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minniethemoocherda · 9 months

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Iridescent: Chapter 3

Summary: When Jazz is promoted to Head of Special Operations, the last thing he expected was to have to work with a face from his past.

A/N: So I've now decided that I'm going to be alternating between POVs and this chapter is going to be from Prowl's perspective! Hope you guys don't mind! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Prowl had not been happy when Blackout died.

He hadn't been particularly devastated either.

Due to their respective positions, they had both had to work together a fair amount during the short time that Prowl had been promoted to head of tactics. And during that time they often come to disagreements. Then again Prowl did tend to have disagreements with most people.

Still Prowl couldn't deny that Blackout had been excellent at her job and that her loss was a devastating blow to their command structure. He was sorry to hear the news of her passing by the hand of Megatron.

Unfortunately the Autobots didn't have the luxury of wasting time to mourn so Optimus Prime had appointed a new head of Special Operations barely a week after Blackout's passing.

There was only two real options for Blackout's replacement and of the two, the one Prowl had voted for was not the one to have been selected. He did have to concede that the one Optimus had chosen did have more experience, even if he had more infringements of subordination and disregard for rules, which Prowl did raise concern over. Ultimately it was decided that the mech's skills outweighed his infringements and thus Jazz was appointed as their new head of special operations.

Now Prowl was not one who cared about appearances. As long as you were presentable and did your job then he could not care less what a mech looked like. Therefore his embedded battle computer did not deem it necessary to search for an image of this Jazz when debating their merits. Something that Prowl now intended to rectify in the future as he recognised the mech standing- no leaning- in front of him.

" You ." Prowl stated, his usually monotone voice ice cold.

"Hey officer." Jazz grinned, infuriating him even further.

"Optimus I must inform you that before I attempted multiple arrests on this mech." Prowl stated, turning his attention to the Prime.

"But ya didn't!" Jazz retorted, mocking the fact that he never actually managed to slap a pair of cuffs on him.

"That does not change the fact that he is a criminal."

"A criminal?!" Red Alert shrieked, having now tuned into the conversation. At least someone was taking Prowl's concerns seriously.

"Oh come on, most of those were for busking without a licence."

"And for aggravated assault of an officer." The scar under his forearm plating burned with the reminder. Prowl turned his attention back to the mech, who's grin now had an edge to it that wasn't there before.

"Hey we're all enemies of the state now pal."

"Jazz is right." Optimus interceded before Prowl could argue back. "From the moment all of you joined the Autobots you broke the law. Regardless, our past is in the past. What matters now is how we chose to help others."

"But-"

"If it is Jazz's character that you still question then I can assure you that he has my personal trust."

That hardly settled Prowl's plating. The entire reason he quit the force in the first place was because of those in power only giving it to their friends.

Jazz must've realised the implications of those words too as his grin briefly fell into a cringe. It soon returned though as Optimus continued the meeting, going over the logistics of transferring Blackout's previous responsibilities to their new head of Spec opps.

Prowl ignored Jazz's optics on him not wanting to allow himself to be further goaded into a confrontation. Instead he kept his own eyes focused entirely on Optimus briefing as they all should have been doing.

When the meeting was over, Prowl saw Jazz heading straight for him, but Prowl did not have time for his petty grievances. Unlike some people he took his responsibilities seriously.

He marched straight off to his office where Sideswipe was still scrubbing graffiti (if you could call the colourful depiction of what Superion was doing to Megatron graffiti) from the door.

"Is it true you got into a fight with Jazz?" Sideswipe asked, prodding him with the end of the brush instead of cleaning with it.

Prowl pushed past him, resisting the urge to groan. One day he was going to find out whoever was responding for spreading gossip on this ship and give them a punishment even then twins would deem to be too far.

"Scrub." Prowl told him. But Sideswipe had never been one to listen to authority.

"How'd you even get Jazz into a fight anyways? He's like the chillest guy around! He's the only one who doesn't get mad at me and Sunny's pranks."

That hardly put more faith into Prowl's assessment of Jazz.

"Fetch your twin to clean up the rest." Prowl ordered, knowing Sunstreaker wouldn't care enough to pester him about pointless gossip.

Sideswipe wasn't going to argue with getting let out of his punishment early and changed into a lamborghini in his haste to speed down the corridor.

Prowl shut the door behind him, putting the new datafiles from the meeting into order on his shelf when he heard a knock.

Assuming it was Sunstreaker reporting for punishment, Prowl opened the door.

"We need to talk." Jazz said, the grin on his face in contrast to the seriousness of his words.

Prowl tried to slam the door shut but Jazz had once again weaponised the art of leaning, using the curves of his black and white frame to keep the door open.

"Look I'm sorry for giving you the run-around all those years ago. But in my defence I did not want to go to prison." Jazz grinned.

Prowl was one more snarky comment away from called security.

Jazz must've seen that in his face as in a blink that grin of his had vanished.

"In all seriousness, we both know that OP-

" Optimus Prime "

"- ain't the type to promote someone just because we’re mates. You really think the only reason he chose Ratchet as CMO is because they're BFFs and not that he's the best medic still alive?"

It was hard to argue that Ratchet did not deserve his position. However one example was not an adequate sample size to prove results. Plus Prowl's issue was not with Optimus. It was with the bot standing in front of him.

"Obviously we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe we can start over? What do ya say? Friends?" Jazz asked, stepping out of the doorway with his hands held up in peace.

Prowl shut the door in his face.

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xiaoyunenigma · 2 years

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Last game (TFA MegaOp)

A/N: I'M HAVING A MELTDOWN WITH @pastelpaperplanes art of all of them MegaOp hwshehsh so um-um this is for you? 👀😩😫❤️✨

I'm SORRY IF IT'S A LITTLE ANGSTY IASBEHSHAHZG IT CAME TO ME OUT OF NOWHERE HSSHWHSH BUT DON'T WORRY, I PREFER A CRACKHEAD CHAPTER IF ANYTHING SO THERE WILL BE ONE... I think? HSGDGDGEGE😩✨❤️

Enjoy?

---

Standing before his cell, Optimus fought the urge to walk away from the scene as he saw the usual dirty grin from the warlord himself.

To think that he was tasked on guarding the notorious Decepticon leader cell for the night.

...Optimus was still processing that thought as he stood before the transparent container.

'I'm a repair bot, not an Elite Guard!' he said to himself. But alas, he obliged because he really didn't have any choice.

Sentinel placed him on duty after several guards had been reported injured or traumatised to the point that they had to replace the normal cell into a hardened glass one. No one dared to take on the offer of looking after the beast, so Optimus had to fill in.

(Sentinel vetoed his way on this one, as always.)

"Why, I didn't think I'd see you again so soon!" Megatron remarked, shackles clanging loudly as he moved to face the smaller mech. "One would assume that I'm the last person you'd ever wanna met, but clearly I've been mistaken."

Optimus kept quiet. He didn't know how to begin his sentence. The Prime had initially wanted to move on and let Sentinel take over this...mess, but a part of him held onto the last battle with Megatron and wasn't quite ready to part ways yet.

So yes, Megatron was partly right on his swords.

"Cat's got your glossa, Optimus?"

"So you DO remember my name!" Optimus's words came right out before he could stop himself as he snapped his helm towards the prisoners.

"And you finally spoke. Congratulations." Megatron retorted nonchalantly, all the while maintaining his aloofness.

"I-I - It's not-"

Watching the young fledgling before him making a fool out of himself, the warmonger decided to entertain the mech for the day.

"Ahem! L-Let's just get back to the topic, shall we?" Optimus cleared his voice box and spoke, narrowing his bright blue optics at Megatron. "You understand the...procedures tomorrow, yes?"

Tomorrow was the grand finale; Megatron's trial. The very day where the silver warlord shall face his charges against all of Cybertron's council members broadcasted for everyone to see.

"And if I decline being in the spotlight?"

"You don't get a choice in this, Megatron." Optimus hissed, taking a step forward. Little did he know, the chained down beast was all but toying with him in his digits.

"Then, pray tell, what must I do for tomorrow's... celebration?" Megatron rolled his optics, slouching back onto his berth.

Optimus faltered in his moves again, unable to speak. Though it was in his spark to capture the wrongdoer before him, it didn't sit right with him.

To know that Megatron would MOST LIKELY be sentenced to death penalty, he should be relieved.

...Unfortunately, his spark said otherwise.

"Done staring, young scout? Or are you in awe of my stature and perhaps wishes to admire longer, which in this case, I'd say you're doing so." The warlord's words snapped something inside Optimus and he lunged, slamming both servos on the glass screen as he glared at Megatron.

"Will you quit being so annoying!?"

"Ah, and the kitten bares its fangs at last." Megatron humoured, giving Optimus a tiny wave with his chained servos.

"Stop. Talking. " Optimus seethed.

"You're not saying anything, and the silence has been chipping my processor away like scraplets on metal. Be thankful that I'm ACTUALLY speaking, Autobot." Megatron dully left out the fact that he would choose Optimus over Starscream's screeching anyday, but that would be inappropriate for both of them.

Sighing, Optimus rubbed his tired optics and dragged a chair from behind before sitting down, facing at his nemesis.

"What? You're on a night shift?"

"Can you just shut up already!?" Optimus growled, trying his very best to not strangle the mech.

Megatron's smirk got wider as he saw how easily it was for Optimus to break. Comparing with the rest of his guards, this little one was, by far, the most entertaining one.

"As you wish then." Megatron shrugged, closing his optics as and laid back on the wall, crossing both arms in front of him with his legs over one another.

Several minutes passed by and Optimus caved in to the sheer amount of awkwardness, regretting his decisions earlier.

"Y-You...bored?" Optimus murmured, playing with his digits.

Megatron scoffed and turned to his left, ignoring the blue and red mech on purpose.

Flustered, Optimus pursed his dermas and chewed the insides of his cheeks.

"Well then. Stay quiet, I guess."

"This is stupid. Just kill me already. Skip the trial and exucute me, you fools!" Megatron raised his voice, glaring at the Prime.

"That's the easy way out; you don't deserve it." Optimus coolly replied, further irking the silver Decepticon.

"The council is just wasting everyone's time! That....blue and yellow bastard wants to use me as an attraction. I'm a Decepticon, not a lion for a parade!" Megatron huffed.

"You mean Sentinel? I mean, he is egoistic, but I'm sure it's not like that." Optimus said, but his voice proved otherwise. Knowing his narcissistic friend, the mech would do ANYTHING for attention and a spot on the high council.

Groaning, Megatron shuffled out of his flat berth and stood before Optimus. He placed a servo on the glass pane, watching Optimus with his taunting gaze.

"What are you doing?" Optimus asked, raising an optic ridge. "You should know that the Elite Guards have just installed an electrified on these, right? Not afraid of getting a jolt?" he challenged.

"I've fought monsters and over throw governments for Eons. You think that a measly shock would-OW!" Megatron retracted his servos and flicked them a few times, trying to cool the stinging sensation from the seemingly innocent glass cell.

"WHAT THE FRAG WAS THAT!?"

"I told you; electrifier." Optimus smiled.

Growling, Megatron stood tall as he tried to intimate the guard, but Optimus wasn't a tad bit bothered.

"Can you at least show some fear on your faceplate? This is humiliating."

"No. But I can offer you one thing." The Prime said, catching Megatron's attention.

"What?"

"A game." Optimus remarked. "To past time, if you want. Or you can go into recharge, get some rest. I don't know." he fiddled with his digits again, not meeting the warlord's optics.

Thinking for a brief moment, Megatron narrowed his ruby optics before letting out an audible sigh, relenting to the tiny bot's wish.

"What do you have in mind?"

---

TIMESKIP.

"OKAY, NOW THAT'S CHEATING!"

"IT'S NOT! THAT'S HOW IT WORKS!"

"YOU CAN'T KEEP WINNING THIS, YOU AUTOBOT SLAG!"

"HEY, WHAT DID WE TALK ABOUT LANGUAGE!?"

Optimus and Megatron were bantering back and forth, staring at the holographic chess as they bicker loudly.

"What in the PITS?!" Megatron roared as he saw his Bishop was taken away by Optimus's Knight. "Okay, that's just slag!"

"Come on, let's end this." Optimus sighed, making a move with his Rook.

Megatron perked up as he saw his chance of overthrowing his enemy. Gesturing his servos, he made his final move.

"Checkmate." Megatron declared, displaying his signature smirk yet again.

Optimus blinked twice as he saw his King was cornered by Megatron's Queen and Rook.

"Scrap! I didn't notice that!" he clicked his glossa, frustrated.

"Pfft, this is merely child's play to me. After all, I am the master of tactical practice."

"Seconds ago, you were whining about me killing off your Bishop, but go off I guess." Optimus teased, resetting the game for them.

"Oh shut it, you had your fair share of glitching too. Remember when I stole your Queen away?"

"Yeah, but I won that round."

"Tsk. You won only twice. It's 5 over 2, young one."

"Maybe I could turn the tables around then. Another round?" Optimus smirked, lifting his white pawn forward. Megatron was about to move his when a group of Elite Guards walked in.

"Sir, we're here to take him away. It is time."

That made Optimus's spark stop. Checking his internal chronometer, he realised it was already the 0800 hour, and they had two hours to prepare Megatron for his trial.

"I win, Optimus." Megatron said softly as he got up, letting the guards secure him in more shackles and chains. Facing the smaller Prime one last time, Megatron fought the urge of pleading for another moment with him despite knowing that this is his last game.

"You won..." Optimus breathed out as he watched the large mech being brought away. Leading him to his gallows were the guards of unknown names, and a part of Optimus wanted to be there for Megatron.

With one last glance, Optimus raised the King's chess piece towards Megatron's direction.

"Checkmate?" he asked.

"Checkmate." Megatron smirked.

Megatron may won the game, but the Autobots won the war.

#megop #sentinel prime #optimus #transformers #transformers animated #Tfa #Megatron #Fanfic #TinyAngst

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years

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I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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liaswritesrobots · 3 years

Note

You know how idw Megatron was a miner before the war? And miners did not have the best living situation ect. Can i have a scenario in a soulmate AU where miner!Megatron`s soulmate is one of the nobels? (They do not care that he is a miner no matter what other nobels say)

It wasn't often that someone of a Noble title visited the mines. They only really showed up to check in on progress every once in a blue moon. Which is why everyone found it rather odd that you'd go out of your way to visit that Primus awful mining facility almost every deca-cycle.

They would understand if there was some kind of problem, or even if you benefited from these trips, but since the cost to go there and come back was outweighing any kind of gain they found it foolish, especially since you didn't seem to be turning a profit from these trips. It was strange, but if you wanted to waste your own wealth on these little trips then who were they to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own funds?

Normally you'd take these trips alone, with some personal staff of course, but every once in a while one the others went with you. This time Senator Ratbat insisted on taking the trip with you. It's hard to say no to him, as he doesn't really take it for an answer most of the time. This being one of those times.

