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deadlysoupy · 4 months

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Faultline

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor, Brainstorm & Perceptor, Brainstorm & Nautica Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Mind Manipulation, Happy Ending

Perceptor is a hard mech to handle when it comes to his patience with Brainstorm. Thus, after Brainstorm gets his load of Perceptor's fury, the Ship's Number One Genius takes matters into his own hands — and attempts to make Perceptor fall in love with him.

It goes in the exact opposite direction.

my Secret Solenoid gift for @elmonstro !!! thank you @secretsolenoid-revived for hosting the event and being so very patient with me!! first time doing anything like this event and i had,, troubles. also huge shoutout to @trashhole who beta'ed this mess i wouldn't be there without them!!

posted on AO3 (requires an account) or under Read More for easy access!

It’s quiet in the lab today. Not a good quiet, not the kind of quiet that makes Brainstorm excited to get going and create something incredibly genius, and slightly explosive. Not the kind that makes him focus and drift from reality itself in search of the unexplored, to make the unreal, real.

This quiet had him slightly tilting his back to throw a look at a laser-focused Perceptor and envy the fixation he has had with his own project. Because he, as it stands, cannot get the anti-gravity blaster to work. Try as he may, re-wire, calculate from the beginning – nothing seemed to help. He considered banging his helm on the table, but that would only damage the equipment.

After a while of struggling, Brainstorm decided to seek assistance. Two heads are better than one, obviously – even if one is more genius than the other.

Which had been a bad decision from the start. And he should have known it, too, because whoever distracts Percy from his work is to be stricken with a fiery glare and such a passive look it could kill the desire to ask in just about anyone. Anyone but Brainstorm.

“Hey, Percy, do you think I should re-adjust this or leave it as it is? It isn’t working right,” Brainstorm says with a half-finished component in hand, its insides dangling in the air when he swings it. He slides into Perceptor’s line of vision, occupied by a biocell beneath his microscope. It leaves a silence hanging between them.

Perceptor doesn’t even blink, let alone vent in his general direction. So, Brainstorm tries again, the tone of his voice slightly more rough around the edges.

“He-ey, ships’ genius number two! Get out of your head, it’s begging you to dissect it, c’mon!”

His lab partner’s faceplate shifts from cold concentration to a slight frown, one you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t looked hard enough. He notices it anyway.

“Brainstorm, whatever complication it is you have right now, I assure you, it can wait until I’m done.”

“Waiting would require patience! I’m kind of at the brink of my own discovery here – at least tell me if you think it needs work?” Brainstorm pleads, shifting his approach, his optics round, but Perceptor is unrelenting.

Brainstorm’s optic-ridges furrow.

“You’re mean, you know that? A real stick in the mud. A stubborn mule. A…” Brainstorm gestures his free servo in search of a new expression to throw. His vents get hotter.

“Are you done?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?” Brainstorm’s wings flutter in exasperation as the air inside his mask gets a little too warm. “My work is important too, if you didn’t know! And I would love it if you could pull your helm out of your aft once in a while!”

Perceptor’s shoulder plates answer Brainstorm as he straightens up and looks at him with such a fire in his gaze that burns Brainstorm’s insides. His mouth a perfect line, but the sharp edges of his optics and the brilliant light behind them are what turns Brainstorm’s entire resolve around.

As he backpedals, Perceptor’s watchful optics follow him until he’s at his desk again, and only then does the scientist turn away to chip away at his work once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

Brainstorm has trouble forgetting the incident even hours after.

Truly, it is Perceptor’s fault. He is the one missing Brainstorm’s potential, his drive. Now his gun sits alone, it’s insides full of holes, and Brainstorm tosses it a look more than once like it had personally offended him.

So he does the best thing he can – he drowns himself in the work that most would call “unethical” and “useless”. What else is he supposed to do, really? It would not hurt to put his other work on a pause until he deals with his more pressing problems. Mainly – his lab partner being an uncooperative aft.

Days later, Brainstorm stares at a flat metal plate, its silver and smooth top reflecting his faceplate in a morphed and grotesque image, his servos firmly planted into the workstation. It had nothing Brainstorm-like in it – which is what makes his cords uneasy, optics never settling on one detail of the device.

Despite all of his efforts, despite the drive that went into his work, he couldn’t put it to use. He’s not that kind of bot – not even when he’s full of sadness and bitterness.

So, he puts it away in their lab, far from the prying eyes; he burrows it under the pile of other failed experiments and fried chips to be long forgotten.

At least his honour is saved.

That is, until someone else finds it.

Brainstorm never liked Whirl much. If it wasn’t him, then it was Whirl who could turn everyone's attention to himself, a chaotic force of nature. And sometimes – or most of the time, really, – he tended to cross the line.

“Oh, hey, what’s this thing?” he says, putting an eerily familiar disc in his servos, its shiny surface glinting in the lab’s bright lighting.

Brainstorm’s never run faster in his life. He does almost trample over the scrapped projects Whirl’s been digging through, but he catches himself in time.

“That,” he grunts while gripping one side of the machine to pry it away from Whirl’s claws, “is none of your business.”

“Stormy, you should know by now – everything is my business,” the menace answers back, his optic glimmering and squinting. The device is then pulled, but Brainstorm has a good grip on it, and he tugs right back.

Brainstorm dares a quick look to his left – Perceptor is too engrossed in his documenting to pay attention to them – which, in the heat of the moment, gives Whirl an advantage.

He pinches on Brainstorm’s pede and blunt pain betrays his reflexes. Whirl manages to pry away the machine and hold it above his frame while he helplessly reaches for it; his efforts in vain.

“‘Make-Perceptor-love-me machine’? Seriously?” Whirl reads out loud while Brainstorm struggles against his hold to snatch the device away. Out of all the things to label, he decided on that one?

“Wait, Whirl–”

“Oh, this is gold,” his optic shines with malice and Brainstorm only has two solid seconds before he can hold Whirl’s pedes to stop him from going straight for Perceptor.

They both topple down like cards, and Percy’s definitely noticed the fight by now. He peers from the table they usually keep the scraps behind, a little too close for Brainstorm’s comfort.

