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angelic-sturniolos111 · 6 months

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Matt’s Teammate 💙 pt. 2

After long-distance texting and FaceTime calls everyday for months Matt finally makes plans to see you in person again. [pt. 1 here!]

matthew sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: cursing, slight make-out sesh (v romantic), just fluffy asf

author’s note: sorry this took longer to write than expected but enjoyyyyyy

this pic of Matt is so bf coded I can’t even

Y/C/N = your city’s name [from tour] even though we’re gonna pretend you live somewhere cold and snowy to match this pic (sorry)

***four months ago***

I had fun tonight, Y/N. You seem like a really great girl, and I would love to see you again if I can.

You stared at your phone in disbelief, and had to check his account ten times over to make sure it wasn’t a bot or a scam because you genuinely could not fathom that Matt Sturniolo just replied with THAT. Simply liking the message would have sent you through the roof, but your heart is soaring.

You carefully and deliberately craft a response not wanting to blow your one and only chance at possibly being with Matt again. You decide to keep it simple and sweet as to not come off too overbearing (even though internally you were completely freaking tf out).

Of course! Next time you’re in Y/C/N shoot me a text 🥰

…and with that you typed your phone number into the message and hit send.

Moments later your phone starts ringing with a FaceTime notification from an unknown number. Guessing it might be Matt you quickly fix your hair in front of your face, put on lip gloss, and adjust your boobs to look perfect in your bra to try and look your best. You slide the bar to answer the call, and Matt’s glorious face illuminates your screen.

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. You thought to yourself as you kept a calm smile on your face despite your heart trying to escape your chest. Matt smiles when he sees you on his screen.

“Hey, sorry to call you randomly but I tend to sound a lot better in person than I do over text.” He laughs. “And,” he hesitates, “I honestly wanted to see your pretty face again.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words. You try and collect the million thoughts flooding your brain right now to get a sentence out.

“I— uh… Yeah I,” you croaked out. You were able to keep your composure better earlier on stage, but this was completely different and VERY unexpected. Matt laughs lightly at your obvious nerves.

“Take your time. Sorry, I’m sure I caught you completely off guard.” He teases, but you can also see the sincerity in his eyes and know that he’s being patient for you.

You take a deep breath in through your nose, and out through your mouth.

“Okay…” you say letting out what was a mixture of a laugh and an exasperated sigh. “Hi!” You say cheerfully.

“Hi.” Matt responds sweetly. God, the way he was looking at you made you want to throw the phone across the room.

“You’re right, I totally wasn’t expecting any of this… do you do this often? Like, call fans and stuff?” You said a bit unsure. Your heart was telling you that Matt maybe genuinely liked you, but your brain also knows that he’s a dude who could just be looking for a hookup in each state while he travels. Matt furrows his brow at your question before looking surprised.

“Oh OH no no no no no it’s not like that. I swear. Like- I mean… not like I just want to fuck or anything. Um, I like you and I saw your DM and— not to be like weird calling you or anything but…” Matt stops his frantic run-on before pausing and taking a breath. “No, I don’t do this often. I don’t do this ever actually.”

“I think you just made that pretty obvious.” You both laugh. “Sooooo,” you say in a sing-song voice “you like me?”

Matt brings his hand up to rub his eyes as a small smirk creeps on his lips and he nods his head gently.

“Yeah… yeah I really do. I thought I’d never be able to do anything about it, thinking I’d never see you again, but my brothers convinced me otherwise. When I found your instagram earlier I decided to take a chance hoping I wouldn’t regret it.” He says, and you can’t help but blush.

“Why would you regret it?” You ask.

“Well, not knowing if you were already seeing someone, or just weren’t interested. Mainly though because it would be tough to really see anyone given my career.” A tone of sadness lingers in his voice. It’s clear that his words are true, and that he definitely has feelings for you. Clearly, you had feelings for him too and would love to get to know him more, but you also knew that dating him would be quite challenging at times.

“Maybe we didn’t win tonight, but we still do make a pretty good team. I trust we can work something out because I’d love nothing more than to see you again.” You say smiling, and with that Matt smiles in return.

“I don’t know… I’m really starting to feel like a winner right now!” Matt jokes making you scoff and roll your eyes at his cuteness.

***present day***

You often reflet back to the night you met Matt on stage given that that was the first and last time you had seen him in person talking, hugging, laughing. These past four months you have enjoyed every text, every phone call, every FaceTime from him as you stayed in close touch— talking every single day. You had grown to love and admire Matt through a screen since the beginning, but this time was much much different. Now, you two had a genuine, deep, emotional connection, and you were no longer just a fan watching him through a screen. You meant something to him. The two of you often talked and fantasized about your next meeting, but had no real plans of that actually happening. You were in school, and he had YouTube and his career to focus on. Finding time in your schedule to visit each other was difficult, but both of you were hoping to work something out soon.

***

You snuggled up on your cozy apartment couch watching the latest triplet video on your tv screen. You subconsciously had your attention on Matt the entire video. You had to keep rewinding the video because you missed nearly everything they were saying as you kept wandering off into day dreams about him, wishing he was sitting there next to you, arms wrapped around you. You’re pulled out of your daydream when your phone dings.

Hi beautiful sorry it took me so long to respond we were recording a podcast.

No worries ☺️ can we FaceTime?

Sure, but can you do me a favor first?

You’re curious as to know what on earth kind of favor you could possibly do for Matt.

Of course

You replied and anxiously awaited his answer as you saw the three moving dots across the bottom of the screen indicating he was responding.

Can you open the door?

What? You were incredibly confused. Not a second later you hear a knock at your door. You’re thinking maybe he had flowers delivered again, but it was almost 10pm so that wouldn’t make sense. You get up and walk to your door opening it hesitantly and slowly. Your door was cracked about halfway open before a familiar face pops into view.

“Hi!” Matt giggles excitedly.

“OH MY GOSH!” You scream, throwing the door all the way open and jumping into his arms. He wraps his arms around you tightly as you burry your face into his neck.

Matt’s POV:

I hug Y/N tight, smelling her sweet hair and loving the feeling of her wrapped up in my arms, something I had been dreaming about for months.

Chris and Nick were both focusing on individual personal projects, and since we pre-filmed some content I finally had the time to visit Y/N. As Thanksgiving is approaching, and she’ll have some days off from school, the timing couldn’t have been better. I previously had Chris send her some exclusive Fresh Love apparel, but she has no idea I saved her address from her shipping info. I booked a very expensive last minute flight out to see her, but even just hugging her now I know it was worth every dime.

I began to rock Y/N back in forth in my arms, not wanting to release the hug, but the cold autumn air was making me shake even through my hoodie and jacket.

“Can I come in? I’m chilly.” I say into her hair.

“Yes, yes come in!” She says pulling away from the hug and eagerly dragging me inside by my arm. I could feel my jaw tightening from smiling so much. She is absolutely adorable.

I glance around her apartment that I had seen a million times over on FaceTime, but never in person. She had a bookshelf with a framed photo of us on stage together at the show we met at, and it warmed my heart so much. I genuinely felt like the luckiest guy in the world being in the presence of such a beautiful girl that I could call mine.

I hasn’t even finished dropping my backpack off my shoulders all the way before Y/N engulfed me in another hug as she dug her face so deep into my chest I wasn’t sure how she was even able to breathe.

“I’ve missed you.” I hear her soft, muffled voice say into my chest.

“I’ve missed you more beautiful.” I say pulling back and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. She pulls away and our eyes lock. Do I kiss her? Is now the best time? I’ve imagined it in my head, but now that it’s actually happening I am completely unsure of what to do. She takes a deep breath in and interjects,

“Umm. So what do you want to do first?” She asks kindly, and I laugh.

“That’s it? No questions about how I got here or how long I’m staying?” I question her.

“Oh forget that you can tell me later. I don’t want to waste a single second with you— after all we’ve planned to do so much together.” She says. Every text, every call, we talk about what we would love to do together. Nothing intimate, but just dates we’d love to go on, movies we want to show one another, stuff like that. Anytime I find a cute date spot in LA I write it down in my phone notes hoping that I can take her to all of those places someday.

“I don’t know it’s late now and I’m pretty tired. I was so excited on the plane ride over I didn’t sleep a wink.” I say, and she gives me a soft smille. “Can I—um. Can I cuddle you, Y/N?” I say shyly and her smile grows.

I follow her as she walks into her bedroom and swipes all her stuffed animals onto the floor to give us room. She looks at me, her cheeks blushing pink as she pats a spot on the bed for me. We both climb onto the bed next to one another, and I extend my arm out for her to lay her head on my chest. She moves her body closer to mine as her body clings to my side. She wraps one arm under me with the other resting on my stomach as her hand gently caresses my chest. Our legs entangle into one another and she drapes her thigh across mine. I play with her hair and look down as her eyes close softly, fully enveloped in my embrace, taking in the moment. I dip my head down so it’s resting on top of hers.

We stayed like this, silent, for a while.

It wasn’t an awkward silence, but it was quite peaceful. It was the type of silence where you’re just enjoying the moment savoring what life has to offer.

After a while I start to feel her slightly shifting. She moves to look up at me and we smile, locking eyes.

“I’m so comfy, and as much as I want to talk your ear off I’m actually really enjoying this.” She says softly.

“Me too. How about we go to sleep now, and we can get an early start to our day tomorrow, yeah?” I suggest and she nods her head.

She looks so unbelievably beautiful in this moment. Her eyes twinkle from the light of the lamp on her nightstand, her soft skin still slightly blushing, her pink lips parted ever so slightly. I want to kiss those lips so god damn bad.

My hand moves from her waist to the side of her face gently swiping my thumb across her cheek. This caused her eyes to flicker from mine down to my lips, and with that I pulled her in closer and placed my lips on hers. It was a quick kiss, but soft and gentle. She pulls me back in and our lips once again meet, this time for a deeper kiss, full of passion and want. We kept kissing like this, and I move my arms back to her waist to pull her up across my lap as she straddles me.

She pulls back from the kiss, and I wish I could capture what I see in front of me to keep this moment forever. She had one hand on my chest to balance herself, and the other was playing with the hair on the back of my head. Her eyes glanced down at me, looking into mine, and her reddened lips curled up in to the cutest smile. She was breathtaking, and I knew then that I was completely devoted to her.

“So… regret your decision to message me?” She asks teasingly making me let out a small laugh. I stare deep into her eyes as I respond.

“Not in the slightest.”

**********

This is definitely not my best work and it’s super short so I apologize. 😣

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed part one! Sorry this is lowkey a let down I feel bad tbh.

Plz don’t h8 me I love you all

- Kay 🩶

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #versus tour #let’s trip tour #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut

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rottingparts · 11 months

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Taste

[Ironhide x Fem!Human!Reader x Ratchet]

Summary: You like the Autobots... Specifically Ratchet and Ironhide. You are sure no one ever has to know, but when a coworker confesses to you things go down hill fast.

Word Count: 2,200+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI! Not beta'd, Oral (Fem Receiving), mentions of anxiety, weird guy behavior (not from the bots), nothing too bad, let me know if I should tag something though!

A/N: This was written because I'm very self indulgent and cringe is dead! That being said, this was written with Plus Sized!Reader and also Neurodivergent!Reader in mind! BUT! It doesn't have to be read that way! Also, this isn't set in a specific movie. Everyone is alive and happy :)

No one had to know you adored alien robots, no one needed to know. Especially your earth friends. Or the robots themselves for that matter. Absolutely no one was going to know. It was definitely a secret you could and should keep to yourself.

You had been working closely with the autobots, and had ended up in the lab with several of them, helping with whatever they needed. Ratchet seemed the most grateful for that. You were both learning and helping each other at the same time. He got to learn more about human culture and you got to learn about Cybertron.

That is where you started to realize you maybe liked robots a lot more than humans. Ratchet was so sweet and thoughtful.

One day, while working with Ratchet, Ironhide entered the lab. You had little interaction with him before that moment and were honestly kind of nervous around him. But as you got to know the weapons specialist you started to like him as well…

But… No one had had to know.

Until, one of your scientist friend’s decided to drop the worst bomb possible right in your lap.

“Hey.” A voice that was not Ironhide’s or Ratchet’s rang through the lab. You rolled your eyes involuntarily before turning around to look at him. “We need to talk.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widened momentarily, “That’s a good way to greet someone, Mark.”

“What?” Mark looked taken aback.

“I have anxiety, that’s not a thing I generally like to hear…”

“Oh,” Mark visibly grew anxious, causing you to mimic the panic. “Well, I just, I wanted to ask you out-”

You froze, “Like on a date?”

“I mean, like if you’re into it-”

“I’m sorry,” You interrupted him quickly, not thinking much about him not finishing his sentence, “You’re my friend-”

It was his turn to cut you off. “You’re friend zoning me? I like you a lot!”

“You can get over that, don’t worry.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Is this- Are you-”

You cocked your head at him as his wheels turned in his big scientist brain. Something clicked. But not necessarily correctly. Wires crossed somewhere.

“You’re fucking the robots!” His voice echoed through the lab.

You figured ‘No, but I want to be,’ was not a tactful answer. So, you did the next less tactful thing. Which did not help your case at all. You grew defensive, and yelled back. “No!” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “Why would I- What are you on about?”

“You hang out with- with those-”

“Autobots.”

“Shut up!” He was growing furious. Your eyes widened and you decided to get the fuck away from him. Without thinking you turned to walk away and his hand grabbed your shoulder, turning you right back around. “You are fucking the robots!”

You were frozen. The large hangar door opened and Ironhide and Ratchet walked in, seemingly aware of the yelling.

“What’s going on?” Ironhide’s voice was gruff and his optics were narrowed. “Why are you yelling at Y/N?”

You swallowed. “You aren’t helping my case…” You turned around, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Wow,” Mark scoffed, “you picked these two?”

“Picked us for what?” Ratchet cocked his head.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Mark rolled his eyes, “I figured out she was with you two.”

“Are you delusional?!” You finally snapped at him. “They would never like me like that! Drop this shit, get over me, and fucking leave!”

Mark stood there, staring at you, gawking. This time, whatever he was thinking, was definitely right. “You… You do like them…”

Ironhide crouched down, closing in on the scientist. “It’s best if you leave.” He growled out. “She won’t ask again.”

Mark gulped and decided it would be best to leave. You groaned and placed your head in your hands. “Thanks for that,” You sighed. “I didn’t know if he’d ever leave me alone.” You stood up straight and looked at Ironhide and Ratchet, “Well… Um. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“It’s mid afternoon, you do not go to sleep until after dark. Usually around ten o’clock.”

“Why do you know that?” Ironhide interrupted Ratchet.

“For the exact same reason you know what time Y/N is gonna be in the lab everyday of the week.”

Ratchet spoke with a matter of fact tone. He crossed his arms and for a moment, a brief moment, Ratchet and Ironhide’s optics met and they seemed to be glaring at each other. You were fast to jump in and break it up.

“Hey! I find it enduring! It’s nice you’ve picked up on those things! Well… It is a little weird that you know what time I go to bed… Who needs that knowledge?”

“Exactly!” Ironhide threw his servos up, “It’s weird!”

“But!” You went to reassure Ratchet, “It definitely isn’t as weird as what just happened!”

There was an awkward silence, one that you could only smile for so long for. Yoursmile grew awkward and your eyes went from Ratchet, to Ironhide, back to Ratchet, and dropped to the ground. You scratched the back of your neck and swallowed hard.

“Mark was right, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not fucking anyone!” Your hands went up and your eyes widened. “No,” Ironhide grumbled, his optics rolling, “he said you liked us. And I’m assuming he means the kind of ‘like’ that means you want to be more than friends.”

You did the only thing you could think of, “Aw, do you guys count me as a friend?”

“This isn’t about us.” Ironhide started.

“Yes it is.” Ratchet finished. “And yes we do. But, speaking for both of us here, we ‘like’ you.” He put air quotations around the word ‘like’.

Your eyes widened and you smiled. “Really?!”

Ironhide looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of Ratchet, but only briefly. “Don’t ever speak for me again.” His voice rumbled, and he glared at Ratchet. Then he turned towards you, optic ridges resting, causing his optics to soften slightly, and he crouched down to your level. “You seemed awfully enthusiastic at that confession-”

“I like, um- I would love to be more than friends with both of you…” Ratchet lit up, Ironhide close behind. You all three stood there a moment. “What now?” You asked. “I’ve never confessed to anyone, much less two someones.”

Ironhide and Ratchet seemed about as confused as you were, until an idea struck you. “Remember, Ratchet, when you said you wanted to learn more about human anatomy… Up close, and personally?”

It clicked for both Ratchet and Ironhide. Immediately they were closing in on you. “Wait!” You put our hands up. “We don’t need anyone walking in on us… I’ll lock the main doors, you go lock the hangar door. And, someone take care of the camera-”

Ironhide was quick to obliterate the camera in the corner of the room. Your eyes widened at his eagerness and you ran towards the door to lock it. You were back at the center of the room in what felt like seconds and you waited for Ratchet to return after he locked the door.

“Where to start…?” Ironhide examined you closely.

