader smut?

Also, I wanted to say that I LOVE your works! Especially that one Optimus x reader one.. it has me in a chokehold. Anyways, feel free to ignore!

Hung Over You

Pairing: Bayverse Optimus x reader

Reader type: Decepticon Mech

Song: Lady Lie- Rainbow kitten surprise

Warnings: I'm gonna put Dubious Consent here as a warning. I. Honestly i'd rather be safe than sorry yall. And please please for all that is holy. Get absolute consent from your partners before doing anything. If the yes isn't given whole heartedly and said with everything the person has to offer. Don't do it. It's not worth it.

An: Aww you're too sweet! I'm glad that you like my stuff so much! Hope that this is what you wanted lol. I'm not to familiar with the yandere thing so im lowkey just winging it. Also putting this under a read more because this came out to be 4186 words long lol.

Tags: @rawmeknockout hope you don't mind me tagging you in this lol.

You have caught his optic. Which honestly is the most dangerous thing you have ever had happen to you. There has been. Rumours that have spread from out of the Autobot ranks. But they had been rumours. Right?

Primes don't do that. They. They don't.

Not once did you truly worry though. When would you ever see him? You were one of the few medics that the Decepticon army had left. Most others had defected to the Autobots.

Really. It made sense. They left so they could work in a slightly safer environment where you were less likely to be offed by your patients. Still, even with how long you've been with the Decepticons you find yourself wondering why. Why have you stayed for so long despite the Decepticons going so far out of the ballpark of what they once stood for.

It was becoming less and less often you would find that reason to stay. And at this point you were only finding it in the older mechs. Those who were forced into their casts by the functionists all because they transformed into something other than a silly little microscope.

They were the ones that still fight so they would no longer have to risk their lives on a job that they higher nobles where to afraid to do. They stuck with the original Decepticon ideals so that their future younglings wouldn't have to live the harsh and horrid lives they did.

They are the reason you kept going. Kept doing what you did. They were he reason you still had a flicker of hope for the Decepticons. That Megatron was truly fighting for your peace. That he would lead Cybertronian kind into a new era. One of peace and prosperity in the way they never had before. A life where your frame didn't dictate how and who you would be.

You lost that little ember of hope on a Decepticon battlefield. Every attempt you made to help the others. To heal, to mend. All of it in vain when the bombs began to rain from above.

Again and again you went out dragging in bots and cons alike to some semblance of safety as the bombs screamed in the sky. You were forced to quit when an Autobot. And old and ancient mech stopped you and pulled you into the shelter. It was his rust colored paint that filled your vision as he gave you some sense of solace.

It was with him you grieved the loss of any hope you had left.

All of this. The wrought and ruin of his own troops, supplies, territory. All of it destroyed for a blind assault on the chance he could kill his enemy.

All of it because Megatron was to much of a coward to face Optimus Prime himself.

You did all you could. Tending to the injured. Helping even the Autobots. Or at least all that would allow you to.

It felt like a life cycle for the bombs to quit falling. Longer still for the metal of Cybertron to settle. And longer for the air to become ventable once again.

You did what you could to lead the injured up and out.

A lot of Decepticons turned their back on the cause after that. Most choosing the neutral path. Not willing to chance facing their brothers and sisters. Friends. Lovers.

Some, like you, pledged yourself to the Autobot cause.

It was on that battlefield that you saw him for the first time.

Optimus Prime.

There was a million and one warning bells going off in your helm the closer he came.

"Are you here to fight, or to stay?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder just before a storm of acid rain. This was the same question he had asked every con before you.

"Stay, I suppose." You spoke after a moment. You had long since torn away the Decepticon insignia. You could still feel the distant ache in your sparkchamber.

A botched job for what should have been the greatest moment in your lifecycle.

It meant nothing now.

"I have heard you helped my troops mech. Is this true?" Blue optics looked you up and down then stopped on your own. For the briefest moment you wondered if he could see you. Truly see you. As if the matrix gave him some supernatural ability to pick apart your very spark.

Cybertronians used to worship Primes.

"I did." You answered. "And I will continue to do so. If you allow. Optimus Prime." A grin split his lips when you were done speaking.

"If you are willing then yes.." He trailed off.

"Y/n sir." The Prime tilted his helm. Mouthed your name.

"Y/n." Something about the way he spoke it sent your spark pounding. Your takes turning.

Megatron sounded like that once.

Just before everything went to slag in a hand basket.

That wasn't the last time you saw the Autobot leader. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Y/n! Mech! Pay attention slaggit!" Ratchet's voice was right in your audio receptor. His servos moved with more efficiently than you have ever seen in any mech or femme. It was supernatural, almost, to watch.

The two of you were elbow deep in a mech. The damned frontliner decided to play hero.

You could have sworn you had seen Optimus. There in a window that the assistant has forgotten to close.

"He's damned good. For a con." Ratchet would both praise and poke at you at the same time. "I'm glad he's on our side though."

You were proud with where you were at the moment. You had built a reputation for yourself. Worked in a place that made your skills worth something. You worked with bots that wouldn't have your helm for just venting wrong near them.

You caught a snippets of Ratchets and Ironhides conversation from where you were organizing field kits. Restocking and filing inventory on this had fallen to you after a while.

Well. You were until Optimus came spilling in. Energon flowed freely onto the floor where it really shouldn't have been.

Two mechs carried him in. You were quick to clear a med berth off. Already you were in the process of cleaning when Ratchet began barking orders

Time to show Ironhide those skills Ratchet was bragging about.

Sometime later and what seemed like an obscene amount of energon, Optimus was deemed stable. Currently he was sleeping off the anesthetics.

"Will you keep an optic on him and tell me when he wakes kid?" You looked up from the data pad you were typing on when Ratchet spoke. "I have some reports I need to finish and I need to plan some care for when he wakes up." You waved a servo.

"I've got it Ratchet. Go do what you need to." With a heavy sigh he left. Muttering about Primes being stupid and self sacrificing for no good Primus damned reason.

You went back to restocking field kits. You needed something to do with your servos while you waited for him to wake up.

Which wasn't much longer after you finished. The Prime woke with a start. Bolting upright as he took in where he was. Some part of his processer still stuck out there on the feild.

It was only after he swing his legs over the side of the berth did you walk towards him.

"Prime. You need to stay laying down. If you get up now you could re open the welds me and Ratchet placed." Your voice was low. Soothing. The same voice you have used a thousand times over for Decepticon coming out of general anesthetics. At least this time you were greeted with a look rather that blaster fire.

Really. Megatron should have implemented some sort of psychiatric treatment for his troop.

Optimus said nothing as you walked up to him. Slowly you placed one servo on his shoulder. "I need to check on the welds before I go and get Ratchet. Are you ok with that or do you want me to get him to do it?" You always gave them the option. Some still didn't trust you. Former Decepticon and all.

"You may." The Prime leaned back slightly. His legs spreading further apart as he balanced himself. You said nothing other than giving him a nod before going to check the welds across his abdomen.

The welds looked ok. And they were still holding up despite the fact he decided to spring up off the berth. You took the opportunity to glance at the ones on his arms. Then checking the cabling at his neck that had become undone.

You froze for a moment when he leant forward. Slumping as if suddenly overcome by fatigue. Out of reflex you caught him by the shoulers. Bracing him as he fell forward. Optimus's helm fell on your shoulder. His servo brushing against your hip and thigh.

"Slaggit! Prime are you ok?" You pushed back on him. Righting the blue colored Prime. "Are you dizzy? Any pains that we were not aware of?" You looked over his face plates. Looking for the drain of nanites and fuzzy unfocused optics.

Nothing.

"I am fine. Just." He paused. "Apologies, Y/n. I did not mean to cause concern." There. Again. That same look he gave you on the battlefield sometime ago.

"Are you sure? It is no issue. I can go get Ratchet. He wanted me to get him after you woke anyways." A slight flicker on his face plates. A sort of, annoyance? Then.

"Get him if you must. Ratchet is my CMO for a reason." It wasn't until you pulled away did you realize Optimus's servo had been on your waist that entire time. Only did you know when you pulled away and his digits grazed along the dark grey plating.

You felt like you were going insane. Someone was leaving you gifts. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact it was inside your habsuit on your berth.

They were the things you liked. Sweetened energon candies. A very specific polish you thought you would never find again. There was even a praxian crystal rose at one point. Who would give that away to a former Con you would never know. After the fall of Praxus they had become scarce.

You saw Optimus a few times after he had been discharged from the med bay. He came a few times afterwards to keep the welds in check and to make sure the new cabling in his throat had took.

You had been the one to check on the welds after a while. And to make sure the Prime had proper movement in his left arm. The one that you were now currently holding and moving to ensure fluid movement in the shoulder joint.

There was that look again. Like he was staring into your very soul. You felt that if you bared your spark chamber you would feel less exposed.

"And this? Any pain, aches?" The Prime rumbled out a laugh. Not once had he looked away from you.

"No. Truly, it is fine. You've done a very good job." You could feel your faceplates warm. Not use to any type of praise.

"It was hardly all me. Ratchet did the bulk of it." Optimus humed. Pulling his arm away. His digits brushed against your chassis before they settled in his lap. He flexed his palms and you couldn't help but to look.

Only to sputter a cough before he looked up. Almost getting caught ogling the Primes thighs.

"Still. You have done good. I am grateful to have such a skilled mech on our side. Your skills are valued here, y/n." He spoke your name with an intensity.

The two of you locked optics for a moment. The Prime almost drawing you in. He servo rose and hovered next to yours. You swore he almost would have taken it in his if it weren't for Ratchet calling him to his office.

The look that covered his facelates looked almost murderous. You had stepped back when he did that. And the look had fallen almost as quickly as it had came. Filled with a different, almost fearful look at your reaction.

The Prime rose and left. Giving you one last look before going to meet Ratchet. When you glanced back down to the berth you felt you tanks turned.

There, in the center of the berth, was a singular Praxian rose. The one that twined the other currently beneath your berth.

You said nothing about it to anyone. Instead quickly taking it and placing it within your subspace before Ratchet or any of the other medics or assistants could notice.

When Optimus left he had caught your optic then glanced at the berth the rose had been on. When he noticed it was gone and how quickly you had looked away. He smiled.

That night you had went to your habsuit shaken. Placing the rose with the other things you had been given.

Was. Was Optimus the one doing this? It would make sense seeing as how he would be one of the few with the proper codes to get into your habsuit.

But why? Why you? And was it really you?

You didn't fall into recharge that night. And you were in a daze for the next day cycle. Ratchet having reprimanded you more than once for your forgetfulness.

You nearly dropped the glass vials holding nanites when you saw him in the window looking into the supply closet. Optimus had studied you briefly before leaving.

You didn't move for many klicks. Servos shaking as you tried to calm yourself.

The next few days went the same. Catching Optimus in the corner of your optics every time you turned. It made you jumpy. Skittish. You began to pull away from the bots you had made friends with. Even to Ratchet who seemed to be concerned. But he said nothing. Did nothing other than lay his servo on your shoulder and give you the most sympathetic look you had ever seen.

"Y/n. Prime needs you in his office." You glanced up dumbly to the femme that had called your name. You had been in the rec room watching some old holo vids Toptwist had put on. A chorus of oohs had filled the room. Most of the bots acting like you had just been called to the headmaster's office in the academy.

