#Drabble: Inane Ramblings about...something?

[theabyssalmuses-a]

Things were busy.

Well, when weren’t they?

As Amiya signed her name on yet another legal document, officiating a new Operator known elusively as ‘Phantom’ unto Rhodes Island’s ranks, she could hear the hustle and bustle of people around her as she worked. She had long grown used to the noise, and it didn’t bother her at all. 

Rhodes Island was always busy. There was no reason for it to be especially busy today, nor any other day. Tomorrow, Today, Yesterday...there was no real significance.

The sun began to set as she set about putting away the documents, when she realised that she had missed one part. As she sometimes pulls all-nighters, she waits until it’s all done to fill in the last part: The Date.

She pulled her pen back out of her pocket, sliding the papers back across the desk toward her. The pen clicked, orange light of the sunset illuminating the office. What was it, anyway? The Date?

Ah, today was...

The cautus quickly scribbles the numbers in, nodding her head as she once more placed the papers away. 

‘That should do for today.’ She thought to herself, wincing a little as she stretched her arms above her head. She really did need to stop slouching at her desk...

Amiya stands up, picking up a small brief case, and heads calmly to the archive department to store these records, that everyday hustle and bustle still going strong this late into the evening, just like every other day...there was nothing special about it, no matter how one looked at it.

Tomorrow would be the same as Today- from an importance stand point, every day should be treated more or less the same. With exception to certain holidays, of course.

Today, December 24th, was exactly as important as Yesterday.

December 23rd. Just another day checked off.

[jolynej]

Hello!! I love the aesthetic of your blog 😳 is it alright if I ask for headcanons of La Squadra (If it’s too much, Risotto, Prosciutto and Ghiaccio are fine!!) with a really head strong and stubborn S/o? Like on the outside they act like they think they’re better than everyone, but really they’re just a huge dork on the inside ☺️

thank you very much!! and it’s not too much at all :) i’m not sure whether or not you wanted an s/o who was involved in the gang or not, so i did a mix of both! i hope that you like it!

Risotto, Prosciutto, and Ghiaccio With a Stubborn and Headstrong, but Dorky S/O

his somehow turned into more of a drabble than actual headcanons, woops! hope you don’t mind that it also became a little more hurt/comfort!!

Due to his position as the leader of the group, he’s used to having to work with strong personalities as each of his subordinates stand out in their own ways, and he’s appreciative of all of their strengths — yours being no exception. He also makes it a priority to become familiar with his squad member’s weaknesses so that he is better able to assign them missions and implement training regimens to improve their skills.

As his partner, he has an extra watchful eye over you and is quick to point out mistakes and areas for improvement, but don’t misunderstand his blunt remarks as ones of distaste. He owes a debt of gratitude to your confidence and your tenacity as it has come to his aid on multiple occasions, but he’s an extremely perceptive man and can pick up on little things about you that would usually go unnoticed by others. He’s a quiet, introverted man, and by nature a good listener. He picks up on little tells and mannerisms of yours and eventually pieces a few things together.

It’s after a particularly rough mission that he is able to prove his little hypothesis. You’d barely escaped with your life after the confrontation with your target went sour due to you pulling a risky move that was almost certain to end in failure; it was a complete deviation from the plan that Risotto had gone over with you. He was upset, and you were, too, as the target had gotten away, but instead of reacting in anger and immediately enacting some sort of punishment, he looked over at you from across his desk where you sat with a pout and glassy eyes, eking out an uncharacteristic apology instead of a snide remark or even an eyeroll.

He’ll still have to reprimand you for screwing up the job, but for now he was pleased to see a more vulnerable, honest side to you. “You understand that what you did was wrong, don’t you cara/o?” He looks over at you, torn between comforting you and scolding you.

Risotto is so glad to see you becoming more open and comfortable around him, but he doesn’t say much as he doesn’t want to scare you off. Instead, that evening, after you’ve been informed of the oncoming dread that is the punishment of both paperwork duty and a boring stakeout mission, he holds you a little bit closer and tells you that he loves you, which is his way of telling you that it’s okay to not be strong sometimes.

He knows that tomorrow you will bounce back to your usual self, dorky jokes and all, but for now, he’s more than content to share this private moment with you and fall asleep with your head resting on his chest, lulling you both to sleep with his hand lazily rubbing your back.

Dating a man in the mafia would be taxing on anyone, but if anyone could deal with, Prosciutto thought, it would be you — his strong, cocky, dorky partner

His views are a little more traditional, and I can see him as someone who really likes the idea of caring for others and being a provider — and he’s more than happy and willing to provide that — but at the end of the day, there’s nothing better than coming home to someone like you who isn’t afraid to challenge him and will speak their mind. He already has to pretty much babysit Pesci half the time he’s at work, and the other men can act immature and really get on his nerves, so it’s just nice to have someone he doesn’t have to put on airs around, and he finds your sassiness sexy

He worries about you, of course, but he’s well aware that you are someone who can and will put up a fight and not let yourself be taken down without resistance. Also, he is a little more inclined to share certain aspects of his job with you, as he believes that you have the emotional capacity to handle some of the more grim details — even though he still leaves the majority of it out for your sake. He likes that he doesn’t have to sugarcoat things with you, and it’s good for him to have someone to talk to

Your stubbornness and arrogance can lead to arguments, but more often than not they end up with one of you kissing the other or the cliché of daring the other person to shut up. At first, things were a little more explosive, as he is a very dominating person and was not at all used to being challenged in that sort of way, but as your relationship deepened, he grew to like your little spats and that cute glint in your eyes when you become angry