“I could get rid of these clothes for starters.” You were eager to begin stripping, and you were quickly exposed to them, standing in your underwear. Vulnerability hit and you began fidgeting. You weren’t sure where that burst of confidence came from, but it was suddenly gone.

“We do not have to do this. Not now, if you don’t want to.” Ratchet noticed your nervousness.

“Um, no! I want to! Really!” You swallowed hard, sure the sound echoed through the room, “Uh, I've never been this exposed in front of uh, Cybertronians…?” You sounded confused, your arms hugging you tightly.

“No worries,” Ironhide was closer to you than Ratchet, his optics observing you, “We’ve never never been this close to an organic before-” He looked like he wanted to get rid of your underwear.

Ratchet moved closer to you when you dropped your arms to your sides and it was his turn to observe. He reached out for you and even though you did not flinch away, he paused. “May I?” He politely asked.

“Of course.”

One of his fingers touched your stomach and when you sucked in from the cool feeling, Ratchet flinched back. You reassured him you were fine and he continued. “You are very soft,” He made mental notes. His hand grabbed for your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze. He pulled away and Ironhide started to butt in.

“My turn.”

Ironhide needed to know how soft you were. He grabbed for your thigh and the soft flesh moved with his hand. Ironhide cocked his head and looked at you. “Comfortable enough to get rid of these?” When you nodded, he asked another question. “Are they important to you?” You shook your head. They were ripped from you. The cool air caused you to gasp and close your legs.

“Why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned.

“I don’t think you’ll be cold much longer…”

You relax and inhale deeply. With legs still slightly crossed, you reach to undo your bra. You let it fall to the floor and Ironhide and Ratchet are both very close to you again, looking at your breasts. You can’t help but awkwardly smile at them, Ironhide reaching out to touch them.

“I never knew how soft you would actually be-” Ratchet was in awe. “-I could just-”

He didn’t know what he could do. Him and Ironhide were stunned. Ironhide made the first move. “Get on the table right there.” With a nod, you obliged. You hopped onto the cool table and awaited more instructions. “Hm,” Ironhide was taking mental notes now, “You are very obedient.”

“She deserves a reward.” Ratchet was smiling.

“She’s much too small for our spikes-” Your eyes widened at Ironhide’s words, “-but I think I know a way to reward her.”

Ratchet did not have time to ask ‘how?’. Ironhide was moving too fast for Ratchet to have time to say anything. Your thighs were gently grabbed, Ironhide’s large servos being extremely gentle with you. Your legs were spread and Ironhide was in your business instantly. You leaned back slightly and waited for Ironhide’s next move.

“You aren’t much different than us in this department.” Ironhide examined you closer than before. “Can I- Hm, can I taste you?”

You wanted to hide your face. “Sure-” That was all it took. Ironhide’s head was between your legs, practically keeping them spread. His tongue was lapping at you, slowly at first. His optics were closed and he was obviously focused on every inch of you. You fell back on your forearms, resting them on the cool metal of the table. You stifled a moan.

“Be loud.” Ratchet blurted out, “We want to know how you feel.”

You nodded and as soon as Ironhide found your clit you let out a loud moan. Your head fell back and your eyes shut. A soft hum fell from your lips and your breathing quickened.

Ironhide kept doing his thing and caught on very quickly on what pace you liked and how roughly he could hold you.

“Ironhide-” You moaned out, “I’m gonna-” Your nails were digging into your palms. Ironhide understood. Your hips bucked upwards and Ironhide rumbled against you. It drove you over the edge. You were coming undone against his mouth and Ironhide was smiling against you.

A loud moan echoed through the lab as you came. You had half expected Ironhide to keep going, but suddenly, the feeling of him between your legs was gone.

“My turn,” Ratchet mimicked Ironhide’s earlier words.

“Did you just pull me away?

“Yes, I would like a taste,” Ratchet positioned himself between your legs, not even giving Ironhide his attention when he talked. Ratchet’s servos placed themselves on your waist and you leaned back again.

Ratchet was quick to begin to tongue fuck you. His tongue swirled around your clit before licking stripes up your pussy. His optics were not closed. They stayed on your eyes. He maintained eye contact with you as he ‘tasted’ you. He would slowly blink at you, and you were too stunned to look away.

Your hips bucked and Ratchet was quick to push them back down. You let out a soft whine and looked over at Ironhide briefly, who was just… watching. You looked back at Ratchet and everything in you started to tense. A knot formed in your stomach and you were coming undone again.

“Ratchet!” You exclaimed with eyes shut, head thrown back, and body tensed. Ratchet did not slow. You were squirming beneath him. “Fuck!”

A knock came from the hangar door. The only thing causing Ratchet to stop in his tracks.

You writhed with pleasure once he let you go, not registering the knock. You lied on the table and heard Ironhide shout something. You looked up and saw Ironhide with your clothes in one of his servos. He was trying to hand them to you.

“Hey,” Hound yelled from the other side of the hangar door, “Why do-” He paused, “Why do I smell… ‘Fluids’?” As soon as the words left his mouth were rushing to get dressed. “Is there a human in there?”

“Go away!” Ratchet yelled back.

“Ratchet and Ironhide?” Hound bellowed back, laughing loudly, “You both have a human in there?”

“The other scientists,” You started, finishing getting dressed, “they’re going to be here soon, asking about that camera. I should go…” Ratchet and Ironhide looked at you, optic ridges rising. “But, this doesn’t have to be it, not if you don't want it to be!”

Ratchet and Ironhide nodded, “We aren’t done with you yet.”

#valveplug #transformers smut #bayverse transformers #transformers #transformers bayverse #ratchet #ironhide #ironhide x reader #ratchet x reader

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xoxo-ives · 6 months

Text

honey, come put your lips on mine

glitter, awkward moments, and works of art

or, reader does tim's makeup

wc: 1572

(title from 'talk too much' by coin)

[A/N] this one is a little tiny bit spicier than the last two. nothing really happens, there's just tension

You aren’t sure how you ended up in this position. One minute, you were doing Tim’s makeup, and then suddenly he’s whining into your mouth. An hour ago, you were doing your makeup to practice for the next fancy event you were inevitably dragged to. Tim, ever the nosy detective, came knocking on the bathroom door to demand your attention.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, leaning his head around the doorframe.

“Makeup,” you answered distractedly, brushing on eyeshadow.

“It’s, like, eleven at night. Why are you doing your makeup now?”

“Practice. I don’t know. I was bored.” You continued doing your makeup, ignoring the fact that he was hovering behind you. Eventually, when he didn’t move, you spun around. “Do you need something?”

He was silent for a long minute, swallowing thickly before blinking wide eyes at you. “Uh…could you…put makeup on me?” he mumbled, looking away. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I totally get it, it’s probably a weird thing for me to ask.”

“Tim. You’re rambling. I’ll do your makeup.” You shot him a grin and told him to go sit on the couch or wherever he was comfortable and that you’d be there in a second. You grabbed your makeup bag and found him in the living room, running his hands nervously over his legs. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said quietly.

“It’s just me, you can relax,” you laughed quietly. “I’m not gonna bite. Sit down.”

He swallowed hard again and sat on the couch, watching you carefully. You put the makeup bag on the cushions next to him and balanced on your knees, legs bracketing his. His breath caught in his throat, almost imperceptibly. You noticed but decided to spare him the indignity of being questioned. You unzipped the bag and pulled out a fluffy brush and several shades of blush, holding them up one at a time to compare them.

“I don’t have a foundation that’s your shade,” you mumbled, busy trying to decide which blush matched his skin best. “So we’re skipping that. Which blush do you think would look best?”

“I don’t know. Why would I know?”

“Just figured you would have opinions on this, seeing as you have opinions on literally everything else,” you teased. When he didn’t laugh along with you, you knew he was definitely tense, and you put your hands on his shoulders. Another sharp intake of breath that you graciously ignored. “Relax, Tim,” you repeated. “We’ll just go with this orangey one. It’ll look nice with your eyes.”

He just nodded along and let you brush the pigment onto his face. You slid one hand onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side, and he let his eyes flutter closed. By the time you were moving onto eyeshadow, your thighs were tired from holding yourself up, and so you let yourself sit in his lap instead. That was the first in a series of poor choices. (Or maybe excellent ones, depending on how it all ends.)

“Do you care if I put glitter on your skin? Can take a bit of work to get it off.”

“That’s fine,” he whispered. “I don’t mind.”

“Wonderful. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” You leaned to the side, digging through the bag for some glitter. In doing so, you accidentally leaned forward, hips bumping with Tim’s. He nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes flying open, and you froze. “Shit, sorry. That was accidental.”

“S’alright,” he muttered. “You can…continue.”

You grabbed the glitter and returned to the task at hand. “Close your eyes again?” He did, and you dipped the brush into the glitter and carefully laid it on his eyelids. “There. All done. You want to do eyeliner and mascara? If not, that’s cool. Those can be kind of daunting if you’ve never done your makeup before.”

He nodded, and you found a liquid black eyeliner. You carefully drew it across his lash line, using small brush strokes. When you’d finished both eyes, you grabbed a pencil liner, running it along his lower waterline. You carefully instructed him to blink for the mascara, and then sat back to admire your work.

“All you need now is lipstick. I’m thinking…red. Can’t go wrong with a classic red lip. Part your lips just a little?” You outlined his lips with a dark liner and filled in the center with a bright liquid lipstick. You finished it with a clear gloss and then grinned. “Damn. Look at you, Timmy. All dolled up.”

His cheeks colored lightly under the blush, and he looked away. You offered a mirror, and he took it, glancing at himself and then doing a double take. “Whoa. I don’t even…look like myself.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way. I look…I don’t even know.”

“You look delicious, Tim, that’s what you look like,” you laughed. “Downright edible.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, turning even pinker. “You don’t mean that.”

“Uh, I absolutely do. You look…pretty. You look really good. You should let me do your makeup more often.”

“Pretty? I don’t look pretty. What do you even mean? Pretty like a girl?”

“Pretty like a work of art, baby,” you said, pet name rolling off your tongue like honey. Poor choice number two.

He made a small sound of surprise, something between a squeak and a gulp. His face burned, eyes going round. It was cute, you thought, that someone like him could still be so surprised by compliments. Maybe it was that it was genuine, or maybe it was that it was you saying it, but it made him want to smile until his face split apart. He was silent for a long time, and you lifted a hand to tap on his temple.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” you asked softly. He just shook his head and smiled, eyes downcast. “Tim. Say something. Are you upset? Did I overstep?”

“No. I’m just…you really think I’m pretty?” He sounded almost breathless, as if the thought was completely baffling to him. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss the end of his nose.

“Yeah. Absolutely.” Your hands were resting on his shoulders, and had somehow found their way into his hair without your permission (the third and final choice in your series of mistakes). You were playing with it, scratching against his scalp lightly, and all of a sudden he was kissing you. So here you find yourself, sitting in his lap, tongue in his mouth.

You nip at his mouth, twisting your fingers into his hair with a little more bite, and he makes a sound you didn’t know was possible from workaholic golden child Tim Drake. He whines. His hands wind up to the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer, and you slide your body closer to his, pressing chest to chest with him. You pull back for a second to breathe, watching him watch you.

Your lips are sticky with his lipgloss, which is smudged at the edges. His cheeks are pink under the orange blush, and he bats his eyelashes. You know that it’s almost certainly unintentional, which just makes it more attractive. The tip of his tongue dips out to run along his bottom lip. He shifts slightly under you, and you tilt closer to him.

“You gonna kiss me again?” you whisper. He gives you a sharp grin, meeting your lips with passion. He lets his hands float from your collar to your ribcage, not daring to reach any lower. You grab his wrists, not breaking the kiss, and slide his grip down to your waist. His hands are warm and solid, grounding you to him in this moment.

The world seems to shrink to a little bubble that only includes the two of you and the air you’re sharing, everything else forgotten. Tim eases back after a few minutes, breathing heavily. You stare at him, and he stares back. It’s awkward but somehow not uncomfortable. You take a deep breath and then mumble,

“We should probably get to bed. It’s getting kind of late, we have an early morning.”

Which is true. You have class and he has a meeting. But you still hate to say it, and you have to force the words out. You reluctantly peel yourself away from him, standing and offering him a hand. He takes it and stands, giving you a little smile.

“Maybe just one more kiss?” he says softly. “To remember you by?” You laugh, pressing a chaste kiss against his mouth.

“You live with me, you’re not going to forget me.”

“Fine. Maybe I just wanted another kiss,” he says sheepishly. “Is that such a crime?”

“Never,” you laugh again, kissing his cheek. “You’re gonna want to wash that makeup off, or else you’ll wake up with your eyes burning. I have some makeup remover in the bathroom that you can use.”

He nods, following you down the hall. When you pass the bathroom, he stops and picks up a bottle off the counter. He holds it up in question, and you nod.

“Just use a washcloth and some warm water, should come off pretty easily. The glitter is the only thing that might give you some trouble.”

You continue down the hall into your room, laying on your bed and shoving your face into your pillow, making a sound that was half-scream, half-squeal.

What just happened? What happens now?

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #fem reader #female reader #red robin x reader #roommates au #i just think tim drake deserves to wear makeup more often #is that such a crime?

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nitewrighter · 11 months

Note

can we get some symmarah to celebrate?

Ooh! Good idea!

Now the question is, is this me filling in a vital point in their relationship as part of my fic continuity timeline (because god they're basically moved in together by the time Hanzo comes on the watchpoint)? Or just a U-Haul Lesbian joke? You decide!!!

---

"It's efficient," Pharah was sitting across from Cassidy in the Watchpoint mess hall, "It would free up the dormitories more for agents who don't permanently live on the watchpoint, and it would be a lot more comfortable for her, and I feel like it would be a better use of my apartment space."

"Right, because this is about efficiency," Cassidy sipped his coffee.

Pharah gave him a flat, furrowed brow look. "Satya's done a lot to patch the whole watchpoint up. I mean it's honestly crazy how much more livable it is--on a scale level. And that frees up the other admin apartment for you."

"Eh, I'd just trash the place, and you know I ain't got enough shit to fill it."

"Cole, that answer is way more depressing than you think it is."

Cassidy just shrugged. "You know this is weird, right? He thumbed the brim of his hat up slightly.

"What's weird?"

"You two have been bunking up for a good while now, and now you feel like you need to make some kind of... strategic, legal case for asking her to move in with ya. I'm pretty sure she has her own toothbrush at your place already."

"It's a big deal," said Pharah, firmly.

"We're squatters. Vigilantes on a big crazy rocket launch site or not, it's not like you're pulling her into a lease agreement. Plus, between all the missions and the personal shit people got going on, there's a reason why only a few of us have really permanently shacked up here."

"It's a big deal on a personal level. I don't want to freak her out."

"Oh, and nearly dying on missions all the time isn't freaky."

"Cole--" Pharah huffed and pressed her fingers to her forehead, "You don't get it. My mother... like, you know she was never good at the work-life balance."

"...pretty sure that last sentence you just said sums up about 86% of our conversations we had when you were a kid."

"So sue me for not wanting to make the same mistakes!" she huffed and took a gulp of her water, "I like her, Cole."

"You love her."

Pharah leveled her eyes at him.

"I was there on that drone-rodeo mission, 'Reeha. I heard you. I know you're trying to hedge your bets, trying not to get hurt like you've seen your mom get hurt, trying not to hurt like your mom has hurt others, but you're also trying to walk that shit back to 'like' when you're talking about asking Satya to move in with you after you've had your big damn love confession and at this pretty much half the watchpoint has caught her on her 'morning walks' suspiciously near your apartment."

Pharah's ears were burning on Satya's behalf, but she was quiet at this, sullenly taking a few more bites of her food.

"You're the Canadian, ain't you?" said Cassidy, "'Miss 100% of the shots you don't take' and all that?"

"Don't quote Gretzky at me," Pharah muttered. She glanced off out the window, "It's easy to say 'I love you' when you think you're going to die, it's another thing to live together."

"Hey, speaking from experience, you don't need to worry about her getting pissed about you leaving your socks on the floor. She'll just vaporize them."

"...sounds like that's on you for leaving dirty socks around the dormitory."

"See? You're perfect for each other."

"Cole, be serious."

"You want me to be serious? Fine. I think the fact that you're worrying about this is already a good sign," said Cole, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers in front of himself, "But... you gotta be willing to put yourself out there. Maybe you do get hurt. But hell, I'd rather you love someone as much as you can love someone and get hurt, than lose what you have because you're scared of gettin' hurt."

She saw there was a particular crinkle in his brow that he tended to only get when they were both talking about Ana. Even when she was a teenager railing against Ana she knew how much Cole respected her mother, constantly referring back to her as 'The Captain.' With things slowly and clumsily being patched up with her mother, a part of Pharah felt a little guilty about basically demanding he put himself in opposition to someone he respected so much to maintain their friendship, but that was a different conversation. But that crinkle was directed at her now, and it gave her a sore twist of stress in her stomach.

You're already making your mother's mistakes by letting this paralyze you.

Pharah furrowed her brow at him for a few seconds, still sitting with that sore twinge, then thought of Satya and felt the back of her neck burning. She pursed her lips and drew a long breath in and out. "Fine--" she said, and then, "Fine," again, and then "Whatever," and then "Fine," once more, pushing herself up from her seat, picking up her lunch tray.