Instead you swallowed thickly and nodded your helm at the femme.

You're frame is shaking the entire walk down the hall. Your mind was racing.

Did you do something wrong? If so then what? As far as you knew you were doing everything Ratchet needed you to. You didn't cause any problems with the others. No matter how much you wanted to throttle some of them when they wouldn't stop fragging you over just because you used to be a Con.

Is that why? Did some mech of femme complain about you being a former Decepticon?

You didn't want to lose what you had here. To much. It. You had finally found a reason to keep fighting. The Autobots they held up the ideals that the Decepticons used to have.

You don't think you would be able to quit this. Not without some consequence on your mental health. You needed this.

You stopped before the door to Optimus Primes office. You didn't know if you should com him or knock on the door. In the end you chose the latter. Fisted servo hovering before the engraved metal door for a klick before you knocked.

Ice flooded your frame. Something. Something spoke to you about this being a bad idea. That you should turn. Run.

Instead you ignored that millennia forged instinct.

"Enter." Optimus's voice sounded from the other side of the door after you knocked. The door sliding open and closing behind you quickly when you stepped inside.

His office was quaint. Small. There were odds and ends decorating shelves. A few organic plants here and there that looked well taken care of. It was such a rare sight to see. The war on Cybertron and rendered all organic life null. Unable to grow in such an hostile enviroment.

There were data pads from floor to roof on one wall. Suddenly you remember that the great Prime was just once a simple archivist in Iacon.

"There's no need to stand near the door, dear Y/n. I promise. You are not in any trouble here." Your helm snaps from the shelves of data pads and towards the Prime sitting at his desk. It was cluttered with data pads and reports. A few trinkets here and there. There was even a floating holo screen of what you assumed was him and a few other bots in one corner.

"I was told you needed me sir?" You strode to the center of the room. Just before the Primes desk. He smiled and shook his helm before rising from his seat.

"Please. There is no need for formalities here. I am just Optimus. " The Prime rounded the side of his desk before leaning against the side of it. Crossing his arms over his chassis.

You swallowed thickly. Finding yourself falling into a parade rest. "I was told you needed me, Optimus?" You repeated the question with his name instead. He gave a small laugh when he looked over at you.

"I meant it when I said there was no need for formalities Y/n. Please." Optimus pushed himself away from the desk as you made an attempt to stand comfortably. It was a little awkward.

Optimus stopped before you by less that a foot. You had to raise you helm to look him in the optics. You were not exactly a small mech but you reached just below the Primes chin.

"But yes. I did want you down here. I wanted to discuss something with you." His servo rose. The palm of his servo hovering just next to your helm before settling firmly on your shoulder. You couldn't help but look to that servo. Then to him as he began talking once again. "I have heard you've done good work here. And i'm proud of the fact that you are." The servo fell then digits hooked just below your chin.

Your spark began pounding in your chest. "I expect you have met my gifts well?" You optics widden and you pull away from those digits.

"That was you?" Your voice rose slightly at the end. At least that was a conformation. Whether or not it set you at ease was debatable to say the least.

"Of course. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver them in person though. I didn't need the others thinking I was playing favorites." His optics looked your faceplates over. His glossa darted out to wet his lips. "I find you to be the most brilliant mech I have had the honour to have in my troops yet. Y/n I have been hung over you since the moment I saw you." His servos cup either side of your helm. The size of them almost engulfing you.

"There is something addicting about you. I have yet to lay my servo on it. But. I wish to have you, if you will." His thumb brushed along your bottom lip. His optics following the movement of his thumb as he did this. "Of course we will have to keep this secret for a while. But I do not mind." His voice was low. Almost rattling in your chassis from how close he was now.

Chassis to chassis. Touching. So close. If the two of you were to slide the metal away. Surely your sparks would touch. The gesture here. Now. It was intimate.

Suffocating.

"Sir we can't. Its." Optimus's face darkened.

"Optimus. Please. Call me Optimus." His servos fell and once reached down to grab yours. He brought it up to his lips and layed a kiss on your scarred knuckles. His optics were on you the entire time. Blown wide with. Attraction? Lust? "And we can. The others will learn to deal with it."

Something pleasurable flooded your field when his wrapped over yours. Your processer fogged and you didn't know what to do. "Optimus I." You stopped when that pleasure flooded over you again. You legs shook and before you knew it you were moving. Your legs hit the desk and one moment you were standing. The next you were sitting. Optimus's servos wrapped around your thighs as he lifted yo up and onto it.

For a moment the fog lifted and you looked up to see a loopy grin on the Primes faceplates.

"Oh you look stunning just like that. I wonder if I could make you make that face again." He was between your legs. His servo traveled from your thigh and over your hip. It sprawled out over your stomach plating and up your chassis. His digits dipped in seems and pulled at wires that had a heat pooling below.

You whimper when his lips finally connecting with yours. Shivers running down your frame as he moves fervently. His servos cradle your helm as he does this. Drawing you in close. You servos find his wrists. You didn't know if you wanted to pull him away or hold him there so he would keep going.

He did leave you those gifts. It. It makes sense that he wouldn't do it in person. Right?

Right?

The two of you pull away with heated breaths. A string of fluid following your lips before breaking apart.

Your faceplates felt hot. Your vents where going rapidly. Trying to cool your heated frame.

Optimus lent in again and again. Laying kiss after kiss until he found your neck. Nibbling and sucking along the cabling there. You shiver and shook at the assault. Your frame reacting pleasantly to what he was doing.

"Such sweet sounds you are making. I wonder if you will sing the same while on my spike." His hips rolled as he said this. His servo landed on top of your interface array. "Please? My Y/n please?" Optimus spoke breathlessly. His helm pressed to yours. Your nose bumping against his as he moved to press another kiss to your lips. "For me? Please?"

And you did. Your array springing open and revealing your spike and valve to the room.

"The. The door. Is it locked?" You asked.

"Mmm? Yes." Optimus told you. His digits fluttering over your valve. A whimper left your lips as he teased you. Digits skimming over your valve. Your aching node to tease your weeping spike. "Look at you. Is all this for me?" He pressed a kiss to your chin.

"Yeah." You spoke. "Yeah. Just for you." A low moan left you when he sunk his digits within you. Digits curling as he pumped them in and out of you. He moved slowly. Gathering the fluid that left you and spreading his digits apart to slowly ease you into taking his spike.

He didn't want to hurt you after all. Not after waiting for so long. And not with you being so nice and willing.

You almost cried when those cleaver digits left you. Only for you to give a shudder when he put those same digits in his mouth. Glossa working around and between his digits tasting everything you had to offer.

"You taste sweeter than I thought you would be Y/n." He humed as his own interface array pulled away. He gave is own spike a few languid strokes before placing it between your shaking legs. "Relax. I will not hurt you." The tip of his spike pressed into you. "Relax my y/n." He guided himself within you. Moving slowly. He briefly pulled back at one point before sliding forward.

Optimus paused when he was fully seated within you. Giving his hips a few experimental rolls as he watched you come completely undone beneath him.

He was absolutely enthralled with the way you threw your helm back when he began to move. He happily complied with your pleas of more. Harder. Just like that.

You were being so good. So kind after all. How was he not to do what you asked when you were doing such a good job. He even told you as much.

"Look at you. Being such a good mech for me. You are taking me so well my y/n." His hips stuttered when he felt you squeeze around him from the praise. "You are taking my spike so good. You pretty valve feels so nice. So good. Gripping my spike so." He paused when he felt pleasure rack through him when you squeezed him once again.

Optimus was sure to note this in the back of his helm for future fragging sessions.

He could feel his overload coming and coming quickly. And if the way your were keening and moaning. Chanting his name so sweetly. Well, he knew yours was close as well.

Optimus rolled his field over yours and watched as you threw your helm back. Static spitting out of your vocalizer as you overloaded and over loaded hard. Your frame falling pliant under his servos.

Optimus found his soon after you. Pulling you close and leaning on your body.

He was sure to bring you into his habsuit. Cleaning your dirtied frame. Optimus took in the welled energon on your neck cabling. The slight paint transfer around your thighs from your coupling.

He'd be damned if he was letting you leave anytime soon.

#Maccadam #valveplug #Optimus Prime x reader #bayverse optimus x reader #bayverse optimus #optimus prime #yandere optimus prime #request #anon

597 notes · View notes

stirringwinds · 3 months

Note

sorry if it's a dumb question but i've wondered about the nations' skills or what suits their personalities, and who do u think would win in a swordfight between yao and kiku? japan does have such a kenjutsu culture but what about china, since china has a very old history too?

i have thought about this before, actually 🤔 when thinking about pre-modern sino-japanese power dynamics between yao and kiku. personally, i say it actually depends on which point in history. this is my headcanon:

before the kamakura period/shogunate (which overlaps with the sengoku/feudal era of japan) tbh I'd say yao wins. one reason is well, the symbolic power balance between china and japan. the first time china and japan properly met face-to-face in conflict was in the 7th century CE, during the baekje-tang war at the battle of baekgang in korea. long story short: it was a power struggle between korean kingdoms, and the korean kingdom of baekje (yong-soo's brother) was allied to japan, so japan came to help them. their enemy was the other korean kingdom of silla (aka: yong-soo long before he becomes south korea), who...was allied to china. despite being outnumbered 3 to 1, china pretty much crushed japan in that battle. then, kiku is very much an inexperienced upstart challenging the regional hegemon who has far far more notches on his sword. getting wrecked like that by yao is imo, quite a formative experience for kiku (to put it mildly).

but as the centuries go by, yeah no, kiku is the swordsman alright. because of samurai culture, and its elevation to power during the muromachi and edo period. further, there's of course the imjin war, where the samurai lord toyotomi hideyoshi invaded korea with the goal of overthrowing ming china too. even during the successive edo period/tokugawa shogunate, where japan was unified, far more peaceful under isolationism and many samurai became more like bureaucrats, i think kiku continued practising kenjutsu or at least in the form of kendo—swordsmanship and his swords became very much an extension of his personality and identity by then, as well as a way he'd blow off steam even during peacetime. his katana and wakizashi would always be properly maintained and you'd see him carefully oiling it with the mix of mineral and clove oil to prevent rusting, even during the most chill years of edo japan. they'd be nicely displayed like this somewhere in his quarters.

this is compared to how, for all that pre-modern china was an empire and all empires need military violence to expand themselves, warriors as a class in chinese culture never quite ascended to the same type of political prestige as the samurai. it was a very different cultural/political context. it's like, you can't underestimate yao still, as an experienced old empire (tm), but by the 1400s/ming dynasty, i think he might've shifted more to being that kind of general presiding over maps in his military tent, and directing strategy, compared to the younger warlord he was in his earlier years, who was down in the dirt all the time fighting in every single skirmish. so, while yao can and will get his hands dirty if need be with a blade, i think kiku edges him out by then in sheer focus, skill and devotion re: kenjutsu becoming a pretty core aspect of his personality/experiences. to me, it’s also an “old and experienced soldier surpassed by his younger, hungry protégé” dynamic too.