Because of your stubbornness, it may be more difficult for you to apologize, but he won’t hesitate to call you out and tell you that you’re in the wrong, and he’s very calm and level-headed about doing so. When he’s in the wrong however, he usually comes around and apologizes rather quickly, but he can be kind of petty about it. He does make it up to you though, always. One of the benefits of him being a little old-fashioned is that he’s very keen on the idea of not going to bed angry

The more caring, nurturing side of him finds your dorkiness endearing, and whether or not its a television series or movie that you’re geeking out over, or even just a goofy joke, he’s happy to indulge you and listen to what you have to say. He’s not always the most up-to-date on pop culture references or media, so he doesn’t always get what you’re talking about, but he loves you so it doesn’t really matter to him what you’re going on about (you could ramble about the history of something as inane as can openers and he’d still say “that’s interesting, Amore”) He’s a sucker for all things domestic, really

Now this relationship may be a little more turbulent then the others, as I can see the two of you being very loud, but it’s very sweet in its own way

He’s a huge hothead, and with your stubborn demeanor the two of you will most definitely butt heads, but his outbursts are something that you’ve come to expect and they’re never filled with any real malice — it’s just the way that he is. The rest of the gang like to tease you both about being an old married couple, and you think it’s cute, playfully tugging on his cheek while he’s fuming and Formaggio and Illuso are cracking up in the corner

Ghiaccio will be the type of boyfriend to feed into your ego and because you’re his s/o, everything has to be perfect for you, for you deserve nothing less in his eyes. He can and will chew out the waiter if you so much as comment on your food being dry or too salty or just not up to par

As far as your dorkiness is concerned, Ghiaccio may not always understand “what you’re going on about this time”, but he’ll still listen and try to indulge you with some commentary here and there, which will most likely come across to an unknown spectator as pure sass and displeasure, but you know better; the snark comes with the territory of dating the ice man -- and you love it

If he ever catches wind of someone making fun of you or even just making an offhand comment about you or something that you like to geek out over, then he has no qualms about going off on them

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

So, if it’s okie with you...c-could we maybe get a drabble about Perceptor finding out about the Cyberstorm sparklings when they were still incubating, and how brainstorm and cybertron reacted when they were born?? Please..? :3

This became wayyyy too long but whatever. This is my guilty pleasure so I’m more than happy to write it.

Additional content: (kinda) tentacle sex, make outs, polyamory

polyamory solves everything

Perceptor doesn’t move and that’s the most worrying reaction Brainstorm could have ever imagined. He had been having some trouble recently with being able to work since his energy levels have been way lower than normal on average from maintaining eight newsparks. Nothing bad had happened, no, Brainstorm’s been far too careful for that, far more careful than he’s been with anything else ever which was likely the first clue that Perceptor had picked up on. The next was the complete halt to late nights in the labs that then lead to Perceptor picking up on how much more he had been refueling and recharging. So, with a not-so-gentle encouragement from Ratchet, Brainstorm built up the courage to finally tell Perceptor that he’s incubating eight sparks until their strong enough to emerge and survive on their own. When Brainstorm finally managed to let the words slip off his glossa, he wished he could take them back when he saw how stiff Perceptor went. He still doesn’t move, even as Brainstorm shifts nervously, looking away after not being able to take Perceptor’s intense gaze anymore.

“Come on, Percy,” Brainstorm whispers, achingly vulnerable and suddenly afraid, of what exactly he’s not sure, “Can’t you give me something here?”

The words seem to pull Perceptor from his stunned state so he’s vigorously shaking his head to clear and lets his arms fall from their crossed position over his chest. Still not saying a word, Perceptor takes a step forward and places a gentle servo over Brainstorm’s spark chamber to feel the thrumming life within, his optics flickering with a complex emotion that Brainstorm can’t quite decipher.

“This is insane, Brainstorm,” Perceptor speaks barely above a whisper, his optics transfixed on Brainstorm’s chest, “How did this even happen? How is this even possible?”

Brainstorm clears his intake awkwardly and laughs a little hysterically, “I, uh, I don’t think you’d believe me…”

“You’ve spoken to Ratchet, yes?” Perceptor continues rambling on, not seeming to really hear what Brainstorm has to say.

“Yes, Percy, contrary to your perceptions of me, I’m not that stupid,” Brainstorm snaps a little more defensively than he really means to.

“N-n-no. No! No…” Perceptor stutters, his voice almost turning frantic before he forces himself to calm down, his hands reaching up to cup Brainstorm’s face in a gentle hold.

Brainstorm’s optics flick between Perceptor’s, searching for the cause behind this behavior that feels so uncharacteristic of Perceptor that his initial anger is immediately quelled by the confusion welling up in his chest. The hands on his face jump and flinch like they’re being shocked with jolts of electricity but Perceptor doesn’t move to pull away, in fact, he leans in seemingly unconsciously. With a soft intake of air, Brainstorm’s optics widen with stark realization, a harrowing feeling chills his spark as he comes to a terrible conclusion.

Perceptor is afraid.

“Percy,” Brainstorm’s voice turns gentle as he brings his hands up to cover Perceptor’s, stilling them somewhat, “It’s going to be okay. I’m okay.”

“I just don’t understand,” Perceptor gasps, his face shifting into obvious distress, “This shouldn’t be possible and there’s no way your systems could support that many newsparks all at once.”