It made you more cautious on your journey when another of the higher ups went with you, because you now have to make an elaborate excuse of why you're going and why you'll be away for so long with only one trusted bodyguard. It's tiring.

But in the end, it's always worth it. Seeing the smile on your beloved's face as you two sneak off to talk. The way his optics light up when you bring him new datapads to read. The passion of your conversations in private as you lean on each other and make future plans of getting him out of that horrible mine. It's all worth it.

You make it to the mining facility and quickly try to excuse yourself, making up a story about how you have important business to attend to, only for Ratbat to ask to join you. You stop in your tracks, hands clasping each other behind your back as you turn to face him, "I'm terribly sorry but it's a rather private affair. I can show you the progress being made once I return but for now I must depart on my own."

"Nonsense," he exclaims, "All business here is in an equal share. We all profit off of this mine. Unless of course… you're going behind our backs to make a little extra?" He smirks as he circles you, looking you up and down, before blocking the doorway.

You keep your helm forward, never once following his movement with your optics, and respond flatly, "I can assure you that is not the case. I am merely running a routine check on numbers and equipment. The miners cannot mine with broken equipment after all. I take all the broken equipment they show me to repair."

"Ah so that's why you come here so often? To replace equipment?"

"It is one of the reasons, yes."

"And the others?"

"To keep up with the progress that lines our pockets." You respond.

"I see."

"How much longer do you plan on keeping me here? Time is money after all."

"Oh, by all means, do go on ahead," He steps aside, "I would love to see how this works." He says with a cocky smile.

"Again, I have to go alone, save one bodyguard."

"And why is that?"

"The miners don't take too kindly to us visiting. I wouldn't want to be held accountable for anything that happened to you dear Ratbat."

His smile fades, "Is that so? Ungrateful lot then, aren't they?"

You clench your dentae but stay silent.

"In that case I will wait here for you." He says with a toothy grin.

You turn and leave, picking your most trusted bodyguard to accompany you, and you head out towards the mines.

You weren't lying when you said they don't like you Senators being here, but to be honest, you've come to completely understand why. Fortunately, your lover... your sparkmate, has shown you which tunnels to take to let you safely travel to him, the empty ones that have been long used up that lead to a secret hole in the wall that he and Terminus use to hide away from prying optics and audials from time to time.

You leave your bodyguard at the entrance of mines and make your way through the network of abandoned tunnels, finally squeeze past a rafter into the secret hiding spot.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up." You hear your lover's voice say with a hint of worry, "I was afraid something had happened to you."

"I am alright, my spark," you say leaning down to where the grey mech is sitting, closing your optics and pressing your forehead against his, "I just got held up on the ship is all."

He leans into your helm bump, placing a servo on your cheek.

"Here," you pause, pulling away and rummaging through your subspace to pull out a datapad, "I brought this for you." You hand him the datapad and sit down on the ground beside him, "It's a collection of poems from all across Cybertronian. It's not even been officially released yet."

"How did you get a hold of this then?" He asks, skimming over it.

"I have my ways," you smile, "It helps to be friends with archivists. Here," you run a digit along the screen, "I think you'll really like the one on page four hundred seventy-five." You say before leaning against the wall and letting him read.

You smile as you watch his optics move over the words, a small grin setting on his face.

"It's beautiful," He says turning his helm to you, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet beloved," you press your helm to his once again, "I haven't gotten you out of here yet."

"I was thinking about that actually."

"Oh?" You look at him with curiosity.

"When you're able to get me out of here… may we bring Terminus with us? And Impactor?"

"Of course!" You answer, "Anything you want, you'll have. And it may take a while, but I promise I'll make sure that I sway the people in your favor so that we can make things better for those here in the mines." You say grasping his servo in your own and kissing the back of it.

Megatron smiles and leans his helm to yours, "I have to get back soon, others will get suspicious," he lets out a sigh, "It seems like our meetings here get shorter and shorter each time."

"Do not worry, my love, soon enough we'll be able to be around each other as much as we please." You kiss the top of his helm before standing up.

"I hope so," He smiles, standing and making his way towards the rafter, "I'll see you again tomorrow before you leave right?" He turns to look at you.

"Of course." You smile so warmly at him and he can feel his spark skip a pulse.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Be safe, my spark."

"And you too, beloved."

You wait for him to leave before making your way past the rafter and towards the entrance of the mines, humming to yourself as you walk the tunnels.

That's why you didn't hear Ratbat shuffle out from a tunnel just above the one behind the rafter. He watched you leave with a cheerfully devilish grin before dropping down and dusting himself off.

He may not have heard the whole conversation, but he certainly heard enough. A Senator with a miner conspiring together? And they're lovers? This will be the greatest scandal he's shown in eons! He can't wait to come back tomorrow and get some footage of you two together.

#maccadam #macaddam #transformers #Megatron #idw #idw Megatron #Megatron x Reader #MegatronXReader #bot reader #mech reader #Ratbat #my writing #scenarios #asks #anonymous

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

Note

Where's ostaros right now?

"Y're up!" Jazz exclaimed with surprise when he entered Prowl's treatment room and found him standing, looking at one of the drawings Sunstreaker had done.

"In a fashion," Prowl replied. He was hold onto a metal frame, a walker of sorts that kept him stable. His doorwings were still covered in mesh sleeves and heavily splinted. It was still a marked improvement.

"I didn't expect ya to be takin' even bitty steps so quick," Jazz said. "I shouldn't o' underestimated ya. Never met anyone that bounces back as quick."

"I do not care to malinger," Prowl said. "The Twins appear to be doing well."

"They are," Jazz nodded. "Rung's got a report wit'em. They don't understand all that he did to ya. I hope they never do."

"I as well," Prowl agreed. "I would preferred not to scream, not to scare them but when I heard them, I had to mask them, so he did not hear."

"Prowl, 'm grateful for everythin' ya did to protect them. I wanna talk, maybe ya wanna sit..."

"I am not delicate," Prowl said, staring Jazz down as only he could. Ratchet had matched the icy blue of his natural optic perfectly. The replacement had identical power.

"Ya got... Primus, tortured, eaten, raped, it ain't delicate to sit down to talk 'bout it."

"He did not destroy anything that was mine."

"What do ya mean by that."

"Tarantulas modded my frame, specifically my valve to specifically line up with the fixtures of his spike. He was careful to ensure only his exact spike would trigger lubricant product or pleasure. Vortex could not eat my spike because I have not had one in vorns."

"Scrap," Jazz cursed. Prowl was still standing but he was leaning too hard on the frame, his arms trembled under the strain. Jazz slowly reached for Prowl, put his arm around his back and guided him to the berth. "Ratchet had no idea, or he woulda helped ya."

"I did not want everyone to know I had been his personal frag drone," Prowl replied. "It seemed... once it was decided I had been a traitor, it was easier not to reveal what had actually happened. Especially with Chromedome in the mix."

"He's still talkin' slag, I hope ya know... don't seem right to have ya caught off guard."

"Chromedome is a classical bully. He had no self confidence and must put others down to feel powerful. It enrages him that I ignore him and his rumours. That suits me."

"I like that way o' lookin' at it," Jazz smiled, and he sat on the berth next to Prowl, their legs dangling over the side. It was a quintessential Prowl way of looking at things and Jazz could only now appreciate it, and him. "I didn't actually come here to talk 'bout CD 'n his slag though."

"I would imagine not," Prowl replied, voice soft. He looked tired, mentally perhaps even more than physically.

"I got glyph that Vortex is dead," Jazz explained. "Bit o'm been turnin' up in Darkmount, mostly in his gestalt's habsuite, but his rotors got left on Megs' berth."

"Tarantulas," Prowl wheezed. He shook and Jazz did not know if he should put his arm around the other mech. Restraint and empathy warred until Jazz offered Prowl his servo. Prowl took it as he bared his denta. "It is not for my sake, at all, his anger. He does not care at all for my pain, my suffering. He cares that Vortex meddled with his work, ruined his work. I have only ever been a doll to Tarantulas."

"He won't get to ya in Iacon," Jazz promised. "If he's leavin' presence in Darkmount, then he's close. 'M thinkin' he's probably hidin' out 'round the Dead End. He'd have easy fuel."

"He has a preference for building labs in sewers," Prowl revealed. "He told me civilized mechanisms turned their olfactory ridges up at patrolling sewers."

"I'll be deployin' soon as yer outta here," Jazz said, "'n in safe servos. I got my ori 'n town to watch the Twins. He made a good point, ya can't go home alone. Gonna be awhile before ya can really take care o' yerself without wearing yerself to the struts, 'n longer before ya can fight off a freak. Y'll be safe wit Ori as yer watch dog."

"You want me to move into your habsuite when Ratchet releases me," Prowl said.

"No eight-legged freak, or two-legged creep can get passed my security, let alone Ori," Jazz replied. "The Twins'll like bein' yer nurse."

"I did not mean for them to get so attached," Prowl said. "They just needed to get away."

"'M glad they had a place to retreat to wit ya," Jazz said. "'M sorry I didn't see that. 'M sorry I called ya bitlet eater."

"You already apologized."

"Not enough. I spoke to Cheetor. Ya saved 'm from bein' eaten. Ya put yerself in harms way. After that, I said that to ya. I can't imagine how those glyphs hurt."

"I am used to being hated," Prowl replied.

"'N 'm sorry for that too," Jazz said. "Ya don't deserve it."

"Sometimes I do," Prowl said. "I do not care how mechanisms feel, Jazz. Not when the grand scheme of war and battle are at play. I care about survival and very little else. I am too pragmatic to make tactical decisions based on what would be the popular choice."

"They resisted ya evacuatin' the base," Jazz said. "They dragged their peds."

"Retreat is cowardly," Prowl replied. "Or so says Countdown. I do not care if I am called a coward. Better a living coward than a brave corpse."

"Here, here."

#valveplug #maccadams #tf prowl #tf jazz #vortex au #tarantulas plays with his fuel #anon asks ficlet #anon fic ask

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dreamer213 · 3 years

Text

Broken Machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 3: Evening in Atlas Part 1

A week has passed since Weiss’s escape and Jacques’s meltdown, everything has been clean up both in and outside of the manor and Jacques is hosting another evening party as an “apology” for Weiss’s behavior and to announce Whitley as her replacement. The party is set to start at 8 pm, only a few hours away, and the manor staff are hard at work finishing up preparations for the night’s event. But they weren’t the only ones getting ready for the evening. Deep within the manor the youngest Schnee is making preparations of his own.

After finishing his daily assignments, both academic and business related, Whitley tidies up his work space, gets up from his desk and walks over to his mirror.

Whitley: I only have an hour and a half until I need to get changed and two hours before the final walkthrough. I have still have some time to make sure I have it down. A few more goes and I should be ready.

Whitley takes a long look in the mirror, closes his eyes, and then preforms several breathing techniques. Once he’s finished the exercises, Whitley put his heels together, puts his arms out in front of himself with his hands together, puts on slight frown, and lowers his gazes. Where once stood a calm young man now stands a sorrowfully and disappointed boy. He looks into the mirror and signs.

Whitley: I’m so sorry about what happened with Weiss at the charity gala, it was truly a shameful sight.

Yes, I know her behavior was horrible but you must understand she was on ground when it all happened, I’m sure just hearing the word “Vytal” so soon after was far too for much for her to bare.

The fact Weiss made it home alive is a miracle in and of itself, so how could we expect her to come back completely unscathed from the horrors she must’ve witnessed.

Yes, it is terrible how things had to end but all we can do now is hope and pray that she’ll be able make her own way now that she’s on her own.

Thank you for your concern, I to hope that she’ll make peace with her decisions one day.

He continues on speaking several more scripted statements. After he’s spoken his last line he takes a deep inhale and return to his normal stance on the exhale. Soon he repeats the process, this time leaning more into the disappointment aspect, only to start over again this time using a more indifferent attitude as he speaks. It takes a hour for the boy finally stop, satisfied with his work he gives himself an approving nod.

Whitley: That should do for now.

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door, it’s the maids. He opens the door and they bring in his attire for tonight’s party. A thunder grey suit top, cobalt blue vest with silver buttons, white dress shirt, black pants, tie, pocket square, and dress socks, and a pair of navy blue dress shoes. The perfect ensemble for the disinheritance of one heir and the announcement of a new one.

After the maids set the pieces on his bed Whitley nods towards the door, they take the hint and leave the room. Once they’re gone Whitley gets dressed, styles his hair, and heads out towards the ballroom. When he arrives things are going as well as the normally do. The staff is rushing to get everything ready, food venders are setting the buffet, the musicians are tuning their instruments, and Jacques is shouting and hassling everyone over the tiniest of detail. Whitley walks up to him as he’s screaming at servant trying to hang some drapes.

Jacques: No, now that’s too low, put it up higher! No higher! HIGHER! I said higher you worthless insec-

Whitley: Father.

Jacques: Ah there you are Whitley, I was hoping you’d come down soon. Have you finished your work for the day?

Whitley: Yes, I finished my studies a few hours ago. All my assignments are in an orderly pile on my desk as always.

Jacques: And the reports and approval forms?

Whitley: All the forms have been reviewed, filled out, signed, and should be delivered to your office before the party begins.

Jacques: and the speech for tonight?

Whitley: I have both yours and mine completely memorized down to the margins.

Jacques: And if people ask about your sister?

Whitley: “ It’s such a shame that things turned out this way but I suppose it is for the best. Both for the company and her sanity.”

Jacques: Excellent. Since you have nothing to do you can oversee the rest of the preparations. I have to go change into my good suit.

Jacques begins to walk out of the ballroom, he gets a few feet away before he remembers something and turns back. Once he’s back in front of Whitley he pulls a pack of something out of his breast pocket and hands it to Whitley. They were professionally made business cards, white base with a navy blue outline and black font. Inscribed on them is Whitley’s contact information with his name written in large cursive letters with the title of Heir to the Schnee Dust Company underneath. This was his new title and another step closer to his goal. However there’s something very wrong with this situation. Having business cards made for Whitley was one thing but delivering them himself? Not possible. Jacques had too much pride and money to ever do such a menial task. No, something’s off here.

Whitley: Thank you Father but why are you handing them to me? Isn’t delivering things likes this one of Klein’s responsibilities?

Jacques: Oh did I forget to tell you, I kicked that disloyal mutt to the curb this morning, there’s no need to keep such traitorous trash in my manor.

Whitley: I see.

Jacques: Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get changed. Have everything ready before I get back alright?

Whitley: Yes Father.

Once Jacques has left the area the reality of what he just said sets in. Klein, the only person who had cared for Whitley and his sisters in the last ten years, had been thrown to the streets for helping Weiss. The closest thing to a shoulder to cry on he had was taken away because of his sister’s actions. If Whitley had been a normal child he would’ve broke down and cried. He would have shouted and screamed about the unfairness of it all and how his father was being needlessly cruel. But Whitley wasn’t a normal child, he didn’t have the luxury of throwing a fit to get his way. In fact if he ever showed any sign of discontent he’d be punished for acting ungrateful and selfish. No all he could do was stay calm and keep moving forward. He could get someone to check up on Klein later but for now he has to play his part.