#hetalia #hws japan #hws china #hws south korea #hetalia headcanons

57 notes · View notes

twigg96 · 11 months

Text

I Should Have Been There

Daryl Dixon X Bitten Reader fic

Era: Alexandria

Pronouns: She/Her/You/[Y/N]

Warnings: Cannon divergent, talks of illness and zombie bites in detail, kidnapping, descriptions of limp amputation, blood, talks about prosthetics, Angst, Hurt/comfort

Summery: After Daryl goes out for a run, Pete Anderson asks you to help him carry some records back to his office for him. What you never expected of the doctor was to be locked up in a torture chamber with a walker as a punishment and statement for Rick to take heed to not fuck with him or his family ever again. It's up to Glenn, your best friend since before the outbreak, Daryl your boyfriend, the ingenious thinking of Maggie, the invisible nature of Carol's investigation skills, and Rick your over protective leader to find you. But will they find you in time to save your life?

Your POV

Walking around the walls of Alexandria for the 100th time that day you began to feel. The cabin fever beginning to take hold of you. Being out on the land for so long, free to go where you wanted, run where ever you wanted with the threat of walkers being the only thing keeping you awake at night truly was a luxury you were missing around now. Rick and Michonne had instructed everyone to keep your heads down. Keep to yourselves as much as possible. So you did as told even if you did wish Daryl had smuggled you on his bike on his latest run outside. But if anyone needed the escape more than you it was your boyfriend. With a deep sigh you tapped the metal of the wall with your wrench listening vaguely for any sounds of defaults or hollowness in the sound that reverberated back to you indicating a missing nut or rust that needed to be brushed away. Maggie, your chore partner for this particular job looked over her shoulder to you eyeing you with her dark eyes. "What? Am I not entertaining enough company fer ya?" She teased, knowing exactly what was bothering you. The poor brunette had her ear chewed off for hours the night before when you found out your boyfriend had taken yet another long run without even saying a word goodbye. "No..." You muttered, boredom dripping from your voice. "Just antsy." You replied not even looking to the walls anymore as the two of you continued your rounds. "How about this?" Maggie muttered, turning around on her heel so that she was walking backwards facing towards you. "We finish our shift, and I'll talk Deanna into letting us sneak past the gates for an evening stroll picking flowers?" She cocked a brow making the offer sound as enticing as she could. Picking flowers sounded like the most boring job a person could have especially when there were so many more exciting jobs to be had. But if it gave you an opportunity to escape this Hell for a little you would put up with anything. "Sure." You smiled, brushing some hair behind your ear.

"Morning ladies." A voice deep and sickeningly prideful called out to you both pulling your attention. You struggled to hide your disgust as you stared at the town's doctor, Pete Anderson. A dirty blonde towering idiot of a man who thought that using intimidation would get him places. Oh how wrong he had been once Rick had found out what he was doing to his wife... however his usual cockiness had returned and his air of superiority seemed to permeate even the space the three of you held, which worried you if you were being honest. "Can I have your help with something?" He asked, tucking his bruised hands into his pockets. "Just need help carrying some medical records and would appreciate the second pair of hands." He muttered meeting your eyes momentarily before turning them to the ground. Turning to Maggie you shared a glance, one that spoke more than words ever could. One of mistrust for the doctor but knew, in order to keep the peace with the town that one of you should at least try. Silently, Maggie glanced to the next wooden watch tower not even three tracker trailer lengths away. Atop it sat a very bored looking Glenn, his back pressed to the metal wall, his baseball cap pulled over his eyes, rifle resting comfortably over his lap. If you didn't know better you'd think the Korean was sleeping. But experience with your best friend had proved that the apocalypse had shaped him into one light sleeper. Maggie gave you a small almost indistinguishable look that told you to go. She'd stay and she and Glenn would come for you if she didn't see you by the time she reached her husband's post. Nodding you turned back to the doctor you shoved the wrench you carried deep in your pocket and stepped forward. "Lead the way, doc."

You watched the sky turn a ruddy orange as Pete lead you past rows and rows of very similar housing. If it wasn't for small lawn ornaments, flower and vegetable gardens growing, and hand made decorations you would have never been able to distinguish the houses apart. Placing his hand on your arm, Pete ushered you through a tight ally between two houses and into a space you never knew existed. Not that you ever explored beyond the main populace for fear of becoming eternally lost amongst the suburban hell. Beyond the pampered lawns of owned society were the untamed untended lawns of houses yet to find a owner. Their windows were dark and dust covered. Some were boarded with windows broken presumably from rocks thrown from the local hooligans that roamed the streets after dark. Pete lead you to one of the homes, a small nearly invisible basement door had been painted over making it nearly indistinguishable with the rest of the rest of the house's foundation aside from a rusted padlock that held the door shut and had warn with the elements. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Pete tried several of them with various levels of success before finally popping it open with a small click. Pocketing the lock, Pete unlatched the door and swung the door open with a loud squeak.

The basement was dark and dusty. Dirt laid on every surface that was bathed in light from the doorway. Mice droppings scattered the floor and the smell of stale air and mold filled the air making your stomach turn. The doctor however pushed forward into the darkness turning on a flashlight you never knew he possessed. Following close behind the man who craned his neck while swiping at spider webs that threatened to get in his face. "So where are these records at?" You muttered lowly, glancing at the man only now noticing how dark his bags under his eyes had gotten since your arrival. Dr. Anderson never responded instead he pointed his torch towards a wooden door locked with another series of padlocks. You cocked a brow but didn't question anything, HIPPA was a thing in the early world... you simply assumed he was one of the only ones who still adhered to it. Kicking an empty can of fruit to the side that must have fallen from one of the wooden shelves surrounding you, a sudden deep growl stopped you in your tracks. Grabbing the doctor's shoulder tight enough to bruise you quickly placed your finger to your lips. A walker?! Here in the town?! Maybe the house was inhabited at one point and the owner died? Grabbing the wrench from your pocket you wished you had been smart enough to grab your knife from the armory that morning. Pete swung his light around where you pointed. To the floor to look for crawlers then through the shelving. You saw nothing but the shadows that made you even more wary then you already were. Looking above yourself you assumed that the walker had died in the upper levels of the home... You'd have to come back with Rick later to deal with it... "Let's get these records. Just keep your voice down." You whispered gesturing to the door with the padlock. The doctor nodded pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock the lock.

As the lock knocked against the latch, the growling grew, and your patience dwindled. "Jesus can you be any fucking louder?" You whispered, glaring at the man. "Doctors are supposed to have steady hands... right?" You hissed, ready to rip the keys from the quivering man's hands yourself and do it yourself. "Shut the fuck up." Dr. Anderson growled back unlatching the lock at last. Flipping the lock and unlatching the door with one motion Pete too a step back behind you, shoving you forward through the door. The unexpectedness of it all made you trip over the high step in the doorframe. You lost your grip on your wrench and it flew from your hand and skittered onto the floor into the darkness of the room. "Ah... what the-" You called out turning to Pete, a devilish grin crossing his illuminated face. "Rick thinks he can save everyone... Lets see him save you..." He muttered darkly. Your eyes widened at the doctor's words and a deep low growl echoed from further into the room. The sickening smell of decomp hit you like a truck and the silhouette of something vaguely human limped into the light. Scrambling to your feet you tried like hell to reach the door before it was slammed shut. But only you were too late. Scratching and banging your palms against the wood of the door you could hear your heart beating in your ears. No! No no nO! This isn't how it was supposed to go! "Pete please let me out!" You begged hearing the latch close and lock click. "I wager you have three days before you die of thirst... lets see how long it takes Rick to notice you're gone." Footsteps leading away from the door were followed by a small rustling and a high pitch squeak from the other door closing.

The growls from behind you grew only louder but in the pitch dark you had no idea how close or how many walkers existed in the small space. Pressing yourself firmly to the grimy walls you slowly started to skirt along the permitter feeling the cold wet cement under your fingers. Faintly you wondered what it was that was wet before figuring it was better to live in ignorance than disgust. As you rounded the first corner you found the sharp corner of something tall and heavy protruding from the wall. An end table? No it was far too heavy for that and metal. Sliding your hand down the side of the object you found it was long and rectangular with drawers. Ah so a filing cabinet or a safe. Interesting. Skirting around the object you hugged the wall as closely as possible hoping you were near the rear of the room and at least halfway around. But as your foot came in contact with a metal can sending it rolling across the floor you felt your body tense as the deep growling came from mere inches from your face.

Glenn's POV

The sun had lowered far beyond the forest and the lights of the town began to light. From Glenn's place upon the tower he could see the approaching headlights of Aaron and Daryl returning from their run . A smile graced his lips as he sat up slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Should make [Y/N] happy to see him home safe. "Glenn!" Maggie called up the wooden latter as he stood. Looking down Glenn smiled down at his wife. Everyday was little brighter when he saw her beautiful face. "Hey Mags. Where's [your nickname]? She run off to be with lover boy already?" Glenn asked a smirk gracing his features as he climbed down the creaky latter. "No... I was just about to ask you if you'd seen her..." Maggie muttered worriedly. Glenn cocked a brow hopping the last step of the latter. It wasn't like you to skip work ever. "Why? Something wrong?" Glenn asked moving the hat on his head to wipe away the sweat that was building underneath. "Dr. Anderson came by earlier..." She drawled rubbing her arms and looking around nervously. Glenn frowned wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I saw them walk off together into the town a few hours back... want to take a walk with me up to the garage? I'm sure she just got caught up helping the doctor. She just got carried away talking with Daryl." Glenn muttered, although his voice didn't hide the worry that he felt deep inside.

Walking hand in hand with Maggie to the center of town Glenn couldn't help but notice the blinds on the Anderson home flutter closed or the way the doctor had been peeking through his front door's window at the growing group just across the road from his residence. But the skilled tactician tried his damnedest to shove his negative thoughts to the back of his mind as they rounded the corner to the garage. Surely [Y/N] would be there, pleasantly distracted by her one and only. Oh how wrong he was... Daryl stood leaning against the garage wall talking to Aaron looking to the open bay door expectantly as the two walked into view. However the small defeated sigh, and deflated stance wasn't lost on Glenn when he noticed it was just the two of them. But... Glenn tried to stay positive. He had to... for his own sake if nobody else's. "Hey guys!" He called out waving jubilantly. "How was the run?" He unable to hold back a snarky laugh as Daryl flipped him off and rolled his eyes. "How'd ya think it went? We're back early." Daryl grumbled. "Awe shit I'm sorry about that, Daryl." Maggie said softly letting go of Glenn's hand to step closer to the archer. Daryl shrugged looking past them both and into the night. "Ya'll seen [Y/N] round anywhere? Normally they're the first ta greet me. She pissed at me 'r somethin'?" Daryl asked chewing the side of his thumb. Maggie shook her head. "No... we were hoping you'd seen her." Daryl shifted uncomfortably scanning Maggie's face for a moment with sheer scrutiny. "What ya mean? I was on a run all day I just got back." Maggie nodded meeting Daryl's eyes sadly. "Yeah we were hoping she'd be here with you... and that was the reason why she missed our meet up after she went with Dr. Anderson." Daryl tensed looking past Maggie to the Anderson household. "So ya think..." Daryl paused his face morphing into something dark and possessively. More so than Glenn had ever seen before from the stoic archer. "That bastard did something ta her?" Aaron shook his head, placing the socket wrench down on the work table beside himself. "Dr. Anderson? What? No way... I mean... the man has his bad days... and he's prone to drink but everyone has their vices." But Glenn didn't think he sounded convincing, even to himself. "I-I'm not sure. But she was supposed to be back by now." Maggie muttered worriedly looking back over her shoulder. "Ok... look I saw the two of them walking through the town earlier but lost them around here... I say we get Rick and Michonne and start looking for them." Maggie sighed rubbing her arms. "I hear you Glenn but I don't want to jump the gun." Daryl huffed staring at Maggie as if she grew a second head. "Jump the gun? Ya gotta be shitting." He snarled. Glaring back Maggie simply shook her head. "No of course not Daryl. She told me earlier that she wanted to get out of the walls... she's been itching to get out, cooped up in here she feels like she's going crazy. Maybe... if we're lucky she snuck out after she helped the doctor. Hopefully she just needs to cool down and took a walk. Knowing her she'll be back by morning." Maggie muttered running her hands through her hair. It seemed to Glenn that no one trusted a single hopeful word anymore. Why would they... after everything they'd been through. "Well I aint about to just sit pretty while [Y/N] is out God know's where tonight... I'm lookin' fer her. Do what ya want." Daryl growled storming towards his bike. Anxiety surged through Glenn as he watched Daryl climb his bike. "Daryl you just got back! You should at least rest before you head back out!" Glenn yelled placing a hand on the larger man's chest. "Glenn... I apricate yer concern but I've stayed up much longer and this is more important than any rest I need... Now move Glenn." Daryl murmured meeting Glenn's gaze seriously. So with a solemn nod Glenn stepped to the side letting the bike roar to life and Daryl take off into the night.