He pulls Whirl’s impossibly tangly pedes away from Perceptor – because the aft is long too, curse his impossible build – and Whirl huffs in effort, but Brainstorm notices the device is still in his pincers.

“Whirl, I swear to Primus, if you don’t stop I’ll–”

“Got it!”

Brainstorm gives Whirl one last pull and collapses on the floor backstrut-first. Tangled in a web of pointy joints, along with a couple of wires from the pile.

What he just heard could not have been anything good.

He grunts as he scrambles to his feet, some forgotten wire still stubbornly stuck on his servo, and looks up at Perceptor.

The disc looks tiny in comparison to their joints, but Brainstorm spots it on Perceptor’s pede as his lab partner pulls the device away, definitely making contact. Brainstorm doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not; at least he can test it.

The reaction is delayed by two seconds, but Brainstorm catches the barely noticeable tremor and electricity running through Perceptor’s frame, starting at his pedes, and ending at his processor. Presumably, of course. Brainstorm’s wing twitches.

“Uh… hey, Perceptor, are you okay?” Brainstorm asks in a surprisingly small voice he doesn’t remember having.

He regrets ever having the idea of making such a machine in the first place.

Perceptor’s cold, unwavering stare gives him a chill. A loud thud makes Brainstorm’s frame jump as his machine is thrust into his servos. He scrambles to hold it properly, a stare etched into him.

“Get out of my lab. Now.”

Percy’s voice booms, echoing through the whole lab – their lab, as Brainstorm had priorly thought.

His processor can come to only one conclusion: he had invented the complete opposite of what he had intended to. Not this aggressive ignorance, not this hatred. He wanted admiration, not hate – not again.

He has no time to make sense of that revelation as he scrambles for the exit, pushing away the bots who had probably heard the commotion and came to poke fun at him.

He continues to his habsuite, the device close to his chassis, a slight fog creeping into the edges of his vision that doesn’t leave until he’s slamming the door shut.

Brainstorm slides down onto the floor, pulling the machine closer, almost crushing it with his servo – or hoping to, at the back of his mind.

The silence fills his processor and ugly static pours out.

How could he think it was ever going to work? He’s no manipulator. Making guns, weapons of destruction, and something that would twist reality and emotional stability of a mech is a night and day difference. He shouldn’t have invented this cursed thing, should never have been this angry, this pitiful, and frag, everyone was watching him, how is he supposed to prove he was good at something–

One, two knocks at the door tremble his frame as he presses against the door. A muffled “Hey, Stormy, it’s Nautica” beyond the door causes Brainstorm to shift in his seat.

No knocks come after, but Brainstorm’s emotionally aware enough that his amica endura is still there. Waiting to put a comforting servo on his shoulder – one he doesn’t deserve.

He manages a sigh that trails through his entire frame. Then he gets up and shuffles to the berth, his servos pressed tight against its flat surface.

The door creaks open, Nautica’s purple paintjob standing out from the shining light of the outside corridor against his dim room. “Hey, Stormy. Can I come in?”

He gives her a look that she reads as inviting, closing the door behind her. She takes a seat next to him, still servos on her lap.

“You know I’m here for you, right?” she says after a few minutes of silence. Brainstorm stares at the floor. “Whatever you need. And I’m sure Perceptor didn’t even mean it back there, you know how–”

“He did, though,” Brainstorm croaks out. Nautica’s frame leans closer to his. “I– I messed up. I wanted an easy way out, but I messed it up again. What kind of a scientist am I if I can’t even make a mind control device work properly?”

Nautica moves a little closer to him and puts her servo on his. “At least it worked, right? And we know the problem, so we can fix it.”

“But he hates me, Nautica.”

“You don’t really know that. I’m sure we can convince him to cooperate on a project with you. Until then,” she removes her servo that seems to leave the warmth on his plating well after their talk, “try and get some rest, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

She leaves him with a tender smile, shutting the door behind her, and letting him and his thoughts linger under the shadows of his unlit walls.

In the meantime, he figures out his next steps.

Next day doesn’t come easy, but Brainstorm is considerably more determined to mend the broken trust. His processor doesn’t scream profanities at him, at least, and he would consider it progress.

Nautica catches up to him in the hallway when he’s on his way to the lab.

“Brainstorm! Do you actually know what you’re going to do? This needs a plan or… something.”

“Nah, I’ll figure it out when I get there,” he says, waving his free servo that isn’t holding the culprit of his problem.

Nautica steps forward before he can enter the lab, his cool demeanour slightly broken. “Okay, wait, I have to confess something. I’ve already talked to Percy the night before: he agreed to help you with one project, as he’d said.”

Brainstorm arched an optic-ridge. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, but only one. So you have one chance, got it?” she says, as sternly as she can, yet Brainstorm can’t help but smile at her worrying.

“Aw-w, thanks, Nautica! You always know how to help out a friend.”

She rolls her optics with a fond smile before cycling and pushing him into the lab.

“Hello,” Perceptor and his carefully folded servos, along with the best passive-aggressive look, meet him right at the entrance, and Brainstorm has to take a step back to regain his footing. “How may I be of assistance?”

Brainstorm coughs into his mask. He vaguely registers the door behind him sliding closed, Nautica’s work wide and proud. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it,” he dawns, peeking into Perceptor’s personal space despite his better judgement; the scientist leans backwards only slightly, to Brainstorm’s delight, “there’s this tiny little thing wrong with my newest invention. It is imperative that we work together to mend it, as a lot, and believe me, a lot, depends on its success. So, what do you say?”

Perceptor’s field shifts from passive observation to open disgust as Brainstorm talks. And it stings, of course. But, somehow, in the moment, he understands it. The loathing, unease, hatred, – those aren’t new concepts to him.

What truly intrigues him after a few seconds, though, is the cool response Perceptor gives him.

“Alright, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Because… huh? Perceptor, in his twisted mind, under the direct intention of outright hating Brainstorm’s cords, agrees to help. Brainstorm’s inner core dances to the feeling of appreciation, of simply earning Perceptor’s attention and kindness which he has always possessed.