“It is and I can,” Brainstorm insists, ducking his head down to force Perceptor to look him in the optic instead of looking at his chest.

Perceptor doesn’t say anything as he worries his lip, meeting Brainstorm’s optics with an increasingly worried gaze. Brainstorm sighs and lowers Perceptor’s hands from his face, holding onto them to offer some amount of reassurance.

“Percy… here,” Brainstorm lets his chest plates slide open, the mechanisms creating fainting clicking sounds as they settle into place.

A bright light illuminates from within his chest that’s almost to the point of being blinding and inside surrounding Brainstorm’s steadily pulsing spark are eight sparks fluttering rhythmically as if talking to one another. All at once, Perceptor suddenly feels very flustered at the sight of Brainstorm’s spark but to see it so strong if tired does fill him with no small amount of relief. He finds himself transfixed as his optics travel from newspark to newspark that are all encased in their metallic shells just about ready to be on their own. It’s a silly notion, but Perceptor almost feels he can catch a glimpse of each newspark’s personality in the way they react to each other and he could swear that two of them are actually arguing with each other. What a troublesome bunch they’ll be which is a thought that somehow manages to bring a smile to Perceptor’s face instead of his signature unamused glare. The newsparks will likely turn the lab all but upside down when they can walk and, oh goodness, not to mention when they settle into their altmodes.

Perceptor stiffens and pulls his hands away, feeling suddenly like a stranger in his own home, in his own lab and takes a step back from Brainstorm. Brainstorm lets him go and closes his chestplates, carefully watching Perceptor’s behavior as he’s not quite sure what to make of that reaction but he wants to give Perceptor the benefit of the doubt. With a hand outstretched, Brainstorm steps closer to Perceptor but stops when he shakes his head and curls in on himself. Hot air escapes Brainstorm’s vents as his frustration mounts, never being one to like being at a loss.

“Percy, what is it? What’s wrong?” Brainstorm throws his hands out wide helplessly, not knowing what to do.

Perceptor doesn’t respond immediately, gathering his thoughts but when he does it’s hesitant, almost shy, “Who’s are they? Don’t tell me this wasn’t with a partner or several because it had to be. Otherwise… Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kept it secret so long right? You would have bragged nonstop on how you were able to retrieve eight unique sparks or something like that.”

Brainstorm rubs the back of his helm and looks away guiltily, “Yeah, it was but I don’t think it’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking, exactly?” Perceptor responds flatly.

“I didn’t plan on this, I didn’t specifically go out of my way to get a bunch of newsparks to… to test or something like that,” Brainstorm trails off at the end, a sour taste filling his mouth at the words.

“No!” Perceptor shouts and startles Brainstorm badly enough he stumbles back, “That’s not it! That’s not it at all. I can’t believe you would…”

Perceptor cuts himself off and turns around, reigning in his fury with hurt stinging his optics.

Brainstorm steadies himself and crosses the short distance to Perceptor but doesn’t dare try to touch him, “Do you want to meet him? Is it that you’re worried he isn’t a good person or that he’s just using me?”

“He’s the last person I want to meet,” Perceptor grits out, screwing his optics shut, “If I never see him it will be too soon.”

“Heh, well that might be a bit hard,” Brainstorm jokes before he can stop himself and immediately regrets it.

Perceptor whirls around to face him, expression indignant and understandably hurt, “This isn’t the time to joke. I don’t find this situation very funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Brainstorm sucks in a vent and says, “I just mean he’s here. I’m trying to tell you who he is… I’m doing it very badly though.”

Perceptor studies his expression, not sure what to make of any of this then says very slowly, “What are you trying to say?”

“Honestly?” Brainstorm chances a hand on Perceptor’s shoulder, “It’ll be easier just to show you.”

That’s how Perceptor finds himself in a dark tunnel that feels like it goes on forever, following Brainstorm with hesitant steps and feeling more and more uncertain with each one. Who could possibly be down here? None of this is making any sense. His mind is whirling with several possibilities, each one worse than the last until they reach an entrance of sorts that’s illuminated brightly from within with a soft blue light. Curiosity towards what is ahead of them momentarily distracts Perceptor’s thoughts and he begins to work up the courage to ask Brainstorm where it is exactly they’re going just as they cross the threshold and anything he was going to say is completely lost. Staring up, he sees a massive spark the likes of which he’s never seen before. Perceptor can feel the gentle warmth of it in its soft glow, enchanted by the simple elegance of the design of the casing. This is certainly nothing like anything Perceptor was expecting.

“Percy, I think you already know Cybertron,” Brainstorm gestures dramatically to the large spark hanging above them.

Perceptor’s mouth drops open and there absolutely no words for the feelings flooding his systems as he falls to his knees.

“Whoa, Percy, you okay?” Brainstorm rushes to Perceptor’s side only to turn to the large spark as a low thrumming sound echoes through the chamber, “Yeah, I think he’s just stunned.”

Another low sound reverberates through them and Brainstorm responds again, “This isn’t something one would expect, no. He just needs a moment to process everything and then we can explain everything.”

Perceptor blinks at Brainstorm, his brow furrowing deeply with confusion, the inane situation almost too much for him to handle at this point.

“You can understand that? You can understand what he’s saying?” Perceptor hisses incredulously, feeling far, far out of his depth.

Brainstorm turns back to him with surprise, “You can’t?”

Perceptor shakes his head fervently and Brainstorm clicks his tongue, at a bit of a loss himself.

“Well… no matter,” Brainstorm shrugs it off as he does with most momentous things he finds inconvenient, “What’s important is you know who my partner is… Cybertron himself.”