Daryl's POV

The ride to the gate was a short one, but it felt like the longest drive Daryl had ever taken in his life thus far. Not even the last ride he and Merle took together to the safety of the Quarry felt so long as this. At least then he felt safe. Secure with a partner by his side, family. No. Now was different. Now he was in an unfamiliar hostile environment that threatened not only his very existence, but the very love of his life as well. He felt so alone and exposed. Not even the familiar sight of Rick and Michonne standing by the gate speaking to Rochelle standing guard could ease his anxiety. As Daryl pulled up to the gate's entrance, his best friend's face fell his dark eyes scanning the archer sitting atop the bike. "Leaving so soon Daryl? Ya just got back." Michonne called out over the roar of the bike. Daryl shook his head glaring straight ahead. There were no time for pleasantries tonight. "Open the gate. I gotta get outta here." He grumbled to Rochelle ignoring her furrowed brow. "Look Daryl you should rest even if-" Rick tried to reason, reaching for the key of the motorcycle to turn it off and talk at a normal level. With a swift motion, Daryl caught the deputy's wrist glaring daggers into the man. "I aint got time fer that Rick." Daryl bit out shoving Rick away. "[Y/N's] missin'. I'm gonna head out an see if I can find her." Daryl huffed gripping his bike tightly to hide the way his hands shook with anger and anxiety. The archer watched a the ease wash from Rick's face, a stern and intense concentration falling into it's place. It was a look Daryl had seen before. One Rick held when he lost Lori. "Missing? What do you mean missing?" Rick uttered the peremptory question. Daryl growled not shaken by his best friend. "Ask Maggie. I aint got time to chat." Daryl muttered, revving the engine of his bike as if to make his point clear, gesturing to Rochelle to open the gate for him. "Daryl... [Y/N] didn't come through this gate. I would have seen her if she did." Rochelle tried to reason as the archer walked his bike closer to her. "You know as well as I do that there are areas on this wall that can be climbed over. I've seen you and Abraham using the same makeshift latter [Y/N] and I do to get out of the city for a walk when we don't want to be pestered. Now shut up and open the damned gate before I do it myself." Daryl growled not missing the tiny nod Rick gave Rochelle. "Ok... but I don't like it. But, you can go. Just be back by morning... if you can't find her by then, we'll spread out. All of us. Keep your radio on. Hopefully she just got lost in town again and will stumble home sometime late tonight. I'll stay up and radio you if she turns up." Rick called over the engine of the bike. Daryl nodded feeling slightly reassured knowing that Rick was going to do whatever needed to be done to find you. With a defeated sigh the petite woman unlatched the lock to the gate, pulling them open with a metallic screech. With a flick of his finger, Daryl turned his head light on and sped into the night praying to catch sight of you somewhere deep within the woods around Alexandria.

Glenn's POV

Sleep did not come easy that night for Glenn. Worry seeped into this very bones and leaked into his dreams morphing them into venomous night terrors that twisted his body and shook him to his very core. Images of your body ripped to shreds like one of the thousands of corpses he'd seen before flashed before his eyes. A long stretch of road with you tied gagged and bound at the end. The road stretching ever longer the harder he ran to get to you. His heart pounding in his chest. It was his fault. You were his best friend. Had been since before the outbreak. You were his responsibility. You and Maggie. He should have kept a better eye on you. Especially when you went off with Dr. Anderson. Glenn woke up to early morning sun shimmering off the cold sweat that covered his body. Maggie slept restlessly beside him, her moaning and whining accompanied by subtly jerks were indication enough that she was having yet another nightmare. They seemed never ending nowadays. Sitting up slowly as to not disturb what little sleep his wife was getting, Glenn snuck out of bed, pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a clean shirt before slipping downstairs. With any hope, you had slipped back home in the middle of the night with hardly any notice to any of them. It wouldn't be the first time you had slipped away... but as he stepped into the empty kitchen to put a pot of coffee on and crept quietly into the living room to peer over the couch to see who preoccupied it, either Daryl, [Y/N] or both. He was almost astonished to find Rick laying on the plush cushions, his attention turned to the door and a sleeping Judith pulled tightly to his chest. A single glance from the grisled police officer told Glenn he was awake and alert. Yet the dark bags under his eyes saying that he'd been up way too long. "Hey." Glenn whispered, leaning over the back of the couch. "Anything yet?" he asked, still hopeful, still optimistic. But Rick just shook his head, brushing the hair back out of Judith's face earning a deep contented sigh from his daughter as she slept. "Not yet." He murmured. Anxiety tightened Glenn's chest as he shuffled his feet. "Well... it's still early." Glenn whispered, looking to the door, hoping that in that moment both Daryl and [Y/N] would come waltzing in the door like a couple after a particularly eventful prom night. But it never happened. Instead the door stayed dreadfully closed. A less than hopeful hum came from the graying man as he shifted on the couch. "We'll see once Daryl comes back... she aint with him when he comes back we're going on high alert and searching every square inch of this place. Inside and out." Rick's voice was dark and commanding. It sent chills down Glenn's spine and before he realized what he was doing. Glenn nodded in compliance. The smell of fresh roasted coffee reminded Glenn of his first mission of the morning. "Want any?" Glenn asked standing straight. "Please!"

[Y/N] was gone... she never came back with Daryl. The look on Daryl's face when he pulled up on the motorcycle was enough to make Glenn's stomach turn. It felt like the day Beth passed all over again. Daryl was beside himself, pacing and grasping at his hair, the archer looked ready to faint. "I looked all over the ridges, Rick!" Daryl growled, pulling back and punching a sizable hole into the drywall. Blood dripped from his knuckles and soaked into the plush carpet as he paced once more. "I went the whole way out to the fuckin' shoppin' district. I cleared three shops we hadn't got to yet. I looked in the library. I searched every inch of the woods I could from the walls to about three miles out each way! I crawled in the damn sewer for Christ's sake!" Daryl was in retrospect fucking filthy. He was covered in zombie guts and dirt. And now Glenn completely understood what that third smell was that emanated from Daryl. "She's not out there I just know it... somethin' had to happen in here." Daryl muttered only stopping making his track in the carpet when Carol came back with a wet wash cloth for him to wipe his face and hands off with. "I aint doubtin' ya, Daryl." Rick tried deescalating the archer. "I just think a pass in the daylight with fresh eyes would be good... " Rick started ignoring the resentful glare he received in response. "Ya think I woulda missed her? I was calling out fer her! She would have heard me!" Daryl hissed, taking a challenging step towards Rick. But Glenn knew more than anyone what Rick was insinuating... that there was a chance you couldn't have answered. Be it because you were in danger... or dead. Rick stayed silent staring Daryl down trying desperately to get this point across to him without actually being the one to say it. "I just think we need to send a fresh new team out... You need to shower... eat something... then you can join Glenn in the city looking for her." Rick muttered definitively. With a small nod Glenn tried to pull a confident nod. "Yeah! I'll head out right away ok... so don't worry." Glenn muttered stepping as close as his nose would allow to the archer. Daryl rolled his eyes but nodded heading up the stairs to take a shower. Rick watched him carefully before turning to Glenn and Maggie. "Listen... I'll need everyone on this. Maggie I need you to talk to Deanna and explain that some of our people will be searching for one of our own outside of the walls... don't go into details yet. We don't want Dr. Dickface catching wind that we're onto him. I also don't want you to tell her we'll be searchin' in the walls too. If anyone has a chore, have them search while they work to be less conspicuous. The rest of us need to be as normal as possible while we look. Carol. You need to ask about locations in the walls that anyone would know of that is secret. Or that is kept off limits for any reason." Maggie and Carol nodded mentally noting Rick's instruction. "Ok, lets fucking find [Y/N]."

Your POV

Sliding around the wall you tried like hell to keep the growling, flesh-eating demon as far away from yourself as you possibly could. Unfortunately for you a pipe pultruding from the wall caught your shirt and caught you off guard. The small ripping sound from your shirt caught the monster's attention and the growling mutilated corpse surged towards you just as you lost your balance. Holding both arms out straight you screamed as the weight of another human pinned you back against the wall. A sharp pain shot through your nondominant hand and suddenly as a slippery and slimy appendage slid past your fingers you realized that the zombie had your hand in it's mouth. Adrenaline surged through you like a drug as the poison of the bite seeped into your blood. Using every ounce of strength you had in you, you pushed back off the wall, forcing the walker to stumble back. Gripping tight to his open jaw you grabbed the zombies skull and slammed it into the nearest thing you could find. The sharp corner of the filing cabinet. Over and over again you bashed the walker's skull into the sharp metal corner until the grunting and gurgling of the monster could no longer be heard. With a dull thud you released the beast and stood shaking, trying desperately to catch your breath as the stinging in your hand was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Reaching above you, you searched for a light source for the first time in only god knew how long. Just when you were certain you would die in the dark, doomed to turn into the very thing that you just slayed, you found a long thin string hanging from a single bulb in the ceiling. Giving the string a quick yank you could have cried when the light clicked to life. A breathy jubilant laugh escaping your lips as you shielded your eyes from the near blinding light that burned your retinas. But the faint dripping of fresh blood reminded you that time was not on your side. Your hand was a mangled mess. The bite forming deep in the meat of your palm you knew the entire hand needed to be amputated and fast. Ripping a thick strip of your shirt from the bottom you tied it off high on your armpit pulling it as tight as you could. Searching the ground you were happy to find your wrench placing it in your makeshift tourniquet you twisted it until the blood stopped and tied it off.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you had been bitten but your entire arm was starting to turn a deep unappealing color and your head was beginning to spin. You had emptied your stomach into the corner of the room several times after the effects of the adrenaline had worn off. You knew one of two things were going to happen... you were either going to die here, trapped in a basement of a house no one would ever find. Or Daryl would find you... he always did... and he would have to kill you. Sweat gathered on your forehead and your stomach flipped. You had no idea if you tied the tourniquet tight enough to keep the infection from spreading... even so, you could simply be dying from sepsis. That was an old world disease wasn't it? God you couldn't even remember. Sitting up against the door you really took in the room for the first time since you got there. The filing cabinet was covered in blood and viscera. But it looked expensive. Like one of those fire safe ones that promised to keep your documents safe even in a whatever class fire. You wondered vaguely what it was doing there before deciding that you didn't have the energy to search through it. The only other things you could see were the pipe that got you into this mess that seemingly went nowhere and were the home of a lonely pair of handcuffs hanging from them, rusted and bloody. Cocking a brow you turned to the zombie laying against the wall on the other side of the filing cabinet. Sure enough the flesh on the walker's one wrist was bloodied and broken. Looked like you weren't the only one shoved in this hell hole to die... lovely. Above the pipe was a vent. Presumably for fresh air to filter in from somewhere within the house you sighed and laid your head back against the wood. Your throat was sore from screaming. But what the hell. Maybe eventually someone would hear you.