They work in silence once Brainstorm expresses what needs to be done with the machine to “fix” it. Each on their own little workshop, pouring familiarity over Brainstorm’s processor, yet swirling with alienation.

He knocks a fragile chip off the table while fidgeting with the casing, his wings fluttering in desperation, and the sound bounces off the walls of the soulless lab. Perceptor only tosses him a look, but a look that Brainstorm will have to push to the back of his memory cords to make peace with.

He never wants to earn that look again. It makes his resolve to complete their work as fast as possible all the more potent.

Just two hours after, they have their pieces done and assemble the machine together. Their shoulders pressed close, but not touching, the invisible gravity pulling Brainstorm closer.

Staring at them is their own reflection, the two of them this time, the bottom of their faceplates inflated as if in a ugly mirror.

“Now, what are you going to do with it?” Perceptor wonders.

Brainstorm sighs as he takes the device in his servo with careful precision not to grip the wrong side. “Fix my mistakes.”

And he thrusts his servo into Perceptor’s chassis.

It does not have the same effect as Brainstorm has hoped. Instead, Perceptor catches his servo, but doesn’t squeeze it or draw it away.

So Brainstorm lunges at him. They fall to the ground, knocking some lab equipment on the floor, the sound of their frames making contact loud in his audio receptors. Brainstorm has to reach out in order not to collapse on Perceptor’s flat chassis completely.

Before any of them can adjust to this position, Brainstorm on top of Perceptor, their pedes inbetween one another, Brainstorm sticks the bottom of his doom on his partner’s chassis.

Perceptor has his optics closed. Until he shutters them on and off, letting the silence fill both of their cords. Another, familiar shock courses through Perceptor – Brainstorm can taste the electricity this time. His frame catches heat from underneath, and his own vents shorten.

A subtle sigh pulls Brainstorm out of the trance. “What did you do this time?”

And, Primus, how quickly his world can become right again. Perceptor’s voice is even, but Brainstorm catches the light in it, the teasing and love behind it. The notion almost makes him outright giggle – but he doesn’t have time for that. He smiles wide behind his mask anyway, Perceptor’s tiny smirk reflective.

“Oh, nothing, just goofing off. As usual.”

“You do not ‘goof off’, Brainstorm. On the side note…” his optics dart around, “why, exactly, are we on the floor?”

“Oh, right!” Brainstorm pulls his pede from underneath him for support and deftly stands up. He reaches a servo out for Perceptor, who takes it with a warm smile.

Brainstorm takes both of Perceptor’s hands once they’re up. He stares into his blue, genius optics, and his spark melts.

“Percy, I’m… sorry. I know you weren’t angry at me when you said those things, I know it because it’s right, but logic goes out the window when you’re… me. I’m sorry for trying to control you, for having those betraying thoughts. You’re the best lab partner anyone could ask for, and I’m very grateful to have you after so many mistakes. Will you… forgive me?”

Perceptor soon brushes his digit over Brainstorm’s servo. His faceplate warms, and Perceptor’s gaze is kind on him. “I will. I appreciate you telling me the truth. In honesty, I was not aware I hurt you. I apologise for that. In turn, would you be able to express your feelings more… genuinely next time? To let me know when you’re hurting.”

Brainstorm registers his wings flying up. “Oh, of course! Or, well, I can try, but that counts too, right?”

They laugh together, and soon find themselves taking apart the “Make-Perceptor-love-me” machine. Brainstorm flushes more than once. He doesn’t miss Perceptor’s shoulderplates nudging him, precariously.

Staying up until late, they walk past a lab table with Brainstorm’s failed experiment in complete disarray, wires and bolts pulled apart. Brainstorm doesn’t mind it. Not when he has the real thing right beside him, their servos interlaced.

#secret solenoid #transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #nautica #my writing

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comiiical · 2 years

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Yes tumblr, I use an ad blocker but not on tumblr, don’t make e use it or else I will delete you. Trashhole

#borriquito como tú tururú ( ooc )

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realhankmccoy · 1 month

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got an apprecation for Douglas Sirk films in the way Todd Haynes does

talk about traditional gender roles and conservative 50s idealism

but Rock Hudson's dick actually gets hard for the menz

makes it really tragic doesn't it kids

also all those Eric Rohmer 6 moral tales are great

way better than Babycuck's Decalogue pass out tired fixation

Decalogue i like and can't decide how to rate it... but is a real snooze just a bit too consptipated compared to Rohmer it is like a grandparent lecturing you in church,

but gotta say other than how poland has vast regions where they will eradciate yr homosexuality it's a very tasty and button-up old world nation i quite enjoy it compared to germany's trashhole culture.. don't know why those germans struggle so hard to make tasty food

maybe i'd better bump The Bakery Girl up to a 9 that was a good one

Claire's Knee is a 10 the world should be more like Claire's Knee

#written on the wind #douglas sirk #todd haynes #the decalogue #eric rohmer

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hotcoward · 4 months

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would you still love me if i had a dirty sloppy greasy poosy?

a stinky doodoo trashhole?

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primojade · 2 years

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hello! can i be added to the taglist of “fallacies of love”? if so, thank you! and i love your work so much 💟💟

hello!! I just saw this now ehskwhw but of course, i shall add u next chapter! 💖💖 thank u for taking interest and loving my trashhole fanfic ur so sweet omg ( ˘ ³˘)❤

#letters for jade—!#signed by: isuckat-avery-thing

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just-a-demi-bean · 3 years

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saw some person on tiktok saying that “daisuga was losing popularity” pre-covid and that they “brought it back” like what. since when was it losing popularity. i’ve literally never seen your account before. you have like 15k followers. daisuga is literally a staple haikyuu ship. it’s literally the fourth most popular on ao3. what are you talking about.