"You've got this, Amari."

"Fine," she said, walking away.

"Say 'fine' again," Cole called after her.

"Shut up, Cole."

----

The initial plan was to ask Satya after a romantic (spontaneous!) date. The date would proceed as such: casual shopping trip for odd necessities on Gibraltar that would end (spontaneously!) at a reasonably priced but well-liked restaurant with good vegetarian options (Pharah had staked out 3 in her research depending on where the shopping trip would take them) and then, on the drive home she would (casually!) ask the question and the conversation only had to last the duration of the (not too long, not too short) car ride, giving them both an easy out to immediately part once they got back to the Watchpoint if everything ended up going down in flames. It was foolproof. And... also not viable as she and Symmetra were called off on a mission.

I can do it when we get back, Pharah thought, Not a big deal.

It was Cairo, nothing high combat, more of a combination of security and humanitarian efforts, both their wheelhouses. Satya would be helping to expand and improve living conditions in the refugee camp, and Pharah would be conferring with her former Helix agents to discuss illegal weapons trafficking that had been occurring within the camp--really mostly an exchange of intel. No doubt Talon supplying local gangs to sow more fear and concordantly more chaos among already displaced people and the locals who resented their presence. Brigitte was there both as a medic and to assist with other utility repairs around the camp, and, Pharah guessed, to have eyes on the situation that weren't biased in favor of Helix. The murmurings about possible Talon moles had been there since Doomfist broke out of prison, Pharah tried not to take it personally. It was strange still identifying with Helix even though she had somewhat always mentally acknowledged it was the organization she chose because Overwatch wasn't an option to her. They had still been her team, she had still seen them fight and lose their lives alongside her against Anubis.

Helix had set up four cramped portable buildings at the center of the camp. Pharah remembered butting heads with Mercy over their placement back before they had answered the Recall. She couldn't exactly blame Mercy for being resentful of a well-armed security force after all her time in Overwatch and after everything had gone as wrong as it had, but on a logistics level given the circumstances, these plain, beige portables were a symbol of law, order, and safety for the camp. Or maybe she just always told herself that because Helix was the next best thing when Overwatch went down in flames. To be honest, with the work Satya was putting in, the portables were looking increasingly shabby.

She didn't recognize half of the Helix officers she was meeting with. They had heard of her, though. They always had, even since she had joined Helix. She was the daughter of the legendary Ana Amari, after all. But now she wasn't sure whether Cairo was becoming an increasingly undesirable site of assignment for Helix, or whether Helix was just starting to recognize that this was a problem you couldn't solve with guns and Raptora suits. Her replacement, Security Chief Kamran Zakaria, looked annoyingly young--she had been young, too, but she had worked her ass off to get where she had been, and watched her superior die. And his haircut was not regulation. How lax had Helix gotten without her?

"Hakim being out of the way has made a big difference. People are still muttering about that damn cat vigilante. Makes us look bad. Not a friend of yours, I hope?" Kamran was only wearing the leg armor of the Raptora suit, leaning against the accessibility rail that bordered one of the portable buildings. There was a permanent grimace on his face from the stench of the camp.

"Not that I know of," said Pharah. She had seen a few blurry photos of the 'Bastet' vigilante, knew the hood and the particular way she moved with her rifle well, but hadn't pushed Ana on the subject.

"Well, whoever dismantled his operation, we can already see the effects, and we've been acting on it. There was a power vacuum for a bit, loud, sloppy, easy to trace and deal with."

"And Talon?" said Pharah.

"The usual trickle of weapons I showed you, but the serial numbers and shipping containers we've found them with suggest they're bouncing through Algeria, the United States, definitely, and Germany. Doesn't seem to be the same concerted effort as previously, so I guess you guys must be doing something right."

Or it's no longer strategic, Pharah mused internally, but she just rolled her grip on the railing, No, take the wins where you can.

"So, what are Overwatch's plans for this?" Kamran gestured out at the refugee camp.

"We have contacts in the Adawe Foundation. We can get about 15 to 20 visas a month to for refugees here live and work in Numbani, depending on their skills and family. Teachers, doctors, and engineers are in high demand, especially."

"That's it?" said Kamran, "You know we've got people still coming in, right? And if there's another major Null Sector attack, this whole camp might just boil over."

Pharah crinkled her brow at Kamran. "You know we're operating without the jurisdiction or the resources of the UN. And we're trying to respect the operations of local governments as much as we can."

"Well yeah, but one more group with just guns running around is... one more group with guns running around. Thought you guys took up that old name for a reason."

Pharah furrowed her brow at him, ready to hit him with 'I'm sorry, how long have you had this position?' or 'I'm not the one having a cat vigilante do my job for me' but before she could speak there was an audible cheer rising from the camp.

"The hell is it now?" Kamran vaulted over the railing and Pharah hustled after him.

They hurried through the winding corridors of the camp towards the source of the noise, at one point, Pharah could see Brigitte repairing an old woman's walker, with a line of several people with cybernetics or mobility aids lining up behind her. Brigitte caught Kamran's eye, too, but he hurried on, towards the source of the noise. Pharah saw more and more bits of Satya's handiwork throughout the camp--Hard-light trashcans with solid lids to keep refuse from blowing around and reduce smells, and a large patch of dirt where children had previously been playing now flattened with a more shock-absorbent layer of hard-light tinted dark green and marked out with lines for four-square, hopscotch, and even two hard-light goals at the furthermost ends for football.

Both Pharah and Kamran came to a halt at the sight of a crowd gathered round a blue-clothed figure. Pharah glanced around to see that many of the more dangerous or ineffective-looking tents had been carefully replaced by hard-light geodesic domes, clearer walking paths between tents had been marked out to keep debris out of the way. She had even put up signs pointing to the toilets and bathing stations that other humanitarian organizations had set up. But clearly from the excitement from the crowd, this was the big factor.

Pharah watched as Satya constructed several hard-light beams to support a massive solar panel shade structure being hauled into position by several camp workers. Satya's arms were spread, her shoulders flexed and legs lunging in an almost martial arts stance. Usually her movements seemed so effortless and dancer-like, but this was something else. There was intention behind her movements, and a more severe focus than Pharah had seen even in some of their combat missions. Those golden eyes fixed on her goal, that imperious mouth tensed with that expression of 'Just so' as the glittering support beams adjusted their height against the ground as the other camp workers moved the solar panel structure into place. There was the groan of metal and everyone squinted as wind kicked the Cairo dust up, when someone shouted something affirmative and a few other workers moved in and riveted the solar panel in place. Satya resumed her perfect posture and with a sweep of her arm, dissolved her hard-light support pillars. With a slight creak and a low puff of dust at everyone's heels, the solar shade structure settled, solid and strong. The cheer bubbled up from the crowded camp once more, and Pharah stared up at the shade structure in wonder. A combination of shade and power--something like this would mean less smoke from diesel generators, more lighting around the camp, meaning less thievery at night, a place for newer refugees to charge their phones and get in contact with friends or family abroad who might help them move out sooner, power for mini-fridges, meaning more stability for perishable food, and on top of all that, a precious source of shade and windbreak in the harsh dust of Cairo.

"Woah," Kamran said quietly. He looked over at Pharah, "It was going to be weeks until we had the manpower and equipment to see that thing installed."

"Well, we did say we came here to help," said Pharah.

"I thought Overwatch wasn't too fond of Vishkar?" he glanced over at her.

"She's not with Vishkar, she's with us," said Pharah with no lack of smugness, "We're not just one more group with guns running around, you know."

----

The ride home in the dropship was quiet. Some missions prompted that silence more than others. Pharah loved Cairo, but the fact that it had become a major hub for refugees, the fact that there were so many desperate people and that they could only help so many at a time, that they only that they only had so much power, made her heart sore. Brigitte was sitting behind her, busying herself by writing up a mission report on her tablet. Satya had her own tablet in the copilot's seat, apparently listing possible resources Overwatch could organize to be sent to the camp, and making further notes on living conditions. For this camp? For others?

Pharah's mind trailed back to the apartment question. 'Hey speaking of living situations, what are your thoughts on moving in?' No. Too flippant. No respect for all the people they had just worked with. Maybe ask her out for that deferred shopping trip she had initially planned on? No, they were all too tired to think about that now... She focused on steering for a while, but her gaze trailed back to Satya, noting the furrow in her brow as she tapped in notes on her tablet.

"How are you doing?" asked Pharah, rolling her grip on the controls as they sat next to each other.

"I'm... fine," Satya said after a few moments.

"Just fine?" Pharah tilted her head.

Satya lowered her tablet slightly. "It's just... familiar. I like building. I like giving people a clean and beautiful place to live, but this..." She looked out the window at the refugee camp shrinking in the distance behind them, "None of these people are here by choice." She paused, "I used to do this often with Vishkar."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't see it until later but... when people would refuse to let Vishkar build a development... then... Talon would coincidentally strike, and all of a sudden Vishkar would seem so much safer. It would seem like the only option. So they would take up Vishkar's offer, usually now a lot more expensive, and giving Vishkar a lot more access to their resources and labor... and that's when the architechs would come in. That's where I would come in. I thought I was saving the world from Talon's chaos... but I was just helping all of them line their pockets and control more people's lives. When I'm doing it on my own it-- it doesn't feel like enough. It's not enough to make up for what I did with Vishkar."

Pharah wanted to hug her, but she was driving the dropship. She raised a hand toward her, hesitated, resumed her grip on the steering wheel, trying to assume that solid, clear voice of a leader.

"Satya, you made so many people's lives better today. I know they don't have a lot right now, but thanks to you they have electricity, cleaner water, safer ways to move around the camp, more protection for themselves and their belongings. No, their living situation isn't permanent but... you gave them dignity. Which means a lot." She paused and felt her own voice soften, "You know, you've done the same for the Watchpoint, too. People get so caught up in all the missions, they forget that the Watchpoint needs to be this central hub, that it needs to be somewhere safe, that we can rest and recover at. I know it's not supposed to be permanent either, but you still--"

"I want to move in with you," Satya said suddenly, setting her tablet down in her lap. Pharah froze in her seat.

This prompted Brigitte to glance up from her tablet, unbuckle her seatbelt, and clear her throat, muttering, "I'm just going to... check the inventory in back..." She moved about as quickly as one could in full armor on a moving aircraft.

"C-come again?" said Pharah.

"I want to move in with you," Satya said more firmly.

Pharah's own head was a log jam of 'Oh thank god I wasn't sure how to bring it up' and 'Yes, yes, I love you of course, do you think we should get new furniture?' and 'Oh god I'm so sorry I let you stay in that dormitory for so long.' But all that stammered out of her was, "Oh-Okay."

Satya seemed to take this as continued bewilderment rather than acceptance and went on. "I was going to ask when we got back but..." She fidgeted with her fingers slightly, "I--I didn't want you to think I-- I'm getting with you just for your apartment!"

Pharah blinked. "Satya, I don't think that at all. I would never think that."

"It's just more efficient!" Pharah could practically feel the heat blazing off of Satya's face as she said that, but the word 'Efficient,' made a sputter of giggles burgeon up from Pharah's chest. But then Satya suddenly splayed her fingers and a blue screen sparkled into existence next to her head, "There's multiple benefits, both mutually and to the watchpoint as a whole! I made a slideshow!"

"You made a slideshow on why you should move in?!" Pharah was cracking up now.

"I wasn't sure of the protocol for this," Satya's voice was taut and those golden eyes were deadly serious.

It took Pharah a few seconds to get over her own laughter before clearing her throat. "Satya, I would love if you moved in. You don't.. need to justify yourself all over the place. I would love to have more time to spend with you. Even if it's just... doing dishes, or dumping myself into bed next to you late at night because we've both been busy all day," she paused, "Especially if it's waking up next to you." The words seemed to come out of her so much more easily than 'This would free up more space in the dormitory' or 'This way you're not always walking or teleporting across the watchpoint to get your stuff.'

Satya was staring at her. "Truly?" she said.

"Well--Yeah! I love you, Satya," Pharah smiled, the low orange sunlight through the dropship's windshield catching in her gold hair beads, "I should have asked you... while ago, really. But... I was scared. I knew things were already such a big change from Vishkar and I didn't want to... scare you away or anything."

"Fareeha," Satya reached over and touched Pharah's arm, "You are the best thing that's happened to me since leaving Vishkar."

She leaned over in her seat and Pharah craned over as much as her seatbelt would allow. Satya was likely just going for a cheek kiss seeing as Pharah was driving, but Pharah wasn't going to end a 'We're moving in together' conversation with a cheek kiss. She met Satya's mouth with a bit of effort and felt Satya start slightly at the contact, then lean into it, cupping her hand at Pharah's jaw and playing with her hair beads slightly. They weren't sure how long they were kissing until a rattle of turbulence forced Pharah's attention back to the controls with a nervous giggle. "Eh--sorry--" she said, giving a shrug with both hands on the controls.

Satya just smiled and faced the same direction, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"...You know, I'd still like to see the slideshow, later," said Pharah.

"Good. I worked very hard on it," said Satya, sitting up in her seat with a smug smile on her face.

#Symmarah #me making cassidy supportive in the most obnoxious way possible: it's bi-coding #cole cassidy #Symmpharah #Pharmetra #I feel like I'm the only one posting to this ship tag these days #but then if Symmarah has only one fan... I am that fan #overwatch #satya vaswani #fareeha amari

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drakothedragon55 · 9 months

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Because some people (on Discord) really like my silly goofy AU robot man, I decided that I was gonna do this! Y’all know who you are, and this is for you :)

— Skeletons in his Closet —

A robot fitted with cowboy-esque attire wandered through some mostly desolate plains. Radge was made with the intention of hunting down anyone who displeased his master, and for the most part, he did his job well.

There was only one teeny tiny little issue: Radge wasn’t alone.

Before the game was modified (which he referred to as ‘the change’), the bot had been working on his own little creations. However, he could hardly recall anything about them because most of his memories had been wiped, and the rest were corrupted.

But the Uberbots? He couldn’t forget them. Mainly because sometime during ‘the change’, their files had somehow become unzipped, and were now living within his mind.

“Movement spotted. Potentially the target.” The Photographer said. Due to his sensitive optical sensors, he had been helping Radge with hunting down their most recent target: an oddly small Smiling that had wandered from Pafjyn’s island and was now intruding on Krozzar’s land.

They had been stalking the infected for some time now, and nearly lost it when the Photographer offered his assistance. Radge was cautious when it came to letting an Uberbot take control, so he only did it when on a mission, and away from his master.

“Hey, Radge?” When G0lly abruptly spoke up, she inadvertently ‘booted’ Radge into the inky black confines of his synthetic subconscious. He was only there for a moment, but it felt like an eternity without his optical or auditory sensors.

“Jeez, G0lly! You can’t just butt in when another Uberbot and I are both piloting. You might throw off Photo’s focus.”

“I’m sorry….I just thought of a question and reaaaaly wanted to know the answer.” This time, G0lly had the decency to send a direct message instead of taking control of his speakers.

“Fine, fine.” He replied. “But make it quick.”

:0 “Thank you!!”

”So…how come you only let Photographer help you out? Why can’t we do one of your super cool missions?”

Radge pauses for a moment, before sending a private message to the Photographer asking him if he could be the sole pilot for now (to which he responds with a thumbs up emoji.)

“…Well, I’ve given an offer to the Archivist in the past, and she politely declined. And you know how Canvas can get sometimes. I didn’t want them to get overwhelmed—“

“That’s weird. I never got an invite. How come?”

Oh, G0lly. She was much too pure for this cruel, dark world. Radge promised himself that he’d keep her safe from the horrors he and the others had to experience because of Krozzar.

And h̵̬̹͋͋i̴̡̺̖̔̏̀͘m̶͇͚̔̑̕͝ͅ.̶̞̟̠̝͌

“Oh. Well, I probably just- forgot. Yeah.”

“…Come to think of it, you never invite me to do anything. You don’t even let me pilot.”

Radge noted that G0lly sounded like she was on the verge of tears, even though she was physically incapable of doing so.

“Why…why do you leave me out? Do you hate me that much?”

“What? No. Why would you think that, G0ll—“

“Target acquired.”

Seeing his chance to leave this awkward situation, Radge goes to re-pilot his body alongside the Photographer. Once he reconnected to his optic sensors, Radge notices the limp figure laying on the ground in front of him.

“Is it-“ ”Unconscious. Krozzar requested it be taken alive, correct?” ”Y-Yeah…”

They were essentially a robotic hitman, but Radge could never get used to the feeling of actually eliminating a target.

“I can take it from here. Thank you, Phots.” ”No problem.”

With the small infected slung over his shoulder, Radge thought that things would get easier from here. “WH#T DID YOU S#Y TO HER?”

Nevermind.

“Heyyy there, Canvas! I thought you were taking a rest.”

“S#rry for yelling, but G0lly’s gon# quiet. She s#id that she ‘finally g#t her answer.’ W#at did you say to #er?”

“G0lly sent me a notification. Is something wrong?”