Once the preparations are done, the staff is in position, and the door are about to open Whitley heads towards the ballroom entrance where Jacques is waiting. He takes his place at his father’s side and puts on his best “smile” as the doors finally open and Atlas elites begin to pour into to the ballroom. CEO’s, Politicians, Celebrities, and the like were gathered at the manor to attend to tonight’s evening party. Many of them had been present when Weiss made her scene and were anxiously awaiting the outcome of the drama she caused. This was a rare treat for the elites after all, to have the head of the world’s largest dust company the proverbial king of high society bow his head and apologize for his teenage daughter’s outrageous behavior. Oh what a show that would be, the perfect theatre for Atlas’s most wealthy and heartless.

Whitley: The audience is here and the curtains are drawn. Its showtime.

This week had been a hard one for Penny. A small riot, several bar fights that made it onto the streets, three robberies, two large Grimm attacks, and a car accident over the course of five days. It’s been really, really tiring but luckily today had been surprisingly normal compared to the other rest of the week. So much so that Penny was able to wrap up her duties on time for once. After her last report is filled out Penny grabs her things, turns in her usb, and is out the door before the front desk assistant can even say good night. Finally the work day was over and Penny actually had enough time to both unwind a bit and get lots of sleep before her next shift. Oh what she could do with that time maybe read a few chapters of “The Tome of Fables” book her dad had gotten her months ago, or try out that stitch pattern Mrs. Peri showed her last week or maybe just watch some tv.

Penny skips off towards home, happy as any girl could be when given some free time. Once she’s made it home she can already hear her dad in the kitchen, hard to work making dinner. It had been a hard week for him to as he’d been call in a number of times for consultations on improving the robot soldiers and some of the mech suits. But no matter how much he had to do Pietro would always find time for his little girl. Penny smiles at the sight and tiptoes over to him. She sneaks up behind him, gets down to his level, and gives him a big hug. Pietro responds in kind, turning his chair around and squeezing her back.

Pietro: Welcome back sweetie, you’re home early.

Penny: No, I’m just on time. Things were relatively peaceful today so I didn’t have to stay overtime again.

Pietro: That wonderful sweet pea. But I was expected you to be home later so it’s gonna be an hour or so before the food done.

Penny: That’s okay in fact I was hoping spend some of tonight on doing a leisure activity.

Pietro: Really, well then why don’t you go up your room and relax then? I’ll call you when it’s ready.

Penny: That’s a great idea thanks Dad!

Pietro: Just don’t forget to wash your hands before you come back down.

Penny: I won’t.

She gives her dad a quick little cheek kiss before hop upstairs to her room. Once she’s inside she kicks off her boots, grabs her book, and plops down on her bed for a nice read. After half an hour or so someone starts knocking on their front door. Who could that be at this hour? If it was an emergency Penny would get a call or message on her scroll from the security office. And the neighbors would usually calling her dad before coming by for anything. Penny, now curious about the situation, sat up from and puts her book down.

Pietro: Penny!

Penny: I’ve got it!

She puts on a pair of slippers and heads downstairs to answer the door. Penny opens the door only to be greeted by the sight of General James Ironwood in his army best with a shopping bag in hand and a limousine behind him. Definitely not what Penny was expecting at to see at 9:35 at night. As soon as the shock wears off Penny stands at attention and salutes her superior.

Penny: Good Evening General Ironwood.

Ironwood: Evening Penny.

Penny: Sir, What brings to my home at this hour? Is there an emergency I need to attend to? Or is there something you need my assistance with?

Ironwood: There aren’t any emergencies in Mantle at the moment but there is a mission I need your help with.

Penny: What do you need me to do?

Ironwood: I’ll explain everything in the car. But first, I need you to get changed.

Ironwood hands her the shopping bag. Penny peeks inside to see a dress wrapped in plastic and a shoe box. Penny takes the bag and heads back to her room to change. She puts the contents of the bag on her bed and opens them. The dress is a simple green evening gown and the shoes are a pair of 4 inch silver heels. Penny remove her normal attire and puts on the gown and shoes. This was strange, wearing such different clothes from her normal look. Even before her restoration Penny had only ever wore one outfit, all the clothes she had were just multiples of the same outfit, and although her new outfit was very different to her old one it still shared many of the same elements the old one did, barring the fact that she now wore shoes every now and then. The dress itself was a bit long and a little too wide around the waist but still very pretty. The shoes, while cute and her size, were hard to walk in. Penny had never wore heels before, she takes a slow walk around her room to try and figure out how to walk straight. After circling her room a few times she gets a rhythm going. It a little slow but it would do. She checks herself in the mirror and is pleasantly surprised at how different she looks in different clothes. She’s looking herself over when she realizes she had left her bow on. She only ever took it off when she was going to sleep so she’d completely forgotten it was still on her head. Realizing it didn’t quite match the rest of her outfit Penny pulls it off and fixes her hair to catch the fly aways. After one more look and a little twirl Penny heads back down stairs to her dad and Ironwood. When Pietro sees her he almost cries. She looks so beautiful, so happy, and is just beaming with pride, it’s almost too much for him. He’s little girl had become a beautiful young lady.

Pietro: Oh my god. You look so beautiful.

Penny: Thanks Dad.

Ironwood: You look nice Penny, now let’s go.

Penny: Yes Sir. Eat with me okay, I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can.

Pietro: Just be safe out there.

Penny: I will be. See you soon.

With a wave and shutting of a car door Penny and Ironwood depart into Mantle’s night. After a minute or so Penny speaks up and finally asks the questions that’s been running through her mind since she answered the door.

Penny: Sir, why did you come to my house in such an oddly noticeable vehicle and in such formal clothing? And why did you have me change into on an outfit that is equally as formal?

Ironwood: Because outfits like this are necessary where we’re going for this mission.

Penny: And where exactly are we going?

Ironwood: Simple, we’re going to a evening party.

There’s a pause as Penny processes this information. Her eyes grow wide and her mouth slowly falls agape as she finds herself confused by the sheer absurdity of the situation she found herself in.

Penny: ………….What? WHAT!

#broken machines #penny polendina #whitley schnee #jacques schnee #pietro polendina #rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the fated meeting is close at hand

17 notes · View notes

goth-girlfriend · 4 years

Note

love your latest endeavor story!!! please do a part 2 omg

Of course!💙 I’m excited for it myself!

Well, now we have to name it,

Endeavor’s Intern

(2/?)

🖤💙❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️💙🖤

“So much for waiting just for a schedule.” I mumbled and finally relaxed again Endeavor’s chest.

He ignored me, his arms still stretched out working away at papers on his desk. My thights started to hurt form being pressed together between his own, so I didn’t what any rational person would do. I grabbed a hold of his massive biceps and ignoring his protests I pushed myself up and pushed my legs over his thighs and knees. In this new position I leaned back completely against his chest, his chin now resting ontop of my head. I took deep breath and looked around his office, the sky has moved from mid morning to mid afternoon. The clouds were not longer just bright white, they had tints of orange and pink.

‘Hey, hows it going?’ -❄️🔥

‘Oh, you know, it’s going’ -☀️🖤

‘Did you cry? He goes easier when you cry.’ -❄️🔥

‘No..., i didn’t get a smack on the hand though, kinda hurt honestly. 😭 -☀️🖤

‘You’ll Live then, it could’ve gone worse.’ -❄️🔥

‘Yeah, okay. So....how’s it going on your part?’-☀️🖤

“Tell Shoto to get back to work.” Endeavors voice vibrates against my back.

“Tell him what?” I asked wanting feel him speak again.

“To get back to work.” He grumbled and pushed his hips back against his chair to lean foreward slightly.

I followed his actions not really wanting to, but because he was quite literally my chair at the moment.

‘Shoto, you dad says get back to work’ -☀️🖤

‘Tell him get back to work.’- ❄️🔥

“Shoto says for you to get back to work,” I tried to looked over my shoulder.

Endeavor mumbled something and I started to scroll through my phone. I landed on Snapchat, ever since the sports festival and leaking my snapchat my views have gone threw the roof. Apparently people like to see what it’s like to be a hero in training.

I opened the filters and started to play around with some, my favorite being the basic heart crown. I took a few pictures with different filters not posting them due to endeavors chest being visible in the background. I might be a little crazy but I’m not stupid. I wonder if I can get a picture with Endeavor.

“Endeavor Senpai,” I felt him tense behind me.

No response, “Will you take a picture with me?”

He didn’t answer, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I angled my phone upwards, at the top of the screen his face, at the bottom was from my nose up. We both had heart crown filters. He seemed annoyed, but I took the picture anyway.

“I don’t like this let me try a different one.” I moved and sat across his lap, my butt on one thigh and my legs over the other.

I turned my phone to its side and then got us both in the picture.

“Smile, it’s not like anyone else is going to see this.” I mumbled and smiled.

The edges of his lips tugged up barely, I took it as the best I could and took the picture.

“That’s definitely getting saved.” I saved it twice.

I scrolled through the filters and found a fan made filter, Endeavor or All Might poll. I looked over at Endeavor, he was staring at me hard as I clicked on my answer. Of course it was going to be him, he been my crush for about two years, and I’m literally sitting on him right now.

The filter changed to red heart and fire emoji crown, I smiled at Endeavor and leaned my side against his chest. I wrapped my right arm about his neck and held up a piece sign.

“Come on, now you really have to smile for this one.” The filter picked up on the both of us and I stretched out my left arm to get more of us.

I was gonna cherish these because this might never happen again. He had a faint smile, I smiled wider and tilted my head to the right slightly, he loved his left arm around my hips and his right arm resting on the arm rest. I felt all happy considering I was literally quitting three or four hours ago.

I took the picture and saved it, I showed it to him. He simply made a “hm” noise.

I let out a heavy sigh, “I’m bored.”

“You go on Patrol soon, go get ready.” With that he pushed me off his lap.

Standing up I nodded and grabbed my coffee smelling and slightly now stiff cloak.

“He totally likes me.” I mumbled once I was outside his office.

I walked to the elevator, the secretary of the floor looking at me smirking.

“Did her get rid of you already?” She was smirking.

“Pfft, If i weren’t here for just a week I could replace you faster then you can order his Coffee.” I sassed at her and did the most cliche finger snap.

She rolled her eyes, I smield and turned to walk into the elevator, Todoroki was there.

“So don’t tell anyone but guess what.” I said once the elevator doors were closed.

“What?” Shoto asked crossing his arms across his chest.

“I-“ I stopped and pulled out my phone to show him the picture I took with his dad, the last picture showed I was sitting in lap with his hand on my hip.

“Look.” I showed him the screen grinning like an idiot.

“What.” He looked at the photo eyes wide, “how?” He asked.

“He smacked my hand and then told me to wait for the schedule change, so I went to sit down but pulled me down and basically said he said he told me to wait not to move.”

“I see.” He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, “So should I refer to you as step mom, mom or just by your name like I do now?”

I blushed and looked down, “Shut it Shoto, your dad is still married to your mom so I actually feel bad now.”

I sulked looking down, Shoto sighed and rolled his eyes.

“(Y/n), they were actually divorced not to long after she was admitted to the hospital. It just never made it to the public.” He sighed and looked down.

I felt bad, I moved and hugged him from the side. My arms wrapped around his chest and my chin bent upwards to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Todo,” I whispered.

He turned slightly and hugged me back, “Together we make a whole mess.”

I laughed at him, a smile made its way to his lips.

“Yeah but now it’ll be you and my dad,” he exaggerated a sigh, “So I’ll be all alooonnee,” he exaggerated another sigh, “No friend, no money, nothing. Just alone.”

“You’re such a baby,” I pulled away and so did he.

“Besides I’d totally be a sugar baby and we’d definitely hang out and I’d finally go to universal!” I put my hands on my hips smiling up at Shoto.

“Oh, so your in it for the money.” His left brow quirked.

“No, not really.” I sighed and looked down, “It’s probably not real, people will think I’m crazy and don’t know what love it. I mean after all we’re only 15 , but I think I really like your dad...” I smiled down at my shoes.

The elevator doors finally opened.

“Well,” he sighed, “Good luck.” We stepped out and he walked off with another hero.

“I’ll see you after Patrols.” He called out over his shoulder.

“See you then.” I mumbled.

I sat on a sofa in the waiting room, I wonder who I’m patrolling with today. I hope it’s someone cool, I don’t really know anyone, so I don’t know who’s cool yet. I kicked my feet slightly just waiting for someone to pick me up and take me with them on patrol. About three other pairs left, not one person taking me, or stopping to ask me.

I deflated a bit with every passing person, did Endeavor lie to? Did he just tell me that to get me out of his way?

“Well, day two is coming to an end, no patrols so far.” I logged down on a mini log I had made in my calendar. “Wonder if I’ll get to go home, or will I wait all night for a patrol.”

Just as I closed the app I leaned back in my chair.

“We’re leaving lets go.” I jumped up quickly at the sound of Endeavor’s voice.

“Yes sir.” I follows quickly as he made his way out the door.

“There are four teams out already, one in the north, east, south and west. Well cover the central area. When a call comes in the group closest will respond first. If they’re busy the second closest will respond.” I followed and took mental notes as he spoke.

“Just a question.” I asked when he took a break from explaining.

He looked down at me arms crossed, “What?”

“Do you ever work with any heroes outside of your agency or is it like a strict agency hero teamwork system for you?” I asked curious why he was talking with Hawks.

“There is an occasional hero that is nuisance, but can complete tasks efficiently.” He didn’t sound to happy about it.

“Hawks?” I asked tilting my head.

“Precisely.” He looked ahead on the semi empty streets, avoiding eye contact as to no have to interact with anyone.

“He’d be useless with out his wings, even if they don’t do much I wouldn’t expect much from them.” He stopped at a side walk lights nd peared around the corner into a dark alleyway.

“What’s wrong with wings?” I asked looking around where he did.

“They get in the way, they get dirty easy, if you’re anything like Hawks the slightly dust will awns you into a cleaning frenzy. Overall I think they are more trouble then they’re worth at times.” He said as he finally began to cross.

“Well I think they’re cool.” I looked down, our shadows fell behind us. “I mean they’re are so many things you can do.”

I activated my quirk, surprise, I can grow wings. I stretched my left wing behind Endeavor’s back to tap his left shoulder he’d turned and I pulled it away quickly.

“Also it’s just something about the sound of flying that just gives me a sense of peace and nostalgia. When I was younger, I used to love birds flying, crows and ravens specially. They would get closer not exactly afraid, I loved to listen to them flap their wings, it sounded powerful for such small birds, considering the size of birds of prey.” I shrugged and started to think about.

“Did you see someone back there?” Endeavor asked as I stopped.

“No why?” I asked looking back.

He didn’t say a thing but looked foreward. I moved to tap his shoulder, looking for a distraction.