#bean rants #people with superiority complexes get on my nerve.#like you weren’t even in the fandom until 2020 #granted i wasn’t either but still this fandom has been alive since before the show even started #i know this is a really stupid thing to rant about but just ohmygod stfu #this would normally go on my private but it’s stupid enough that it goes into the trashhole of my main #daisuga

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

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Before Dawn: Bonus Chapter (1)

Helloooooo, alright listen, I re read a choice with no regrets and uhm here is this, a little insight on what has happened a little while before our story began, I'm sure you'll want to see some nice bonding with Isabel

Warnings: just a few teeny little mentions of intercourse

@hidehaskak of course here's your tag❤️

Turtleneck

"Yehawhaww" The moment you appeared at the entrance to the roof Isabel screamed at the top of her lungs in great enthusiasm. You stood silent after you spared her a smuggling nod pacing your eyes between the two men that accompanied her, awaiting for a signal of approval. "I knew I could get you to come! You guys don't mind her hanging out with us right? She's a friend."

At that sound the males finally gave in, letting Isabel close the distance between the both of you. Her significantly smaller arms wrapped around your frame in a pure hearted childish manner and seeing that you towered over her you placed your hands on the small of her back, almost too reassuringly to the males' liking. Their unforgiving gazes burned holes in your whole body with much rage built in for ruining their fun for the night.

You knew you were practically unwanted, but it was for Isabel that you stepped foot on this rooftop to begin with. Tired of her never ending pleas to join her and her so called bros as they looked at the stars and talked about everything and anything you had decided to violate curfew and join her, not them, just her, because you wanted to share some more moments with her. This young little redhead was growing on you in the best way possible, you thought she kind of reminded you of yourself in times where you needed salvage or just a friend with whom you could share your piece of mind and heart.

She wasn't like that at first. Isabel probably resembled a rose, it occurred to you, with her godly youthful looks and her thorn like personality. It was a result from growing up in a trashhole like the underground, among thugs, being forced to build a rough personality if she wanted to survive, it was merciless for her and any other girl down there. But the bubbly side of her personality assured you she was much more than a badass teen who could hand you your ass in any fight, she had a pure heart and you longed to help her feel like she deserved post childhood experiences. But for now, it felt as if your roles had reversed. Sure, you were -if not just as her- bubbly and kind but sometimes you were frustratingly unresponsive and ill faced that it worried her until she got to know you. You hadn't put yourself in a place to talk about you trauma to her; she had her own demons and there was no point in burdening her with your abusive background, but you managed to explain to her that most of your weird and uptight behaviors, most things you could dispose of to become a better person, were curved into you in ways you could share yet. And Isabel, as respectful as ever had assured you it was fine not to be able to share.

Most girls would shut her out due to her formal nature as a thug, much like your friends who at first were adamant about discouraging you to befriend her. They had assumed she wouldn't be able to be nice and kind or to talk like them, but you were against any pretentious act behind her back. Maybe it was due to egoistical motives that you wanted to salvage this little girl, because she reminded her of you, and Nanaba, the only person who fully knew about your situation was taking a stand against this at first. She didn't want you to hurt yourself or the redhead in the process of trying to project your condition on her. But you didn't give up. With Isabel as your new bunkmate you had many chances of getting it right.

"Did you bring what I asked you to?" Isabel hurriedly asked, reaching her hands to make a quest inside the tote bag that you carried. You showed no sign of holding back as you let her peak into the cream colored bind, but only managed to cover your ear as her squeks got louder. "Thank you thank you thank you! Sit down, show me!

Isabel shooed Levi and Furlan apart, placing herself right next to the blond man while tapping her hand on her left side. You followed her smile hesitantly and proceeded to sit down to where her hand was rested a few seconds ago, next to Levi. You felt his eyes ravaging your whole form, up and down as if you were some dirty pig that seeked to rub its mud onto him. When seated neatly enough as to not touch him you proceeded to pry open your tote bag and toss a share of it insides to Isabel.

With a determined face she got a strong hold of the grey colored yarn and the pair of slightly thick needles you had managed to recover for her. "Okay show me, show me!"

"Oh what's that?" Furlan peeked his head over Isabel's shoulder to inspect of the situation.

"It's yarn and needles."

"Ahh, Furlan don't interrupt, (y/n) show me how to cast on!"

"See that's the easiest part, sweetheart." You watched Isabel coo at the support in your tone while she puckered her lips to a cute kid like pout. She followed your slow movements as if you were a goddess, showing her how to create new wolds with her strained hands.

Levi, even though he was suspicious of you, a member of Erwin's team who tried to coax her way into Isabel's life, felt somehow relieved to see that beloved expression on Isabel's face. He had overheard her once, taking to her self in the mirror, wishing she had a lady friend to spend time with and it pained him that she had a feeling of such lack inside her. Therefore your presence was a little soothing in their company. He would be lying if he said he personally didn't like it. After all he had thought you were a beautiful company to Erwin in one of the many times he had come across him in the Underground, silently watching him from the shadows. Not that he was a creep to begin with, it was just his lack and a response to the question of whether you can ever see a stranger twice, that you were actually a scout.

"Where did you learn to do this (y/n?)" Furlan was set to break off Levi's thoughts for one too many times tonight.

"Old mothers are adamant about these things, you know, good girl stuff and all."

"Oh." He began with a flirtatious tone that made both Levi and Isabel turn to him wide eyed "Good girl huh? Every Bad boys dream, including min- ah shit Isabel, ouch!"

The squint in Isabel's eyes was something that you couldn't see and you even ignored it as a matter of fact. Isabel was aware of your teeny crush on Levi, she had gotten it out of you one day during training after she had caught you gawking and drooling at him for doing the bare minimum. It was simply natural for her to get overly excited at the fact. Ever since then she had been convinced that him and you would be a perfect match, that you wouldn't have to be so uptight with him after all but you would always brush her off. It didn't torment you just get, even if his cold gaze somehow tickled your heart at certain times you were perfectly fine with hanging out around him. But there was no point in trying to convince Isabel to give up, not when she practically lived off of you and the male duo. Perhaps that was why she had squinted her eyes so hard at Farlan, she didn't want the couple in her head to be broken apart before it even started.