“None of your business, Archivist. Now can you please just—“

“I have received a notification as well.”

“You’re all here! Awesome!!” ”I’m trying to convince Radge that I’m tough enough to help him with his missions, and I thought that you guys can help me with that!”

“Tough enough? Oh, G0lly…”

Every wire in Radge’s body felt like it was melting. His system couldn’t handle the strain of everyone attempting to pilot at once. The bot froze in place, twitching. It’s screen flickering from one set of eyes to the next.

“I agr#e with G0lly. It’s #nly fair that she g#ts to do a mis#ion.”

“This work…this world…it’s all too much for her. I’m sorry, G0lly, but I’m siding with Radge on this one. What do you say, Photographer?”

“I have little opinion on this matter, as long as our tasks are still completed.”

“-and I can complete them!”

“Can you aLL JUST SHUT UP!?!”

Silence.

“Please….just *hhh* stop. All of you. Just stop…”

“We appear to be overheating.”

“Perhaps we overdid it a bit..”

One by one, the Uberbots slowly receded back into their shared digital headspace, leaving just Radge.

And G0lly.

She didn’t say anything, but Radge could sense that she was still there.

“…G0lly?”

“…”

“I— I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I’m sorry. You’re just…so positive. You’re the only ray of sunshine we have in this miserable world, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you like how I lost mys-“

“…..”

“Do…do you want to look at animal pictures when we get back?”

“That’s all you had to say.” :)

And with that, G0lly was gone as well. But not before sending one last private message.

“I’m still kinda sad…but I get it. Can I at least help you and the Photographer find targets?”

“Maybe.” Radge replied as the familiar sights of the heart of Krozzar’s domain faded into view.

“Just maybe.”

#apocalyption #inscryption au #radge #story #long post #this was way longer than i thought it would be lol. oh well!#i cant promise that all my future works will be as long as this one

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manekinoodle · 1 year

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honestly i just really like to put hoxton into situations but @velathetanager had an amazing player au which grew this horrible little seed. so thanks. i'd make a fic but without a pc it's not fun to type.

so. hoxton gets to know a payday 2 player. basically it's accidental and he overhears the mutterings of a player who's testing out a build or something. he's confused, but he's too busy to really question it. at least until jacket goes down and there's a very clear voice in his head going "damn ai pathing. someone come get me - HOXTON! HOXTON YOU STUPID BITCH come get my dead ass or - SYDNEY NO GET AWAY FROM THE TURRET! dammit sydney's down too fuuuck" and hoxton gets jacket back up and all is good. our player gets confused when hoxton in particular is becoming a smart bot. hoxton is hella confused about the voice but now he's realising how dumb his friends are being (minus jacket, who seems to be possessed). obviously our player puts hoxton permanently on to the bot crew.

hoxton doesn't get any good answers until he's back at the safehouse. as he hears jacket walking around fully armed and poking jimmy in the face (and since when was jiro fully mute, anyway?) he's standing in front of his fully completed conspiracy corkboard. jacket comes upstairs, punches a glass wall to come in and talks to dallas (who is unfazed) and then walks in to chat with clover (who would normally be chasing jacket out with a broom). hoxton stops jacket, calling out his name. jacket pauses, before the voice comes back in hoxton's head, "new voice line? i thought ovk ran out of money after paying pete gold for that hoxton christmas single." ok, christmas single? sure, hoxton had a christmas album that was in public circulation, but the single was still in the christmas cards waiting to be sent out.

is this weird voice someone who had hacked into bain's channels? and just selectively decided to drive hoxton crazy? that can't be it. bain would have known by now if that was the case. and the cryptic jargon this person was using... and who the fuck is pete gold?

while hoxton is considering this, jacket is circling him. "man, you're ugly," says the voice.

"WHO are you calling ugly?" hoxton snaps, fully expecting dallas or clover to shush him for the noise. neither of them are responsive. aldstone is still walking around the safehouse, nonchalantly walking through the broken glass wall. shit's getting weird.

jacket has paused, blinking somewhat owlishly. "uh. hox, you hear me?"

"yeah. who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"uh... shit, how do i explain this? um... consider me a god or something. yeah, that's our relation. this world is but a plaything to me. but you... you've received my divine favour! congratulations!" the voice is obviously making this shit up. but hoxton finds the explanation somewhat logical. it explains the weird behaviour of his friends. the knowledge and the cryptic words the voice uses.

"if i'm the one with 'divine favour' then why are you using jacket?"

"look, i had to commit one count of digital smuggling to pl- uh, possess him, ok? i can possess anyone i want. i just think jacket is funny."

"can you possess me then?" hoxton doesn't want this to happen. he just wants to know.

"yeah, but it's not as fun. you're actually helpful when we're heisting. plus, why not just leave you with the burden of knowing? i think it's more interesting that way. possession would just be a reprieve you don't deserve!" the voice cackles. the voice is an asshole. the possession of jacket is somewhat fitting.

"what do i get out of this divine favour then? an asshole who follows me around, talks to me in my head and makes my friends all weird?"

"look, i have to go make dinner soon, so your friends will be back to normal. and i'm much more useful than that! i can tell you things that you shouldn't know yet. but i'm considerate and i don't want to break your little brain." ok, that's fair. probably. hoxton had never considered the ethics of being a god that knew everything. he didn't consider much ethics at all.

"you can tell me something i don't know, right?"

"get ready for more election rigging and holding out!"

and with that, the voice leaves. jacket just keeps staring at hoxton. dallas starts screaming about the broken glass wall. aldstone calls a guy who can fix it.

hoxton needs a stiff drink. it's 9am on a thursday morning. he thinks he deserves it.

#payday 2 #hoxton #jacket #neki writes #neki spitposts #it was a fun exercise!

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iviarellereads · 6 months

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Network Effect, Chapter 4

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which I could say "something has gone terribly wrong" but that would be the understatement of the decade.

Murderbot didn't use evac suits before hacking its governor module, because going into space tended to violate the distance limits in company contracts, but the ones it's used practically have bot pilots, and these are new enough to not even smell like human parts. It guides Amena out, until it can contact baseship. They say they can see MB and Amena, and will tractor shortly. MB asks about Overse and the pod with the others. Roa says they'll try to make contact now. MB would rather not think about that, but Amena asks what it means. MB doesn't have time to answer before it detects an energy surge, and its suit's helmet goes dark, as the attacker fires and misses.

MB turns to see what's firing, a dumb human impulse. But, the configuration looks strangely familiar. Then it recognizes the insignia.

“That’s—” That’s ART,(1) I almost said on the feed, like an idiot. It was so shocking and so weird, my performance reliability dropped and I lost circulation to my organic parts. And not weird = violating norms in an annoying way but weird = eerie, like in Farland Star Roads, the story arc with the haunted station with ghosts and time-shifting.

Amena asks what MB was going to say, but the ship, Art, or not so much, fires again. Only, it misses anything again. The humans wonder if it's firing warning shots. MB asks if baseship is ready to catch them, but before they can log on the tractor, the hostile grabs them instead. Amena, very distressed, asks why they want her and MB when they have the facility already. MB doesn't know.

Even as they're loaded into an airlock by the tractor, MB doubts its memories, more than a little. It wants to run a diagnostic, but there's no time.

The lock cycles out, and allows them inside. MB steps in, cautiously, then pulls Amena in as well. For her part, Amena asks MB to just talk to her, even if it doesn't have answers to her questions. MB reminds itself that it still has a client, even if it's hallucinating, even if it wishes she were someone it trusted to be able to help it. It sends a ping, which almost seems to echo, as if the ship were hollow.

MB tells Amena something close to the truth: it recognizes this ship, but it shouldn't be here. Amena asks what ship it is, but instead of answering, MB has a genius idea and asks what the ship's insignia says. Any of its former clients who knew what it is would have known immediately that something was wrong, that MB doesn't ask questions it can answer for itself. But, Amena doesn't know it as well, and simply gives the answer: Perihelion. MB can now be sure it's not hallucinating, which is good, but also bad, because Art obviously isn't home.

Amena guesses it was hit by raiders and armed. MB says it was already armed: it's a deep space research vessel, with crew and passenger complement, but it works as a bot pilot in the off season. Amena asks why raiders would bother grabbing her and MB… only, if MB had something to do with this ship, could the raiders be here for it? MB says no, which it knows for a lie: something of Art came to get it, it just doesn't know why yet,(2) or why Art won't talk to it. Could something else be in control of Art's ship-body?

Lots of spiral thinking about what's going on, until it decides that first, they need to ditch the evac suits, as they're too cumbersome. Amena is reluctant, but does so. MB knows it needs to get her to the medical suite asap. As they make their way, MB detects no crew, even with its drones patrolling.

Only, the drones miss something, and MB takes a blow to the head and has to reboot.

Fortunately, a SecUnit's organic brain bits have better padding than a human. It's back up and running in time to still hear two unidentified beings talking to Amena, suggesting she'd better have the weapon they were told was in Preservation, or she'll regret it. The strangers say she's lying, and they know better.

MB's reboot has purged some of the stress toxins and helped it feel better and think more clearly. It was hit with a drone, which means there's some sort of feed active. It widens its scan parameters, and notes that its projectile weapon is smashed on the floor.(3) As it follows Amena's voice, it finds the feed and breaks the encryption, despite its algorithm being at least 8700 hours out of date.(4) The feed is empty of everything but drone comands, but if the feed encryption was old, maybe the drones are on old codes too. It starts cycling through them as it approaches its destination.

The doorway to the lounge where I’d detected Amena’s voice was open, brighter light falling into the half-lit corridor. I meant to wait until I was back up to at least 90 percent performance reliability but I heard Amena say, “There’s no weapon, you got the wrong ship.” The fear in her voice was more obvious and I was suddenly in the room. (Impulse control; I should try to write a code patch for that.)(5)

There are two potential casualties, in red and brown uniforms (not Art's dark blues) and looking bruised, and two definite Targets, looking augmented. They remark about how it should have been dead. MB needs intel, but instead of asking the more situationally important questions, it asks the emotionally important one: what did they do to Art? They accuse it of babbling, and Amena is utterly shocked, her hands over her mouth.(6)

The targets admit they deleted it. MB feels its face change. Amena cusses, and the targets find anger boring. Target One says it belongs to them now, but before it can continue, MB grabs it by the face, and swings it into the bulkhead. One of the drones comes at its head, but it dodges. Target Two looks at the other drones, obviously wondering why they didn't attack.

The good thing about being a construct is that I can have a dramatic emotional breakdown while still running my background search to find the drone key commands. I’d had a hit and a responding ping from the targetDrones right when Target One had called me boring. (Irony is great.) I sent the order to power down and they dropped to the deck with two loud thunks.(7)

As Target Two's face turns to fury, MB parrots back their earlier words: angry, afraid, then dead, wasn't it? Casualty One starts to say something, but Target One interrupts by reaching for a weapon, tricking MB into lunging for it, and hitting MB with a hidden energy weapon in the other hand. The Target grins, but MB just gets angrier, and crushes their arm. Target Two, with misplaced confidence, shoves another energy weapon at MB's chest.(8)

MB tears the energy weapon out of Target Two's hand, shoves it into their chest, and rips a hole in their torso. It then uses the weapon to smash them against the bulkhead until bits splatter off. Target One bolts for the hatch, but Amena calls its attention to the targetDrones, powering up despite MB's override code. It smashes both of them.

The casualties finally come into play. Casualty One, Eletra, tries to tell Amena she needs to come with them and hide. Casualty Two, Ras, agrees, and says they stand a chance with a SecUnit. Both have ID from a corporation called Barish-Estranza. Amena says maybe they should, but MB says it has something to do. It sets its own drones to following Target One, all the way to the crew meeting area where it spent the most time here before.

The targetDrones aren't responding to its commands anymore at all, which suggests a security update, which suggests a controlling system near enough to push it. MB tries to cut off the targetDrone feed, but while some are cut, others still have access.

To Amena, MB admits it doesn't have control over the drones anymore, so Amena says they should go together.

MB's drones have followed Target One all the way to the control deck, with Target One and Target Three. Target One collapses on a station chair. Target Three starts to give orders to kill the escapees, but MB uses some of its drones to hit both One and Three in their faces.

In the lounge, the Casualties are arguing that Amena just needs to order the SecUnit to come with them, but Amena says it doesn't take orders. Amena grabs MB's arm, not knowing the danger she's courting. She tells MB they have to go with the Casualties. MB tells her never to touch it again. Eletra starts to move, as Ras asks if MB will even listen. MB moves past Eletra and catches the targetDrone waiting for them outside, then tells them to follow it.(9)

=====

(1) I dunno about you, but when I first read this, my first thought was "HECK YEA!" followed immediately by "wait, but it just fired at MB?! HECK WHAT NO!" (2) The power of friendship: even in death, I will come for you. (3) Not even the courtesy to take it with them so someone could steal it back and use it later? Rude. (4) If you do the math, that's 2.5 days short of a full Earth year that MB has been free. (5) Aw, but where's the fun in that? (6) What must be going through her head? Does it feel like watching a serial, the way MB so often quips to us? (7) That's the Murderbot we know and love. (8) You really would think that these people would be a little smarter, to have been able to take over Art. (9) That's some real compelling reasoning, actually, well done.

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot diaries #network effect #murderbot #secunit #amena #eletra (murderbot)#ras (murderbot)

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knowlessman · 1 year

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shake n bake alabamia (bnha) s2e4-5 let's find out what a fucking cavalry battle is

yeah yeah 80% of the world is superheroes ever since the shiny nation attacked wtf is a cavalry battle I don't wanna google it I want you to tell me -- reel 'em in with the melody (skipskipskip)

"I want you to tell them 'I am here!' mow it in the lawn if you have to!"

deku I think it might take a little more than luck to drag a hunk of metal with you a whole race and then figure out a way to use it to go really fast right at the end. people keep underselling themselves in this.

…these are some weird rules. also holy shit this looks unsafe with the headbands around the neck. are they actually supposed to carry each other? how the hell are they sposed to get the headbands? -- "you'll get a red card for trying to make people fall over" ?????????????????????? I started this episode with one question and I keep getting more. also it's hard enough to get kids with quirks not to try to kill each other, how in fuck do you decide whether an "attack" is meant to get someone to fall?

dude. I know healing powers exist but still, why are they letting you smoke indoors, and right in people's faces no less

"how do you not know your own class's powers???" 'XD vegeta gonna vegeet

flying horse? not sure what other plan there is with uraraka tbh -- well, it's not like this is that different from deku's plan with picking iida -- (I keep trying to remember the gadgeteer girl's name from danganronpa 3 so I can call hatsume that but tbph maybe that's for the best anyway)

"I just need one more person" WHAT ARE THE RULES OF THIS GAME, THE DIAGRAM SHOWED THREE PEOPLE -- dontbeminetadontbeminetadontbemineta -- birdman, yesssssss, this oughta be cool (also it's not mineta thank fuck)

oh fuck, part of me wants to see todoroki win. it helps that iida is on his team (even tho I'm a little disappointed about this "I'm your rival now too" thing)

really, tsu? mineta? : /

that's literally one of the butler bot npc's from the paris map I stg (like granted it's not a complicated design but still)

"before we get deku, let's kill all these guys (who are literally just playing the hand they were dealt with half a brain)" easy there vegeets, you get red flags that way -- I guess props to class A for figuring out, between them, how to set up a team that lets bakugo do whatever he wants; for sure, no team with him in it is going to last longer than it takes for him to fall off otherwise

"I shift Shoji into attack mode and attack your headbands directly!"

"team midoriya has nowhere left to go!" WHAT. ARE. THE. RULES. TO. THIS. GAME. is this fucking calvinball, or does every high school in japan play this and somehow it's never shown up in any other anime I've heard of, or what?

…we just did this. didn't we just do this last episode? -- oh, cool. hell, I feel like they're trying to set up neito as a dick but I don't see much reason not to like him yet

neito gotta stop pushing them buttons or we're gonna need a backup planet

o_o dang, wasn't expecting iida to even have chips to put in

sigh "the difference between having goals you can plan for and just bloodymindedly grasping for the moon while answering everything but perfection with violence" so disappointingly american

I wasn't really reading too close when they explained how the points work, but it is pretty damn weird that there's a ten million point headband and (judging by the margins on the scoreboard) no others that even go up to ten thousand. damn near rowlingesque; hell, even the snitch could be overtaken (granted, only by somebody willingly throwing the game)

"Tokoyami!" "Kaminari!" "DEKUUUU!" "Bakugo!" Donkey!

"TIME UP!" bakugo faceplants 'XDDDDDD shouldn'ta got sidetracked, vegeet

…wait when did gamzee get here. did neito throw his points to him? was this a relay race pony express shell game thingy??? we still don't know what shinso's mOtHeRfUcKiNg quirk is yet

CONSOLATION POINTS TO GRIFFINPUFF. good show, birdman, good show

hm. interesting convos in next episode, I expect. officially learning some things about todoroki and endeavor. gonna have to be next time, unfortunately; 's late.