“Ooo, look it’s you.” I pointed to a hero Mech store, Endeavor plushies and posters were on display by the window.

He turned to look I too the opportunity and tucked it away. I watched him look over his shoulder then back.

“Have you ever bought any of your own merchandise?” I asked him.

“No, I’m always gifted my own merchandise.” He didn’t seem impressed.

“Well then.” I mumbled and then saw a new collection.

“Look! They have a new thing.” I pointed to a small white box with question marks.

“Text your luck, see what UA student you can collect. class 1-A first collection, sixteen different figures, collect them all.” I read it out loud, “Im gonna buy some, I wonder if I can find myself, this is amazing.”

I got excited and deactivated my quirk, I could foil my own plan. I started to walk in before Endeavor cleared throat. It hit me, this is an internship, I slowly pushed the door.

“Pleeeeaaaasssseeeee.” I stretched it out not opening the door.

“Hurry.” He said and turned away.

I rushed in and bought the whole box. There’s three in each there has to be at least one of me. I saw a different bag and bought three of those, they were pro hero’s.

I walked out bag in head, “Alright I can compromise, if I get more then one Shoto I’ll let you have one, I think they’re keychains.” I said looking at the bag I was holding in my right hand.

Endeavor just looked at me and sighed, I smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Well let’s get back to work...”

As we walked I pulled my belt around my waist, it had a large pouch on the back, I pulled out all the small bags and squished them in there and made sure to-zip if tight. I threw the paper bag and box away and caught up with Endeavor.

We spent the next few hours doing nothing, just walking around. Every now and then I would tap his shoulder while I talked about something nonchalant, he look for whatever it was and turn back around.

“Well, I’m hungry, and you said patrols ended at 2, it’s 2:20.” I was looking at my phone.

“Alright.” He said stopping in the light of some 24 hour shop, “Well take a break.”

I got excited, I’d finally be able to open my toys.

“Great, What is this place I’m starving.” I leaned around and looked past Endeavors broad shoulders and chest.

“Boba tea and cafe.” I read the sign, “24/7 for your convenience. Pro hero discount after 9:40 pm.”

I looked up at Endeavor, “You even get a discount.”

I was about to pass him until someone cut me off. Red wings blocked my view. It was Hawks, I looked around and saw him, Tokoyami. I smiled at him, he nodded.

“Ew.” I said in fake disgust at Hawks with a smile on my face.

“Hm?” He turned to me.

“Oh didn’t see you there shorty.” He was snarky, he used the tip of his wing to ‘take’ my height to show how is a shorter then him.

“Don’t get to cocky, the size of your wings have nothing to do with the type of man you are.” I huffed and swatted his wing away.

It was very soft surprisingly.

He laughed, “Feisty.”

“Yeah, now, move please? I haven’t eaten since last night.” I said trying to get last.

“Endeavor!” He pushed past me forgetting about me and his intern.

I watched Endeavor’s face contort.

“Well let’s eat.” I shrugged at Tokoyami, he sighed and nodded.

Tokoyami and I walked in and made our way to the register.

“Alright, what do you that is good and affordable for high school students?” I asked when the guy asked how he could help us.

“We have a mystery meal,” he started, “You gettour choice boba tea, a side of rice, and depending on the day you get a cutlet, grilled fish, tempura shrimp, steamed vegetables, omelet or dumplings. We give you care and every time you order a mystery meal we lunch a hole, after six visits for the seventh by redeeming your card you can chose a pro hero inspired meal for free.” He explains and showed me a silver paper card with little squares.

“Alright, I’ll take one. Do you want one Tokoyami?” I asked. He was looking at the menu above us.

“Yes but you order fir-”

“Two mystery meals, his apple flavored if you have it and I’ll take strawberries, both with mango pearls please.” I gave the guy my bank card he scanned it and punched two holes in my card.

“Thank you.” I smield and took it from him.

“Aren’t you guys from UA?” He asked and eyes us.

“Yup, is you watched the festival you should at least recognize our own number three right here.” I patted Tokoyami’s shoulder.

We went to sit in a large booth, we kept small talk. Tokoyami telling me how Hawks likes to stand behind him and spread out his wings or carry him so then people see them they look like one whole bird.

After he finished I told him a bout the small figures and pulled out a bag, I asked him if he wanted to open one. He denied and I opened it. Out came three Tokoyami.

“Well then.” I said and picked one up, a small version of Dark shadow was coming from him in the figure.

“Look how cute dark shadow looks.” I pointed him out.

“Here you can have one.” I laid him the miniature version of himself.

He picks did up by the chain looking at it. “Not a lot of variety.”

I let out a few laughs, and shook my head, “Nah, it’s just beginners bad luck.”

I stood the two Tokoyami up and reached for another bag as I moved my pouch to the front to look like a Fanny pack.

“Well, I have our whole class now,” I tried to make a seating arrangement on the table. All the extras piled on the side.

“I’m even here.” I pointed to my smaller self.

“Sixty figures and I only get to keep sixteen.” I said and looked at the rest.

“Oh! Also look at these.” I pulled out a bag of pro hero’s.

“How much can you fit in that bag?” Hawks asked from his spot beside Tokoyami.

“A lot, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I said pulling out the bags of pro hero’s.

“These have four.” I read on fo three bags.

I opened the first bag, three all nights and an Aizawa.

“That’s depressing.” Hawks said as he picked up a Might.

“Next.” I said throwing the bag to the side.

A midnight, present mic and two ectoplasm.

“The bags says your chances of getting top five hero’s are better then the rest, but you literally just got a rare and not a single common.” Hawks said taking the empty bag from me.

I sighed. “Last one.”

I opened it and put came four Hawks.

I looked at him, he was smirking, “Ill end you, I’ll do it.”

I dropped the bag but it made a clicking noise.

I picked it up, “Look.” I showed stood the fifth figure up, “They packed an extra.”

“It’s a little Endeavor.” Hawks said reaching for it, “I didn’t spend 20 dollars for someone else to take it. I swatted his hand.

“But you can have a Tokoyami, All Might and Hawks.” I pushed the three to him.

He pouted and looked at the figure between my two fingers.

“But I want that one.” He pointed to Endeavor.

“No he’s mine.” I argued back.

“Excuse me, can we have a picture of you four for our hero wall?” The cashier boy was back with trays of food and a girl beside him with a camera.

Nobody had time to reply before Hawks was standing and ageeeing. “Everybody show your quirks, they have to know we’re legit.”

I looked at Endeavor who never stopped burning, “I don’t think it’s that hard to believe.”

We lined up, Hawks, Tokoyami, Myself and Endeavor.

I propped my left arm on Tokoyami’s shoulder, Hawks raised his wings and did a peace sign, Tokoyuhad darkshadow infront front of him, I stretched my wings up and out, and Endeavor has his arms crossed against his chest. The girl stuck the Polaroid to a paper and held a sharpie out, “would you like to si-“

Hawks snatched the paper away and looked at me then the paper then me.

“What?!” He asked and looked at me, twats at the corner of his eyes.

“I thought I was special,” he was deflating slowly.

I laughed and looked at the picture, “Ooo, I look good.” I said pointing to my wing, it stretched out further than Hawks.

“Well, don’t hold out on me what kind.” He squinted, “Eagle, when I was a younger everyone thought vulture or raven or crow but surprise! Bird of prey.” I shrugged.

“You know what this means?” He asked.

“No.” I answered honestly.

“Wing buddies!” He lifted his left wing and I looked at it, I tired to resist but sighed and gave in, I hit his wing with my own and sighed, “wind buddies!” I cheered back with a smile.

We all signed the paper and the lady hung it on a wall.

After eating we all headed out, I reached into my pouch and pulled out two figures. I slid back around to my back and held my hand out to Endeavor.

“Here, it’s you and Shoto.” I said offering the two figures.

“Thank you.” His voice was low and smooth, his larger hand covered mine as he took them. Heat leaving his hand and engulfing my own.

I felt my wings ruffle up a bit as J smiled, “You’re welcome Senpai.” I winked at him and grinned.

He looked over at me, my heart fluttered. His eyes looked so pretty in the dark, being lit up but every other white light we passd.

I was really hoping I wouldn’t call it love, but man, if this wasn’t love what was it?

We walked down the same side walk, I wanted to reach for his larger hand, in my mind I could here Shoto “do it.”

So I did, he tended and I whistled a tune like nothing happened. He just looked ahead, I smiled and tightened my grip slightly on his hand.

“This is definitely the best.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

@lovemadnessharleyquinn

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toonformers · 3 years

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Part 7

Today's topic

Twinsies AU part 6

We left off on Sentinel in his high and mighty acting Magnus position, no longer happy after getting everything he's ever wanted. At first, the mech didn't know what to do. He tried training, which usually cheers him up, drinking a bit, reading, looking for a potential sparkmate. In the end, he decided to send his guards over to a small apartment in the middle class area of Cybertron, with a message for a special mecha in his spark.

Guard 1: *knocks*

Centinela: *opens door* May I help you?

Guard 2: Are you Centinela Prime?

Centinela: I don't go by that title. But yes, I am Centinela Minor.

Guard 2: You have been requested to speak with acting Magnus, Sentinel Prime. You will be escorted there effective immediately.

Centinela: Sentinel...wants to see me? *looks down kinda sad then goes back to a blank stare* The commander couldn't tell me himself?

Guard 1: He is busy in some government affairs. It's the reason why he asked for you. Sentinel Prime believes you can solve his dilema.

Centinela: Is that so? *sigh* Very well. Let's be off, then.

*In Fortress Maximus*

Centinela: *enters and salutes* Commander.

Sentinel, surprised: H-hey. I...didn't think you'd come.

Centinela: You are the acting Magnus. I couldn't say no.

Sentinel: Yes, you could. I'm just glad you didn't. *smiles* Ho-how are you?

Centinela: Well. And you?

Sentinel, sad: Honestly...heh...not good. You know how you said I gave up my life for something I would never get? Turns out you were right. I got everything i ever wanted but...it just...wasn't the same doing this on my own, compared to all the effort we did together to get our head start in our futures. I can't believe I was so stupid.

Centinela: You are not stupid, Sentinel. Just less intelligent. You were also young and power hungry. I can understand why you reached such a point of desperation.

Sentinel, sad: Don't try to make me feel better. It's not right. I was a bad friend, to both Elita and Optimus and I was a horrible brother to you. Nothing can justify what I did back then.

Centinela: You're right. But forgiveness is still achievable. No matter how bad your actions are.

Sentinel, tearful: Do you hate me?

Centinela: No.

Sentinel, angered: No? Then why does it feel like I'm talking to a wall? You're not reacting at anything I say, you've just been staring at me! What's wrong? Listen, I want to make things right, but I need some kind of way to know it's getting through instead of your analysis. Please.

Centinela: *stares blankly*

Sentinel, angered: What is it?

Centinela: You don't know.

Sentinel: Know what?

Centinela: I...I left you a message in your comm link. Did you ever listen to it?

Sentinel, sad: Honestly...no. I wanted to, recently. But I thought it would be better if we spoke like this. Instead me listening to such an old message and calling back.

Centinela: Sentinel, I reccomend you listen to it. Please

Sentinel: *actives comm link* Override 1139. Play message.

Computer: Playing. "Sentinel. I hope you're well. I wanted to speak with you, but it seems that you're busy. I wanted to let you know that Perceptor is reducing my personality to 20%. I won't be able to feel unless it's in an intense situation..."

Sentinel, shocked: What! No. *looks at Centinela* You...you didn't. You couldn't have.

Computer: "I'm sorry for what I said to you. And I forgive you for what you said to me. And that no matter how much you may hate me or how much we'll fight in the future, you'll always be my brother. And I love you, Sentinel. I love you, brother! I love you! I-I love you! *voice becomes more monotone* I...love you! I....love you. I love...you.... Goodbye, Sentinel." End of message. Goodbye.

Sentinel, crying: Tell me this isn't true. Please tell me this is some sick prank!

Centinela: I'm sorry, brother.

Sentinel, crying: Oh, Primus. No. No! What have I done! Oh no! No! *hugs Centinela* No please! Centinela! Oh Primus, it's all my fault! What have I done to you?! Oh, Centy, I'm so sorry! I'M SORRY! *sobs loudly* Please, no! Please! You have to be in there! Give me a sign, anything!

Centinela: .... *hugs back*

Sentinel, crying: Centinela?

Centinela, crying: You idiot. I told you I couldn't feel unless it was an intense situation. You're bringing back my pain!

Sentinel, crying: Good! Tell me how I caused it. How I made you suffer! How I should pay!

Centinela, crying: You've already suffered enough, you glitch! I just want my big brother back.

Sentinel, crying: And I want my sis to feel again. *lets go of Centinela and contacts Perceptor* Preceptor, I need to speak with you. Immediately.

Hours later

Perceptor: I apologize, commander. But as I previously stated, what's been done to Centinela is irreversible. I cannot, even if I wanted to, restore her personality to it's original state.

Sentinel, angered: No, there must be something you overlooked. We...I can't just leave her like this!

Centinela: Sentinel, let it go. There's nothing you can do for me now.

Sentinel, angered: No! I'm the Magnus! I decide when we should give up! Remember when we were newborns, that we could somehow talk to each other with our thoughts?

Perceptor: *whisper* what?

Centinela: I remember.

Sentinel, angered: Well I remember I emerged out of that artificial chamber thing first, telling you to wait for me to see if it's safe, and you didn't come out until after I said it was safe. I promised I would protect you from any harm that comes to you! And if I have to save you from something you did, because of MY mistakes, so be it!

Perceptor: If I may... Sentinel Prime, you said you and Centinela could communicate through your thoughts, correct?

Sentinel: Yes. We used to talk like that all the time, but it faded away as we got older. Why?

Perceptor: Centinela, are you aware of split spark convergence?

Centinela: Yes, the ability of split spark mecha to share their minds among other things when in peril. But that only works when the convergence persists until adulthood. Me and Sentinel were children when our convergence stopped.

Perceptor: A common misconception. Split spark convergence is permanent, and even when it feels it has faded, it can be reactivated temporarily through processor stimulation.

Sentinel: Less, sciency talk, more English. What does this have to do with me and Centinela?

Perceptor: If I can stimulate you to share your mind with Centinela, I may be able to transfer some of your emotional capability over to her. Of course, as I previously stated, this process is permanent. I cannot return whatever you wish to give to Centinela. So consider deeply how much you wish to give her-

Sentinel: Easy, all of it!

Centinela: You can't, you'd become a drone.

Sentinel: Alright, then half. 50%. I'll be just like you when it's over. I'll know how you felt. Perceptor, do the procedure now, please.

Perceptor: Yes, sir.

Two hours later

Perceptor: Like last time, both of you will have two minutes in your current emotional state. Sentinel you will experience a sudden drain to 50% emotional capability, and Centinela, an increase to 70%. There is still time for you to consider, Commander, giving a lower percentage before I close your helms.

Centinela: Yes, brother. Once this is done, you will be just like how I was, emotionally.