Perceptor moves to lie on his back and closes his optics, “Leave it to you to find the most outrageous individual to carry sparklings for.”

Brainstorm laughs a bit nervously and sits down next to Perceptor, patting him on the shoulder.

“So, you’re not mad at me anymore right?” Brainstorm’s hand stills and he doesn’t meet Perceptor’s optics when he looks up at Brainstorm.

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

Brainstorm looks down at him, “Really? Because back there it really seemed like you were.”

“I…” Perceptor scoffs in disgust of himself, “I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry at myself and…”

He stops, swallowing thickly as he’s suddenly unsure whether or not he can really tell Brainstorm how he felt, how he feels.

“And?” Brainstorm supplies helpfully.

“And that they aren’t mine,” Perceptor says softly, “I’m not… a part of this.”

Brainstorm looks at Perceptor for a moment then up at Cybertrons spark and lays down next to Perceptor, taking his hand in his own. Perceptor turns his helm to the side and clings to Brainstorm’s hand, suddenly worried he’d let go and just leave him there to be tormented by his thoughts. Rubbing his thumb over the back of Perceptor’s hand, Brainstorm does his best to ease him, scooching closer so Perceptor has to shift so he’s now practically lying on Brainstorm. This is closer than Perceptor has ever gotten to Brainstorm but with his spark so entangled with want, with need, he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He rests his free hand on Brainstorm’s chest and tucks in closer to him, closing his optics to focus on the steady thrum of the sparks in Brainstorm’s chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Brainstorm whispers, tucking his head against Perceptor’s helm, “I didn’t realize you’d want to be a part of this. I thought you’d want nothing to do with it.”

His words are genuine but that just makes the sentiment sting all the more and Perceptor grits his denta in frustration then gasps as a strong presence overwhelms him and he looks back up at the large spark. The deep rumbles shaking his frame are as incoherent as they were before but undeniably comforting, the very sound calming his spark.

“I don’t know what I did to give you that impression,” Perceptor gives Brainstorm’s hand a little squeeze and almost chokes on his words as Brainstorm turns on his side and pulls Perceptor close, “but I care for you deeply so for you to hide this from me…”

“Yeah,” Brainstorm moves fully over Perceptor and takes off his mask, “That makes sense. Sorry again.”

Perceptor’s gaze settles firmly on Brainstorm’s exposed lips and his intake goes dry.

“Brainstorm?” he manages weakly.

“So, does that mean you want to help me raise them?” Brainstorm asks cheekily in a way that Perceptor knows he already knows the answer.

He obliges Brainstorm with a nod anyway, then those lips are on his, stopping any and all thought processes. The soft derma of Brainstorm’s lips part his easily to let his hot glossa slip into Perceptor’s mouth, exploring with the chaotic thoroughness only Brainstorm can wield. Perceptor relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms behind Brainstorm’s neck to pull him in as close as he can. He moans as Brainstorm fingers find sensitive plating at his hips, pulling them up to grind their panels together roughly so that there will definitely be paint transfers. Perceptor can’t find it in himself to care as Brainstorm kisses his cheek then his chin then his neck, sucking firmly on the neck cables there with his hot vents brushing over the wet cables every time he breaks away. An insistent pressure pushes against Perceptor’s valve cover, making him jump and he looks to find two cables from the mass surrounding Cybertron’s spark moving, realizing that Cybertron decided to get on the fun.

Brainstorm doesn’t seem to mind as he recaptures Perceptor’s lips, moaning directly into Perceptor’s intake as he lets his panels open. Other than the distinct click of panels opening, Perceptor could tell that’s exactly what Brainstorm had done as warm lubricant drips onto Perceptor’s plating making him shiver. Fully sinking into the kiss, Perceptor lets go of whatever sense of pride he had left and exposes his valve to Cybertron’s cable, the smooth metal feeling surprisingly warm as it pushes through his wet folds. He stops thinking so much and just feels with Brainstorm’s weight and touch on top of him as the cable pushes further and teases his entrance. Brainstorm bites down on Perceptor’s shoulder, getting him to cry out as the cable pushes into Brainstorm’s valve enough so Perceptor can feel it pushing against Brainstorm’s plating. Perceptor pants as the cable between his legs pushes slowly into him, pulsing with charge and heat in a dizzying rhythm. The cables thrust in and out of them lazily as Brainstorm kisses Perceptor again, pulling Perceptor’s glossa into his mouth to moan around it. Perceptor can feel Brainstorm’s lubricant run against his plating and into his valve as the thick cables stretch them.

The cables suddenly feel bigger, pushing against the walls of their valves as the pace quickens, leaving them breathless. They have to break the kiss so they can both vent as Cybertron makes the cables writhe in their valves. Brainstorm holds onto Perceptor for dear life as his frame begins to shake before stiffening in overload, his pedes finding and tucking behind Perceptor’s as lubricant gushes from his valve. Perceptor sucks in a sharp vent, the look of pure pleasure on Brainstorm’s doing things to his spark and the sensation of hot fluid filling his valve, Perceptor overloads beneath Brainstorm. The cables pull out of their valves leaving mixed fluids in their wake and Perceptor comes back to himself enough to feel embarrassed by it.

Brainstorm rolls back to Perceptor’s side, his head slumped heavily on his shoulder and his optics become lidded as though he’s about ready for recharge. Looking at the small pools on the ground between his legs, Perceptor’s face heats up at the sight while confused by it. His innate curiosity takes over and he can’t help but ask.