#knowless watches bnha

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green-fifteen · 1 year

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a reason not to hack your governor module

word count: 654

summary: Murderbot should be included in the next intersystem firefighter calendar. Isn't saving small animals how you get into that sort of thing? 🐈

Written for All Systems Love: 2023 Microfest on ao3. Go read! ❤️

One time, I was really stupid.

I mean really stupid.

SecUnits like me are designed with roughly a billion fail-safes and kill-switches and redundancies, meant to prevent us from doing things that are really, really stupid. Of course, we're still able to follow brainless requests from clients. (Some of the important tasks I have carried out include: standing guard with my eyes closed while clients have noisy sex in Company surveilled rooms; passing letters between red-cheeked teenagers on one exceptionally painful survey mission; babysitting.)

But when it comes to decision-making, we are cheaply made machines of pure logic and reasoning. For example, our governor module does not allow us to take rash and avoidable risks with our own personal safety for the sake of small lap animals.

I found myself winking in and out of awareness at 18% performance reliability. I was lying on my back and I couldn't contact the servos to move my inorganic parts. Then, when I tried to open my eyes, I couldn't do that, either. It seemed my stupid decision was going to have stupid, boring consequences. Luckily, I had access to the feed from the cameras in the room and also my cache of downloaded media. I opened the camera feed in the background and played episode 10 of a new show called Dawn of Sagittarius. I was feeling pretty determined not to think about the reason I was currently out of commission.

Of course, that's when two humans walked into view of my camera, mid-conversation.

"Your mom said what?"

"It reached too far. It was in the vents with Ducky," a small voice was saying. The small body it belonged to came to stand near my head, while the other small human stopped close to the door.

"Why was it in the vents?"

"You were there when Mama explained this to me, Koko!" Her voice was loud in my ears and I turned off the audio feed from the camera.

"But that still doesn't make sense. I thought it was a SecUnit thing."

"So?" I saw the little girl place a hand on the table. Her bracelets clinked musically against the metal.

The other girl made a weird gesture.

"Um! SecUnits protect scientists! And, like, other people. Who have money," she was saying. "Did anybody even hire it for this?"

I wished I could turn off the audio feed from my ears.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll ask it when it wakes up."

When I woke up, I was going to seduce the nearest bot pilot and leave without speaking to anyone.

"You want to talk to it?" the farther one said, incredulous. She was wearing a pinkish wrap-thing and had very fluffy hair. I realized I didn't actually know if these were both children or just pretty short adults.

Bracelet Human made a noise and didn't answer, like she was feeling fed up with questions. I was feeling pretty sympathetic, but then she put her hand on my shoulder.

"My mama said that you only fell because you tried to save Ducky. If you can hear me, I wanted to say thank you." She paused and looked at the fuzzy one, then said, "Some people are saying there must have been a reason you decided to help him, since you're supposed to be really smart. I don't care why you did, I'm just happy that you were there. I'll never forget you."

Most of what she said was lost to the intense discomfort of her organic hand touching my organic shoulder. My body gave a shudder, which I interpreted as a sign that the nerves in my skin bits were recovering well. The little hand pulled away.

"Come on, Del. Can we leave it alone?"

Bracelet Human backed toward the door with a pensive look and then turned to follow Fuzzy Human out the door.

I silently wished for a mercy killing and started another episode.

#murderbot diaries #secunit #murderbot #happy valentine's day #all systems love #murderbot microfest #my fic #fifteen-fanfic #fifteen #green-fifteen #fanfiction #ficlet

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snowflakeanimelover · 2 years

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Light And Dark(FNAF Security Breach) Part 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Think you’re missing a part? Please look here.

Tag list is CLOSED.

Tag List: @lacunaanonymoused @fatherfigurefreddy @teddydumpster @butterflykiisies @bloodsweatandcannibals @kebabra @jack-morrison @simpcity-com @thelovebuggs @kitty-page @transwolfie @liar-liar13 @zyphrr @probablygonnahurtsomebody @gipsyd @starlightdust-dreamergalaxy @black-veil-chemicalz @maryclanders @necromantiste @resortalia @yourpoin @plaguerat44 @sakura-chandaneko @callmegkiddo-original

Usernames that I am not able to tag(I Apologize for the inconvenience): @lilpaa, @hahaitiedyouup, @slowdancingwithseokjin, @blanktide, @snclom

If you have any questions about this story, please comment on this post here. I am working on a Q&A post.

———

It’s not very often to see Vanessa smile. If anything, she keeps a frown on her face almost all the time. Unless she eats a food she likes, or she puts on a fake smile for children. Other than that, you see her growling at people she hates the most when they pass by. I’m just glad she doesn’t growl at me. It might just be because I’m her new favorite Night Guard partner. But I’m sure as hell ain’t happy about it.

It’s midnight at the entrance of the Pizzaplex. Vanessa and I’s meeting spot, to be exact. Half of the time, my ears went deaf to her directions for the night as I stared at her smile with fear. It wasn’t a happy-that-you’re-my-new-partner smile. It felt more like a I-can’t-wait-to-see-what-you-go-through-tonight smile. Especially when she’s the only one who knows about the Moondrop incident.

Towards the end of her words, I managed to pitch my ears in to ignore that creepy smile.

“And don’t go into the basement floors. Pass Parts and Services.” She says.

I cock my head with furrowed brows. “Parts and services? Where’s that?” I ask her. I remember seeing the Parts and Services bins laying around, but never had I actually been there.

“You don’t know where that is?”

I shake my head. “I work at Daycare, Vanessa. “I let out a halfheartedly laugh.

“Well, it’s just under the stage. Use your map if you have to.” She points at the Fazwatch she gave me during her speech. It wraps tightly around my wrist. I glance down at it with a frown. Bless her heart for making sure I didn’t get lost, but also curse her heart for making me feel like a child. She then walks off and leaves me alone in the lobby.

— — —

An hour of walking around has passed. There wasn’t anything too alarming so far. And by too alarming, I mean almost getting heart attacks by accidentally running into security bots and making them set off an alarm.

But what really caught my eyes were the security bots roaming around. There was way more than we usually have at night. I was curious about the crazy amount. A security bot at almost every corner and space of this giant building.

I put myself against a wall as a security bot runs by with a flashlight. I grab my walkie talkie and press the button that calls Vanessa. A noise to grab her attention. But a few minutes of me continuously pressing the button, I never received an answer. Only buzzing interference came through.

“Weird…” I say aloud, putting the walkie talkie away. Maybe we were too far apart.

“Gregory…” A robotic voice stops me from moving away from the wall. It sounded way too familiar, so I turned the corner to see if I was right.

And I was. Glamrock Chica was slumped, walking around the building as she called out for this…Gregory. Who is Gregory? And why are the animatronics roaming around? Did Scott program them to walk around and didn’t tell me or Vanessa?

I decided it was best to ask Glamrock Chica for the answers.

But something bumping into me makes me yelp in shock, frozen on the spot. I turn quickly, finding a boy with tanned skin looking up at me.

A boy ran into me. A child is in the building at closing time and ran into me. Ran into me. And I am a Night Guard.

“Oh my god!” I blurt out, making the child flinch. “What…what are you doing here?! Are you lost?” I try to ask the child. I probably wasn’t helping him stay calm from my yelling.

The boy didn’t say anything, slowly backing away from me. Before I could stop him, the boy turns and runs off. “Wait!” I call for the child, running after him. I couldn’t run very fast with my pencil skirt. Vanessa has mentioned something to me on the first night with her for me to wear pants next time. I must’ve forgotten about that, since I wore a skirt again. I am so used to wearing a nice office looking outfit for my job, that I didn’t think about wearing pants for this Night Guard job.

I follow the boy throughout the building, calling out to him over and over. As I went through a door the child went through, it turned out to be a closet. He ran into a dead end.

The door shuts behind me as I block it from him. “Would you calm down, please?” I gasp out from all of the running.

“F-Freddy, please help! I’m stuck!” The boy calls out. He had his wrist up close to his mouth to speak to it. I was about to question why he called out Freddy when the Fazwatch the boy is wearing makes a buzzing sound.

“Gregory? Are you alright?” Freddy’s voice comes through the watch.

“Freddy?” I ask aloud, surprised to hear him through the watch. His voice is programmed into the Fazwatch’s, but those weren’t the words he’s supposed to say in the watch. The boy’s terrified eyes glance up at me.

“(Y/N)?” Freddy says after a beat of silence.

“Yes! Freddy, what is going on? Who is this boy?”

“Oh. This is Gregory! I’ve been helping him through the night.” He says almost excitedly. “Gregory, this is (Y/N). You can trust her.”

The boy, Gregory, looks up at me one more time. Within seconds, he had his hands clutching onto my button-down shirt with glossy eyes. “Please! You have to help Freddy!”

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 23, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Nature Abhors a (Power) Vacuum

Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Xichen have gathered to decide what to do about the remaining Wen people and also what to do about the Yin metal. They have not invited Jiang Cheng to this discussion, or blowhard Clan Leader Yao, despite those clans having been hit particularly hard by the Wens in the course of the war.

The three of them have a conversation about what to do with the Wen captives, showing their different attitudes towards killing.

Jin Guangshan: Killing is awesome, particularly in project management. It's just so efficient. Nie Mingjue: Killing is necessary, and a little bit fun, too. Lan Xichen: Killing is necessary, sadly, but we can randomly spare some women or old people, as a token sign that we’re not monsters. Kind of like when you have a fancy dinner and include a tofu dish for the vegetarians. Nie Mingjue: Nobody likes tofu, Xichen.

Jin Guangshan says he's looking for the Yin Iron and that they can't let any Wens or "ambitious people" get a hold of it. By ambitious people he means Wei Wuxian, not himself and his murder kid. Lan Xichen realizes this right away but doesn't, you know, do anything to contradict him. Jin Guangshan says he's asked "A-Yao" to look into it. Which is smart, because A-Yao is already in cahoots with Xue Yang, who actually has the piece of Yin Iron they're looking for.

Getting Jiggy With It

Then Jin Guangshan introduces Meng Yao, now renamed Jin Guangyao, in a weird twist on generation names. He has given him the name of a sibling or cousin of his own generation (starting with Guang), rather than a name of the next generation (starting with Zi). JGS says that JGY just recently learned about about being related to him, although we know perfectly well that's not true.

And they both talk like he appreciates JGY's efficiency and helpfulness, but that's not why JGS has him at his side. He has taken him in because he is a steel-eyed murder bot, not in spite of it.

(OP does not believe that Jin Guangyao could have been a good person if only his dad had let him hold Jin Ling that one time, as some have argued. Dude killed his own child because there was a chance he might be disabled in a way that could lead to gossip. Dude is a stone cold killer.)

(more after the cut)

In the language of CDrama costume (which is not, precisely, the language of actual historical clothing), Jin Guangyao has chosen to dress as a minister instead of as a chevalier. This is partly an artifact of his mother's ideas about a gentleman. It also suggests that he’s content with the sort of career that's available to a bastard of a noble house--not inheriting the noble title, but having enough favor to rise in power.

It may also be a ruse to make him seem like he's not a strong cultivator and not a strong fighter, when in fact he is both, at least by the time he’s throwing death chords at Jiang Cheng, much later in the show.

Mingjue makes all kinds of grumpy faces and snarky remarks to let everyone know that he fucking hates Jin Guangyao. Xichen agrees to his “nice refugee camp with only a little death” plan, with no qualifications.

Now we get to see Jin Guangyao's manipulation of Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen says that Nie Mingjue wants a plan that’s more killy, because he believes in punishing evil. JGY deliberately misunderstands this, pretending that Lan Xichen said he, JGY, is evil, kind of forcing LXC to reassure him and take his side in an argument that isn’t actually happening.

They have a little handholding while bowing, and then after Lan Xichen leaves, Jin Guangyao puts on his evil face and has all the prisoners killed behind the big closed door.

This is done in such a violent fashion that the blood apparently flows up several stairs to the door, and over the tall raised threshold, before flowing downward toward the camera. Some evil is so extreme that even traditional Chinese doorway architecture can’t stop it.

Run To the Rock

Then we go outside to where Wei Wuxian is standing on a rocky outcropping, thinking it would be a good strategic spot to choose if he's ever in a battle where he wants to commit suicide right quick.

Lan Wangji comes to join him and admire the view, not knowing yet that this view, or one a whole lot like it, is going to be seared into his memory for most of his life.

Lan Wangji is becoming more and more committed to Wei Wuxian, more and more inexorably joined to him, but he still doesn't agree with him. So they each have this comfort in each others' presence at the same time as being massively in conflict.

Wei Wuxian asks him what he thinks of all the politicking and murdering. Who is good and who is evil? LWJ doesn't answer because WWX is leaking black smoke, so he grabs him and tells him to concentrate. Lan Wangji is, incidentally, wearing Princess-Leia quantities of lip gloss.

Lan Wangji asks if Wei Wuxian would like to learn a new tune, "Absterge" according to Netflix. The fuck? [op looks it up in the dictionary]. "To cleanse, especially by wiping." Also known as aftercare. Netflix. Honey. This word is MIDDLE FRENCH. Will you knock it the fuck off?

So anyway, instead of answering his question about who is good and who is evil, LWJ asks if he wants to learn a song called "Cleansing." Wei Wuxian says “hey babe, are you fucking kidding me?”

His actual words are "you doubt me too?" meaning "you think I also took the missing 4th chunk of Yin iron to make my ugly tiger amulet, rather than obviously having used that giant sword I pulled out of the turtle?"

Lan Wangji mentally replays Wen Ruohan's questions in his head--the questions he barked at Wei Wuxian right before choking him unconscious--which Lan Wangji also feels entitled to know the answers to. Fuck you, Lan Wangji. He answers WWX with "when did you forge your amulet?" Which is his way of saying "yes, I doubt you."

Wei Wuxian kindly refrains from saying "while we were on a break, bitch" and instead tells him the exact truth--I found a yin iron sword in the turtle--but says it in his patented "make it sound like a lie" way.

LWJ keeps grilling him, eventually coming out and saying dude, you knew the sword was Yin iron, why did you need to use it?

This is the crucial question--why WWX broke his first promise, to Lan Yi, which was to try to get rid of the Yin Iron. He won’t tell anyone the answer, which is that he needs to use it because he can't cultivate normally, because he lost his golden core. He made a lot of promises before that happened, and he probably expected to keep them. But without his core, everything changed; without his core, he’s a different person, so it’s maybe not fair to expect him to honor his previous promises.

I’m reminded of my grandfather, who was the oldest son of an old southern US family, with lots of expectations as the firstborn. He went off to WWI as a soldier, expecting to die. He didn’t die, and so from that point on, he regarded his life as a gift. He felt could do whatever he wanted with it, and let go of expectations from before the war. He moved to Paris and took up with a glamorous divorcee 7 years older than him (my Grandma, eventually).

The actual point of that story, other than OP having cool grandparents, is that when you think you’re going to die, and then you don’t die, your ideas about what you owe to people can change quite a bit. Wei Wuxian expected to die in the Burial Mounds; he expected to die at Nightless City; he expects it, over and over, and each time he doesn’t die, he gets further and further from being what everyone else wants him to be. And--a lot like soldiers returning from a war-- NOBODY in his life knows how to talk to him about it.

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to back off, Lan Wangji says why aren't you letting me help you, and they are once again on the edge of the same fight they keep having. Lan Wangji does some impassioned arm holding while Wei Wuxian says he's not like Wen Ruohan.

Romantic Duet #1

The argument is interrupted by screams and killing, so they go to check it out, and find the Jins hunting down some prisoners for sport. They arrive in time to save two people. Yay?

Jin ZIxun acts like a jerk, as always. The new element is that per Jin Guangshan, anyone concerned with Yin Iron shouldn't be alive. He says that the Lan and Nie clans agreed, and challenges Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji stops him from responding, grabbing his wrist.

The Jins leave and Wei Wuxian refers back to their earlier conversation, saying there will be more resentful spirits now and that "Rest" is the music to play, not "Cleansing."

He gives Lan Wangji a long look and then pointedly removes Lan Wangji’s hand from his wrist, by holding his hand, which is some next-level mixed signaling. Lan Wangji totally deserves it at this point, though. He keeps pushing and pushing WWX about his cultivation method, but he refuses to discuss the underlying morality of it, or the morality of the killing going on right in front of them.

WWX walks off, leaving LWJ to stew in his own juices surrounded by a bunch of fresh corpses.

Lan Wangji fails his saving throw against the guilt trip, and sits his ass down to play Rest, just like Wei Ying told him to. So switchy! Wei Wuxian, out of sight but not out of earshot, hears him and accompanies him on Chenqing.

This scene is slightly ridiculous and a whole lot sublime. Ridiculous because it's their first time playing music together, so it's a super slow, romantic, extended scene, but they're surrounded by corpses. And not the helpful, friendly, third-wheel-on-a-date type of corpses.

It's sublime because the occasion of their first beautiful, literally magical duet is an argument. And they are joining together to play beautiful romantic music - as a service for the dead. And they are doing it while they are on literally opposite sides of a literal killing field. And Lan Wangji is sitting literally in the middle of a wide open road; the sort of road that they will both reject, metaphorically, later in the show. There is so much about their conflict and their journey that is encapsulated in this one musical moment.