Leaning your tired body against the concrete wall directly below the vent you screamed with all your might. Your throat ached and you couldn't help the aching cough that came once your voice started to fail you. For the longest time you received nothing but silence in return. Once in a while the scurrying of mice over what you could only assume were the radiators and vent covers of the empty house echoed through the pipes of the vent sending a jolt of hopeful optimism through you that quickly died out with every pleading cry for help. After a while you gave up. Sliding down the wall you leaned your body against the cold concrete, resigning yourself to death, when finally you heard it. "Hey!" The voice echoed loud and clear through the grate of the vent so loudly that you could had sworn the man screaming was in the same room as you. Listening closely you stood once more, praying that you hadn't just hallucinated the voice or dreamed it into reality as you had seen Rick do a thousand times with his lost loved ones. "[Y/N]! Are you in here?!" Glenn cried out loud and clear, and you could have just just kissed the man had you both not already been sworn to other people. "Glenn!" You screamed, banging the vent as hard as you could to catch his attention. "Glenn can you hear me?!" You nearly begged, clutching a pipe for dear life as you heard footsteps. "[Y/N]! I hear you! Where are you?" Glenn screamed the sounds of footsteps became more frantic. Sounding nearer then farther as he presumably searched room to room for you in the house above you. "I-I'm in the basement Glenn!" You screamed, tears falling from your cheeks easily as you sobbed. "Listen! It's not safe here! There are walkers here!" You heard Glenn's footsteps slow as he listened. "Walkers?" He asked tensely. "Yes! I killed the one that was in the room with me... b-but Glenn-" A loud thud cut you off and you were sure something horrible had happened before Glenn cut you off. "Don't say it... I'm coming to get you... so just... just stay put I'll get you out." Glenn growled, his footsteps becoming more and more distant until they and his voice could no longer be heard. "Wait! Wait!" You cried desperately, tears streaming and washing the dirt and blood from your face in thick streaks. "Glenn! I need you to tell Daryl I love him!" You screamed as loudly as you could, pacing the small space, you suddenly realized just how tiny it really was. Never before had it felt so claustrophobic. Never before had it felt so much like a prison until now. Until you felt so completely isolated. Walking to the thick wooden door you slammed your good hand against it kicking and screaming with all your might praying that maybe it would give way just enough to let you pry your way out and get to Glenn.

"[Y/N]!" His voice froze you in place and melted your heart into pieces breaking you down into heart wrenching sobs that hurt your chest and burned your lungs. Daryl was somewhere outside of the door. You could hear him clear as day. But a greedy part of you never wanted him to find you... The selfish part that knew deep down that Daryl would always want to finish things himself... the one that also knew he could never finish this by himself if he needed too. He just couldn't but he wouldn't allow anyone else to do it and it could endanger everyone... Bu that was why you loved him. He loved and felt so purely. You'd have it no other way. "Daryl!" You sobbed out, hearing a distant banging turn into wood clattering onto concrete you knew that someone had broken down the basement door. And if you had to guess it was Rick or Daryl. "{Y/N]! Darlin' where are ya?" Daryl cried out frantic worry in his voice as, his footsteps paced the concrete just outside the door where you were kept. "There! There's another door." Rick growled, sounding manic and breathless. So it was him who bashed down the last door... "[Y/N] if your in there back away from the door! Rick's gonna break it down!" Glenn cried out making you scramble back from the door in time to see the blade of an axe pierce through the wood. It took six swings for rick to make a sizable enough hole for both he and Daryl to fit through. You noted that it would have only taken three if it were just Glenn and Michonne... but who was counting... Holding your wounded arm as closely to your body as you could you stood shaking, covered in blood and sweat, and shaking like a leaf. Daryl stepped through first, Rick and Glenn following close behind then Michonne. The four stooges... would have been funny under different circumstances. Daryl eyed your injured body a deep frown forming on his face as he stepped closer to you. "Sunshine..." He started, holding out a hand to touch you, but as if on instinct to protect the man you jolted away as if your simple touch would burn him. Shaking your head you let the tears fall, words unable to form as thick sobs got stuck in your throat. "Wha'-" Daryl tried again, desperate to avoid the obvious. Maybe you just cut yourself... maybe it was crushed... hell maybe there was a curse put on you and he could just... fix it! But everyone else knew better. Glenn looked devastated shaking his head and backing away into the extended storage of the basement. Michonne was already unsheathing her sword, looking to Rick for guidance. Rick... He stood stock still, a grim firm look on his face. You could tell he didn't dare say a word until Daryl gave the order to do something... anything... but you... you had to make him understand first. "Baby. I love you more than anything." You started sadly meeting Daryl's eyes. But the archer wasn't just going to take that. No... it couldn't go down like that... not after everything. Not after all this! "So... it's a bite then..." Daryl tried to sound calm, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You could only nod. "Daryl-" You tried to reason with him... tried to explain that he and Glenn should just wait outside. You'd meet him later... that one day he'd wake up with you by his side. But the brunette archer wasn't about to take it laying down. "We'll cut it off." Daryl bit out between gritted teeth turning to Michonne who only looked shocked then sad. "Daryl... fevers set in... you know we need to-" She tried to reason, but Daryl simply shook his head grunting and glaring at the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. "If you don't do it I will." He growled, reaching for the knife he carried with him everywhere, and suddenly fresh adrenaline pumped through your blood making you shake and shiver in both anticipation and fear. Rick sighed shifting his weight. "We do this... and she turns... you're gonna have to be the one who-" Rick muttered, once again cut off by Daryl's grunt and shake of the head. "Won't happen I won't let it." Daryl growled turning to you assuredly.

Michonne tried like hell to make it quick. You'd thought that after so many heads she'd severed that the blade on her katana was as sharp as they made them. It was sharp but despite all of her best efforts, your screaming begging and crying she could not make it go through bone. So despite every ounce of begging you tried. Every time you begged Daryl to just kill you as he held you tight to keep you from moving. It was Rick's axe that freed you from your diseased arm. Your vision blurred, your voice slurred, and everything sounded like you were resting at the bottom of the ocean as you met Daryl's worried eye, the last thing you saw before everything went black.

One Week Later ~~~ Daryl's POV

All the walkers that slipped through the gates had been slaughtered by Rick and the town meeting to decide Rick's fate for his earlier spat with the Dr. had ended with both the town's leader Reg, slayed by the Dr. himself and Dr. Anderson executed by Rick as ordered by Deanna... It certainly felt as if all hell was breaking loose on Alexandria. At the town meeting Rick unloaded on the residents of the town. Telling them all about the torture room the Dr. had set up and how if Alexandria ever truly came under attack the residents would never be prepared for a fight. Rick set up trainings for the residents. A new doctor was put into place, her Dr. Denise. Her first patient, treating the infection that was setting into place in the wound of the unconscious woman that had laid in the medical office for over a week now. Daryl could tell Denise was extremely underqualified for the position. Books upon books of medical texts lain in high stacks around her as she dug for the best treatment melody to give you that wouldn't trip an accidental allergic reaction but also treat the wound, fever, and kill the infection. Daryl watched the timid doctor carefully, placing you on a heavy dose of IV steroids and an even heavier dose of IV antibiotics. "Are you just going to sit there all day..." Denise asked once she had the courage to ask. Daryl shrugged from his seat at the corner of the room. He hadn't planned on leaving yet. As a matter of fact he hardly left your side. "Well as long as your here you can keep yourself busy." Denise huffed, tossing a wet, soapy rag to the very confused archer. "It's time to redress her bandages and give her a sponge bath... figure if you're here you might as well help me bathe her."

There was nothing more intimate than bathing with your partner. Lathering each other's bodies up. feeling the way the warm suds slipped through your fingers as you ran your hands across their most intimate parts. But this... this was different on an entirely new plane of weird. Daryl felt almost like a massive pervert, touching you like this while you slept. But after a few less than gentle reassurances from Denise reminding him that it was crucial to get every bit of you body, he complied, happy to do the work himself, refusing to let another human being get this up close with you in his life. But just as soon as he finished and was certain that the bandages coming off today were actually looking better than they did the day before, he bolted for the door. Refusing to be wrapped in another medical tasks. "Should I leave the office unlocked for you tonight again?" Denise asked making Daryl turn slightly. He wanted to punch the glass out of the stupid door in frustration. He wanted to yell "I'll be back by dinner! She'll be awake and hungry by then." But he simply looked to the floor and nodded feeling a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over him as she sighed. "Ok... I'll set up a pillow and some blankets for you on the couch."

The walk to Aaron's garage was a short one but it was easy to pass up when Daryl's mind felt heavy and weighed down. "Daryl!" The archer heard his friend call out expectantly. Turning on his heel Daryl hummed darting into the garage and finding his seat on the upturned bucket next to his bike. "Hey... you looked lost in though... is everything ok?" Aaron asked tinkering with a wrench and socket joint. "'M fine..." Daryl growled reaching down between his knees to grab a screwdriver. Aaron hummed in return. A calm silence that both knew all too well. Daryl had more so vented to his friend about the entire situation days ago when Rick had to drag him out of the medical bay to let Carol and the Doctor stitch her wound. "Oh! Hey..." Aaron muttered absentmindedly reaching behind himself to pull a large project forward that was covered with a sheet. Pulling the sheet away, a robotic hand sat proudly on a pedestal hooked to various wires and gadgets. Daryl stood slowly, a look of confusion crossing his face as he stepped closer to the counter. "Wha's that?" Daryl asked glancing at Aaron. "Oh I used to work in robotics for a time... I thought it was cool and this was my version of the prosthetic my uncle should have had a chance to have." Aaron muttered taping the wires to the skin of his arm. Squeezing his hand, Daryl watched in amazement as the robotic hand followed and matched Aaron's every movement exactly. "It's all electricity based. The movement and power of the prosthetic comes from the natural electricity found in the body. I could fashion a quick joint to go along with this, just a piston that would lift the arm up and down on swivel for the elbow if you'd think [Y/N] would be interested..." Aaron muttered meeting Daryl's gaze tentatively. The archer couldn't help but smile. "We'll see what she says... but I'm sure she'll love it."