For the rest of your time with them you barely speak. You were fine with standing there and knitting away your project, a grey ribbed sweater that you had accidentally managed to make huge up to a certain point when you didn't find a purpose in casting off and undoing. You wondered if Isabel really wanted to knit or if it was her excuse to have you hang out with the ravenette since she had seemed to long forget about her needles and was fixated on a bottle of booze, talking away about some merchants in the underground flee market. You figured you should take your leave being to alienated to break their usual trio, you couldn't even keep up with their conversations, not that they cared to include you.

"So if you're all about playing housewife what are you doing here?" Farlan's voice calls out to you almost strained from any actual purpose, he probably knew it was kind of rude on the part to not include you after Isabel had invited you.

You remained silent for a few moments, tilting your head back to stare at the jewel decorated dark sky. Finding the right words for your purpose seemed unbelievably difficult and suffocating but it perhaps was nothing compared to their previous lifestyle.

"I didn't want to die." Two of the three almost fall to instant, bubbling laughter the moment your thoughts longer in the air as actual words.

"And you came here out of all places?" Levi sternly inquired without ever initiating some sort of eye contact.

"I wasn't top of my class, but even if I was I wouldn't go in the MP. I don't want to live a full life as a bastard you know and Garrison, let's say I have my reasons as to not going there."

Something about that bastard themed sentence caused curiosity to twitch inside Levi's chest but he didn't quest on it, oversharing wasn't in his plans to do so with a practical stranger, even if deep down you didn't exactly feel like one. He couldn't be explain that feeling but he could certainly understand what it was that made Isabel so attached to you. Something about your aura was like fresh, dripping honey, unprocessed yet sweet and endearing and overpoweringly strong to the flavor.

"You're not a bastard you had parents right? You just talked about your old mother."

Conveniently, Farlan's words allowed you to shut up and look away, further away from the former thug trio and into the vast horizon that laid before you. You contemplated what was it that enamored everyone outside the walls. With all that death, the scouts corpses that rot every where, you didn't have anything against the walls or life inside, taking down Titans and following orders was therapeutic enough to you as long as you came back to an eventual cup of milk tea and your knitting and embroidering projects. You couldn't bring yourself to give a damn about your future, but you liked fighting for the future of others, maybe somewhere there was a child, just like you, who wanted to get away from an abusive household and start a new life or pick up on experiences they had never lived. These people deserved not to feel caged inside the walls and plus, the nature of the Titans was very much appealing to you due to Erwin and his constant pep talks.

"Wait so how did you end up in Erwin's squad if you're mediocre?" Farlan pushed again, not wanting to let you stay silent for what's worth it.

"Don't forget I'm a veteran. I've outpassed the years a scout is expected to live so Erwin decided to move me to his squad, Mike insisted since we were from the same district."

"Oh so you fucked your way up huh?"

With the corner of his eye Levi watched as your eyes widened in shock. He couldn't possible know about your past, but you didn't seem the tyoe to go around and fuck your superiors so you could earn a higher rank. You were too ignorant to anything, it was prominent that you didn't care about even receiving your own room for serving well all these years.

"How dare you! As if it's something to open your legs for!" There it was, sweet confirmation that you indeed were ignorant.

"Good girl and all huh?"

"Sure."

There was something tense in the air as Farlan flirted, the subtle roll in your eyes, the unusual monotony of Isabel's voice, even Levi has seemed to bring his shoulders towards his collarbones in any attempt to distance his mind off of the unrequited nature of scenery. You weren't flirting back, momentarily he wondered if you even knew how since the sheer blush on your face betrayed your otherwise distinctive spitfire. You acted more childish than Isabel, in a way that you probably didn't realise caught Levi's attention because he didn't mind to spare you a glare, he'd rather keep it to himself.

____

Next time, it was supposed to be Farlan who approached to help you get your foot out of the muddy hole it was stuck to, Isabel squealed profanities at him, but it was Levi who had managed to push past him and the redhead, exposing his self to the cold pouring rain to run towards you. Just how stupid of your team was to leave you in the pouring rain to make your foot in your own?

His mind was at gaze as he sprint, random thoughts filling empty apathetic species that begged for overthinking to take over them. He knew Farlan didn't really like you, he was just trying to such to their plan and keeping you close was in sole purpose of getting closer to Erwin but for Isabel is want like that. She really liked your company, even he enjoyed some of your company at times and they weren't taking any chances with using you.

Moreover and much to his despise, he found himself in a very murky situation with each extension of his foot to your location. Fuck did you really have to look like that? With one leg stretched, toned bottom swaying in the air, strong veiny hands gripping on your knee, mud on the tips of your fingers and hair wet, making wild moves as you flipped your head upwards to get it out of your face. He twitched at the way a small tress stuck to your chapped lips, almost as if you were a goddess of water, a Nereid, as if you were made to be in this drenched state. Small droplets traveled from your chin down your exposed neck, hiding inside the base of your soft grey turtleneck, it was indeed a magnetising scenery, an alluring unraveling play to his eyes but he dared to rip his eyes away. He wondered if anyone could perceive this scene the way that only he did.

"Tch, try not to get that filth on me." He spoke as his sleek palms wrapped around your torso in delicate force, fitting almost perfectly. He closed his eyes. What the fuck was he even thinking? He wasn't even going to stay here for long.

"Wouldn't dream of it, but I beg of you to help before I get sick"

From a distance Isabel watched with teary eyes. A soft feeling of happiness engulfed her whole, not letting her give some form of attention to Farlan who clicked his tongue.

"Whatever Farlan, Levi is finally going to get some action for once. It's not like it's interfering with our mission!" Her brows forrowed at his sight. "He likes her, can't you see?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that if you don't actually tell him"

Her eyes harded at what Farlan had said. Of course, she knew Levi would deny ever laying his eyes on anyone but she wanted to be there to watch him experience falling in love, hell even falling out of it. Farlan should plainly accept that Levi is not always going to be hang up from their group. Sticking together even after their time at the military was a given, but wanting to have lovers and relationships now that they could enjoy their lives? Isabel was eagerly excited for it.