Sentinel: What's so bad about that? Besides, you'll make better use of my emotions than I ever did. *smiles*

Perceptor: Very well. *closes helms*

Sentinel: We'll be much better after this. I promise. I'm gonna make things right.

Centinela: You already apologized to me, to Optimus. Ultra Magnus will most likely never recover from his wounds, so it's too late to confess to him. What more can you do?

Sentinel: ....I...will replace every bad thing I've done with a good one. By being the best Magnus this planet can have. I will be kind, fair and just. And you will help me get there.

Centinela: *smiles slightly* Sounds good. You sappy idiot.

Sentinel: *chuckles then laughs* *laughter fades* I...I love you too, sis. *smile becomes less noticeable*

Centinela: *big smile, sighs* It's done. You okay?

Sentinel: Yes...I feel a little weird. But I'm fine.

Centinela: Good. We'll make good use of that 50%, won't we?

Sentinel: *slight smile* Hmm. Yes. Thank you, Perceptor. You may leave. I will later publicly announce the changes I've made. And from now on Centinela will be the new head of Cybertron Intelligence. You may go to her for any information you need.

Perceptor: Yes, sir.

FINALLY I'M FINISHED! I wanna do an epilogue tho 😔👉👈

I'll do one later. For now enjoy this last segment of the Twinsies AU. Hope ya liked it, cuz I sure did!

Fun fact: I cried while writing this haha

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

#transformers animated #transformers #tfa sentinel prime #sentinel prime #tfa oc #tfa au #tfa perceptor

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imagine-the-energon · 4 years

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How bout Silas experimenting on his teen kid to make them a techno organic? They run away and bump into the autobots. The bots look at them and their like this is our child now. Fight us their ours now. :)

(So sorry person who originally asked this. I accidentally deleted it when trying to clean the inbox)

You got it! This will be a multipart series. Currently, only two parts are planned: this one and one where Silas gets his dues, but more can be added if requested.

~~ Mod Ohma ~~

tw: abuse, neglect, mentions of torture, experimentation and death

The first thing she saw once she was out of the warehouse was green. There was so much, it made her head spin, and as she stumbled back, she could hear the guards yelling, signaling that the empty cell and dead guards. Pushing forward, she could hear the branches and fallen logs under her break as she vaulted over them, doing her best not to look, not to feel because if she did either, she’d certainly break down.

Finally, after what felt like both forever and a few seconds, she tripped and caught herself with her arms, forcing her to look at the white metal, at the dark grey blade she had tried so hard to pry off only to get shocks after shocks the second she had managed to get it away.

Her breath hitched and she could feel her eyes stinging. When she closed her eyes, her mechanical arms gave out, allowing her to collapse on the ground, sobbing in the new and confusion freedom she had found in the forest.

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She woke up to the ground shaking. Normally, she would’ve just gotten under the small bunk her father had given her, but as she rolled over, she had a stick whack her in her face, causing her to open her eyes and realize that the dream had not, in fact, been a dream.

She felt the vibrations stop and thought that it meant she was ok, that she could move, like all the other times, so she slowly stood up, grimacing at the state of her hospital gown. it was backward for the sake of her running away, but it was also too short, having been made for a kid rather than a tall teenager. Or, well, a robotically enhanced teenager.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she made was a choked laugh or a choked sob, but once it was out of her mouth, there was a tremor, and then another one. Looking around, she felt herself freeze up at the sight of the giant red and blue robot, who seemed just as shocked (well, perhaps a little bit more) as she was.

“Hello,” she rasped, feeling the headpiece attacked to her skull buzzing lightly as it forced information into her head. “I need your help, Optimus Prime. An enemy of MECH is a friend of mine.”

“What did MECH want from you?” He rumbled, and she knew that this was the make or break moment.

“My name is Phoebe Leah Bishop, daughter of Leland Bishop, and he was the one who did this to me. He wanted a techno-organic, a supersoldier for his stupid war, and he decided that since I never agreed with him, he’d make me agree with him. I have no love for him, and all I can ask if that if you decline my help, then please, allow me to live in peace.”

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She could feel their mistrust the second Prime made it known that she was sitting in his hands. Ratchet, the one MECH pegged as old and decrepit due to rarely being on the field, plucked her out of his grasp and took her over to the medical area, and she could feel the information rewriting itself.

“Scans indicate that your limbs have been replaced... and that this crown has been screwed onto your head,” he said, voice disgusted and aghast as she just shrugged.

“It’s not screwed in,” she corrected, unsure what to really say. “It’s sending information into my head whether I want it to or not, and I don’t think screws can do that.”

“Fraggers,” she heard Arcee mumble. “Can’t we rethink the no harming humans rule? Just this once?”

“No, Arcee,” Prime answered, sounding just as angry as the femme. “Miss Bishop-”

“Phoebe,” she interrupted. “Bishop reminds me of him.”

“Phoebe, what can you tell us of MECH’s plans?”

She found herself tilting her head, unknowingly tapping against the bed with her left hand. “I was the only prototype to survive the fifth surgery,” she said. “They started with our arms and made sure they were functional before turning to our legs. Two didn’t survive that surgery. After that, they wanted to make sure we would be able to use those blue crystals as a type of fuel source if we didn’t have food on us, so they went in and completely changed our digestive system. Twenty died on the table, another seven having complications afterward. We had to have our strength enhanced, so they inserted a chip at the base of our neck to control our muscles beyond the limits our brains set. Three died on the table, four died off when their muscles ripped them in half. Five survived to the fifth surgery, which was to implant an information node. Mine’s all fancy because I was supposed to be Daddy’s Little Leader.”

The yellow one, Bumblebee, let out a series of beeps that had her furrowing her brows and tilting her head. “I agree,” the green one, Bulkhead, growled. “We should be out here making sure this doesn’t happen again, Optimus.” There was a silence as Prime looked at her with an... odd expression before motioning for everyone to follow him out of the medbay area. Ratchet was the last one to leave, and even then, he looked back.

“Are... am I allowed to stay?” She hated how insecure she sounded, how insecure she felt, but being here, it felt nice.

“You’re more than allowed to stay, youngling,” he promised her before walking out as well, leaving her to curl up on the bed and ignore the pain slowly building up in her hips.

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How I imagine what Phoebe looks like:

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ryosei-hime · 3 years

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Sex and Therapy: The Assessment

Concord brings in a mechanic to assess Fizzaroli’s damage. Cog belongs to @tiny-security-mech who let me borrow her for this story. Available on AO3.

First thing in the morning, Concord put in a call to a mechanic he knew of through a patient. She had a good reputation and he liked to use other imp businesses when he could. When she heard what he had, she cleared her morning schedule to come see it. Not that Concord hadn’t tried to convince her not to go through such trouble. But she seemed excited.

He’d barely finished his morning coffee and fending off attempts at early morning fun from Fizzarolli (he really didn’t feel concerned about the validity of his consent now) when she knocked at the door.

He opened it to reveal the reputed mechanical genius. Her black hair looked disheveled and she already had grease spots on her cheek. Wasn’t he her first customer? A pair of goggles hung around her neck and she wore dingy coveralls and big boots. He started to put a hand out for her to shake but thought better of it with one glance at her dirty gloves.

“Concord.”

“Cog,” she responded, moving right by him, toolbox in hand as she made for Fizzarolli. He bowed to her as she circled him. “Oh, man, where did you get this thing?”

“The pawnshop down the street.”

“I pass that place all the time. I never noticed it before. You’d think they’d put something this nice out front. I know he’s probably not fully functional but he can’t be that bad off. And this is a higher quality model, too. Custom-ordered.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

Fizzarolli aimed a wink at Concord as Cog turned to face him, holding one of Fizzarolli’s hands out and gesturing.

“Look at him. This isn’t mass-produced stuff. It’s quality material.”

Fizzarolli seemed to be enjoying all this praise and attention. He spun Cog, using the hand holding his, into a tight embrace.

“Th-thanks, toots. You know, for a pr-pr-price, I bet he’d rent me out to you.”

Cog turned red enough it stood out even against her skin and her eyes darted from Fizzarolli to Concord.

“Fizzarolli, no! I….will not rent you out.”

“Aw, I’m ssssorry sweetheart-eart, looks like my master’s possessive.”

He spun her away and used his good arm to grab Concord and pull him in to replace her.

“Please, don’t call me master. That’s not...how I...meant...”

While Concord was distracted by Fizzarolli’s lusty gaze, leaning in for a kiss, the jester’s good arm looped around and behind them to find the hem of Cog’s shirt, lifting it slowly. Until a hand smacked it away. He looked over his shoulder in surprise to find the formerly flustered imp laser focused on his innards. He tried coming at her from another angle but she slapped his hand again without looking away.

“Looks like she likes work more than she likes you,” Concord teased.

Fizzarolli grinned, giving Concord his full attention now. He lifted him and drew him in closer, tongue flicking over his neck as he went in for a love bite. Concord leaned away as best he could.

“Uh uh.”

“You’re no-no-no fun when other people are arooound.”

“The more cooperative you are, the faster she leaves.”

Fizzarolli’s grin returned in full force.

“And then?”

Concord wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled himself close to whisper. He was interrupted in his bribery when Cog spoke out.

“Sssh! I’m working and that’s...very distracting.”

“Apologies.”

Concord felt a little giddy at being so playful with Fizzarolli in front of someone. Fizzarolli set him down and sat still as half of Cog practically disappeared into his back. Well, mostly still. He kept himself entertained making lewd faces at Concord the whole time.

When Cog finally returned from her deep dive, Concord let out a laugh he’d been holding in and she looked confused. Until Fizzarolli turned and stuck a wriggling tongue out between two fingers at her. She went flush again and backed up.

“Sorry. I’m really sorry. That’s...very inappropriate.”

Concord cleared his throat as he tried to regain his professional demeanor but he just kept laughing.

“He’s like six feet of inappropriate,” she responded, writing on a clipboard rapidly. “All right, here's the itemized list. I hope you didn’t spend too much on this thing because with all he has wrong, you might as well have bought a mass produced one.”

Concord took the list and looked over it. It was nearly a page long and many of the repairs had very large numbers next to them.

“I suggest you start with the voice box. That’s a wiring issue. It’s the cheapest thing on the list and I can do that today if you want.”

“Yeah, let’s get that done, please. And when I have the money we should fix his arm next.”

“Are you sure? The next cheapest repair is-”

He shook his head as she started to point it out.

“I’m not prioritizing by cost. I want it done in order of most improvement to quality of life. Can you figure that out for me?”

“Sure, but there are a few of these you’ll have to ask him about. It depends on how essential he thinks certain components and features are whether or not you even want them restored. That tentacle mode is all messed up, for example. It’s the most expensive repair. Someone did a real number on it. Whole parts were just ripped out and that damaged the structure around it. You shouldn’t let him take too many hits to the chest, and I wouldn’t let him go through the washing machine. Otherwise he should be fine for now. I can either restore it which is this much or simply stabilize the frame which is much less.”

She indicated each price as she spoke. Concord couldn’t really pay attention to numbers right now. His vision had gone blurry at the thought of such violence against something that couldn’t defend itself. Something that depended on you. Even here in Hell there had to be a line. Or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself.

“Cog, thank you for working with me on the prices. I know you have to make a living too.”

“It’s no problem, Doc. Just don’t forget to send my cousin that pass on her anger management classes. And please do not actually try to talk to her.”

Concord cleared his throat and tapped the papers she’d given him against the table.

“I had no intention of doing so.”

“Mm hm. But, honestly, I just don’t want anyone else working on him. I don’t get to work on something this high quality often. Thanks for the chance. Although I am gonna have to go outside my normal means to find some of these parts.”

“If that costs extra, I’ll pay it. You don’t have to check with me. I trust you to get it done for the best price.”

Cog gave him a shy smile before returning to Fizzarolli. She had been right about how simple the repair to his voice box was or she was so good she made it look simple. In only a few minutes she had the faulty wiring replaced and stood back.

“There you go. Try it out for me.”

Fizzarolli put a hand to his chest and made a sound as if clearing his throat before letting out a low moan.

“Ohh Concord. You’re sooo good. Harder!”

Both imps' eyes went wide as he started trying out different moans. Concord shoved Cog’s toolbox and a fistful of money at her.

“Okay, thanks for coming. We’ll see you again soon. Bye.”

Concord pushed her out the door to the sound of Fizzarolli’s untarnished laughter. As embarrassing as that was, that laughter made Concord smile from ear to ear. He’d taken the first step in improving Fizzarolli’s life. It felt good. It felt like he could make the world a little better for at least one person. It felt like...like hands on his horns. He tilted his head up to find Fizzarolli looming over him with a salacious grin.

“I suppose you want your reward for sitting still.”

#Helluva Boss #Robo Fizz #RoboFizz #Robo Fizz Helluva Boss #RoboFizz Helluva Boss #Robo FizzxOC #RoboFizzxOC #stuffididmyself #my fanfic stuff

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meli-productions · 4 years

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Love Bug

Day Three of #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek.

Today we venture into a small-town that seems pulled from a Hallmark movie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599846

Aziraphale paced the length of the waiting room, nervously twirling his ring and hoping that his darling was saveable - if only because he couldn’t handle thinking about the cost of replacement. Grace had been in the family for years - it’d be a shame that a silly thing like a trip into the country would put her out of commission.

But she’d been sputtering and smoking for the past few weeks - this had been inevitable.

The door opened and he'd never been more grateful to have been ready to speak because at least it hid the dropping of his jaw. The man who walked out was unfairly attractive - disheveled in a way that looked purposeful. His coveralls were tied around his waist, leaving him in a loose black tank and there were grease stains covering the lightly defined muscles of his arms and the long-fingered hands.

When he glanced up, the mechanic took a moment to stare at him - Aziraphale bit down a sigh at the sight of his molten gold eyes - and then took a step towards him.

“You must be the owner of the Volkswaggen,” he reached out a hand, then looking down at the grease, wiped it on the coveralls. “Sorry, I’m filthy, otherwise I’d shake your hand.”

Aziraphale’s mind caught up as the man spoke, “Right, yes. Is Gracie going to be okay? Is she - y’know - ascending to car heaven?”

Though he wanted to smack himself for that comment, it was worth it for the sharp smile that bloomed on the mechanic’s face.

“Nah, nothing of the sort, dove,” said the mechanic. “I’m Crowley, by the way and your - Gracie - she’s gonna be just fine. Just had a little leak that ended up making a bigger mess. Nothing that should break the bank.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Azirpahale, shoulders dropping with relief. “I’m Aziraphale. Thank you so much for doing this so last minute. How much do I owe you?”

Crowley shook his head, “Nothing at the moment. I’m afraid to say that she’ll be out of commission for a few days at the least - the clean up’s gonna be a bitch.”