As day turned to night and Daryl bid farewell to Aaron, his belly full after a large supper at his friend's and Eric's house. Daryl strolled the darkened streets of Alexandria wondering, if he'd ever get to do this again with you. Walking into the medical office he was grateful to find the front door unlocked and a blanket and pillow setting out just for him just as promised. But something was off... something was different. Normally when he came to check on you the bed was lying flat for the night, the monitors turned on so whoever came to check you at night could check your heart beat and the lights were off. None of those things happening right now. Your heart monitor had been shut off creating an eerie quiet in the building. Your bed was sitting upright but your body was slumped over the side of the bed. Soft groaning and whining came from you and an intense panic fell over Daryl as he instantly grasped the end of the bed to steady himself. He knew Rick told him... But he hadn't truly believed he'd had too... "Fucking God... Fuck." Your voice, albeit extremely annoyed voice, threw Daryl for a loop. You were alive... More importantly you were a-fucking-wake! Scrambling to your side, Daryl hoisted you back into bed not able to contain the face splitting smile that crossed his features. "Woah there... what are ya doin' Sunshine?" Sunshine... god he'd never thought he'd ever say that word again. "Daryl!" You cried wrapping your arm around your boyfriend. "Thank God you came. I dropped the remote to the bed and it tried to make me into a sandwich!" Daryl couldn't stop the laugh that burst from his chest. kneeling down slowly he picked up the remote, handing it to his love before enveloping her as carefully as he physically could. His laughter slowly turning into heartfelt sobs as you stroked your fingers through his hair. "I should have been here." He whined. "It's ok baby..." You whispered, kissing his crown then his lips tenderly, sweetly. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

159 notes · View notes

eclairfair98 · 4 months

Text

“I lost my father to a war, Tom,” he whispers, heat pressing down on his shoulders, burning the inside of his ribs, slamming into the pit of his roiling stomach. “I know flying’s dangerous. Better than most people, I’d think.”

And he sees it then. The purple sun rising across the horizon. Its faint light glancing across the slope of Dad’s brow, catching in his close-cropped hair, bouncing off his wide grin. Sees Dad’s face every time he got a perfect score on a test. Won a prize at the science fair. Outran every single one of his classmates.

Sees the warmth of pride, of happiness that lit up his eyes. Made them shine. Made Pete think that he could shine, too.

“Why do you want to be a naval aviator?”

Despite himself, he reaches out a tentative hand and touches Tom’s cool cheek. Brushes his fingertips down the slope of his strong jaw, wishing he could banish the stress from his expression.

Tom’s hands still, then crumple into tight fists as his eyes harden into pools of ice.

“I want to serve my country. Be a part of something bigger than myself. Honor my family—” Tom says, and that’s it, isn’t it? It’s that simple.

“Then why is it that I can’t do the same for my country? For my family?” he interrupts, knowing that Tom has to see reason now. That it’s all so very simple when you put your mind to it. “Don’t you see, Tom? If my father was here today. If he was alive… he would’ve been so proud of me.”

Pete hastily wipes the wetness rolling down his cheeks. Tastes the saltwater on his lips.

If he was here today. If Dad was alive. I wouldn’t even be here.

There’s stars dancing in front of his eyes, and he can make out each individual pin-prick of light. A dazzling, blistering white. Like Magnesium burning in the air with a brilliant, luminous flame.

Tom’s silent for several seconds, his eyes dark, almost black in the dim light of their bedroom. “I think if your father was here today, he wouldn’t want his only child to fly in active combat. To risk getting shot down, or captured, or killed.”

The rings on his left hand feel a lot heavier than they did an hour ago, like they weigh a thousand tons each. Like they’re rusted metal chains shackling him to the cold, lifeless ground.

“You keep talking as though we’re actually at war,” Pete says. You’ve no idea what Dad would’ve wanted for me, Pete thinks. You didn’t know him. You don’t even know me. Not really. “The Cold War’s practically over.”

“I guess we should write Brezhnev, then. Wonder how long it’ll take them to tear down the Iron Curtain now that you’ve declared the War’s over.” Tom deadpans, his voice flatter than Pete’s ever heard it. Unwavering gaze flickering down to his belly before settling on his tear-stained face. “You know this isn’t just about the Cold War, Pete. As long as we’ve had history, there has been combat. We aren’t going to enter an era of world peace just because our military has started commissioning omegas.”

“You’re being a hypocrite. You do realize that, don’t you?” Nausea burns the pit of his stomach. Punishing and hot. His chest aches like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to it, ragged breaths rapidly burning his insides. “You stand there and talk about the dangers and unpredictability of war when you’re fully prepared to serve in one, if and when duty calls. I’m supposed to live with the knowledge of not knowing when you might be sent off to combat. Deal with it as a part and parcel of my life. But God forbid, I ask you to do the same for me—”

“I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you that alphas and omegas would be taking on a very different set of risks going into active combat duty,” Tom bites out. His expression’s a mask but Pete can see the carefully-restrained fear in his eyes. An emotion so out of place on Tom’s face, it almost stuns him speechless. “Say you get shot down over enemy lines one day. Say you don’t go out in a blaze of glory as you might imagine… What then, Pete? Do you know what the prisoners of war lived through at Hanoi? Do you have any idea how bad it got for them? Imagine how much worse it could get for an omega…”

“What are you saying?”

Pain sparks through the base of his skull, making him drop his head down and press his clammy fingers to his brow. It feels as though he’s slowly being ground into dust. These days, it always feels that way.

How much worse could it get?

“Please, don’t make me spell it out for you,” Tom whispers, somehow instinctively knowing that Pete doesn’t understand. That he hasn’t thought about getting shot down. About getting captured. Getting killed.

“Everyone’s gotta die someday, right?” His throat hurts from the effort it takes not to cry. He closes his eyes. Thinks about his life. The seemingly endless hours spent at home alone. Doing laundry. Washing dishes. Dusting shelves. Throwing up until he’s sobbing from the relentless pain in his head. Thinks about the second line on his test. Bright pink and impossible to ignore.

About how maybe, there are worse things than death. Than being eighteen and feeling like your life’s over already. Than not being where you want to be.

Even if it doesn’t feel that way.

“I could die five months from now. Or in five years. Or fifty. That’s not upto me, Tom. Some things are just… out of our control. But what I can do is make my life matter. Make it worth something. I want to learn. I want to grow…”

I want all of the same things you do.

“And I want all of those things for you. I want you to study. I don’t care about how much it costs us, as long as you get to learn. I want to do things your way. When we got married, I promised myself we’d do everything your way—” Tom pauses for a moment. Weighs what he’s about to say next. Seems like he doesn’t want to say it but soldiers on anyway, jaw set in a tense line. “But you need to stop chasing ghosts, Pete.”

Something cold and heavy swoops up from Pete’s belly. Settles on his chest. Presses hard against his ribs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The heavy feeling worsens. Squeezes his lungs. Sharp and unkind. Almost like he’s cracked a rib.

“I think you do.” Tom’s mouth twitches, and he looks away. Runs a hand across his tired face, looking much older than his twenty-one years. His Annapolis ring glints a caustic blue in the dim light. A potent reminder of all the things in the world that just aren’t meant for Pete. “You don’t need to join the Navy to make your life matter. You don’t need to seek validation in what you think your father would’ve wanted for you—”

“Fuck you.” His stomach wrenches and he presses his hands over his abdomen, struggling not to vomit. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s angry. To recognize the raw, painful thing lurking under his sternum. To give it a name. Tom takes a step towards him, concern flickering across his face, bleeding into his ice-cold eyes. And Pete leans away. Lets the tepid air rush in between them. “Fuck you, Tom.”

Because that’s his father. That’s his life. His dreams Tom’s talking about so callously. Dismissing like Pete’s just a lost little child who doesn’t know right from wrong. Doesn’t know what he wants. Who doesn’t know himself.

“Yeah, fuck me.” Tom sucks in a breath. His next exhale a little bit sharper. A lot less steady. He stares down at Pete’s bloodless fingers still clutching the flat of his belly, before looking up and meeting his eyes. Wistful and angry and resigned. “But that’s how we got ourselves into this situation. Didn’t we, Pete?”

#the unbearable lightness of being #wip wednesday #icemav #topgun #omegaverse #tw: unplanned pregnancy / misogyny (in the context of omegaverse) / talk of death / mentions of war and war crimes #on another note #happy new year guys 🙈🌻#hope you’ve been doing well!#one of my New Year’s resolutions is to get around to answering asks and replying to comments and DMs #so I’m going to try and get around to doing that in the next few days

25 notes · View notes

purifycantyouhelpme · 1 year

Text

One Kiss Is All It Takes | Dave Mustaine x Fem! Reader

A03link<3

Word count: 327

Summary: Dave Mustaine is teaching you how to kiss and you end up kissing Dave really quick. This takes place during the Rust in Peace era.

Dave and (Y/N) were standing at the bus stop, talking to each other. Dave was wearing a plain, white tshirt, navy blue jeans and black converse shoes and (Y/N) was wearing a white turtleneck crop top with oversized flannel grey shirt with baggy pants and white vans. They were both waiting for the bus because they didn't feel like walking to their next destination. It was silent for a bit until (Y/N) wanted to ask Dave something. "Dave, can you do something for me?" (Y/N) asked Dave. Her hands were behind her back, looking at Dave. "Sure, what is it?" Dave replied as he put his hands in his pockets. "Can you teach me how to kiss?" (Y/N) asked. She facepalmed in embarrassment. That was a stupid question for her to ask. "Kiss?" Dave was confused. He thought that (Y/N) already knew how to kiss but she didn't. Dave put his hands on hip and had a smirk on his face.

"C-Come on, it's so easy." Dave rolled his eyes. (Y/N) removed the hand from her

"All you gotta do is pucker your lips, close your eyes and place your lips on the person's lips or cheek." Dave said "Like this." Dave was showing (Y/N) how to kiss.She thought it was hard but it looked pretty easy. With no hesitation, (Y/N) leaned in and kissed Dave on the lips, exactly the way Dave showed her.

"Like that?" She asked Dave. Dave was shocked that (Y/N) kissed him.

He was silent and was flustered for a moment. He put his hand over his mouth for a bit and then he put his hand on his cheek. He was blushing like crazy. "Y-Yeah…. Just like that." Dave was smiling and looking at (Y/N). (Y/N) laughed a little. "Thanks, Dave." (Y/N) smiled. "No problem." Dave chuckled nervously as he turned his away from (Y/N).

#dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth #a03 fic

86 notes · View notes

andrewmoocow · 7 months

Text

Amphibians in Disguise lore and facts

In Cybertron's distant past at the end of its golden age, there lived a kindly data clerk named Orion Pax and a revolutionary miner turned gladiator with big dreams named Megatronus who both noticed something wrong with Cybertronian society. Though their planet was freed from the tyranny of the Quintessons eons ago thanks to the efforts of the Autobot warrior known as Noctis Prime, traces of their Functionist caste system still remained.

Desiring equality among their people, Orion and Megatronus were united by a common goal and became almost like brothers. However, their relationship fell apart when Megatronus, now calling himself Megatron, demanded that the High Council cave into his violent ideals of peace by making him the next Prime, but the Autobots were more won over by Orion's more peaceful ways. Corrupted by anger, hatred, and betrayal, Megatron gathered his followers and turned them into what is today known as the Decepticons to begin the Great War.