She watched you and Levi as you freed your leg from the muddy puddle, flying over by the force you had both been laboring and falling on too of each other, Levi's face was contorted in anger, fumingly red as he tried not to tell at you and she was definite about his feelings towards you.

Outside and laid with his back in the mud, Levi felt startled in a way he hadn't experienced before. He could faintly feel the tips of your breasts on his chest and he guessed you were using cloth binds since the impact wasn't enough to get him beyond a little flustered, but he could admit that this was embarrassing. He was angry, for being muddy that is, god knows just how much he despised mud and the smell of filthy rain but there was something about the way you straddled him and it touched a little flicker inside of him that told him it was alright to be muddy for a few more seconds, as long as he was underneath you. Despite his lack of experience in romantic or tense moments, he only had had sex a few times that he could count on one hand and he had despised each one for being disgustingly filthy, he definitely could sense the electric field in the air around you.

But as soon as the moment occured and you took your glistering eyes off of his, you pushed strength into your arms, digging your palms in the dirt to lift your self up and he was once again his normal self. With a click if his tongue he slipped from underneath you, denying your open hand that seeked to offer him a little help. He wasn't here for a sappy little romantic adventure, he was here to find those documents and kill Erwin, you were merely getting in the way of his brain functioning properly.

#aot #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #levi imagine #levi fanfiction #levi x y/n

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palatteflags · 3 years

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Mushroom/Forest/Cryptid/Minecraft/Bone/slight red based agender moodboard! ^^ For @embers-trashhole! Hope you like it!!

Want one? Send an ask~ -mod Jay

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leefyberrybread · 6 months

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Late Halloween doodles lolll

Poor Starscream. Haunted by a demon cupcake after watching fnaf😔

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deadlysoupy · 7 months

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Watching Paint Dry

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Bumblebee & Starscream (Transformers), Bumblebee/Starscream (Transformers) Tags: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Forced Proximity, Autobot/Decepticon Cross-Faction Friendship, Autobot/Decepticon Cross-Faction Romantic Relationship Series: Part 3 of I can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone)

"Bumblebee, get in here! It's urgent! Um... Jawbreaker is stuck in a pipe!"

Mo stifles a laugh as she runs into the Dugout, changing walkie-talkie's channel to local.

"He's coming! Is Starscream in yet?"

"Oh, he's so in," Hashtag answers, static in the background from a bad connection. "They'll be best friends after this, I guarantee it! The TV cannot be wrong!"

For @trashhole

Read on AO3 or under Read More:

There is no emergency at the Dugout, Bumblebee realises way too late. When he runs into the room his optics land on a frowning Starscream, servo on his tilted hip in irritation. And not a Terran in sight.

“Sorry, Bee!” he turns around to a not-very-guilty Mo punching the button on a remote – and the door separates him and the rest of the family, to leave with a maniac of a mech.

Bumblebee should have known better when it comes to kids. It’s just like them to force anyone they wish to try talking it out – even if no one wants to.

He can’t blame them, exactly, but he will make sure they know he won’t let it slide that easily, too.

“Of course they would trap us together. How typical of them. You let them watch too much TV, Bumblebee, it’s rotting their brain circuitry.”

Bumblebee dreads the next hours of shutdown.

“It’s not their fault you can’t work with us for a change instead of being a complete aft.”

“And now it’s my fault? Why am I not surprised?” Starscream turns away with panache to watch the clock count down one second at a time. “At least pretend to not be a jerk. It can help, you know.”

“I don’t see how it would. Compared to my glorious self, you look like you could use a talking-down now and again.”

He arches a brow. “Was that a height joke?”

“What do you think?” a predatory smile makes its way on Starscream’s face and Bumblebee can barely hold his gun to not blast it away. Instead, he sighs.

“You know what? Fine,” he shrugs. Making his way to the control panel, Bee spots a relatively peaceful spot on the ground to spend the next two hours on. Starscream’s gaze darts between the tightly closed door and the countdown illuminating the room.

Propping an arm on his knee, Bumblebee keeps his optics to the ground as Starscream sits a few feet from him. Time doesn’t seem to pass when he checks the countdown on his internal clock synced with the Dugout.

Of all the mechs to be stuck with. Of all the mechs to befriend – or be befriended by, more like – the Terrans, it just had to be Starscream.

Starscream, who offlined an Autobot right in front of him, only to laugh at his face afterwards and boast about his great achievement to Megatron. Starscream, who held a gun to his spark to bargain with Optimus Prime. Starscream, who loomed over the skies on the lookout for non-affiliated Cybertronians, who only search for a way to survive in a world where you either have to be a killer, or be killed.

He is vaguely aware of the dent in his palm from his clenched fist.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Starscream’s sharp voice cuts through the silence. Bee pats himself on the back for not flinching. "I'm a vicious Decepticon bent on destroying everyone I set my eyes on. And you would be right, of course," he dismissively shugs.

When the rest doesn't come, Bumblebee is forced to walk into Starscream’s carefully set up trap. "There is a "but" coming, right?"

"But I don't do it senselessly, my dear Autobot. Picture this: your people see you as nothing more than a scheming rodent, someone below them and their superior rule. It’s nearly impossible to earn respect amongst those monsters."

And Bumblebee definitely sees something there. For more cycles than he can count, Bumblebee had been viewed as a bot who needed to be supervised, not to be trusted with important missions. Or missions Bumblebee at the time considered important, anyway. It’s why he still feels echoes of the times long gone, when the need to prove his worth overrides his brain to the point of recklessness.

He’s no Decepticon, though.

“That’s no excuse. Don’t justify your actions and twist them into survival. There’s always a way.”

Starscream snicker is not kind. “And who taught you that? The Terrans? Who have seen no war?” his frame turns to face Bumblebee, one servo pressed to the ground for balance. “You know what was at stake. I don’t regret my decisions even for a nano-second, but if you think that I didn’t at least try to find a better way, then you’re just as stupid as the rest of them.”

The silence that follows has Bumblebee in a chokehold. His gaze travels on Starscream, analysing his drive to make sense of his crimes, of his killings, of his betrayals.