Lan Wangji, by playing the song Wei Wuxian said was needed, is telling WWX that he took his words to heart, that he is listening, even though they're at odds.

WWX, by stopping and playing with him, is acknowledging this. And by settling the dead souls together, they are both reinforcing their dedication to doing what's right even as they both struggle with knowing what that is.

When Other Friendships Have Been Forgot, Ours Will Still Be Hot

Now we have the sworn brothers thing. I understand, plot wise, why this has to happen, but why would Nie Mingjue ever agree to this? Lan Xichen's puppy eyes are just that persuasive?

If they ever crack your spine, drop a line If they ever cut your throat, write a note If you’re ever in a mill and get sawed in half, I won’t laugh (HA HA HA HA)

Tedious Party Time

Now there's a cultivation party, which is about as excruciating to watch as it would be to attend.

Everyone is lining up to praise Jin Guangshan. To be fair, he did provide shelter for most of the smaller clans while the war was going on. So being grateful is appropriate, but Clan Leader Yao practically breaks his own neck kissing Jin ass. Yao says JGY’s contribution was the greatest of the war, adding, "fuck Wei Wuxian; everything is his fault."

The Jiangs show up wearing mourning belts that show off their itty bitty waists, and Jin Guangshan makes shifty eyes like a cartoon landlord when he sees them arrive.

JGS praises Jiang Cheng, and asks when his fancy clan-leader ceremony is going to happen. Jiang Cheng says he's still in mourning so it's not appropriate. JGS is like “Oh...yeah," as if he totally forgot about all the Yunmeng slaughter, and talks up his friendship with Jiang Fengmian. He acts comforting while WWX manages not to barf.

Then the Lan clan shows up and there is nice encouraging chit chat between LXC and JC...

...and just, SO MUCH mournful staring between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Then the Nies arrive. Jin Guangshan tells Nie Mingjue he's late, and that everyone's waiting for him. That might be true in the script but it’s clearly bullshit on the screen, where the Lans and the Jiangs are still milling around looking for the coat room.

Nie Mingjue--who, let's remember, JUST swore to be brothers with Jin Guangyao--looks at him like he's something that fell off a garbage truck. Lan Xichen jumps in to maximize the discomfort by pointing out that Jin Guangyao should address Nie Mingjue as Big Daddy Da-ge from now on.

Then the Jins offer Nie Mingjue the giant fire throne because...he's the leader of the Sunshot campaign, I guess? Of course it's all a manipulation tactic, designed to make him say he won't sit there, so that JGS can elevate himself to head cultivator, or something? And sit in front of the throne but not on it? Cultivator succession seems kinda arbitrary.

I swear to god, it wasn't until I was clipping this episode that I realized Wen Ruohan had two thrones and they're in different rooms from each other.

Finally everyone goes to sit down, but because there hasn't been enough fucking awkwardness, JGY stops WWX to ask him what's on his mind. WWX asks him why he's not carrying his sword, which made me laugh and laugh. Wei Wuxian must have been just waiting for a chance to ask someone else that question for a change.

Jin Guangyao says he threw it away, because it was just a random sword, but he really means he had it made into a sneaky murder belt, that he will be using again in 13 to 16 years. They both fake-laugh and trade Mean Girls insults pretend to like each other.

Everyone wanders around toasting each other. Lan Wangji goes to find Wei Wuxian, after first making sure that his hair looks good.

Wei Wuxian is lying around on the steps, sprawling and drinking wine, and not, incidentally, looking for Lan Wangji. He continues to not seek him out and Lan Wangji continues to chase after him.

Wei Wuxian says "how about playing Cleansing?" but Lan Wangji says he's learning a new score. It looks like it's going to be another argument, but then Wei Wuxian smiles and kind of praises Lan Wangji for being stubborn.

Awkward Marriage Proposal

Just then everyone inside starts cheering for Jin Guangshan to give a speech. Jin Guangshan is making a move to marry Jiang Yanli to his son, which is a big time power grab, given that the Jiang Clan is 1. vulnerable and depleted 2. has control of the Yin tiger amulet.

We get a very rare glimpse into Jiang Cheng’s inner mind, where he thinks that saying yes isn’t a great idea, but isn’t sure what to do. This marriage would make his sister happy, but could destroy the Jiang Clan's independence.

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian joins the party just in time to fuck up Jin Guanshan’s plans. Will this teach Jin Guangshan not to invite Wei Wuxian to parties? It will not.

Soundtrack: Friendship, by Cole Porter (from “Anything Goes”)

Bonus:

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #words:2750

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Prompts 1, 9, 17, and 49. Huntsman Has been visiting Sandy for a few weeks now and Moe has made it clear he does not trust the spider. One day, while Sandy's busy Huntsman decides he's had enough of this cat and goes into a rant which then turns into him venting some stuff. Therapy cats are for more then just pets apparently. (Bonus points if it's from Moe's POV) - Pixel Anon

Apparently I am bad at figuring out how to write from a cat’s POV, but this was the PERFECT prompt for me to continue Second Chances Over Tea! This is where stuff really starts to... deviate.

Do not give me that look/How long have you been standing there?/I can’t do this even though everyone says I can./That cute act is all just a lie.

Where time had gone Huntsman had no idea. There was both no time and too much time. Syntax had everything he needed to rebuild and reprogram the spider bots and he’d been doing everything he could to try to replicate the venom with little to no success, much to the increased frustration of the Spider Queen.

She wasn't upset at him, not really. Huntsman knew she was just taking out her frustration at the situation on the poor scientist. Had it been in the weeks before Huntsman would have brushed it off and told him to deal with it.

But now... he felt bad for him. He could tell Syntax was trying his best. The human turned demon wasn’t quite as harsh and clinical as he had pin pointed him as, that much had become clear when he had noticed Huntsman’s odd behavior. His behavior since he has started sneaking out to visit Sandy. He never pushed, never pried, but did make a point to remind him to charge his communicator and to message him on the nights he was out.

Huntsman wasn’t stupid. He knew that Syntax knew he was lying. There was no need to go out and search for materials or do more recon now, the scientist knew that. But he never pushed, never yelled at him to stay and help (though that was probably because he knew that this stuff was not Huntsman’s line of specialty), never prodded about exactly where he went.

Though he had to know by now.

He’d pointed out the smell of motor oil and tea clinging to his clothes once, when they were alone. The cat fur and nip that has stuck to the edges of his undershirt another day. The saltwater that made his hair stick awkwardly to his face and lingered in the air yet another. Huntsman realized over a week into his nightly visits that there was a GPS built into in his communicator.

Syntax wasn’t stupid either. He knew Huntsman was visiting Sandy. He had to have. Huntsman did not trust him to not have turned on that GPS remotely on that first night to learn where he was.

So why stay quiet?

And why was Huntsman thinking these things, things he wouldn’t have thought weeks ago had he been doing something similar in other circumstances?

... he knew why... and it had to do with where he was. And who had been slowly starting to make him look at others with a more critical eye outside the hunt.

He let these thoughts roll around in his head, thoughts he has pushed down and down and farther down until over the course of the last 18 days, 2 and a half weeks and nearly a month since he stole the Crimson Jimsonweed petal from Sandy and the other reached out a hand in kind, until this moment.

It was just past 2:30 in the morning. Huntsman was laying on Sandy’s couch, only the third time he had stayed since that first late night, the other having gone to bed himself. And that blue cat with the matching mohawk was sitting on his chest.

“Get off me,” he hissed, only to be met with a low hiss from the feline. Not a warning or a threat, more a rebuttal to his own. Mo, he knew his name was, and he was the favored cat of Sandy. Always with him, on his shoulder or somewhere nearby. A smart and feisty little thing. He simply stared at the spider demon, moving to sit more firmly on his chest with a thump of his tail and a low purr. “Do not give me that look, cat. Or the purr. That cute act is all just a lie, I know you don’t like me being here.”

Mo did not reply, as he was simply a cat. But he blinked slowly at Huntsman, something Sandy told him cats only did with people they trusted not to hurt them, and he narrowed his gaze at the cat in suspicion.

“I’m getting mixed signals here,” he said, sighing as he sat up in defeat knowing he would not be resting any time soon with his racing thoughts. Instinctively, as he’d done this many times before with the other cats on the ship, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and let Mo slide into being held to his chest. The cat seemed to smirk in victory, as if getting him up and messing with him was his plan all along. “You’re weird. But then again so am I. So is everything about this... whatever this is.”

He reaches up, scratching behind the oddly colored cat’s ears and earned no reaction aside from the continued stare of the cat.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you watch me every time I come over,” he continued, stopping his scratching before roughly picking him up and holding him out across from him to glare at the cat. “How you always sit where you can watch me, are constantly glaring at me and growling when I get too close to your owner. How you just don’t trust me even though I haven’t done anything to you or him since that time on the mountain. But why would you trust me anyway, I just showed up one day in your house after we attacked you on New Years so... I can’t really blame you...”

He frowned, putting the cat down far more gently than he had held him up. He rubbed his face, looking down at the communicator that he wore with a sigh.

“... everything we did on the Lunar New Year was a mistake,” he muttered to himself, grazing the communicator with a claw. “I never asked any questions. Just went along with what my Queen asked of me. If I had asked something, anything, maybe she wouldn’t have accepted that spirit’s help with her plan. I was her advisor until Syntax came along, I should have said something! I’m supposed to be a hunter but I couldn’t even realize we were the ones being hunted until it was too late!”

This seemed to catch Mo’s attention. The smirk on the cat’s face faded into something of confusion, if that was possible for a cat, and he took a step forward and placed a paw on Huntsman’s leg and mewed up at him.

The spider demon barely reacted, not pushing Mo away like he normally would.

“If I had said anything Syntax would probably still be human, I’d still be advisor, and we wouldn’t be scrambling like headless chickens trying to figure out what she’s planning on using us for! Or Syntax wouldn’t because for some reason I’m here, on this couch, instead of in our lair! I’m here running away from the problem, giving them the barest scraps of tech I weasel out of your owner with nice conversation and company for tea because... because what!?”

He growled, curling in on himself a bit as he bit down on one of his fingers in frustration. But the words kept coming, maybe it was because he hadn’t slept since the night before or maybe it was just a long time coming. Maybe being constantly somewhere he finally felt safe when he hadn’t realized how unsafe he felt in the lair over the last few months broke down his walls that he spent so long building up. Maybe the talking he’d done with Sandy did it.

Or maybe there was no reason aside from him feeling safe ranting at a cat.

“I came for help at first but I didn’t need to keep coming. But I have every day and I know why but I just-I can’t! I can’t keep coming here every day like this, we’re running out of time! But I don’t want to go back, not with her there. But I have to, my Queen and Goliath and Syntax the smarmy bastard are there without me and I just... I can’t do this even though Sandy says I can. I’m...”

“Scared,” Sandy’s voice came from the nearby doorway, startling the spider demon from his ranting and making him realize that at some point Mo had actually crawled into his lap and was pawing at his hand.

“How long have you been standing there?” Huntsman asked in horror, not knowing how he could have possibly managed to miss the large form of the blue demon just. Standing there.

“Long enough,” he said softly, coming over and grabbing Huntsman’s wrist with the gentlest grip he could manage and pulling it away to inspect the bite he had inflicted on himself. “Huntsman, you-”

A soft bing rang through the air, the text notification from his communicator, breaking the tension between the two as Huntsman pulled his arm back to check it quickly.

‘Huntsman, Spider Queen is demanding your presence. She is getting angry. If you are awake you must return at once. Immediately, if possible.’

Another one came in, typed so fast he could barely finish reading the first.

‘Goliath is getting worried about her. Scared. She’s angrier than I’ve seen her since the festival and won’t listen to us. We need you here.’

And another.

‘I need you back here. Please come back. Please.’

Please...

In all the time Huntsman had known Syntax the other had never said that word without being condescending... but something about these texts... and the timing...

“Something’s wrong,” he said to Sandy, standing quickly and dropping Mo onto the couch gently. “I have to go.”

“Home?” Sandy asked, reaching to grab Huntsman’s coat without another question.

“Yes,” he replied, realizing that... oddly, that felt like the wrong answer to him. Somehow. “Synta-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Sandy interrupted, pushing a small parcel into Huntsman’s hands. “Not if it slows you down. Go, it’s the piece you said your friend needed.”

“... thank you,” Huntsman said, after a short pause, feeling like he should have done more as he rushed out the door and into the warm dark of night.

He thought he heard Sandy’s phone ring as he left but couldn’t be certain.

“You keep going,” Huntsman said after a short pause, turning back in the direction they came. “Just in case. But I have something I want to check.”

“Uh, be careful!” Goliath yelled back as Huntsman broke out his mechanical legs and sprinted back toward where they left the mech.

He may not know the Monkie Kid well, but Sandy had told him enough about MK that he thought that maybe... maybe...

Maybe if he came clean to Spider Queen...

He thought he heard a distant yelp that almost sounded like Syntax.

When he had returned Huntsman had found that Syntax was telling the truth. Their Queen was working in a near frenzy, trying to rush through the building of their mech. Syntax was trying to explain to her that there was not enough time to complete it at the rate she was requesting without the venom, that even with the extra materials the bots had gathered with the tech Huntsman himself had proffered they weren’t fast enough.

Then the Monkie Kid had literally fallen into their lair.

Huntsman didn’t know why he was there. He knew that Sandy couldn’t have told him what they were doing, he knew the other wouldn’t do something like that now after all the time they had spent together. His only guess was that one of the things that the bots had grabbed for the mech had belonged to the young man.

He heard the sound of fighting, his Queen and the Monkie Kid yelling, and somewhere distantly... he thought he heard Goliath yell too.

He almost turned around, almost went back, but something kept him going.

Until he burst into their little hideaway in the lair, a flash of golden light and the Monkie Kid standing over his Queen laying on the ground with the mech head destroyed behind him. They didn’t see him, but he could hear them clearly.

“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” His Queen argued. “There’s no running from what she is!”

Whispers on the wind followed and in flash of more brilliant, powerful light, there she was.

“Spider Queen’s right,” the Lady Bone Demon, the Lady White Bone, The White Bone Spirit, agreed as she stood tall and imposing and terrifying above them all. “Destiny will always catch up.”

Huntsman didn’t know what she did. Something, clearly, as the Monkie Kid held his head in clear confusion and agony and backed away from her in fear as Spider Queen stepped between the two of them. And without thinking he rushed forward, moving to stand behind MK and glower at the possessed girl before the three of them.

“Ah,” LBD breathed with a smile, tilting her head playfully as she looked at Huntsman and drew the other’s attention to him. “I was wondering where the final unnecessary piece ran off to. No matter, captured or not you’re only an extra in this little game anyway.”

“You!” Spider Queen snapped, turning her attention back to LBD once her surprise at seeing Huntsman had worn off.”I should have taken you out the second you walked into my lair!” She turned to MK and Huntsman with a look the elder demon knew to be full of disguised fear of her own. “Both of you! RUN!”

It happened so fast. Lady Bone Demon did something and... and Syntax was there. And Goliath. But they weren’t, it wasn’t them, not as they were. Blue and white and cold and ghostly instead. His Queen lunged at them and LBD and his own survival instincts took over as he grabbed MK’s arm and RAN. He barely registered when the young man pulled away from him and golden light flashed and suddenly they were going up.

There was something gripping his shoulder, sharp and small and he realized that somehow, some way, MK had turned into a bird and was flying out of the sewers with Huntsman and a sign of some kind in either claw.

There was more blue, a brilliant flash from that shot up into the sky, and the two of them plus the sign crash landed onto a roof.

A roof with a pig demon, a young girl with green streaks in her hair, an oddly well dressed for bed attire man who looked at him with more recognition than the other two... and Sandy.

Sandy, who looked down at him and MK with a mixture of confusion and slowly dawning horror at where MK must have gone and what them being together must mean.

As the Spider Demon stood, slow and clumsy in his lack of sleep and the shakiness of adrenaline, he looked back to the young man who had pulled him out of harm’s way without a single question.

“We have some explaining to do, kid.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #ship fic #gen fic #silktea #huntsman #sandy #mk #qi xiaotian #spider queen #lady bone demon #white bone spirit #second changes over tea #prompt fill

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silkling · 3 years

Note

Thank you that's so sweet??? Aaa that means a lot-

I have thought of a few prompts actually,,

One being, TFA Prowl and Jazz where Prowl was some sort of fae creature that could disguise himself as a normal bot, and he got dragged to Yoketron. Either Yoketron knew what he was or he entered a deal with him by accident, but Prowl was like...honor bound to stay and learn from him after making that agreement. Maybe Jazz is there visiting as a previous student, and weird things about Prowl keep catching his attention.

The other was far more angsty- what if Sigma 17 were woken up earlier, like halfway through the war when their pod is discovered by an Autobot ship.. mby Blades' brothers are still aware and he can feel them, but otherwise they're just dumped straight into war. Poor bbys.

Oh my god. You. You just. You don’t know what you did. Cause I like, really like fae lore. So as soon as I saw that prompt my brain demanded it be written. But I also really like your other prompt. So I’m going to do them both! This one is the fae Prowl one. I’ll post the second prompt in another post. But seriously I’m going to have so much fun with this. You have no idea what you have unleashed in my brain.