Orion Pax initially wanted to stay out of the war out of guilt for causing Megatron to go down this path. One day while he and his Elite Guard spy friend Ariel were visiting the space bridge that his other friend Dion worked at, the Decepticons attacked. Orion and Ariel were wounded in the crossfires, but Dion was offlined by a cosmic rust cannon blast from Megatron. From then on, Orion knew what had to be done and after accepting the Matrix of Leadership, which housed the spark of the Thirteenth Prime Optronix Prime, he became Optimus Prime.

After years of the Autobots waging their battles to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons, their war reached a stalemate as both sides realized they were slowly bleeding Cybertron's resources dry and they needed to find somewhere else to replenish. However, Megatron had other plans to get rid of the Autobots via a teleportation device he stole from the scientist Primacron that he hopes will send Optimus's entire army to parts unknown, never to return. However, a treacherous member of Megatron's inner circle known as Starscream had plans of his own for the device.

As the Autobots left Cybertron and the Decepticons gave chase, a squad consisting of Megatron, Starscream, Shockwave, Soundwave, and a bunch of Vehicon mooks, broke into the Ark and tried to use the device on Optimus. Unfortunately, things did not go according to plan. In his lust for power, Starscream seized control of the device and it warped him, the other Decepticons, Prime, Bumblebee, Arcee, and Ratchet to the strange organic world of Amphibia.

The eight Cybertronians were all forced into emergency stasis lock for eons afterwards. However, Megatron was woken up by Amphibia's ancient inhabitants a few decades afterwards and was kept beneath the caste of King Aldrich Leviathan, who saw Megatron as a useful ally since the emperor of destruction has been to numerous worlds during the war. Also alongside Aldrich was a being known as the Core, a collection of the smartest beings in Amphibia housed within a single hivemind built from the remains of none other than Noctis Prime.

Long before Megatron was discovered on Amphibia, Noctis was hailed as a hero for saving Cybertron from the Quintessons. But one accidental bath in a vat of Dark Energon drove Noctis insane and gave him a connection with the monster planet Chaos Bringer Unicron, who plotted to use Noctis as a herald for his eventual coming. Fearing the worst, the High Council of that era banished Noctis Prime to Amphibia, where he would eventually be found by its residents and become the Leviathan family's liaison to Unicron. Whatever world resists being conquered, they will become food for the planet eater.

After the disappearances of their respective leaders, the Autobots and Decepticons chose Ultra Magnus and Lugnut to fill in for Optimus and Megatron once they awakened on Earth after millions of years. Among Magnus's most loyal followers included his apprentice Hot Rod, Elita One, Jazz, Prowl, Ironhide, and Blurr. Meanwhile, Lugnut was closest to Barricade, Blitzwing, Knock Out, Swindle, Lockdown, and Slipstream.

Much like Anne, Sasha, and Marcy, Cybertron had its own fair share of Calamity Trios among the Autobots and Decepticons. For example, Orion Pax was once the Anne to Ariel, later Elita One's, Sasha and Dion's Marcy. After becoming Optimus Prime, he became the Anne to Sentinel Prime's Sasha and Ultra Magnus's Marcy. Likewise, Starscream was once the Sasha to Jetfire's Anne and Jetstorm's Marcy before the Great War convinced Starscream that he could be more than a scientist, he could be a leader. However, Jetfire and Jetstorm were vehemently against Megatron's extremism, which ended the trio's friendship.

The Cybertronians' time on Amphibia would greatly change them all. Optimus learned from Anne to loosen up a little, Bumblebee learned from Sprig to grow up a little more, Arcee learned from Polly to have a little fun, and Ratchet learned from Hop Pop to appreciate the time you still have left. As for the Decepticons, Shockwave was encouraged to follow his heart through the time spent with Sasha and Soundwave becomes more willing to speak his mind, becoming incredibly sassy as a result.

#transfomers #amphibia #anne boonchuy #optimus prime #sprig plantar #bumblebee #polly plantar #arcee #hop pop #ratchet #sasha waybright #starscream #shockwave #soundwave #grime #marcy wu #king andrias #megatron

25 notes · View notes

dave-me0wstaine · 8 months

Note

I wanna feel Dave's beard scratching against my thighs when he's eating me out 🤤 it just suits him so well

OMG ANONNNNNNN I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH HOW HAVE I NOT THOUGHT OF THIS UNTIL NOWWWW

no like could you IMAGINE??? like early 90s, rust in peace era dave??? YES !!!!

like just imagine, he's taken you on tour with him, so you're in a hotel room to yourselves after one of his concerts. he's got you all spread out on the bed for him, and he's eating you out like a starved man OMGG

and he notices that you're wiggling around a lot more than usual, but unbeknownst to him it's because of how his beard feels against your skin. so, he puts his hands on your hips and looks up at you, both his lips and his beard shiny with your slick, and gruffly says "quit squirmin', sweetheart."

I NEED A RABIES SHOT OMGGGGG IM FERAL FOR DAVE WITH A BEARD

#dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine smut #megadeth #megadeth smut #dave mustaine fanfiction #asks #dave mustaine

35 notes · View notes

k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 2 years

Text

Megadeth / Rust in Peace (1990) ☢️

69 notes · View notes

stinkman007 · 9 months

Text

MEGADETH AT THE CLASH OF THE TITANS TOUR 1990- FOOTAGE FROM 'ARSENAL OF MEGADETH' DVDS- 1/?

okay, these gifs actually came from a youtube video, (since i couldnt figure out how to get the dvd contents onto my laptop..) anyway, no credit needed to use these :) this is all you get for now, i have some guitar to play... i'll be back soon with more gifs....

#this is one of my favorites now i think....#anyway!#enjoy :3 #hello max if you see this #megadeth #dave mustaine #thrash metal #thursdave #dvds #arsenal of megadeth #90s thrash #clash of the titans #my gifs #no credit needed #1990 #vic rattlehead #rust in peace #era #i think

23 notes · View notes

momo-t-daye · 8 months

Note

For the ask game - 1, 8, 12, 16, 19, 23, 25, 28, 32, 34, 37, 40 😁 just threw a bunch of numbers in there because I love your opinions!

1. Canon I outright reject

You know, I don’t think there’s anything in the books about Snape that I outright reject all the time (I can’t say as much about the movies because I am very bad at paying attention to movies and didn’t watch all of them but the movies aren’t exactly canon). There’s plenty of things I like to use as divergence points, to think about how this or that change would alter a character’s trajectory and whether that would be sufficient to escape the gravitational pull of the narrative, but I tend to think of canon as a scaffold and fanwork as a mirror (kind of like those mirrors dentists use to look at things you can’t see directly you know? But also in a funhouse way because I enjoy silliness).

8. Unpopular opinion about them

Hm…. Snape is a very very weird dude who has never been anywhere near “cool” in his life and a virtuoso petty asshole, but that’s what I enjoy about him as a character???

I don’t think he’d be able to live alone in the woods/Jamaica/Antartica/etc. relishing his well-earned peace and quiet. He needs other people around him, partially as an audience to see just how little he needs those other people and partially because there is nothing quite so energizing and enjoyable as intentionally annoying other people (I’m not saying he’s an extrovert, but he sure isn’t 100% pure introvert either…)

12. Crack headcanon

He sleeps with his eyes open. He is only aware that he sleeps with his eyes open after Lily (on behalf of a too terrified Tuney) asked him why he did that.

As a kid he was very proud of his ability to mentally calculate a running total cost even though he had no money or intention to pay for his parma violets. He dislikes decimalisation, which hit shortly before he went to Hogwarts (because other people keep insisting that base-10 is so much easier to use), and value-added tax, which hit while he was in Hogwarts (because it messes with his mental math and budgeting).

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

He desperately wants his father’s approval. No matter what praise Albus Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort or any other substitute father figure might place on him, the unobtainable opinion of a working-class muggle man holds so much more weight.

Has everyone seen this lovely picture by the very talented @sneverussape?

19. Vices/bad habits

Severus lives off of spite (not a brassica vegetable despite what he might tell Madame Pomfrey), black coffee, and cheap cigarettes. He avoids alcohol, if only because of his father, but he has his own addictions (one of which is self-denial).

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

As an adult in Harry’s era, rust and withered grass- the disquieting hint of blood spilled and the temporary sweetness of chaff left behind after the harvest would smell like being haunted by a time that has already passed.

For my self-indulgent AU young Sev I think there’d be more river muck and apples ripe for scrumping.

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Severus would try to claim that a full set of cauldrons and a closet full of potions ingredients should only count as two items and his wand could be his third item. Whatever magical entity or event that was dropping him in the middle of nowhere would probably not agree. His next attempt (his wand, a portkey back to his quarters at Hogwarts and/or Malfoy Manor and/or Spinner’s end, and a well-stocked RV to wait in until the Portkey was ready to go) would get his ass dropped in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on his back (if he’s lucky). He’d survive just fine and get back to somewhere other than “the middle of nowhere”, but he won’t have fun and anyone he encountered on his way out of the middle of nowhere wouldn’t have fun and everyone is back home is going to know just how little fun he had getting dropped in the middle of nowhere.

(He grew up with so little, he has a bit of a tendency to hold onto whatever he has and be deeply suspicious of anyone trying to make him pare his belongings down. Yet in the 1997-1998 school year, he spent his time slowly winnowing down his belongings and tidying up his affairs on the assumption that he would not survive and no one would want to or care to clean up after him).

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Instead of rambling about Sev and Lily and how they were best friends and how much I want to jump up and down and scream that they were best friends and how entangled and enmeshed one can get within the intensity of childhood friendship, I think I’ll plunk Nymphadora Tonks in those brackets!

He thinks Tonks is wasting her talents working as an Auror for the Ministry, claims her habit of mimicking him was deeply annoying even if it did come in handy when he needed to supervise three detentions (including hers) at once, and professes complete disinterest even though he refuses to use any mug in the staff room other than the humorously oversized “student’s tears” mug her NEWTs cohort bought for him.

…at some point I’ll get around to writing a one-shot about how Nymphadora Tonks became one of the leading experts on Polyjuice Potion that I’ve had semi-outlined for over a year now…

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Ooh, this is a tough one- particularly for Harry-era Severus Snape!

I think when a student who has been trying and putting the effort in suddenly gets it, when something clicks and they get excited about the implications and the possibilities provided by potions. He isn’t equipped to deal with impatient and distractible children that treat his subject as mandatory torture, but someone else being excited about academic points and caring and being a nerd about someone he cares about? I think that would make him smile.

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

As a kid, I think he talked with his hands (particularly after meeting Lily who talked with her hands and never got walloped for taking up space) and the more excited he became the more his hands and arms moved trying to corral the world into his enthusiasm. There were times when Severus and Lily were both so excited Tuney would swear there were seven hands waving around between the two of them.

A great deal froze on Halloween 1981, calcified, and many emotions could only exit via the anger expressway.

37. What they really think about themselves

Oof…

Especially as an adult, Severus does not think very good things about himself.

I think, as an act of self-defense, he tries very hard to not think about himself at all…

40. Favorite book

Not a book, but still media: I think Star Trek aired on the BBC at a very formative time for Severus. As a Hogwarts student (and after) he probably scoffed at fantasy fiction for not portraying magic as he knew magic, but science fiction was something he could sink into. Did he try to recreate melange/spice from Dune in his third year? Maybe. Is he mortally offended that Harry only knows Dune as “that movie with Sting wearing the, uh, you know, the, erm, well, thingy…”? Yes.