“Transfluid?”

Looking at what Perceptor is referring to, Brainstorm quickly looks away and buries his face in Perceptor’s shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” Brainstorm mumbles awkwardly, trying to pass off as casual and failing, “Cybertron figured out a way to divert transfluid after he learned that I like that sort of thing. Sorry if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he replies a little too readily but he doesn’t try to take back the statement knowing full well that he meant it.

Brainstorm lifts up his head enough to offer Perceptor a shy smile before snuggling back in and together beneath the gentle glow of Cybertron, they fall into a heavy recharge practically sung to sleep by the soothing voice of Cybertron.

It’s sometime later after everything was revealed to Perceptor but it’s still nothing less than a marvel to see the eight small bundles all tucked into the small carriages they’re using to take them to visit the core. Their hands are so small compared to Perceptor’s and Brainstorm’s and some of them can’t even fit their whole hand around one of their fingers. A need to protect them and a sense of pride wells up in Perceptor’s chest. These sparklings will rely on him to give them comfort, care, and guidance when they’re old enough and he intends to be there for them every step of the way to watch these marvels grow. Just a few steps ahead of him, Brainstorm is likely having a very similar moment as he dotes on a particularly fussy sparkling, going so far as to pluck them from the carriage and rest them on his shoulder to soothe them. A soft smile spreads across Perceptor’s face, having accepted at some point his unrelenting fondness of the insane, chaotic, wonderful mech in front of him wasn’t going to just go away. He doesn’t think he can ever compete with Cybertron himself but there is a place for him here at Brainstorm’s side where he can do things that Cybertron couldn’t hope to be able to do.

They follow the familiar path down to Cybertron’s spark and the moment Cybertron detects the presence of the sparklings, cables reach out to pick up and cradle every single one of them. He pulls them all close to his spark and washes them in comforting waves while speaking to them in the familiar deep rumble that Perceptor had come to connect with the living planet. The sparklings giggle and beep happily at the presence of the spark they know on instinct, some even going so far as to reach out to press their little hands against the casing. Maybe Cybertron can’t see them as the average mech can but he can feel them and know that they are happy and safe.

Brainstorm moves to Perceptor’s side and rests his head on Perceptor’s shoulder as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a contented smile. He’s still tired after having carried eight sparklings but had been energetic enough to insist that they take the sparklings to the core as soon as possible. Perceptor, knowing that there was no way he was going to win the argument, agreed that the very next morning they would take the sparklings down, happy that Brainstorm would wait even that long. If he’s honest with himself, it was worth the trouble to see and feel how truly happy Cybertron is to see the once weak and sickly sparks so strong and lively now. Brainstorm had tried to explain it to him, how Cybertron could feel the sparks in the wells of his form and every time one of them flickered before extinguishing for good. There were those he had tried and failed to save to preserve but only so many survived the process. Perceptor’s spark ached thinking of all of Cybertron’s desperate efforts to save those newsparks making what’s happening right here, right now all the more wonderful.

“I’m glad you’re here with us,” Brainstorm confesses quietly as Cybertron continues to entertain the sparklings, “I don’t like to admit it but I was a little scared. I knew I wanted to do it but… but it’s a lot so I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy to help,” Perceptor pats Brainstorm’s head and sighs, “It’s going to be a lot of work but I’m looking forward to a lot of it I think.”

“Good,” Brainstorm nods and plants a kiss on Perceptor’s cheek, surprising him and making him feel a little nervous.

Perceptor turns to look at Brainstorm and just stares as he tries to get his mouth to catch up with his whirling mind but a wave of unfiltered love, adoration, and even a bit of lust is sent straight through his systems. His optics flicker to Cybertron’s spark that flashes just so that Perceptor is pretty sure he’s laughing at him. In any case, Perceptor realizes that maybe he was wrong and he’s actually a much bigger part of this than he realized. Well, if that’s the case, he thinks as he pulls Brainstorm in a tight hug, then that sounds just about perfect to him.

[beanarie]

silverflint drabble of the week: 3

“And of course, I admitted the fault was entirely mine.”

“Naturally.” Flint glances out at the sky as Silver finishes his current story and begins another. On most days, a red sun would be cresting the horizon about now, but they are only favored with a slightly lighter shade of gray. The downpour continues, wiping away concerns of drought raised by the Maroon elders, leaving everyone trapped in their huts.

At De Groot’s grim question of whether they would need to limit the use of water, Silver’s expression never changed, but his fingers had tightened around the seat of his chair enough to turn his knuckles white. Their quartermaster, it seems, has developed an aversion to bad weather, which has caused an urgency to fill silence he hasn’t possessed since the early days of their acquaintance. From the way he has been running his mouth, one would think Flint is still holding a sword to his throat every so often just to keep him in line.

Silver lists forward before he catches himself, tutting. Flint sighs internally. He hasn’t slept, either. Not a wink in at least two days.

The incessant, inane rambling should be driving him crazy, but somehow it isn’t. Rest, he thinks. I’m here, he doesn’t say.

The chatter slows to mumbles, and then full quiet. Flint drapes a jacket over the slumped form, fighting back a burst of sentimentality as the younger man snuffles and turns onto his good leg. Times like these Silver seems nothing so much as young, untested. He won’t make it through what is to come, not like this, not if someone doesn’t do something.

The following day, he finds a pair of swords and a crutch and he tells Silver to meet him at the cliff at dawn.