Tension returning, Aziraphale felt himself lose color, “Oh, dear. Oh, I was meant to head back home tomorrow. Gabriel will be so cross. I wasn’t meant to be away so long and, I’d only set up a room for a couple of days and now - ”

“Easy there, dove,” said Crowley, hands outstretched but just out of reach. “Take a seat, you look like you’re going to double over. Deep breaths, that’s it, dove. We’ll get you sorted out.”

As Aziraphale sat in one of the rickety, blue plastic chairs and focused on the gold eyes that were now watching him so worried as the mech - as Crowley - squatted before him and, despite the state of his hands reached out towards him. He greedily took the spindly fingers and relished in the warmth of the hand.

“There, we’ll work through it, alright?” he waited until Aziraphale nodded, then swept a thumb across the back of his hand and continued, “I’ll try to get it fixed so you’re not here any more than you need to be. And I have a friend that runs a bed & breakfast, I’m sure she can squeeze you in a room. As for this Gabriel, if he has a problem he can shove it.”

A laugh bubbled out of him and the thumb pressed against his knuckle gave a little squeeze, “I don’t want to put anyone out - and Gabriel is my brother…and boss. I was just supposed to be doing a little travel piece and now it’s become immersive.”

“ Ah, that just means that you’ll have a hell of a piece,” said Crowley. “Look, my break starts in a few minutes. How about I treat you to lunch? Least I could do for freaking you out.”

Aziraphale couldn’t believe his luck, so he just gave a nod which was answered with a bright smile.

“Brilliant. Just wait here. Let me get decent if I’m going to be seen out with an angel.”

Without another word, Crowley straightened up and sauntered out towards the workshop, hips swinging while Aziraphale’s eyes tracked the movement with wide-eyes.

Oh, good Lord.

While he waited, Aziraphale called Gabriel, bracing himself for the berating. And, as usual, his brother didn’t disappoint.

“Honestly, sunshine,” sighed Gabriel and the eye-roll was palpable through the phone. “I told you that that car was unreliable. You should’ve just taken the Lexus we offered.”

Aziraphale pouted, “That car was mother’s, Gabriel. You didn’t want it, Michael didn’t want it, but I did - it was one of her favorite things in this world.”

Another sigh, this time more exasperated, “I know, we don’t have to go through it again: I got the newspaper, Michael got the house, and you got the car. I know. Just - are you gonna be able to get the piece to me in time?”

“Yes, Gabriel.”

“Then for all I care,” the man said. “You can stay as long as you want - get a quaint little cottage there, hell, get married to that God-forsaken town. Just - get me the piece. It’s the tie-in to everything else.”

“Alright , I’ll - ” the dial-tone met his voice, “see you soon.”

He pressed the ‘End Call’ button a little harder than needed, but didn’t feel the satisfaction he thought would come from it.

“Whoa, there, take it easy, angel. Don’t want you breaking the phone,” said Crowley’s voice from behind.

Aziraphale turned, blushing, “I just - he just- ”

“I’m sure your brother deserved it. No doubt,” said Crowley, smirking. “But put the muscle away, dove, might need it later.”

Implication dripped off his words and, had his eyes not been covered by glasses, Aziraphale would’ve expected a wink directed in his direction. He was, nonetheless, disappointed that the gorgeous gold had been covered up, but pleasantly distracted by the new outfit donned by his companion.

Tearing his eyes away from the tight shirt and pants, he asked, “So - ahem - lunch?”

Crowley smiled, “I know a perfect place. I’m sure you’re gonna love it.”

A sleek, black Bentley sat waiting and Aziraphale’s jaw did drop this time at the amazing vehicle before them.

“This is yours?”

“Belonged to my grandfather,” said Crowley, preening under the attention. “I’ve kept it in great shape. She’s my little darling.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help be impressed, if a little jealous, as a pout curved his lip, “And I can’t even keep Grace alive.”

“Oh, dove, things happen. She hasn’t looked like this always, believe me. Come on, in you go, let’s get lunch.”

So as Crowley drove around the small town, the two swapped stories about cars, then family, and then into more casual topics as they relaxed - slipping into the bistro amidst laughter and hand swats.

“Oh, you are dreadful, dear.”

“Look, Bea shouldn’t have tried it - they knew what they were getting themself into.”

The server looked between them, then shot Crowley a sly smile that he pointedly avoided, “Hey Tones, who’s your friend that you took a lunch break for?”

Crowley clenched his teeth, “This is Aziraphale. He was having a rough day so I decided to distract him a little. Don’t be nosy, Ligur - that’s not what you get paid for.”

Ligur just scoffed and turned to Aziraphale, “Regardless of his grumpiness, it’s an honor to meet the person that somehow got the hermit out from under a car. I’m Ligur, Crowley’s oldest friends and I’ll be happy to get you anything you want.”

Aziraphale blushed at the attention from the newcomer, “Aziraphale, pleasure to meet you. The spinach quiche sounds good, I think I’ll have that - and a glass of lemonade.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing,” he glanced over at Crowley and asked, “and dessert?”

Crowley bit back a groan, “Ligur.”

“Not - not at the moment, dear. Thank you.”

With a little huff of laughter, Ligur turned to Crowley and took his order, leaving only after he’d ruffled the red-hair out of its perfect disheveledness. Then, pink sprinkling across his cheeks, Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

“Please, don’t let Ligur freak you out, he’s just trying to be funny.”

“Dear, it’s alright,” Aziraphale said, reaching over to squeeze Crowley’s hand. “I know all about annoying friends. Believe me, you are not being judged by the pushiness of your friend.”

With easing shoulders, Crowley smiled, “Thanks, angel. But, trust me, he’s not gonna be the worst of them all.”

It was true.

While they tried to enjoy their lunch, still joking and Crowley taking little breaks to watch the enraptured look on Aziraphale’s face as he ate, more people dropped in to catch a glimpse of their famed ‘hermit’ and his new friend.

Hastur, Ligur’s boyfriend, came in and made snide comments that only ended when Ligur upended a glass of cold water atop his head and swept him out of the bistro. Then came Anathema - the friend with the B&B.

“I have a room with your name on it, Aziraphale,” she said, clasping his hands in hers, then giving a little hum. “Your aura is so bright, querido, like a halo. Ay, que chulo,” then turned to Crowley, “tenías razón, si es un angelito mandado por Dios.”

Crowley blushed and hid his face behind his glass of water as Anathema continued to coo over Aziraphale, telling him that the room would be his for as long as he needed - or until he found better accommodations which he thanked with a bright smile and a shake of her hand.

“She’s very pretty,” Aziraphale said, sipping on his drink and watching Crowley’s reaction.

A quirk of a smile, “Yeah, her fiance thinks so, too.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, and a happy wiggle ran through his body. “Well, thank you for lunch, darling, but I think I’ve imposed on you for far too long.”

“No imposition, trust me,” said Crowley. “I’m my own boss and I get to decide how long my lunch break is…so you’re not getting in anyone’s way - trust me.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Anathema was sitting along the flowers of her little cottage when Crowley dropped Aziraphale off and she peeked through the foliage as her friend helped unload the suitcase. Aziraphale knew she was there, he had seen the crest of her curls, but figured that it was just another Ligur incident and should just be ignored.

“Thank you for everything, Crowley,” he said. “Now, you have my number so just let me know when Gracie’s good to go.”

Crowley nodded, “Of course, angel. And I’d say I hope you keep entertained - but I’m sure Ana will find something interesting for you to do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Mind how you go, dear.”

He watched Crowley drive away and when he turned around, he found Anathema perched over the gate - looking far too much like the Cheshire Cat to be comfortable.

“Welcome, Aziraphale,” she said, swinging the gate open. “Ven, amor, let’s get you settled. And then join me and Newt for tea, we’d love to get to know you a little better.”

The woman was intimidating and zipped through the cottage like a hurricane while Newt, a tall and quiet young man, just smiled at Aziraphale and tried to settle her down for a cuppa. Eventually, he won and the woman settled into her white-washed, wooden chair nursing a cup of lavender tea and the couple grilled him until he was hot under his collar and wishing for the earth to swallow him up.

“Don’t look like that, angelito,” Anathema said, patting his cheek as she passed into the kitchen. “We just want to make sure that you’re good enough for our little carino. Crowley’s special to us and he barely ever comes out of his cave.”

Aziraphale focused on her echoing footsteps instead of the heat of his body, “I’m not anything - I - I’m just a failing journalist from London. I’ll be out of town before you know it and - ”

Newt gave a little snort, “Yeah, that’s what Ana thought. It’s what I thought. This town has a way of dragging you into its heart and making you stay.”

“Opens your heart, too,” said Anathema, reappearing and placing a kiss on Newt’s forehead. “Just - keep the possibilities open, okay amor? You never know what might happen. But enough of that, it’s time for sleep - it’s time for good little angelitos to get ready for tomorrow.”

As dismissals go, it was the nicest Aziraphale ever got and he was ushered into his room by an apologetic Newt. He lay in the soft bed and stared at the ceiling with their spirals that he tracked with his eyes and thought of the curve of Crowley’s smile.

He wished nothing more to wrap himself in this life with Crowley and his gold eyes - but his life was in London and wishes only took you so far.

The next afternoon, an unknown number rang Aziraphale’s phone and - with only one unknown person who knew his number - he answered to the drawl of Crowley’s voice.

“Is - is she okay? Are we ready to go?”

Crowley’s silence made Aziraphale nervous, even more so with the sharp intake of air, “Okay, so there might be a little more wrong with Grace than I thought at first glance and I’m going to need some more time.”

As Aziraphale’s breath hitched, Crowley continued in a rush, “Relax, dove, breathe. I’m picking you up and taking you to lunch again - somewhere you won’t be harassed - and we’ll talk this out, alright?”

The soothing tone released some of the tension off his shoulders, “How do you know just the right thing to say?”

“Practice,” said Crowley, laughing. “I’ll be over in a few, angel. Just be ready - the last thing I need is Anathema on my ass.”

Aziraphale joined in laughing, “Of course not, I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Anathema, like the seer that she was, was already waiting for him at the door of Jasmine Cottage, “Have another date with Crowley?”

He blushed, “Hardly a date, dear. I think that he just - just feels bad that I have such a bum car.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If that were the case, I should be worried about my fiance being taken away from me - his car is worse than yours. Believe me, Aziraphale, this has nothing to do with your car and everything to do with you, chulo.”

She pressed a kiss on his forehead before gliding back into the heart of the home. Aziraphale, rubbing the spot she’d kissed, kept his focus on the road and processed her words.

Angel. Crowley called him ‘angel’, and there was no way it was because he knew the meaning of his name so it had to be a - a pet name. So when the Bentley pulled up to the curb, Aziraphale blushed and hurried in.

“You seem in a better mood then when we last talked,” Crowley said, tilting his glasses to look upon him with bare eyes. “Let me guess, you told off that hardass brother of yours and now are gonna follow your dream and open up your library.”

Aziraphale stopped in the act of putting on his seatbelt to blink over at his companion, “You remember that?”

“Course I do, ‘s hard to forget such a dream,” drawled Crowley, a hint of a pink brushing his cheeks where they met the rim of his glasses. “So, did you tell Gabriel to fuck off?”

“No,” he said, slowly tracking the blush as it made its way lower into the collar of his shirt. “Not just yet. But he did give me permission to stay as long as I want - might even stay forever - with the right incentive.”

Crowley’s hand slid off the wheel as he turned, “O-oh, yeah? And what incentive would that be.”

Aziraphale, feeling bolder than he had in awhile, hummed, “Let’s start with lunch. Then I’ll let you know.”

A small chuckle was coupled with a change in gears, “Then I hope this lunch is everything you’ve ever wanted, angel.”

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des-shinta · 5 years

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So As I’ve been in a state of burnout for a significant sect of the year, I’ve been picking up number of Bandai models to relieve my stress, since building things I find a relaxing endeavor, and they’ve been making me feel better.

(no, most of these were not built this year. Only 7 of them in the first picture were ‘new’. The rest are bits and pieces of my older collection I’ve happily been able to unbox and display for the first time in years. Also: Hi Zoids models that didn’t get enough love during their release tenure!) I’ve actually been building models and Figures for years and years--I started out Heavily as A Lego kid--and since Gundam Wing Aired on Toonami in the late 90′s I’ve infrequently bought bandai’s various models as well, but most of the ones I built back then were...well, demolished by my younger step-brother. My first ones were low-grade 1/144′s ToysRUs’ Got back in that boom, and they weren’t sturdy at all, thus had no chance to survive.

They’ve since been replaced with all MG’s from that series. Well, except for that 1/100 scale HG Altron that was first released in 1996. that P-Bandai one is stupid expensive, and Altron’s Endless waltz Redesign is the only one of them I OUTRIGHT hate. It was around 2005-ish when I got into it again, when my parents got me for Christmas the 1/60 perfect Grade RX-78-2. It took me about Eight hours to build and I did it all in one sitting...but it wasn’t sturdy at all. It couldn’t even lift its arm if the rifle was in it, it wouldn’t stay up. All I had it do was just stand there...Menacingly.

So from there on out--with the rare exception--I started to intermittently find and get as Gifts ones from the 1/100 Master Grade line. THOSE--for the most part depending on what types of hands the figure uses and how well they even hold weapons--have been more my jam despite their 50~ish dollar price point. Large enough they’re not easily smashed, small enough that they’re pose-able and easy to display, and with enough Complexity in their construction with the various implemented gimmicks to give me an immense feeling of satisfaction to see them done and on Display. Yeah, there’s a LOT more variety and accessories to be found in the 1/144′s these days--in part thanks to the Gundam Build Fighters series making customization even easier than ever between that scale’s market--but I just don’t get the same thing out of them, despite only about 6 or less MG kits being made a year, with some of them being Shunted off now to Premium Bandai’s services to become stupidly overpriced for what they are and what’s supplied...even though I DO have a few P-bandai ones as well. Stupid obsession with the Astrays, Tallgeese III, and Form/Equipment change gimmicks...

Hell, I’ve even experimented from time to time with custom Color palletes, with one of the first to get that treatment being the sword Impulse that desperately needed more contrasting colors (also thank aura that bandai’s finally releasing the Blast Impulse MG...even if it IS P-bandai so the display isn’t oddly missing a mech). I’ve got the MG of the Sengoku Astray still in its box (with a bunch of other Gundam seed Mechs I haven’t build yet ‘cause I adore Gundam Seed’s mecha design and will be using those to unwind between overtime shifts this December) and when I build it, I’m going to repaint all its red parts yellow to Give the Gundam that kind of resembles Kamen Rider Gaim’s Kachidoki arms the full Kachidoki color treatment. Think I have Enough spare pieces from wrecked stuff to try building it a Custom Tanigashima “DJ Gun” Rifle to go with it as well.