“I’ve said too much. Enjoy the rest of these painful hours in silence, little Autobot, and we’ll see who comes out the same when it’s done.”

Sympathy does not come easily these days – and Starscream makes it that much harder.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers earthspark #earthspark #earthspark bumblebee #earthspark starscream #starbee #bumblebee #starscream #transformers fanfiction #my writing

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natequarter · 3 years

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people seem to like this blog so uhhh hi if you followed recently welcome to my trashhole ! it only gets worse

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tragicallytron · 3 years

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So, this Cutler guy... (CHP 2)

WOOOOO CHP 2

“The one thing that sucks about your place is that I can’t walk around with my hood up.” Ant said to Harm as they walked through one of the many thin alleyways.

“Just that?” Harm asked, staring ahead.

“Yeah. This is the only place where programs like to pull on my hair.” Ant pointed to her two long hair… prong… things. They looked so bizarre compared to the rest of her hair, which was thick, gray, and stopped just at her shoulders. The prongs were long, thin, jagged, and stuck up. When she’d put her hood down, they’d stick out a good foot away from her face. They always reminded Harm of antennas. He always suggested she could cut them off, but Ant declared they’re ‘too iconic’ to be removed.

“Buuut you’re here, so that cancels out the negatives.” She flashed her friend a smile.

Harm stared at her before facing the streets again.

“Another left.” He said as they were approaching a fork in the path. Since most of the pathways were surrounded by towering walls, it was easy to get lost, so Harm had his own way of remembering where to turn to reach the center of the city, a place where he and Ant would spend most of their time together.

The heart of the city was a hassle to get to, but it was probably the best part of the inner city. While most people had to enter buildings through windows, vents, or by crossing over sloppily bade bridges because most places were cramped together, and the alleyways were so thin that many doors could hardly open all the way, the heart was a wide open area. The structures surrounding the area created a large square border that could make any program feel boxed in, but you could actually see the sky thanks to how spaced out the buildings were. There wasn’t any scrap metal hanging overhead, no wires, nothing.

Harm looked ahead and spotted a wall covered in neon-colored graffiti, most of the writing and crudely painted characters were unrecognizable. It was one of the landmarks Harm used to guide his way through the area. “Right.”

The two took a sharp turn then continued walking straight. They could hear distant chatter getting louder. A bunch of programs loved to hang out at the heart, who could blame them? Plenty of room, good stores, good food to eat as you watch a great fight happen, and the chances of getting jumped were real slim. Harm personally loved to windowshop. There were always plenty of weapons and gears on programs that’d catch his attention.

The two finally exited the thin alleys and began roaming around the heart. Just as Harm expected, it was crowded. The groups of people scattered throughout the area, all loudly talking to one another as the faint buzzing of broken billboards could be heard, the graffiti on the walls, the flickering lights from both buildings and street lamps, and the odd aroma of burnt rubber fused with a cooked meal were far from charming, but they gave the city life.

Ant suddenly nudged him, “Yo, look over there.”

She pointed to a lady. Her face was narrow, her hair was white and in a sleek, high ponytail. Her circuitry colors were nothing special, white being her main one, and secondary being teal. She was with a group of friends, hands on hips, laughing at whatever was being said. She looked pretentious.

“What about her?” Harm stared at her, unamused.

“No, no, you’re not looking.” Ant guided his head to the lady’s heels.

Harm’s eyes lit up. Attached to the side of the heels was a light gray baton, one that’s able to generate a light cycle, no doubt. She must’ve been from another part of the grid, who else would be stupid enough to have their baton out in the open like this?

Harm clenched his fists. Man, just thinking of all the great parts he’d get from dismantling one of those… It electrifies him. Programs in this part of the city would do anything to get their hands on a light cycle. Nobody cared about the fact that driving through the thin, jagged roads was a death sentence, they just wanted to be fast.

The two watched the lady glance to the side, motion ‘One moment’ to her group, then walked into an alleyway.

“Now’s our chance, whaddaya say? You follow from behind and I go above?” Ang asked, a big, confident grin on her face. That was their usual tactic whenever they saw something they liked.

Harm was about to agree, he was almost ready to start tailing behind the program, but he stopped himself. His shoulders slumped and he let out a groan. “We can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“There might be guards around.” Harm explained.

“So? That’s never stopped you before.” Ant said.

“Yeah, but before we were only dealing with one or two guards who were stupid enough to wander in. Last cycle, there were about five. The big ones too.” Harm started walking through the crowd, squeezing through clusters of people or shoving aside any program who didn’t pay attention to where they were walking. If he couldn’t snatch goods off of programs, he’ll have to look through the abandoned buildings. It’s not as fast--and it’s certainly not as fun--but he didn’t want to put up with programs making a scene and getting unwanted attention.

Ant’s eyes widened, “Woah, what happened yesterday? Did’ja get ratted out? Did they find you hackin’ off limbs?” She followed behind.

“No. Some random program busted into my place and the guards were tailing behind him. He made me break a window.”

“Someone broke in!? Man, I KNEW I should’ve visited yesterday!” Ant snapped her fingers.

“Yeah, made a dent in my schedule.” Harm grumbled. Harm thought of a small building not even a block away, it has--well, had--a large glass dome as a ceiling, and was one of the best looking places in this city. It wasn’t cramped between other structures, it wasn’t completely trashed with wires and broken metal, the programs who used to live there--scientists, apparently--took good care of their workplace despite living in this trashhole. That changed several cycles ago. Harm remembered waking up to a loud explosion one night, and when he roamed the streets the next cycle, programs were talking about how an ‘accident’ occured, how an experiment had ‘gone wrong’ and derezzed everyone inside.

Harm’s been wanting to rummage through that place ever since. No one’s tried to fix it or demolish it; other programs have probably already searched through it, looking for whatever goods those brainiacs had on them. Hopefully there’s still some decent things left.

“Hey, no rush with my suit, a’ight?” Ant pat him on the shoulder, “I know you got commissions you’re dealing with, and if I gotta use those disgusting chute suits for a few cycles, I don’t mind.”