[kuromikoneko]

Cat (Carol AU)

@ishipsuper prompted: “I work at a toy store and you keep coming in but never buy anything”

Having meant to rewatch the movie to imagine Alex's response, my mind INSTANTLY thought of this idea so, here is the modern day Carol SuperCat AU no one asked for. And in true form of the movie, I've decided to title this simply...Cat. Thanks to @always-atyour-side for beta-ing and @a-tardis-at-downton for the support!

Eighth in a series of Christmasy drabbles featuring Sanvers and SuperCat I’m calling A SuperGay Christmas on AO3.

Chapter 1: Overture

The year is 1995, a thirty year old Cat is in the midst of building her company, putting in long nights and even longer weeks. She’s so focused on hiring the right team and advertising in the right places to get her name out there that there never seems to be enough time in the day to breathe, especially not with how she throws herself into the long hours the work requires. When the first Christmas of hers and Max's separation headed for divorce hits, she finds herself oddly lonesome despite the constant press of people surrounding her, clamoring for attention. Especially because Max was taking their five year old son, Adam, to his parents in Florida for the festivities. Thankfully, they agreed that Cat would have Adam until Christmas Eve, which was more than she would have expected him to allow.

Cat had decided that in order to distract herself from her son's absence at such a joyous time of year, she would work alone in the office on Christmas Day and get a head start on the next edition of the magazine. Without the hustle and bustle of daily work operations and constant hand holding, Cat would have the peace of mind to focus for more than a few minutes on her passion to write.   But first, she had to survive the inanity of a staff distracted by the holidays for another two weeks and find the perfect gift for her son in the meantime.

Her search led her to the local toy shop, spruced up and decked out in the most sickeningly display of Christmas cheer one could imagine in a singular location. And quite the slighting of other holidays if she were making a statement in the paper, which she had already, to be honest. Plenty of feedback, both positive and negative had filtered into the offices, but Cat had specific instruction to her assistant to destroy the complaints on sight, allowing only the thankful letters through.

 Cat wandered around the first floor as she began to look for ideas, bored to bits by the pristine, new electronics and toys for kids. The latest in walkman technology being tried out by overzealous teenagers to the frustration of their tired parents, the corniest of tunes playing over the P.A. system. Cat preferred having personal shoppers for her general needs in life, such as grocery purchases, but being such a particular occasion, Cat wanted to soldier through her disgust of germs to find the perfect present. Adam deserved the best and she would do everything in her power to ensure that, especially with his underlying concerns about his parents living separately now. He didn’t really understand but he knew enough that it was not ordinary and set him on edge. So Cat bargained with herself that so long as she kept her hands to herself until inspecting a possible gift then immediately washing her hands afterwards, she could handle the task.

 She managed to find a small corner on that first floor where some new stuffed animals were set up, and Cat investigated their cotton levels, the amount of fluff that came off with each handling, how soft and cute they were. With her back turned to most of the store she expected to be spotted by a view passersby, but she was surprised at the feeling of someone consistently watching her. It was a strange sensation considering how CatCo was in its infancy still. Had she really drummed up enough press and response in the paper for the use of ‘happy holidays’ versus ‘Merry Christmas’ that those in the store could recognize her on site? Cat sighed, shaking her head at how immediately she went to a darker place.

 Guarding her face into as neutral an expression as possible, Cat turned and spied a young blonde from an end cap some distance from her. Lean, muscular build, clearly taller than her, dressed in perfectly bland khakis and a god awful Christmas sweater with loafers to boot. Stunning, Cat would later admit upon reflection. The moment of pleasant perusal broke when she heard the telltale notes of her beeper paging her and she set the stuffed frog down in order to exit the store to deal with her work business

 Having had no luck on the first floor with the best of the best toys the store had to offer, Cat returned two days later when her schedule permitted and began her exploration of the second floor. It was emptier this time, a strange hour even for last minute shoppers to be out and about away from work, so the floor was comfortably vacant enough for Cat's liking. It meant less diseases to contract in the cold weather and less press of the folks about her. However, she had managed to remember her gloves this time unlike the first visit to the toy store.

 Unfortunately, she only made it through half of the second floor's stock before her meeting with the board was pushed forward to an earlier time slot. Cat was grateful that the second floor was less biased in its far vaster assortment of toys. She knew that when she returned she would find the perfect gift for Adam. It was when she was heading toward the escalator that she noticed the young blonde employee from her first visit to the store. She was stocking some dolls onto the shelves behind a counter on the second floor, giving Cat pause as she took in her appearance today. Nothing much had changed, except her hair was in a messy bun now, and she was wearing a different yet still horrible Christmas sweater. She wondered for a moment if the company was partaking in one of those ridiculous Bad Christmas Sweater contests and if the woman was making them herself.

 Cat chuckled into her hand at the thought, catching the woman's eye before the escalator descended. This time they were closer and Cat was able to see just how sky blue those eyes hidden by dreadful glasses were. Not even Adam's could compare, too much grey from his father's influence in his beautiful eyes. Her eyes were electric and striking in tone, as though looking into a deep pool of water, or staring at the starry skies above when Cat was a child with her father. She could easily fall into those blue eyes and lose herself for days as she picked out each deviation of color, determine the cause behind the slight grey of sadness just on the edge of those irises.

 Shortly before Christmas Eve, Cat once again found herself at the toy store, deliberately setting aside the time to find the perfect gift before heading home to her baby boy and celebrating properly. And yet again, that employee was there, this time in black slacks  and a more subtle and easier to look at Christmas sweater, though far more bulky than the previous two. After circling around the automatic train set, Cat approached her, now noticing the Santa hat perched over her sunny head.