Also the Gunpla hobby led me to doing the papercrafting thing for cheap-to-make Figurines or accessories or even scale props like the scaled-to-figure Gurren Lagann Giga drill pictured above, which I’ve moved onto doing custom templates for on occasion--

--case in point, the 1:1 scale pepakura Pandora Box--

--And my Gate of Ouroboros Broadsword which was a papercraft template I mapped onto Foam to get it near-damn-perfect...after I made a MK 2 of the original ‘cause the original ended up way too heavy. I can basically trace a lot of my fun crafting stuff to being inspired by the creativity that goes into this kind of thing, and the work of other crafters and cosplayers, and then seeking to try applying that myself from all my learned habits.

But outside of the expected Gunpla you can find in Hobby stores and...for some reason Barnes and Nobles, which has retained a market throughout that time despite Bandai of America’s Idiocy thanks to bluefin Distributions, I’ve started tracking down some of bandai’s other model offerings. Specifically, the Figurise standard and Minipla lines.

For those not in the know, Super Minipla’s are basically model kit versions of previously released mecha toys, only with a far smaller scaling from their DX Counterparts which you then build yourself. They seek to retain all of the originals play gimmicks where possible, but come off a LOT more pose-able by their end than the DX toy bricks. Featured above is the Minipla of the Super Galaxy Mega (Astro Delta Megazord) From Denji Sentai Megaranger/Power Rangers in Space. and this thing is *PERFECT*. Despite it being half the size of the DX toy, it retains *EVERY* single play feature the original had (transformation, combination, weapon accessories, the works), but has fully pose-able limbs in every single part of it. The freaking thing cost me $80 when back in 1998 the DX toy versions cost a total of $60, and yet factor for inflation and the impossibility of re-aquiring the 20-year-old vintage toys and this thing was *SO* worth it to get back my second-favorite sentai/PR Mech.

Hell, it’s not just the DX toys they compete against. On the Right is the Super Robot Chogokin Gaogaigar with Goldion Hammer, and on the left is the Minipla figure of the same mech and weapon. Both actually retailed for around the same price points on release, but there’s a more distinct compare and contrast between them. The SRC one has better paint apps, is constructed on a metal frame and has metal parts all over it, has distinct limb joints and proper articulation with a screen-accurate scale structure to it and has some weight to it so isn’t likely to topple over easily. Frankly of the two...it just looks better in person. Whereas the super minipla, while not perfectly in scale and doesn’t have the brilliance of the colorization to help it, Retains the transformation and combination gimmicks of the original toys which give it a lot more value to collectors that can’t afford the Full DX figures which bear the same. Its Joints are also a LOT Tighter so the feet and arms aren’t likely to slip, and while not as good as the SRC, the screen-accuracy is far better than the original Takara-based DX toys or even the later Bandai remakes of them after Bandai bought the rights from Takara. And with the right hand and hammer being a hell of a lot lighter, when I get this thing on a display stand it’ll be able to do more than just stand with the hammer planted on the ground.

The Figurise standard line instead is a model kit version of an anime/live series action Figure--Mostly limited to Dragonball and Kamen Rider figures right now But Digimon ones for the line are coming soon-- with them ending up in competition with Bandai’s SH Figuarts High-quality-Figure line, albeit with a lower Pricepoint than the SHF since you make it yourself and some of the paint apps are replaced with stickers, and their ease of mass production makes them more available than the SHF’s by comparison. Sorry I don’t have the best picture of the figure on hand, but for those not familiar with the character, it’s the Pink/Neon green/black-colored character that’s surrounded by Gundams (the pic was taken in the midst of a bedbug crisis where we were packing everything up in our apartment so it wouldn’t end up damaged) The Character is Kamen Rider Ex-aid action gamer Level 2, and up close it’s near indistinguishable from the SHF for the character. And yet...I kind of felt like I got more out of the FRS figure than the sole SHF I have, simply because I put my time into putting it all together. Yeah, the markings are stickers instead of painted on, but if those fade or start peeling? I can paint-app it myself. It has all the details I want, it moves how I want it to, and it came with a great stand for it to be placed in a fantastic jumping pose. I actually want to find more of those for Kamen Rider Figures from the series I like, as I think it’d be better than dealing with the SHF’s which...well, depending on the figure? Are notorious for production line issues. while some models can have loose joints or frail pieces (which can be fixed with an easy application of super glue. And any other scratches, chips and imperfections? Yeah, those will be my fault, and won’t result in me feeling as if I got gyped in the purchase.

Sadly though, these figures aren’t exactly created equal. On a limb I picked up the super minipla Shin getter robo set After My Roommate showed by GR Armageddon and we loved it; and...Eeeehh. They’re not terrible, but they’re lacking for the expectation I had with the Minipla’s. I think Kaiyodo’s Revoltech Figure line did better with these guys--out of print as may of those figures are now. Black Getter 1 (Left) actually does look great with the Ragged cape and gun and razor arm...but the ball joints It, Getter Dragon (center) and Shin getter 1 (right) are constructed with do NOT like to stay together. I can’t pose them at all without risking them toppling over or falling apart. I think the Revoltech ones are bigger as well, making for better display pieces than these guys who’d be beaten out by 1/144′s.

hell, this mazinger Z Model was a 1/144, and it’s in scale with the Master grades. ...Mazinger mechs be big. But that brings us to a more recent addition via Tsuburaya and Studio Trigger.

One of the newer Additions to the minipla Line has been the Gridman figures, thanks to the anime series SSSS Gridman putting that franchise back on people’s Radar. I had Gridman’s toys (when the series was imported and adapted into the series Superhuman samurai Syber Squad) when I was a kid and adored them...

..and sure enough, when I built the Thunder Gridman one, it was like popping back to a little piece of my childhood. Same play gimmicks to them, and while the scaling is not the same, the engineering is all there to invoke the proper good pieces of nostalgia. To the point it resulted in the best thing about these guys, and It almost didn’t happen. When SSSS Gridman was airing, I ended up enjoying myself so much by its end I jumped at the chance to preorder the DX mecha figures that Good Smile company was releasing. Unfortunately, the seller turned out to be a con-artist, and never shipped me the figure...though i did get my money back thanks to buyer protection. I saw vid’s on it, and it looked pretty good...but it was completely out of scale and reasonable relation with the old Gridman Toys. So when I heard about the Minipla’s going out for a lot less than the DX’s original and jacked-up price points? I put in an order with someone I knew who was reliable for these...and really, I should’ve done so from the start.

The super Minipla Gridman Figures...are all perfectly in scale with each-other, and share all the same connection ports. I can put the SSSS Gridman Figures into the older Gridman armors. That’s Primal Fighter Gridman wearing the Thunder Gridman armor (right). Hell, I can swap the arms of the Gridman figures so the effect components can be put in the older ones as well as they use common components across the board in their construction. I think in the future I’m going to put PFGridman in the king armor (left) as well, as the SSSS-Gridman figure has slightly Longer legs which would make the King Gridman armor scale better. Because of this, I ended up a lot happier with these guys that I would likely have been trying in vain to get another decently-priced DX one, or even the Actbuilder release of the SSSSG Stuff that did scale with the minipla’s. So Bottom line? I really like models, they help me relax, and I’ve been discovering some cool stuff this year that Bandai’s done which I wouldn’t have if I weren’t trying to find a way to vent stress. Thank you disposable $16+ an hour Income for making such possible.

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novarasalas · 6 years

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Second Look Review: ‘A Little Adventure’

And here begins a review series of Voltron’s season 7, written up as i re-watch it. This is equal parts as a writing exercise and as me just wanting to share my thoughts and observations.

I’ll try to go light on meta and theories, sticking to just the facts, ma’am.

Well, that’s what I intended to happen, but this episode was very personal from the start, what with all the Shiro backstory.

So join me for this two-part review, where I switch on the projection machine and smash the overshare button.

Part 1: Laugh So You Don’t Cry

Let’s start with the easy stuff, yeah?

It features Coran, finally going full Thornberry:

...truly gorgeous.

We also have this amazing pair here:

And, most unexpectedly, a demonstration of yalmors linking at the ears, something we haven’t heard about since season 1:

I don’t have much else to say about this part. I would, however, like to formally request a spin off of Hunk and Romelle being so, so done with everything.

Part 2: The Meeting

So hey! It’s that back story everyone’s been screaming for, and boy, does this episode deliver. I really wish it had been solely dedicated to that story, though. I’m not a fan of the high drama/humorous aside splits they keep giving us. I know they do that to keep things interesting, cause hey, rated TV-Y7, right? But I always come out the other side of it feeling like I have emotional whiplash.

First, look at this:

Thank you.

So Shiro’s a bit of a celebrity? That’s pretty cool. I’m impressed.

Too bad Keith isn’t.

He’s even in the classic “anime protagonist seat”. Oh, Keith.

The subtitles here say: Shiro broke the record for the fastest orbital velocity, beating the old heliocentric speed by about 50 kilometers per second.

I’m a big damn nerd, so you know I had to look this up. Here’s what I found:

In 2018 though, a new NASA mission - Solar Probe Plus - will be launched. Designed to come as close as 8.5 solar radii to the Sun (that’s about about 5.9 million kilometers or 3.7 million miles), it will hit orbital velocities as high as 200 kilometers a second (450,000 miles an hour).

To just put that incredible figure into perspective - going this fast would get you from the Earth to the Moon in about ½ an hour. It is also about 0.067% the speed of light. (source: Scientific American -”The Fastest Spacecraft Ever?”)

I have no idea if they’re counting his record against something like that, or manned flight, for which the record is 107,000 km/h. That’s uh..that’s us. On Earth. We haven’t sent people into independent solar orbit yet.

Also, one day I’ll learn how to post links without breaking the tags, cause my source article was very interesting. Please go find it.

And now we have the simulator. We get that call back to “Taking Flight”, which I found to be a nice touch.

Keith, you’re the only one who could possibly fly through this.

And then Keith steals Shiro’s car and his heart, wasting no time in attempting to push him away. And he doesn’t just keep it between the two of them; Keith’s got a lot of misguided anger to share.

Nothing will endear you to your new classmates faster than signing the whole group up for a collective punishment.

But lessons are learned and everyone calms down.

..oh. Whoops.

Yes, the good ol’ collective punishment: let the jerkass’ peers sort them out. And maybe it would have worked in this case, except for the fact that Keith respects exactly no one.

When this episode first aired, I was seeing yelling about James being a bully, but to be honest, this is more of a case of two shithead kids being shitheads to each other. Keith doesn’t care how his actions affect others, and James reacted by going for a low blow about Keith’s parents.

I suppose they sorted each other out in the end, didn’t they?

So here’s Keith, the angry, lost kid, acting out in desperation and loneliness, and Shiro, who we now see risking his own good name to help him.

Why would he do that?

Now, a lot of what I come up with in the next part is my interpretation of Shiro based on my own experiences, because that’s all I have to go on. My one big gripe about this is that we don’t see Shiro until he’s a young adult. What was he like growing up? Does he try to help Keith because he’s a sweet guy, or does he relate to him in some way?

We may never really know. For my own purposes, I’m going to assume that it’s more of the latter.

Let’s look back at this interaction:

Shiro: “That’s the Calypso, the first ship to carry astronauts to the moons of Jupiter.”

Keith: “It took them three years to get there. Longest voyage of its kind.”

Shiro: “That’s right. Reading about that mission is what made me wanna be a pilot. Those astronauts braved the unknown.”

Nerd break:

The Juno probe made it to Jupiter in 5 years, arriving in 2015.

Right now it takes 9.5 years to get to Pluto

/nerd

Keith knows about the Calypso. You might think that the tiny, emo kid doesn’t seem the type to be into nerd stuff, right?

But I get it.

I didn’t have the best time growing up, and we know that after the death of his father, neither did Keith. I had one big obsession that got me through the badness: space. Sorry, two: space and dinosaurs. And giant mech shows. Er...three big obsessions.

But space was the biggest and realest. The 90s were an exciting time for space exploration, with the Voyager probes finishing up their grand tours, the ISS being built, and the first rovers being sent to Mars. It felt good. It felt hopeful.

And I think maybe Keith may have felt the same about space. After all, space was a big unknown. By nature, it couldn’t be good or bad, right? Not like home.

Or maybe it’s because he’s half Galra and always knew that he wasn’t fully of Earth. Or maybe it was both.

I can imagine that Shiro may have thrown himself into space for similar reasons. Because you know what really sucks having deal with growing up? Chronic Illness.

Part 3: Invisible

We come to realize, right along with Keith, that Shiro is sick.

When I’d first heard about this, I was both saddened and ecstatic. It’s not often that I get to relate in any way to a strong, capable, wonderful fictional character. ‘Cool!’, I thought to myself, ‘He’s a sicko like me.’ Immediately, my next thought was ‘Damn, he’s a sicko like me…’

Then a few things about his character began to fall into place.

I think we all noticed Shiro pushing Keith into the place of leadership via the phrase “If anything ever happens to me...”. And Shiro being chronically ill explains that. I’d been wondering for a while about what Shiro’s deal could be. Why did he think something was going to happen to him? Was is just planning for every eventuality, or was it something else?

Shiro’s a great leader, so it was probably both. But him being ill puts a new perspective on things.

When you’re chronically ill, you have to think about things a lot more than other people. You have to plan heavily for ‘what ifs’, and you had better be prepared.

Back in July, a friend and I took a trip to a con. This had been the first trip I’ve been on in years since I’ve been so damn sick. The preparation alone was exhausting. I had to make sure I had everything with me, and backups of everything just in case something happened. I had to make sure my meds and supplies were in reach if I needed them right away, but I also had to make sure that they were cool and out of the summer sun, because if they got too hot, they’d stop working.

The con was six hours away from home, and if I had needed replacements of these things, I would have to make soooo many phone calls and likely beg for help.

I had to have a conversation with my friend about what to do in case I had “an incident”. It’s humiliating; I’m a grown ass adult that has to preemptively ask people for help. Even though she’s my best friend, and I trust her so very much, it sucks.

In the end, everything was fine, but only because of careful planning. I can’t tell you how much I miss the days of just being able to go, to do, to not have to think about everything that could go wrong and possibly kill me.

So what I’m really saying here is that Shiro most likely has a lot of experience planning for eventualities. He’s also swallowed enough of his pride to discuss these things with Keith by the time the main story begins. And note: it’s only Keith he shares these things with, not the others. I don’t share these things with people who aren’t very, very close to me either.

Well, present company excluded, of course.

And here’s the part that I go projecting onto Shiro again, but as I said previously, until they give more backstory, it’s all I have to go on.

So, what about Shiro’s family?

That’s something that’s been talked about in the fan space for a while, too. Is he an orphan? Did they disown him? Unfortunately, the flashbacks we get don’t go back that far. All I have to go on to answer that are my own experiences, which are not good.

My heart swells every time I see someone talk about how their family supports them as they deal with their illnesses. How good it is that they have love and stability to help them through.

I don’t have that. I never did. My home life sucked before I got sick, and illness certainly didn’t help. I can say with certainty that if I had spent years in space out of contact with them, I wouldn’t be too broken up about it. There’d have been no video messages home, is what I’m saying.