“Aren’t those the same thing as your wingsuit?” Harm raised a brow. He paid no mind to the other programs giving him glares and spiteful comments as he shoved them aside.

“No, you do not understand how ugly those chutes are. They don’t even FLY, they just glide me down like some stupid paper airplane.” Ant groaned, “And they’re SO fragile. The Renegade could sneeze on them and the wires would snap in two.”

Ant’s mentioned the Renegade before, mostly ranting about how he’s made her work harder, how he keeps destroying their property, and how he’s giving Tesler constant headaches. He doesn’t blame her for going off, he sounds like a pain to deal with.

“Some programs are saying he’s Tron, which I hope isn’t true, cause I never imagined Tron sounding so whiny!” Ant got several strange looks from surrounding programs. There’ve been rumors here about the Renegade--about Tron--recently, and hardly any of them have been good. There were mentions of a potential reward if one were to capture and turn in this Renegade, or anyone working with him.

Harm could see the shattered dome just up ahead. He grabbed Ant’s hand and pulled her along, “Let’s go before these creeps get the wrong idea.”

“Whatever, my boss can kill ‘em!” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, well your boss isn’t here right now.”

They made it out of the sea of programs and arrived in front of the ruined building. A battered sign was placed on the wall, right beside the hole where the door once was. “Minu… Sinimo… Lab” That’s all Harm could make out.

He welcomed himself inside, Ant coming in as well. They both looked around. This was probably one of the better places they scavenged through. This lab managed to withstand an explosion from the inside and remain in one piece, the only missing chunks of this small, octogonal-shaped structure were the windows, the front door, and the giant glass dome above them. Only a quarter of the glass roof was still standing, it was a dustier, lighter orange compared to the neighboring buildings, which had a much more vibrant version of the same color. The remains of the roof were scattered all over the floor and furniture, glistening from the city lights.

Harm noticed a crooked staircase that led to the second floor--well, it was more like an indoor balcony. It was trapezoid shaped, placed comfortably between the walls, and there was a thin black railing that stretched across the edge. It made the lab feel much less hollow, and Harm was impressed to see the black columns supporting it still standing. He was also surprised the programs here had the blessing of stairs instead of needing to use vents.

Underneath the platform were multiple tables pressed against the wall with an array of items laying on top of them, mostly beakers and test tubes. Come to think of it, there were a lot of tables in this place. Right when they walked through the front door, Harm could see nine tables broken into rows of threes. Maybe if the programs spent more money on better security than tables, they’d still be here.

There were other bits of furniture besides the tables, there were chairs--of course, whiteboards with wheels that had smeared writing, and random chunks of machinery that got crushed by debris.

“Check it!” Ant grabbed onto a short metal pipe sticking out of the rubbage and yanked it out. The pile of trash collapsed and scattered over the floor, the loud tumbling causing Harm to cringe.

She tossed the pipe into the air then caught it again before holding it over her shoulder, “A replacement for my bat!”

“You have a disc.” Harm pointed out as he approached one of the tables, shoving aside the chunks of cement and metal on top. A nice variety of tools were hidden under the garbage.

“Yeah, but…” Ant lowered her head, “Not a fan of it. Bats are cooler.”

“You don’t know how to use it.” Harm said as he picked up a power drill, observing it to make sure it was still usable. He’s never seen Ant use her disc before. Granted, what she was programmed to do didn’t involve any fighting, just keeping her ears open for information and sharing it with her boss.

“I kinda do. Oh, hey!” Ant’s eyes lit up and she scurried over to Harm’s side, “I could totally teach you the few moves I do know!”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that next time I want to derezz myself.” Harm grabbed the rest of the tools on the table and held them firmly. He made his way to the stairs.

“Come on, you won’t even give my idea a go?”

“I don’t know if walking in here made you forget what the rest of this dump looks like, but Argon has much more open space compared to here.” Harm stated, sounding rather aggravated. He stepped over a couple of broken steps and observed the platform. It had far less rubbish on it compared to the first floor, only broken parts of a large pipe and shards of glass laid on the ground. Lab equipment, more machinery, many of the inventions here had already been dismantled, making it nearly impossible to figure out what they once were.

A wide open folder splayed on top of a counter, which laid parallel to the rails, caught Harm’s eye. He wandered over there, looking through the giant hole in the ceiling. The specs of orange light coming from the towering buildings above looked quite nice, honestly. Reminded him of stars.

He set the tools down and grabbed the folder, tons of crumpled papers sat beside it. He started flipping through the contents, a grin began to form on his face.

“Nice…” He said to himself.

“Ooooh, whadja find?” Ant’s footsteps could be heard rushing up the metal steps.

“Blueprints.” He flipped through the pages to show Ant. The tears and incredibly messy handwriting would’ve made it difficult to decipher what the blueprints were going on about, but luckily the refined drawings provided clarity. Ant could spot sketches of disc enhancements, upgrades for tanks, and batons that could summon all sorts of tools.

“The programs here were making weapons. No wonder they were attacked.” Harm said.

Ant stopped and pointed at one of the pages, “Hey, I’ve seen those! Tesler commissioned a whole bunch of ‘em at one point for the guards.”

She held her pipe vertically with both hands, “They, like--I think there’s a button facing them, or they twist the top a certain way, so when they lift it up and hit the ground, it causes these weird quakes? Well, not really ‘quakes’, but it moves the ground a whole bunch. Cool stuff!”

“Mhm.” He didn’t express it, but that did sound cool. He wondered if there was a way he could use that feature in the future. As he closed the folder, he started fantasizing of all the weapons he could make and modify for himself, the upgrades he could give to other programs, the money he’d make. It’ll be great.

“You wanna keep lookin’ around?” Ant asked. “I got all I need.” She spun her pipe around.

“Same here.” Harm walked towards the railings and lept over them, landing on his feet with a loud thud that echoed throughout the lab. Ant landed beside him.

“I got the tools,” Harm continued, “and plenty of work to keep me busy.” He said as he eyed the thick folder, the electrifying feeling running through him again.

#tron #tron uprising #tron oc #tronsona #some homies hanging outtttttt #fun times!

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