 “I was hoping you could help me find something,” she announced in a calm, smooth tone, setting her gloves on the counter.

 “Sure, uh...what are you looking for?” the employee asked, name tag revealing her name was Kara.

 “I'm looking for a gift for my five year old son. You see...he's not like other boys, he's...special,” Cat's eyes flitted to the ceiling, unable to hold back the smile that lit her face up. “Intelligent and kind, shy though...and I'm having trouble deciding on the best gift,” she explained, looking back at Kara again.

 Kara smiled brilliantly. “I know what that's like,” she admitted. “I...I take care of my cousin full time so I know how hard it can be to find a good gift,” Kara said a little hesitantly.

 “What did he like when he was five?” Cat asked, curiosity piqued at this new layer to the mysteriously beautiful woman she kept stumbling upon in the toy store. She was so young and yet essentially a mother? It wasn’t uncommon but it made Cat wonder what Kara’s story was.

 “Trains. Absolutely fascinated by them, actually. Still is to a degree,” Kara giggled lightly and Cat was certain she hadn't heard a more pure as bells sound in her life. “We got a new set in last month, in fact. Not Thomas the Tank Engine, though that is very popular with the eight and under crowd,” she explained, knowing how annoyingly in your face some of the advertisements for Thomas was lately. More than a few parents had admitted their ire to her during the Christmas season. “And it's easier to set up than Ikea furniture. Perfectly laid out instructions and labeled parts. A novice could put it together in an hour with the right determination. Not that I'm saying you're a novice,” Kara's face widened in fear, immediately backpedaling in order to not offend her customer.

 Cat huffed in amusement, oddly endeared by the rambling of this woman. “Well then, that sounds like a great gift. Sold,” she said, pulling out her checkbook.

 Kara stared at her for several moments in shock. “Wha...what? Really? Oh wow, that would be amazing. It      is    amazing. We don't often work for commission but there are a few items in each department and there's a bonus that comes with that sale and...wow that would really help Clark and I this year. Thank you, so much, miss,” Kara said excitedly, tapping away at the register to pull up the proper payment, the smile never fading from her face. Cat was certain this girl was the sun incarnate, truly losing herself in that gorgeous face as she waited to be prompted.

 “Well it is the holiday season and the holidays are for generosity, no?” Cat asked, filling out the check and signing her name in neat cursive before handing it over to Kara and writing out her address for the delivery of the train set. “Glad to help out a struggling family,” she added, the barest hint of a smile ghosting across her face.

 “Really though--” Kara paused, looking at the check and if she recognized Cat's name she made no show of it. “--Miss Grant, thank you. I really appreciate it and I bet your son will adore the train set. And...you...are all set,” she announced, tearing the receipt from the dispenser and handing it back to Cat. “It should be delivered later today or tomorrow,” she promised.

 “Wonderful, Kara. Thank you,” Cat said with an uncharacteristic smile. As she headed for the exit she paused and threw over her shoulder, “I like the hat,” and winked at the employee. Feeling more confident than ever before, Cat had never felt more in her skin than she did interacting, and dare she say flirting, with Kara. Odds were against her in these matters, but Cat was surprisingly optimistic this time around that Kara was very low-key and subtly flirting back with her, if the blush coating her cheeks the entire conversation was anything to go by.

Perhaps leaving her gloves was a good decision after all.

[theabyssalmuses-a]

Sleepover!~ Drabble

The light of the moon shone through the window, illuminating the various pens and papers placed haphazardly all across the room. Stars twinkled in the sky, scattered like crumbs upon the oaken table...

“Ugh...what a mess.”

Monika sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the room. Several books, pieces of paper, pens were cluttering up the free space, while crumbs, wrappers and packets fell in between. Dutifully, she took hold of a dust pan and brush and got to work, sweeping up the undesireables and emptying them into the bin. She was thorough, checking every spot twice before finally moving on to organising. The paper was all put into one neat stack, the various work books placed into another- and the pens slot neatly into her pen holder.

“There.” She says with a self-satisfied tone, looking at her handiwork with a small smile. Pleased with the state of the room now, she sits down, taking a moment to think back on the day’s events. Now that she was thinking on it, she found it kind of ridiculous just how messy a single person could be...

Right- she was really surprised when Sayori ran up to her this morning- practically begged Monika for help with her homework- and so this study session was arranged just like that. For something so spur of the moment, Monika was happy with how it turned out. Even if she had to help a bit, Sayori managed to do a lot of it herself- which in a weird way, made Monika feel proud...although, there was something on her mind even so.

“This...hasn’t ever happened before...” She muses, tapping a finger to her cheek in thought. She didn’t want to overthink it-- as she was so often prone to doing-- but a [new event] like this is something she really needs to consider the consequences of.

...Back then, she promised- both them and herself- she would keep herself, her friends, her Reality safe. Back then, she told that person that, ‘even if you aren’t here, I’ll make sure to keep them happy’ . She promised, ‘I’ll show them the love you did, forever, until they understand.’

It was her responsibility, her burden, and her gift. After all that she had done, the horrible, monsterous things- she felt sickened to her stomach so much as remembering, but she could not allow herself to grow complacent. She knew just as much as anyone else how flawed she was.