#ask game #Severus Snape

22 notes · View notes

liliallowed · 6 months

Text

trust

short dustgrave comic

better to trust the devil you know than the angel you don't.

pick your poison or defy both and pave the path for yourself.

thoughts:

if it wasn't obvious by now both of these guys are evil but in different ways. they also justify it in different ways. the demon was the original angel before it's wings were clipped and it's star stolen.

the angel, is benevolent yet cold and merciless. it seems eternal peace through setting everything to frost.

the demon wishes to destroy everything to FREE them from the angel's mercy. at least they'd die as free spirits.

one made with ice and snow, obsessed with control, the other born of of the fiery ashes and dust, unpredictable and destructive.

the enemy of your enemy will not always be your friend.

why red and blue? well that's more like the soul dynamic of stationary attacks and movement. I head Canon red and cyan souls as complimentary.

and welll, let's just say It's not necessarily a matter of cause and effect but relevance to dusttale.

this au doesn't take place after dusttale. it's a PARALLEL PAST of it. everything should already predefined, and yet the past that is kept vague can be anything.

this au also has actual history different from deltarune and I'd more similar to undertales human monster war. though... it's hard to even call the rust era a war.

#dustgrave #dustgrave comic #lilidraws

9 notes · View notes

flipping-the-coin · 6 months

Note

Aimed at Good Ole Ratchet and Optimus, How would they cherish and raise a newSpark if it is theirs or adopted. They both probs have experience. *cough* Bumblebee.

[[TRANSMISSION RECEIVED: SUBJECT = QUERY…. SCANNING…. 99% THREAT LEVEL NULL = NO THREAT LEVEL CATAGORIZATION: REROUTING…. SECONDARY SCANS COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION = WITHIN PARAMETERES]]

[[TRANMISSION FORWARDED…. RECEIVED = SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

To have a newspark to raise would be a blessing beyond measure. In the event that it is even possible to have one with my beloved considering my nature, it would certainly be an experience. Bumblebee's development and sparklinghood was... chaotic to say the least. He was largely raised by Ratchet while I tended to wartime affairs. I only ever saw Bumblebee with reasonable frequency once he joined me on the battlefield. With that in mind, I do not have much wisdom regarding young sparklings, and I would need to discuss with Ratchet how we would wish to rear one of our own now that we are in an era of peace.

I know Ratchet would like to be the Nurturer to any potential sparkling of ours if possible. The coding is already active in him and thus it is more likely that he will end up with that role in this hypothetical. In the event of that being the case, the development of the sparkling would largely fall to my dear doctor, at least in the beginning. I have very little expertise with little ones, although I would not be vacant from the sparkling's life. No, I would offer affection and do what I am able to, but I think I would also call on my host in this scenario.

I took from Orion million of years of life. He could have raised several sparklings during that time with his Conjunx, but because of my existence, he was denied that. I think he would appreciate the chance to help care for one of his line. He may not be fond of me, but he is not the kind to judge a sparkling based on their lineage or city of origin. He would care for this potential newspark and fill the place I cannot. He would be perfect in ensuring that what love and teaching I would almost certainly fail to provide is offered no matter what. I would need to speak to Ratchet, but Orion serving as a secondary caregiver for the sparkling would be best. My host has far more wisdom than I do... and this hypothetical sparkling deserves someone who is capable of filling the role a normal mortal mentor would.

In conclusion, I would involve myself as much as I am able while the sparkling is young, but the rearing of the young one would ultimately fall to Ratchet and Orion Pax if my will is obeyed. I would involve myself more in the sparkling's life as soon as they edge into younglinghood. At that point, I can begin to pass down my knowledge and skill without fear of damaging the little one irreparably due to a lack of experience. I know how to train students and soldiers, not raise sparklings.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = OPTIMUS PRIME = PRIME OF CYBERTRON: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS: PRIMUS’S ANGEL: SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON: LOREKEEPER: SIRE]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

What the absolute frag!? Orion Pax is NOT a fit secondary caregiver for any sparkling, much less one forged from myself and Optimus! The little rust streak is better of in an institution for the mentally unstable. I would not let him within a hundred klik radius of any sparkling of mine. He can hardly take care of himself for Primus's sake, much less a newspark of any variety or origin. He's eccentric, his field can be deadly to anyone whose spark is underdeveloped, his clingy habits will likely lead to severe overprotectiveness, and the small pile of medication he is on could very well offline a sparkling in his family unit.

That aside, Optimus is correct in one regard. If the stars align, I would prefer to be the Nurturer for any sparkling of mine and my Prime's. It is simply the most efficient method and best for the development of our little one. I tended to Bumblebee when he was young and I am also a doctor. The sparkling would have the best medical care on Cybertron so long as they are under my supervision. However unlike what Optimus would prefer, I firmly believe that the Sire should play as much of a role as the Nurturer in the handling of a newspark. If I had my way, Optimus would act as a Nurturer from time to time just to help with the bonding process.

Protoform to protoform contact is essential for young sparklings, and Optimus has enough mass that it would not be hard for him to install a carrying unit. He could easily involve himself in the sparkling's development without causing issues. Not to mention, he is incredibly gentle when he decides to be. I do not know why he is so concerned about harming a sparkling that we could have together. Bee came out just fine because of Optimus's involvement in his life. No matter what problems Optimus has, he has always been good at keeping them in check around those who need him. I bet a sparkling would even be good for him.

We would raise a sparkling together. Slag roles. I may end up being the Nurturer in code and Optimus the Sire, but who gives a frag? We have never been a conventional couple. If it would be best for the little ones, I don't see why we cannot swap between roles as required. We don't need anyone else to aid in our sparkling's development. We are more than enough, and Bumblebee serving as an elder sibling and example is merely a bonus. Even as the sparkling ages, I think it would be in our best interest to continue working closely for the sake of our charge. Who says I cannot help in disciplining or Optimus in soothing?

We do not need anyone, and most certainly not Orion Pax. I will have no sparklings if Optimus will not be there to raise them alongside me the entire time.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = RATCHET OF IACON = PRIMAL STEWARD: CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER: WAR VETERAN: HONORARY MILITARY OFFICAL: NURTURER]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

Ratchet, as much as I appreciate your firm belief in my abilities, I am no caregiver. I hardly qualify as a Sire. Most of Bumblebee's development was due to your care and the collective efforts of the Autobots. I had very little to do with it, and what I did involve myself in always revolved around war. I am not suitable to help raise a young sparkling, especially not when Orion was not given that ability when we shared a frame.

He is more knowledgeable than I am. He would be the best possible choice for a sparkling of ours. He could be a teacher, a guide, and a stable mortal reference for any possible... oddities a newspark forged from our union may have have. Not to mention, Orion is also at least in theory, my Sire. Having him there to help raise our sparkling would greatly improve the public image of our line and would also likely decrease hostilities between factions since our sparkling would also be related to Megatron via association. There is nothing but pure benefit to be found in such an arrangment.

Orion's instability would be reigned in by dutiful watchfulness from you and from my guardsmecha. The sparkling would not be in danger of harm at Orion's hab because the little one would not be allowed there without any sort of guard. These issues you put forward would be largely irrelevant, and my absence only assures that. With Orion as an aid, the sparkling could grow up normally and without the taint I tend to bring with me. It would be for the best, at least until the sparkling grows and I am able to begin assisting more prominently in their rearing.

Do not think so emotionally beloved. There is more than just my own personal investment in my line of thinking.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = OPTIMUS PRIME = PRIME OF CYBERTRON: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS: PRIMUS’S ANGEL: SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON: LOREKEEPER: SIRE]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

I love you, but by the Allspark, you can be such a fool Optimus! I don't care about whatever logical reasoning you have behind wanting to shove off the role of Sire onto someone else! If we are to have a sparkling, I want YOU to be the Sire, not someone else, and especially not ORION PAX!

You are not inadequate, you helped raise Bumblebee without issue. Why does it suddenly matter so much? Why can you not just accept that Siring is a difficult and imperfect art and move on? I don't need you to be perfect, our sparkling won't need you to be perfect. All we will need is for you to be there, present and able to teach and comfort. Throwing the responsibility onto a madmech like Orion just to soothe your guilt over things you have very little control over won't fix anything. All you would be doing is distancing yourself from any sparkling created between us and creating a gap I alone cannot fill.

Do you have any idea how hard it was to fill the place you left behind during the war? You came back enough to not make it impossible, but I can only do so much for our sparkling, Optimus. We need YOU. Not anyone else. I can't weave stories like I did during the war with Bee. I can't get the entire of Autobot high command to help sing your praises and ensure Bumblebee didn't begin to think you hated him. A sparkling is a delicate being, one that requires and Nurturer AND a Sire in a healthy environment to develop well. So enough of the Orion slag. I don't want to hear it.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = RATCHET OF IACON = PRIMAL STEWARD: CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER: WAR VETERAN: HONORARY MILITARY OFFICAL: NURTURER]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

Ratchet, this is ridiculous. I am a Prime. I could never fill the role of a mortal Sire for one so young. A teacher? Yes, that I can do. A Sire figure once the sparkling grows? That too I can do. But it would be dangerous for me to involve myself with one so small. You are a masterful Nurturer, you would raise any potential young without my direct intervention just fine. My presence would only endanger our offspring. What I am is hardly controlled. Even discarding my lack of skill, I cannot guarantee that a sparkling would not offline around me for the same reasons you complain about Orion.

Use reason and think Ratchet. This is not just my method of seeking forgiveness, but also a way to ensure that no creation of ours suffers because of me.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = OPTIMUS PRIME = PRIME OF CYBERTRON: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS: PRIMUS’S ANGEL: SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON: LOREKEEPER: SIRE]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

Optimus have all your processing units died in a plasma pit??!? I want YOU to be here for our sparkling, regardless of the danger. It is your duty to do so! I refuse to raise our sparkling alone again! I waited and WAITED for you during the war. I was patient. I will NOT endure that isolation again.

I will not spend long cycles singing our sparkling to recharge while you galivant off to deal with whatever duties have stolen your attention. I will not weave stories of comfort for our little one while you contradict them by never being the Sire you are meant to be. Do you understand me? I will not endure this again. I will not let our sparkling suffer in silence because you are so fragging guilt ridden that you are willing to forget your own family.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = RATCHET OF IACON = PRIMAL STEWARD: CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER: WAR VETERAN: HONORARY MILITARY OFFICAL: NURTURER]]

[[RESPONSE UNENCRYPTED: MODERN IACONIAN SCRIPT IDENTIFIED: QUERY FORWARDED… RECEIVED… SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

Ratchet, this is a waste of time and more than uncalled for. I am not entertaining an argument about what we should do with a fictitious newspark.

═════════════════

[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = OPTIMUS PRIME = PRIME OF CYBERTRON: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS: PRIMUS’S ANGEL: SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON: LOREKEEPER: SIRE]]

[[TRANSMISSION END]]

#maccadam #transformers prime au #transformers prime #transformers #two sides to a coin au #orion pax #optimus responds #optimus prime #ratchet #ratchet responds #optiratch

16 notes · View notes