———————————————————————————————————

Yoketron watched as the lithe, elegant youngling was hauled into his Dojo by Warpath. He arched a brow when he noticed the muzzle clamped on his face, and then was even more surprised when he realized just how much the mechling was capable of thrashing in the larger Autobot’s hold, despite the stasis cuffs clamped around his wrists. The youngling, a two-wheeler now that Yoketron was able to see him more clearly, was dumped on the floor and pinned under a heavy red pede.

“You sure you want to take this one, Master Yoketron? I really think he’s more deserving of the stockades, filthy little deserter.” Warpath snarled.

“Indeed, Warpath. I am quite certain.” Yoketron hummed. “I assure you, if he truly does not wish what I have to offer than I am quite capable of bringing him to the stockades myself.”

Warpath only grumbled, growling one more time at the small youngling, and then he bowed and left.

As soon as the weight on him was gone, the mechling’s thrashing kicked up a notch and he tried to sit himself up. It seemed though, that despite his surprising amount of maneuverability he didn’t have enough control of his limbs to actually do so. Yoketron knelt down, reaching out and pressing the release mechanism of the muzzle. It dropped to his waiting palm and he subspaced it, retracting his hand just in time to avoid razor sharp fangs snapping shut on his fingers. As it was, those deadly dentae clacked together harshly as the mechling’s jaw closed on empty air. Yoketron arched a brow, frowning. Odd. Usually it was only warframes who had such sharp fangs, and this little one was most definitely not a warframe.

Yoketron ignored the furious glare, casting a critical gaze over the mech laying prone on his dojo floor. At least he had stopped thrashing, though now his frame was so tense the armor plating was clamped shut too tight to get even a metal wire in between the individual armor pieces. Yoketron returned his gaze to meet the glowing visor, bright with the fury and rage that was strong enough for him to practically taste in the youngling’s field.

He hummed as if to himself, reaching behind him to undo the stasis cuffs, only to stop when fangs pierced and dug into the armor of his forearm. He shot the mechling an unimpressed look, his free hand reaching and digging fingers into the soft protoform of his face behind his jaw. His body almost spasmed, his mouth forced open, his fangs and lips stained with Yoketron’s energon. The ninja master ignored the fear that started to sour his field, as well as the way his ventilations increased until he was panting harshly, mouth forced open and glaring helplessly at the older bot. Instead, he reached out again, removing the stasis cuffs, then releasing his jaw and straightening as he stepped back.

He watched the young mech get to his pedes, his movements graceful and elegant even as his field radiated rage and fear. Yoketron found his optics narrowing faintly at the way his every movement was soundless. There was no shifting metal as he rose, to whirring systems as his frame shifted and settled, so sound of pedes against wood as he got up and stood straight. It was…off. Not enough to make a normal mech think anything was wrong, but just enough to get Yoketron’s attention. Combined with his fangs, it was starting to paint a picture. Not to mentioned the slightly tapered finger tips he had noticed as he’d removed the stasis cuffs. Fingers that flexed and clenched, and Yoketron noticed a half-second flash of sharpened claws before those hands relaxed and returned to normal. Yes, he was most definitely starting to get an idea of what this mechling was.

“Hello, young one.” he rumbled. “May I ask what you were doing hiding on Dojo property?”

The youngling growled, shifting towards the door. Yoketron let him. “What do you think? Trying to stay out of the war.” he barked. “It’s not my fight, after all.”

Yoketron hummed. “Perhaps not.” he agreed. “But those in charge will not see it that way, and will see you as little more than a traitor for not answering the call to fight. I am taking a risk in doing so, but if you wish to avoid the fight them I can offer you another option.” he stepped towards the youngling, optics narrowing. “So long as you are willing to learn, I would take you on as my student.”

The youngling snarled. “Fat chance! I’m leaving.”

“Certainly.” Yoketron agreed. “If you can make it to the door before I stop you, then you will be free to do exactly that, and I will ensure any and all charges against you are dropped.”

The youngling eyed him dubiously, but seemed to decide the risk was worth it because he was transforming and taking off in the next second. It had been a silent transformation too, which had raised only further alarm bells. Yoketron waited until he was close to the door, and then he moved. In a flash, he appeared in front of the mech, and a hard kick sent him tumbling out of his alt mode. Another kick, and he was flying back into the cabinet, which fell on top of him. Yoketron walked over and heaved it off, crouching to pin the mechling by pressing a hand between his shoulderblades.

“You have potential, little one. But if you are discovered and caught by the authorities then that shall all go to waste.”

Abruptly, the struggling form under his palm stilled and tensed, all anger leaving his field to be replaced by fear. “…what do you want?” he whispered.

“Your name, youngling. I believe Cybertron has lost enough of your kin. I have no desire to see another perish unnecessarily. The rest of the planet may be blind to it, but I am well aware of how necessary you are to the functioning of our world.” Yoketron said calmly. The yougling’s actions had confirmed his suspicions. He truly was one of the fae, a breed of Cybertronian long believed to be only myth.

The youngling was shaking faintly now, obviously frightened. Yoketron couldn’t blame him. While most civilians thought the fae to be the subjects of story and myth, any mech involved in government or military knew they were real, albeit very, very rare. There was a reason for that, a very unpleasant one, and it certainly didn’t help that any fae were were discovered were often captured and simply…never seen again.

“You know what that would mean.” There was an agonized note to the youngling’s voice.

Yoketron felt a twinge of regret. He did know, and it wasn’t something he was eager to do. But given the circumstances, it would be the best way to ensure this one’s safety. “I do.” he confirmed. “I promise you I will not abuse it, youngling. I seek only to ensure your safety and to see you grow. I cannot simply allow you to go so easily, for if I did then I would be questioned as to why I did not bring you to the stockades and it would bring more attention to you. This way, you will remain safe.”

“Then why offer to let me go in the first place?” he demanded.

“I believed it would make you feel better to know you had at least made an attempt.”

The youngling abruptly went limp, his field still fearful, but now also tinged with a dull resignation that made Yoketron feel a little sick to his tanks. He did not want to do it like this, but for the mechling’s safety was truly the only option, with the way Cybertron currently functioned. “Give me your name, youngling.” he encouraged, voice gentling.

The young bot reset his vocalizer, and looked up to lock his visor with Yoketron’s optics. “My name is Prowl.” he answered, and he could hear the reluctance as the young bot spoke.

As Prowl gave his name to Yoketron, his optics glowed a bright white for a brief moment behind his visor before fading back to normal. Yoketron himself felt a small pull at his spark, recognizing it as the tether that now bound Prowl to him. He lifted his hand from the fae’s back, watching him slowly rose to sit up. “I take your name to be returned to you when your tutelage is done, Prowl.” he said, and the bond that was latched against his spark strengthened and solidified. “Go. Past the door on your right is a hall. Turn left at the end, past the door there, and you will find the berthrooms. The one with the black door is the student’s room. You may call it yours while you remain under my care.” he said, voice gentle. “Rest. I will clean up here. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

There was a tug on his spark, ans he realized quickly that he had worded that too close to an order when Prowl winced, cringing back from him but obeying nonetheless. Yoketron frowned, distaste curling in his tanks. He would have to learn how to word what he said very, very carefully so it could not be viewed as an order. He knew the bond he had established by taking the fae’s name meant that Prowl would be compelled to obey what he was told, but he had no intentions of abusing that. It would be wrong to do so.

The youngling stood, then turned and left through the door. Yoketron listened to his pedes fade away, and then he himself was standing. He hadn’t expected his day to go like this, and he disliked how he had had to take on his newest student, but he couldn’t regret having done so. He did not want to see another fae fall just because Cybertron’s elite refused to understand them. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the broom from the corner and began cleaning. Tomorrow would be a long day.

——————————

Prowl found himself curled up in the berth after he had cleaned himself up in the washracks attached to the room. His spark felt heavy with the new bond tied around him, and he further tugged the mesh blanket wound himself as he thought about it. He hadn’t ever intended to get caught. He had snuck into the Dojo grounds because they looked mostly empty and he’d thought it’d be a good place to lay low while army “recruiters” were sweeping through the streets. The last thing he wanted was to be forcefully drafted. Being around so many mechs who he knew knew about the fae…well, he was good, but he also knew he’d probably have gotten caught eventually.

He had hidden himself well, even using magae to keep himself as undetectable as possible. But then that red mech, Warpath, had seen him as he’d been attempting to sneak into another area of the Dojo, and….that was that. He’d been swiftly pinned and cuffed, and when he’d kept trying to bite, the muzzle had been locked around his face as well. He hadn’t expected to be brought to the Dojo Master, and he had even less expected that the mech, Warpath had called him Yoketron, would know what he was. He was even more embarrassed about being caught because when Warpath left, he realized the large bot just visiting. But he had been caught, and Yoketron had trapped and bound him with his own magae, and now he was here. At least the older bot had promised that his name–and freedom–would be returned after he was finished being trained, but Primus only knew how long that would take.

It was days like this when Prowl loathed his heritage, loathed the fact he was a fae. He had been proud of it, once. Fae were beings of legend, after all. Stories said that in Cybertron’s early days, even before the great cities were built, fae and normal Cybertronians lived alongside each other. It was said that fae were gifted the abilities beyond that of a normal bot, including tapping into the world’s natural energies. They were able to feel this energy and occasionally draw on it to perform feats of great power. Fae also wielded their own unique form of energy, called magae, that allowed them to perform what most bots would call “magic”. Magae was what made up the entirety of a fae’s abilities, it was what made them fae. Magae came from a fae’s spark, was comprised of the energies and power of their own life force, and they could use it to connect to the sparks of other bots. Usually, that would entail taking a mech’s name and binding them to yourself. Though if one knew how, the process could be reversed, and a mech could take a fae’s name and bind them to themself, as Yoketron had done to Prowl.

He couldn’t blame the older mech. The part of his processor that was more logical could even be grateful. His reasoning had been sound, after all. There wasn’t really a way for Prowl to walk away from this without unwanted attention, without risking discovery. He knew what would have happened if he was discovered. The rest of Cybertron may have forgotten why the fae disappeared, but his people remembered. Fae had been powerful. Chosen by Primus to maintain the planet’s natural order and help ensure prosperity for His children, which included themselves. For a time, it had been fine.

But then mechs had begun to fear to extent of what fae could do, disliking that they were capable of tapping into the sparks of others. And so the fae had been hunted. To avoid extinction, his people had fled and disappeared, going to the shadows and staying there until they were eventually forgotten. They built up their own society, separate from the rest of Cybertron. Prowl remembered it, a little bit. He had been sparked there, but…somehow, he had gotten separated from his people and place of origin, and he’d never found his way back. It was hidden from the people of Cybertron, and any fae who got lost from it and didn’t know the way back would remain stranded outside forever.

That was what had happened to him. He didn’t remembered how, but…he did know his creators had been taken, or perhaps offlined, and they’d hidden him just before being caught. They’d never come back, and he had remained stranded from the place he’d been sparked in. After that, he was told he was found by a civilian family from Praxus, who brought him to a Youth Center there. Once he was big enough to take care of himself, he’d fled the Center, wanting to try and find his way home, but…he’d never been able to. He’d been in his own ever since.

Now, he was stuck, bound to a mech who claimed to want to see him safe and strong but he didn’t know if Yoketron was telling the truth. He could only hope he was. The alternative was that the old mech intended to use the bond for his own gain, or to turn him in, and Prowl…Prowl didn’t want either option. He sighed heavily, swiping a hand across his face, his visor set on the nightstand by the berth. His optics were a normal blue, though what made them stand out was the markings around his optics. It was why he wore the visor. The most distinctive features of what he was were his fangs and claws, but those were easy to hide, and the markings around his optics. Every fae had markings somewhere, he knew. He had just been unlucky enough to have them on his face.

The youngling sighed, forcing himself out of the increasingly depressing spiral. It couldn’t be changed. He just had to adapt and learn. He was good at that. He tucked himself into a tighter ball, knees pulled to his chest and mesh clutched tightly around his form. He closed his optics, trying to calm down enough to recharge. Today had been a very bad day. He just hoped the days to come wouldn’t follow in the pattern.

——————————

Prowl woke the next day to a quiet knocking on the door. He startled awake, feeling out of sorts and groggy as he pushed the blanket off him and sat up. That was when he remembered the events of the previous day, and he flinched away from the door and looked down. So, it was time to get up, he supposed. He sighed, then swung his pedes out of the berth and padded to the door. Upon opening it, he found the hallway to be empty, but he picked up the sounds of…something at the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of what he was thinking was the main room of the Dojo. He stepped out, closing the door behind him, and walked towards the noise. He came to a sliding door, and when he opened it he found what appeared to be some sort of dining room.

Yoketron was already there, setting two places at the table with fuel. When the door opened, the old mech looked up. “Ah, Prowl.” he greeted. “You look well, today. I am glad.”

Prowl squirmed uncomfortably, nodding. “I….yes.” he said lamely.

“If you wish, you may come and sit. I typically share morning fuel with my student before I begin lessons, when I have one under my care.”

Prowl blinked, realizing there was no order in that phrasing. Maybe Yoketron really wouldn’t take advantage? He nodded, sliding forward, closing the door behind him as he went, and sitting on the cushion provided. Yoketron hummed, satisfied, and went to the opposite end of the small table to take his own place.

“I wish to apologize, Prowl” he said. “Binding you to myself was not how I wished to take you on as my student, but from what I have learned of fae culture over my life I believed it to be the best way to ensure you remain safe and undetected.” he explained.

The two-wheeler looked uncomfortable, but he nodded regardless. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” he sounded resigned. “I get it, I suppose. I know how dangerous discovery is for one of my kind. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“And I would not ask you to be.” Yoketron said patiently. He swallowed down some of his fuel, his gaze locked on the lithe youngling nibbling at his own meal. “I only wish so see you survive and grow strong enough that you can defend yourself.”

He took no offense when Prowl didn’t answer, and they consumed the rest of their meal in silence. When they finished, Yoketron stood. “If you would, I would appreciate if you cleaned your dishes and followed me. I will show you were you can put them, and then we can move on to your morning lessons.”

Prowl nodded, gathering his now empty dishes and following the old mech. He noticed once more that Yoketron had not phrased his request in a way that it might be interpreted as an order, and he felt grateful. While he still wasn’t happy about how things had turned out, he was starting to believe that just maybe the bond wouldn’t be abused after all. And if Yoketron was really telling the truth, then Prowl would someday be able to keep himself safe. He still wasn’t sure of this situation, and he didn’t trust Yoketron, but if things continued to be like this then maybe his time here wouldn’t be so bad.

——————————

Prowl was meditating. He did so fairly often these days, as it made his natural energies settle in a way they usually didn’t. Fae were constantly connected to the energy of Cybertron, and sometimes it was nice to let own own spark settle in a more peaceful rhythm as he let the energy of his world wash over him and surround him. It had taken him a while to learn the patience to do this, but he was glad that he had eventually managed. His processor settled, ventilations deep and even as he blocked himself out from the outside world. Why should he not? He knew he was safe here. He had nothing to fear.

A hand pressed to his spinal strut, between his winglets.

He jerked, his processor snapping back to itself as his optics abruptly snapped open. He let out a loud, startled yelp, helm shooting around, and his gaze locking on mech who was smiling faintly, expression wry and amused.

“Master Yoketron.” he did not wheeze, thank you very much.

“Prowl.” His master greeted, tone warm. “I apologize for startling you. I thought you would wish to know that it is time for afternoon fuel. It would be best to take it, I believe. The lessons I have planned for the rest of this orn are rather difficult.”

Prowl released a heavy, relaxed vent. He nodded, the harsh light of his optics dimming behind his visor as his systems realized he wasn’t under attack. “Of course, Master. Thank you for coming to get me. I apologize for not keeping better track of the time.”

Master Yoketron only shook his head. “Of course, young one. I understand the importance of meditation. I would not think to force you to stop early when I can prepare the fuel myself.” he hummed. “Though,” he cast his student a look. “I would appreciate if you did continue to prepare the fuel with me, in most cases.”

Prowl nodded, standing up and following his Master out the door of the small meditation room and down to the dining hall. “I would not think to abandon one of my tasks, Master Yoketron.”

“No, I do not think you would.” The old mech agreed. They stopped in the dining room, taking their respective seats. After a moment of silent eating, Prowl’s mentor spoke. “You have come very far since you first came to this Dojo, Prowl.”

Prowl paused, drawing back a little under the intensity of the gaze pinned on him. Yes, he supposed he had. He still wasn’t pleased that his teacher had had to take his name and bind him to himself to get him to stay, but he understood. Besides, he had come to like it, here. The old cyber-ninja was kind and fair, and he had never once forced Prowl out of his comfort zone or tried to abuse the bond, not a single time in the vorns since the fae had been dumped at his pedes. He stayed now because he wished to, not because he was forced to. The bond was still active, and Yoketron still held his name, but he had come to see this place as home and no longer tried to trick the cyber-ninja into breaking the bond. His Master still held his name, but Prowl would stay even if he did not.