But her friends? Her friends...were simple. They weren’t like Her, or ‘that person’. They were simple minded, predictable even. She loved them, of course, and she had vowed to keep them happy, to keep this carefree, everyday life running, but... at the end of the day, it wasn’t hard to satisfy them. Algorithms and Code dictated their actions, not any semblance of Free Will...as much as it pained her to admit.

...But this, right here, had never happened before. Not once. Never had any of the girls wanted to spend time with her out of school hours. (She didn’t take it personally, of course. By nature of being the Guide Character; a role she had long since accepted, she wasn’t supposed to get involved with them as much as they would each other...and ‘that person.’ )

But, here they were. 

She begins to think, and think, and think. Remembering every interaction she could, overanalysing and reaching for every little detail. “Think, Monika, think! There has to be a reasonable explanation. Perhaps the script is loading data from one of Yuri’s stories, or...or...” she mumbles, pouring over any little thing she could, mind racing to find an explanation- but there was nothing- nothing except...more, smaller, unoticed incidents.

The other day, Natsuki called her- she started the call with ‘Can you hear me?’ -- Monika had thought nothing of it at the time, but now-- isn’t it strange not to say ‘Hello’ a couple times first?

No, before that-- what was it Yuri had said as they left school for the evening a few days prior? ‘Is there any more than this, Monika?’ - At first, Monika brushed it aside as just Yuri being...well, Yuri- but with all this in mind...What does it mean? Just what does it mean?

She took a deep breath. Calm yourself, Monika, calm yourself; Just what does it mean?’ -- come now, you’re surely over thinking things again. Another deep breath, she tells herself to calm down over and over, the pounding in her chest gradually fading away.

“Ah...goodness me. To think I got all worked up over...” she goes silent, glancing at the still sleeping Sayori. “....over the thought that...my friends might one day...”

She exhales, biting her lip to ground herself. The welling emotions within her threatening to spill out. After all this time functionally alone, after all that had happened, all that she did-- if they all, some day, became like her...

would they...even want to be around her? would they hate her?

She takes more deep breaths, trying to focus herself, to push away this feeling of panic and dread taking root in her mind, before her emerald eyes finally land on Sayori’s face, sleeping soundly as ever.

Right. Its all for her. For Natsuki, and for Yuri. All of this is for all of them. If they ‘wake up’ as it were, she has to make sure they can live as happily as possible...even if they hate her. Even if they despise her. That would be her burden, but their smiles would be her gift.

She takes a seat once more, her mind finally calming down after the onset of panic. Then, glancing at the time, she sighs- before beginning to get changed into her own pajamas...

“Wrap your arms around me, we’ll take a little time, you know that i’d do anything just to make sure that you’re fine... and I know you deal with many things that occupy your mind... you can tell me...you can tell me.... Eyes are getting heavy as we wallow in the warmth, I know you’re happy because that’s all that this is for, cause you told me that you wanted this but now i wonder who it’s for... can you tell me? can you tell me?

--

“Whoaa, Moni-! I had no idea you could sing so well~!”

“Bwah-!? Sayori? You’re awake!?” Monika almost screamed in shock- but thankfully held most of her composure. “Ehh..uhm...th-thanks...How much of that did you hear?!” She asked, her voice maybe a little shaken.

Sayori giggled sleepily, grinning her trademark smile as she spoke. “Mhmmm...all of it? Your voice was so nice, I heard it in my dreams~ or something~ like that~” childish as ever, Sayori speaks non-sensically but with suck a tone of earnestness that it’s impossible to get mad at her. “Say, what’re you still doin’ awake anyways...? It’s like, Sleep O’Clock right now!”

Monika sighs, though there’s a smile on her face. Sayori was always like this, no matter what, and something about that was relieving. Even back then, with ‘that person’ -- there really wasn’t much difference between then and now. With a weight off her chest, she thinks: ‘maybe...I don’t have anything to worry about.’. She folds her clothes up and places them in her laundry basket as she speaks back, already feeling alot better than earlier (that’s just the kind of difference Sayori makes, she supposes.) “Oh, uhm...I cleaned up! Don’t worry, I was just about to go down and hit the couch, haha~!”

“NONSENSE!” Sayori suddenly excalimed, catching Monika off guard. “You can’t be sleeping on the couch in your own house! That’s crazy~!” Out of nowhere,t the club president then found herself unceremoniously dragged by an unknown, mysterious force (read: Sayori’s Hands) and pulled down onto the bed. With a cry of surprise, she faceplants into the pillow.

“Sayori, hey--! Is there really enough room for both of us?” She asks, re-adjusting herself so that she isn’t face first into a pillow. The other club member just grins to herself, almost snickering as she moves closer, and closer, and closer...like some kind of shark!

“There is if we snuggie up! C’mere!” “Waah, S-sayori?!”

“See, it’s fine! Plenty of room here, Monika~!” The exciteable, yet sleepy girl excalims. “Don’t you worry...everything will be alright.” --though inline with something Sayori would normally & casually say , there’s a certain weight, or intention, to her words. As if said with meaning, with feeling, with purpose.

Monika can only huff, before closing her eyes.

“Mhm...I’m sure you’re right, Sayori...I hope you’re right....” “I’m not too smart, but...I like to think even I can be right sometimes. Ehehehe~ Oh, but...we should get some sleep, so... G’night Moni~!” “..Oh, yes, right!...”

Monika smiles, closing her eyes contently. A sleepover, that’s what this was. It had never happened before, but because of that, she had never experienced one either. Putting aside doubts of the future, regrets of the past, and even concerns of the present- Monika allowed herself to enjoy this simple moment...

“Goodnight, Sayori...”