I could see Shiro at this point in the flashbacks, gifted and celebrated, throwing himself at everything he could, working hard to prove that he’s worth something, proving that you’re not a lost cause just because you’re sick. I found myself wanting to prove things, too, taking on tasks and making plans and trying to show the world that I’m still useful, that I’m not lazy. See? I didn’t cause my own illness in an attempt to get out of responsibilities.

You’ll still get rejected, though.

So you learn to hide your illness from people that don’t need to know about it.

Shiro may have been like Keith: a lost, angry kid, pushing people away before they can make the decision to leave. It’s a difficult thing to grow up and only see disappointment in the eyes of the people who are supposed to be there for you. Again and again, they let you know in so many ways that you’re difficult to deal with, that somehow you’re a burden on them.

I can’t know for sure about Shiro, but I know that this is the truth for Keith. I completely understand why Keith would end up so attached to Shiro, the only person who was actually putting in a real effort to help him. I wish I’d had my own Shiro, ya know?

I can’t be all doom and gloom about this, though. I still like that one idea that Shiro was raised by his grandparents. I like to think that it was a happier time for him, as my time spent with my own grandparents was for me.

Of course, I could be completely wrong about all of this, and projecting way too much of my own problems onto him. For the sake of any alternate realities where Shiro is a real person, I hope that I am.

Next up: Part 2 - relationships are hard -and- an appeal to societies greater sensibilities.

#second look review #shiro #vld shiro #keith #vld s7 #vld #voltron #voltron s7 #meta #long post #such a long post #i'm so sorry #but that's why the read more #i swear the others won't be like this.#vld keith

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over-canon-watchh · 6 years

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After Years (McCree X Reader)

“It’s crazy to think we’ll be celebrating the five-year anniversary of the recall this weekend… don’t you think, Jesse?”

But the cowboy seemed far too distracted to even hear the question. The general buzz and the constant reminders of “The Old Overwatch” seemed more inescapable than ever this week and it was driving him crazy. Thoughts of you were swarming his head. It had been years, years since he’s seen you; not a day went by that he didn’t think of you. Your hair, the way it shone in the sunshine, the way your eyes sparkled as you laughed and your smile that lit up the room even through the post-crisis scenery.

Obviously, he knew where you were now… everyone on the team did. You’d left this life behind you to pursue your dream career in the limelight. He would always hear you talk about how Overwatch was just a temporary life for you, how it would pay the bills and someday you’d have enough to move on.

“Jesse~” Lena waved a hand in front of his half-lidded eyes. A few blinks later, he was pulled back into reality. Lena smiled sympathetically, “Sorry, I know how hard this whole event for you.”

McCree nodded and sighed, his eyes flickering to the break-room’s TV as a bright red “Breaking News” sign flashed on the screen. What came next made Jesse’s heart stammer.

One of the photos from your most recent photoshoot appeared on the screen.

“Hanzo, turn that up for me real quick.” He urged frantically and gestured to the TV.

The archer scoffed but followed his orders. Jesse felt his stomach drop at what the anchor said next, “Musician and model, Y/N Y/L/N has been reported as missing after her management claim she wasn’t at her penthouse apartment in Upstate New York this morning. Y/N was last seen in the late hours of last night alongside her chauffeur who escorted her home. Her management have released a statement asking, ‘If anyone has any news of her whereabouts, please do not hesitate to contact their local authorities immediately.’ Y/N ‘s family are yet to make a comment on this situation.”

And then the screen went black. McCree whipped his head around to see Lena’s concerned face holding the remote to the TV. “Oxton, you know I love ya but I swear if you don’t-”

“Calm down cowboy. You and I both know this isn’t what you need right now.” She sighed. Jesse opened his mouth to interject but found himself being cut off again. “Come on, Genji and Hana still need help with setting up decorations.”

So, that’s how he ended up precariously balanced on a ladder, trying to pin up a custom-made banner by Hana and Lucio. Obviously, this wasn’t distracting him for that news report and he found himself slowly growing frustrated as Hana kept changing how she wanted it to be hung - any other day, he would’ve been fine.

Zarya strolled in, clapped a hand on the Mech pilot’s shoulder and stared at Jesse and the banner. “Are you sure that’s where you want it to go?” She asked, accent thick and a devilish grin on her lips. Jesse bit down on his tongue to stop him from snapping. He felt the ladder shake from beneath him as Genji’s semi-robotic laughter piped up. McCree shot him daggers but that only led to more laughter from the cyborg.

The volume of excited chatter was slowly rising in the room was rising gradually and Jesse could feel himself slowly disassociating from the bright lights and loud music. He’d given up listening to Hana and Zarya, at this point he was just pretending to follow their instructions at this point.

Once again, he let himself get lost in the thought of you. What he wouldn’t give to be the reason you were laughing one more time, the way you always lingered in his arms after every successful mission, the motivation and encouragement you would shout down the telecom during each battle.

Suddenly, Lucio’s records scratched and the entire room fell silent. “Oh, my God.” Lena breathed as a hand rose to her mouth in shock. Everyone was staring at the doorway that Jesse was balancing over, so, of course he couldn’t see who had caused such a commotion. He craned his neck to try and get a glimpse but the ladder was shaking so vigorously.

“I hope I’m not too late for the party.”

That voice. That subtle laugh behind those words. Jesse’s heart was fit to burst as he shifted one more time without thinking.

The ladder tipped and sent Jesse falling about 7ft to the ground. He landed with an ungraceful thud and earned a couple of glares and sniggers. He rubbed his leg and lifted his hat - in that moment, all of his dreams and worst nightmares came true.

There you stood. The mix of Hollywood and time had been kind to you. You still looked like the same sparkling diamond amongst all this rough, only now that sprightly essence was replaced with a more sophisticated and mature manner. Your clothes seemed worn and wrinkled, as if you had ran there straight from New York, your hair slightly messy and mascara was smudged under your eyes (but not enough to make you seem like you were a train wreck) and yet you still looked as beautiful as ever.

Jesse cleared his throat, “You never fail to make an entrance, darlin’.” He internally shuddered at his lack of practise when it came to wooing you.

He wasn’t expecting you to smile, but you laughed - a sound he’d been craving for almost a decade - and waltzed over to him. The years that you two were apart were seemingly stripped away as Jesse felt like a lovesick fool dressed in his Blackwatch uniform and you with your bubbly personality and undeniably attractive looks were keeping him hooked on every word you said.

“And you never fail to make a memorable first impression, cowboy.” You stood between his legs and offered him a hand up. Jesse took it, sheepishly and let you help him up.

What came next was just him going into autopilot mode. He engulfed you in his arms and buried his nose into the top of your head. “God, I’ve missed you so much. I am so proud of you for everythin’ you’ve achieved.” He spoke, refraining from allowing his voice to break as he felt your grip on him tighten.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You two had so much to catch up on.

#i'm reposting this because i wasn't happy w the original #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch headcanons #mccree #mccree x reader #overwatch imagines #overwatch drabbles #jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #sfw

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anon-e-miss · 4 years

Note

I wonder if Prowl will shun Jazz for taking the little seedling or go willingly in the hopes jazz will take him to his baby ❤💙💎

As the light-cycle passed slowly by, the bitlet never really settle. He took the shortest of naps as exhaustion overtook him, but he spent the majority of the long joors wailing or sobbing. Jazz had prepared to bribe his creations with energon goodies to keep their peace but they surprised him with their empathy. They tried to draw smiles from the bitlet, using the puppets their grand-ori had made them for their emergence-cycle. Separation from his originator, and almost certainly hunger made the newling miserable but from time to time he calmed enough to watched them for a bream here or there, before he fell back into his misery. Throughout the mega-cycle Jazz and his ori tried to convince the newling to take some fuel, but he refused the bottle each time. It might have been Jazz’s imagination but he thought the bitlet’s colour had dulled a little, though that could have been the dim light of their habsuite. All of the windows were boarded shut, like every other habsuite in the Dead End. It protected them from stray bullets.

Punch left Jazz to mind the inconsolable newling and his own bemused creations. At least the Twins had decided to see some humour in the situation, instead of sulking about the cacophony. They had never seen Jazz unnerved. It had been important to him to keep the anxieties of their situation, and his business from them. Too soon they would be too old to hide the realities of the Dead End, and the family business from. Jazz would guard their innocence as long as he could.

“Good news, Jazz,” Punch declared after the door had latched behind him. “The Death’s Head took off the light-cycle and the Constructicons are on his tail. Bruticus actually tried to knock Lockdown out of the sky.”

“So Swindle’s personally on the hunt... That’s good. There might be nobody home to guard the dryad.”

“Y’re gonna go this dark-cycle.”

“I gotta. Newlings don’t last long without fuel.”

“How do ya plan on convincin’m to come along quietyl?”

“Hopefully he’s reasonable... or desperate. If I have to use the bitlet to lure’m out, I will. But I’d rather not bring’m out. If anyone’s at home, his wailin’ll draw’m out.”

“Ya’d be right, I suspect. I’ll listen for yer call. If ya can’t gettin’m this dark-cycle, will try again tomorrow. Don’t be stupid.”

“I won’t get caught.”

Swindle had not delayed his hunt by servicing his security grid. Jazz found it still disabled, though he triggered a second EMP grenade just to be safe. The garden was utterly silent, despair hung heavy in the air. It seemed to Jazz as if every crystal shrub and tree was grieving with the dryad. He rubbed the back of his neck. Jazz knew he should have spoken to the mech, reassured him that he would return for him, but Jazz had been impulsive. His progenitor protocols had screamed in his helm as Vortex’s glyphs repeated over and over in his memory banks. It did not matter to his core programming that the newling was not his. He as innocent. Jazz saw Gripper’s brutalized creations in his helm and took a long intake. His programming had never settled back down after he had stumbled upon that scene.

Jazz set off another two grenades as he found Swindle’s boobytraps. It was more than there had been the dark-cycle before but it was far too little and far too late. Swindle had trusted his high walls and his flashy security grid to keep out thieves, but any thief with a couple vorns experience would have been to find a way around the grid. It was all show, and no real substance. Fear of the fate that lay in wait for thieves and debtors had kept Swindle’s loot save. Too bad for him Jazz was not sensible enough to be afraid.

The crystal brush was dry and brittle, Jazz realized as he slipped passed. The flowers that had been in bloom all over the grotto were limp and dead. A visualization of the dryad’s mourning. Jazz looked out towards the sprawling garden and saw the whole of it was dark and dead. With his grief the dryad had killed every crystal planted in the garden. Swindle must have been furious. What would he do to the dryad if it remained like this. Some of these crystals were rare imports, and Jazz knew what they had cost. He had stolen more than a hundred of them for Swindle from all over the globe over the course of the vorns. They would not be easily replaced.

He found the dryad where he had left him. The tree he was bound to was as dead as those surrounding the grotto. Without the lush foliage disguising it, the cuff around the dryad’s wrist could not be mistaken for anything but a vicious restraint. Ugly chains wrapped around the crystalline dryad from the base of his crystal form, all the way his frame. It was horrid, and ugly. Might it be punishment for the death of Swindle’s garden? Or had the dryad tried to escape somehow? Jazz stepped into the clearing and inched towards the dryad, searching the ground for more traps. It worried him that the dryad remained crystalized. Might the perceived loss of his creation have caused him irreparable harm?

Suddenly a vine, or perhaps a root reared up and slashed at Jazz from just metres to his left. Jazz dodged neatly. Another erupted from the soil and Jazz jumped again. They lashed at him from all sides and Jazz twisted, jumped and flipped about, only barely avoiding the dryads attack. Jazz leapt over the mass of angry vines and scaled the faux waterfall even as the vines slashed up at him. He found himself clinging to the dead tree, chassis to chassis with the dryad. Before Jazz’s optics, the dryad transformed from a roughly mech shaped crystal, into a striking, and enraged Praxian.

“Thief!” The dryad snarled in his face.

There was contempt in the glyph and unbridled hate in his field. Jazz could not exactly fault him. He stared at the dryad for a moment. It was still difficult to wrap his processor around the idea that dryads were real, that this garden ornament was a living and ventilating mechanism, but he was pulled from his stupor as the dryad tried to thrash against his chains. Fresh energon flowed down his arm from his cuffed wrist. Jazz could hear the chains around the mech’s plating grinding against his plating.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Jazz entreated, though he could not imagine how he could actually force the dryad to obey. The bound mechanism’s pale optics glowered at him with contempt.

“Why? Because my value will be diminished?”

“No. I don’t care ‘bout yer value. I don’t want to see ya hurt.”

“Lies. You are a thief.”

“I am a thief. Y’re right about that.”

“Lockdown hired you to steal my creation.”

“How’d ya know Lockdown hired me.”

“He has been persistent in his efforts to get Swindle to sell me. But Swindle wishes to fill the grotto with living statues. I was not, I am not, for sale.”

“So why not steal ya?”

“He knew well I would not go with him.”

“Ya wanna stay here?”

“Lockdown lusts for me. Swindle lusts for wealth and beauty. Both are intolerable, but one more so.”

“Scrap,” Jazz’s fuel tank rolled as he asked: “Is the bitlet his?”

“No. My creation is no ones but my own,” the dryad replied, and his optics flashed with white heat. “Swindle has not found another dryad despite paying a great fortune on the services of bounty hunters. I would not tell him where my kin reside, thus he settled on propagating me.”

“Propagating...”

“Lockdown paid a dear some to help stimulate me so that I would bud.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Do you think I care if you are sorry?”

“Probably not. Look. Swindle’s off chasin’ Lockdown ‘cause he figures Lockdown took the bitty himself. There’s no tellin’ when he’s gonna come back. We don’t got a lot of time to get away.”

“You think I will go with you?”

“If ya want yer bitty back, ya,” Jazz replied. The suspicion the dryad was all but seething with was not a surprise. He would have been worried if the mech was too cooperative. “Even if ya could get out o’ these chains on yer own, ya got an entire city to search. Come wit me, ‘n ya get yer bitty back ‘n ya won’t be Swindle’s ornament, or Lockdown’s berthslave.”

“And what would you have me do for you?”

“I don’t fraggin’ know. I took the job from Lockdown ‘cause he was willin’ to pay the crystal’s weight in shanix. I didn’t know he was a dryad. I didn’t think ya existed in anythin’ but my ori’s stories.”

“My kind do best when we are nothing but fairytales.”

“Y’re probably right.”

“I am worth more than my weight in shanix. It has been millenia since my kind were commonly found in manicured gardens.”

“I don’t deal in mechanisms.”

“A thief with a conscience.”

“Everyone has their limits.”

“What did you need that payout for?” The dryad asked. “Drink? Whores?”

“My brother.”

“Why?”

“He fragged off his patron ‘n Kaon. ‘M tryin’ to put together ‘nough credits to pay his fine ‘n get’m home.”

“It appears we have something in common.”

“What’s that?” Jazz asked.

“We both do stupid things for our brothers.”

#anon-e-miss writes #maccadam #dryad prowl #thief jazz #tf jazz #tf prowl #lockdown is a creep

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