“I suppose.” the fae said after a moment. “I am grateful to you, Master Yoketron. Even if I am not pleased as to how it happened, I am glad you took me as your student.”

The older mech relaxed, expression softening. “Indeed, young one. I feel much the same.” he murmured. “Now, I believe it is time we finish fueling. It will be a long orn yet.”

Prowl nodded, then picked up his cube of energon and took a sip. He didn’t know what his future would hold, but he, for once in his life, looked forward to what the coming stellar cycles would bring.

——————————

The coming stellar cycles, it turned out, would bring one of Master Yoketron’s former students. A mech named Jazz, who according to his mentor was visiting the Dojo for the Festival of Adaptus, and he intended to stay for the full deca-cycle the Festival took place on, as he was granted leave by the Elite Guard to do so. Yoketron had told him that Jazz had been his most recent student before he had taken in Prowl, and that the young cyber-ninja was apparently quite eager to meet their shared mentor’s newest disciple. Prowl wasn’t opposed to the visit, not at all. But in the vorns since he’d come to the dojo, he had relaxed and become more at ease, and so his magae itself had also become less tense and volatile. All that really meant, though, was that, now that he knew he was safe and at home, his instincts would let him behave in the way he wanted to about the Dojo’s guest.

Jazz didn’t know Prowl was a fae. He didn’t even know that a fae was in the Dojo. Which meant Prowl would be able to really mess with the mech and confuse him while he was here. He didn’t let his more mischievous tendencies be known often, but Prowl was a fae, and his people reveled in tricks and mischief. And now that someone new was coming, someone who wouldn’t know to anticipate it like Yoketron knew to, after living with Prowl’s rare pranks?

Well, Prowl was going to have some fun with Jazz.

——————————

Jazz didn’t know what he was expecting when he met his old Master’s newest student, but it most certainly wasn’t for the lithe mech to thrust out a hand, palm up, and say:

“Hello. Master Yoketron has told me about you. Would you like to give me your name?”

Now, the phrasing of the had been real funky, but Jazz hadn’t had time to think on it or even to tell the mech his name before Master Yoketron was putting a hand over his mouth and shooting the black and gold mech a very unimpressed look. The two-wheeler had huffed, arms crossing.

“I wasn’t actually going to do anything, Master.”

And Primus, but he’d sounded petulant. Jazz still didn’t understand that whole interaction, but then Yoketron was stepping away and the bot offered his hand out again. “My name is Prowl, and you may use it as a friend.” he’d said.

Upon getting no reaction from the Dojo Master, Jazz had stepped forward and taken his hand. Again, very funky phrasing, but Jazz was starting to think maybe the mech himself was just from a different walk of life than he was. “Name’s Jazz.” he’d introduced himself, and thinking that the second part of Prowl’s introduction must be important to the mech, he’d found himself copying it. “Feel free to use my name as a friend.”

The words had tasted oddly stiff in his mouth, but before he could say anything more Master Yoketron was shooing his student off to do some chores, and then he’d led Jazz to the berthroom reserved for Dojo guests.

Which, was where the Polyhexian now found himself.

Except…the berth was stood vertical against the wall. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was how Master Yoketron was storing them when they weren’t in use? But then, why hadn’t it been put back horizontal before he had arrived? Jazz was very confused. He shrugged, moving to pull the berth back down. Maybe his old teacher had simply forgotten, though Yoketron had never forgotten anything before. Old age, then? Yeah, Jazz would sooner believe that Ultra Magnus enjoyed bar fights.

He still had no idea how the berth had gotten like that, but maybe things would make sense after recharge. So, he slipped under the mesh blankets and let himself slip into unconsciousness. He was sure things would be less confusing when he was operating at his full abilities.

The next morning did dawn, and Jazz had woken up making the choice to just forget about the berth incident. He might ask his mentor at a later date, but for now he’d focus on just enjoying his time at th old Dojo. He slipped out of his berthroom, remembering from his own training that right about now was when the morning fuel was prepared. Sure enough, he slipped into the kitchen to find both Dojo residents preparing their shares. Jazz went to do the same, and after a a breem all three of them were seated at the table.

Jazz turned to Prowl, smiling. “So, mech, how’re you liking it at the Dojo? I heard through the grapevine your arrival here wasn’t exactly ideal.” he offered, remembering what Warpath had told the rest of the cyber-ninjas.

Prowl paused. “…it was not ideal, you are right.” he confirmed. “I am grateful for Master Yoketron taking me under his care, however. I find the Dojo pleasant.”

Jazz chuckled. “You’re a pretty well-mannered mech, aintcha?” he teased playfully. “I’d almost think you came from nobility.”

Prowl, amusingly, looked very offended. “It does not do to be impolite.” he sniffed.

Jazz smiled. “I ain’t disagreeing with you. But you can relax, you get me?”

Prowl simply stared at him, then scoffed and returned to his meal. Jazz didn’t take it personally. Dai Atlas was pretty stiff too. Some mechs just preferred structure and formality. Yoketron, as he often was during mealtimes, was silent. The rest of their fuel was consumed in that silence, and then Prowl and the Dojo Master were cleaning up and going off to the morning lessons. Jazz remembered those. They had been very….straining. He stood, cleaning his own dishes and then going to mediate until the other two were done for the morning. Plus, he hadn’t been able to mediate properly for a while.

A couple joors later, Jazz was done and got to his feet. Yoketron ans Prowl should be finished by now too, he knew, and he decided to walk though the garden to get to the main hall. Except…there were some odd metalli-plants in the garden, arranged in a perfect circle. Jazz didn’t recognize them, and he found it odd that they were planted that way. He could also detect a very, very faint energy coming from the circle. Curious, he walked over, intending to get close and touch the plants to examine them, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked back, seeing Yoketron, and his old teacher looked exasperated. “Prowl, I would appreciate if you would not attempt to trap Jazz in your circles.” he called out.

Prowl stepped out from the Dojo, almost looking like he was pouting, and the odd energy around the flowers disappeared. “You’re no fun, Master. I wouldn’t have done anything.” he grumbled.

Yoketron only shook his head, and invited Jazz to join them for some basic katas now that morning lessons were done. He agreed, but tacked that onto his mental list of weird things going on at the Dojo. He thought that would be the last time. It wasn’t.

That night, when he went to the washracks, the solvent came out mixed with glitter. Jazz barely avoided getting a very sparkly makeover. Then, the next orn, he kept getting lost. Master Yoketron had to rescue him from the meditation chambers after the 12th time he ended up there trying to get to the dining hall. After that, his Master having to stop Jazz from accepting fuel that Prowl had offered. Then, he’d woken the next orn to find his berth was gone. Just….gone. Even though he’d been in it. The odd things kept stacking up and up, until finally, half-way into his stay, he learned what it all was.

It was when Yoketron, Prowl, and he were fueling after the morning lessons. Prowl and Jazz were talking, and then Prowl had said the words that made Jazz feel very, very stupid:

“Words have power, Jazz, so of course phrasing is important in proper social interaction!”

He forgot what they were even bickering about, staring at the rotten little trickster in front of him with a gaping mouth. “You’re a fae.” he realized. How had he not figured it out sooner? Master Yoketron had taught him about the fae. All cyber-ninja knew about the fae! Then a new thought struck him. “You stole my berth!”

Prowl blinked, and he seemed to relax when Jazz’s reaction to the revelation wasn’t fear or an attempt to turn him in. Only indignation. “I will not apologize.” he deadpanned.

Jazz stared, and then a grin stretched his lips. “You clever, tricky little glitch.” he said playfully, enunciating each word. There was no genuine malice in his tone. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

——————————

Prowl snorted as Jazz regaled him with yet another story about his new superior officer, a mech called Sentinel Prime, and his immense stupidity. They were in Iacon, and it had been a long time since Prowl had been so far from the Dojo, which was in the outer edges on Praxus, on its own land. But he’d come to a pause in his training, as Master Yoketron had sent him on an optics quest. It was, apparently, a major test in the life of a cyber-ninja. It would allow him to discover what he wished to do with his life, as he was meant to travel and experience new things and explore, and when he had the answer he would return to the Dojo. And then he would begin a new level of his training, according to his teacher.

So he was in Iacon currently, enjoying an afternoon with Jazz. It had been many vorns since that fateful Festival of Adaptus, and the two young mechs had forged a strong bond. So when Prowl’s optics quest had brought him in the direction of Iacon, he’d commed the older mech and asked to be shown around. The fae was nervous about being so close to the headquarters of Autobot High Command, because he knew what they did to any of his kind they discovered, but he was confident in his abilities to remain hidden. Plus, he had Jazz, and he knew the white bot wouldn’t let him be put in danger.

They were sitting at Jazz’s favorite cafe, enjoying a selection of energon treats, when Prowl felt it. A tug at his spark. The bond he shared with Yoketron went two ways. The older mech held most of the control, but Prowl could still sense his mentor through it. It was one of the reasons he had come to accept it. And now…now, Yoketron’s spark felt like it was sputtering, like the mech it belonged to was in pain and his life was in danger. Prowl didn’t stop to think. He threw down a fistful on shanix, and then grabbed Jazz’s wrist and dragged him away.

His processor was racing desperately, and he couldn’t even manage to answer his friend’s questions. He dragged them to an empty alley, and then closed his eyes, focused on his magae, and dug deep.

Every fae had a pocket plane of their own. It was like a bot’s subspace, but it wasn’t a subspace and it was large enough for a mech to go in to. It was like…a small sub-world of sorts, and only a fae could access it, and each fae had their own. The sub-world could be used as a quick method of transport. As long as the location one was trying to get to was on the same planet as they one they had left from, then a fae could use to to travel large distances in almost an instant.

Prowl had never accessed his, before. Oh, he’d tried. Countless times. But he’d never been able to. But now…now he had to. It was the only way they could get to Praxus, to Master Yoketron. So he dug inwards, pushing far, far deeper into his magae than he’d ever done before…and he stepped forward. He came into his sub-world, bringing Jazz with him, and the other mech was silent now, gaping im shock. He kept going though, and focused on Praxus, on the Dojo, and stepped again. Then, they were there. Prowl stumbled as he came to a stop in the Dojo, releasing Jazz and tripping onto his face. He didn’t notice when his visor was knocked loose as he shifted his gaze to try and find his Master.

Prowl and Jazz were frozen for a single sparkbeat at the scene they’d come into. A large mech with a hook in place of one hand and markings on his face was standing over their mentor. For a moment, Prowl thought the mech was fae. But he detected no magae from him, and the moment passed.

That was when the rage came. He snarled, his engine roaring his anger, and his claws lengthened to their sharpest, his fangs sharpening to their longest, and the golden markings around his optics glowed a brilliant, pale silver while his optics themselves glowed white. He surged up, and in the next sparkbeat he was between the mech and his master. He extended a hand, deadly claws resting on the mech’s chest plate, and before that hook could swipe at him he peeled back his lips, put his magae into his voice, and hissed a command.

“Stop.”

It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew. Without the mech’s name, the order wouldn’t hold much power. So, Prowl used the physical connection, and pushed with his magae, digging with his very spark into the core of the mech’s being. He had to be careful, he knew. Like this, it would be so easy to destroy, to rip the mech’s very soul apart and kill his being without even extinguishing his spark. But Master Yoketron had always warned him against using his powers to hurt others, telling him he was meant for greater than causing pain and suffering. Even if Prowl didn’t believe that, he still wanted to honor his Master’s wishes and his lessons. So he didn’t rip and tear and rend, like the more feral of his fae instincts demanded. Instead, he dug in, until he had what he wanted, and wove a strand of magae into the mech’s spark energy to ensure the bond would take.

Then he pulled himself back, and as the mech regained mobility he met those red optics and bared his fangs. “I know your name, bounty hunter.” he spat. “I know who you are, and your name is mine until such time I decide it is mine no longer. I have your name , Lockdown, and with it I have you.” Claws dug into metal armor as the mech froze, optics blown wide with shock.

“You will stop this, and you will leave, Lockdown. Now.” Prowl ordered in a snarling hiss.

Lockdown was tense, but the bond that Prowl had tied around his spark and the hold of his name over him forced him to obey. He stopped, and he left. It was only when the Dojo was silent that Prowl began to calm. He sagged, slowly releasing a heavy vent, and turned to the other two mechs. Jazz had helped Yoketron sit up, his helmet already returned to him, and both were staring.

“Uh, mech? What’s with the light show?” Jazz asked softly.

“Light show?” And then Prowl noticed the lights.

Small, glowing spheres of light and energy filled the room. Dozens of them. He gasped, reaching out to the nearest one and tapping it. It burst into flame, and Prowl jerked back. The flame burned out, and a new light replaced the old. Prowl hesitantly tapped another of the spheres, and this one burst into mist. It was then he understood what this was.

Every fae had a unique magae ability. It seemed these spheres were his, and each of them did something different. But what was the use, if he didn’t know which did what? Except….he did know. Or at least, his spark did. This was an ability born from his magae, from his spark. So….if he let that guide him..he would know.

He took a deep vent, focusing, and his gaze locked on one sphere floating to his right. He cupped his hands around it, bringing it to his mentor, and crouched by the older mech. He held his hands out, the sphere glowing above his clawstips.

“This one should help you, Master.” he said softly.

Yoketron hummed, then reached out and pushed his fingers into the light. It flared, dancing up along his frame, and small cracks and wounds in his armor sealed up while the heavier injuries lessened slightly in severity. He perked up too, as if he was given a boost of energy, and was able to stand up on his own after a moment. Prowl and Jazz followed suit, but before either could say anything another form burst into the Dojo.

“Master Yoketron, are you-“ the mech cut himself off, staring at the scene. “….I saw smoke coming from the Dojo?” he said, uncertain.

Prowl tensed, optics narrowing, but Jazz slid in to calm the situation. “It’s alright. We managed to deal with it.”

The mech’s uncertain gaze looked around the Dojo, clearly confused at the lights, until his optics found Prowl. Then they lit up with understanding, and recognition. He obviously realized what the fae was. But…he stepped forward anyway, holding out a hand. “You’re Master Yoketron’s student, right? My name is Springer, and I give it to you freely to use as you wish, though I hope you would use it as a friend.”

Prowl startled, not expecting a mech to give his name so easily. He had to cut the tie to his magae so it wouldn’t try to latch on and bind the mech. He took the offered hand, careful of his claws. “You are well met, Springer, and I would be pleased to call you my friend. My name is Prowl, and I offer it to you to use as a friend in turn.” he said smoothly, then stepped back.

Jazz grinned, throwing an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Nice, Prowler! But are you ever gonna explain what in the Pit you did? Cause I’m still trippin’ over tryin’ to figure it out.”

Springer cut in. “As much as I’d like to know too, maybe now isn’t the best time. We should clean up before the Elite Guard figures out something went down here. Prowl, that means you might want to cut your magae off, we don’t want you getting found out.”

Prowl tensed, but nodded stiffly. He could do that. He took a vent, closing his optics and relaxing. After a moment, the spheres started winking out, and his fangs and claws returned to their hidden states. His optics and markings stopped glowing, and he opened his optics to look for his visor. He quickly noticed it was broken on the floor, and he was about to panic when Jazz caught his attention and held out his own visor. His optics were bare for once, and Prowl found himself staring in quiet awe for a moment before a resetting of a vocalizer from Springer snapped his focus back. He snagged up the visor, slipping it on and shooting Jazz a grateful look.

“Great!” the green mech was smiling. “Now, let’s figure out this mess!”

Prowl hummed. “I believe I have an idea. Springer, if you will, I believe you and I would be best suited for cleaning up here. Jazz, would you mind helping Master Yoketron?” A glance back showed their mentor leaning against the far wall, seemingly in a meditative state. “And call in a medic, his wounds still need to be treated.”

The other two glanced at each other, and for a moment Prowl thought they wouldn’t take orders from an ungraduated student, but to his surprise they nodded and got to work. Prowl felt himself smile, and fell into place with Springer to clean up the mess Lockdown had made of the Dojo’s main hall. He had been worried that he wouldn’t find his place once he graduated the Dojo and left his Master’s care, but he was starting to realize he would have a place after all. He would find his acceptance and his purpose in the Cyber-Ninja Corps and the mechs who he would one day call his brothers-in-arms. He was sure of that now. He looked forward to it. For once, Prowl knew that his future was bright, and he was eager to meet it head on.

(Yoketron watched his youngest student interact with two of his others, and felt pride swell in his spark. Prowl had come so very far from that first orn, when he’d been a half-feral youngling trying to flee the world itself. He’d known he had made the right decision in choosing his successor when he’d seen how Prowl handled Lockdown, and when he’d seen how easily and freely he had accepted Springer as a comrade. Prowl was going to far surpass him one orn, was going to be a far better Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps than he ever was. Yoketron couldn’t wait to see it.)

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And there it is! What did you think? I hoped you liked it. I had fun. I like it. Fae Prowl is a little troll and you can’t convince me otherwise. Anyway, that story is finished! Yoketron lives, because I said so. Also, Prowl and Jazz totally become a thing later. Absolutely no one is surprised.

Aaaaannd…I think thats it! Yep, I’ve said the important stuff.

Until next time, folks!

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