#blither from the bug

[blitherbug]

Fuck it deltarune head cannon time,

Suisie and kriss are it dating noelle and suise are, every body thinks kriss and suisie are dating because ghey have 0 personal boundary with each other, some one once thought they saw them making out behind ice-e's but no that was them trying to fit kriss's head in suises mouth

Whilst i adore krispy chicken they would not fuckin do that.

[thislovintime]

“‘I had my conditions,’ [Tork] clarifies. ‘I didn’t submerge myself in the Monkees as they stood. I wanted to submerge myself in the Monkees as I’d hoped they’d be. The reason I became disenchanted and left is because we did do what I’d hoped we’d do, which was make an album together (Headquarters), and there was no follow-up album. ‘I thought we were capable of being a hit musical group as well as a TV show cast, and I had hopes of our doing that. But in fact, the personnel weren’t right, because none of the other three wanted that; only me. That left me out in the cold.’ By 1968, the group began laying down tracks individually in separate studios with session musicians, with only a scant few tracks containing more than one Monkee — an idea that predates the Beatles’ fragmented ‘White Album’ by several months. Although that album never came out, two of Tork’s solo efforts turned up on his last album with the Monkees, the soundtrack to Head. With one bold stroke, the film and album effectively put an end to the Monkees. ‘The characters were not close to the actual us but a good representation of what Jack Nicholson and Bob Rafelson, who wrote the movie, wanted to convey about us,’ Tork says. ‘In the original script, each of us gets out of the big black box in his own way. They wound up cutting some of the scenes. ‘Micky blithers his way out, I philosophize my way out, Davy bangs his way out — that part stayed in the movie — Mike tries to con his way out. That would’ve given you a better view of their view of us.’” - Arizona Republic, April 5, 2001

“Mike, he cons his way out. [Peter] loves his way out, Micky just says: ‘I’m happy. I’d rather sit here and have no one bug me.’ Me? I fight my way out.” - Davy Jones, Manchester Evening News, May 8, 1968

“The movie portrays them with not so much sweetness and brightness [as the TV show]. It’s a much heavier and far-out thinking group. I wouldn’t call it uncharitable. I thought it was expanding my sense of who they were. There’s a boxing scene in which Micky says, ‘Take this, you dummy.’ Suddenly the music changes and Peter appears in the corner, Christ-like, and says, ‘Micky, I’m the dummy. I’m always the dummy.’ The point was that he was always asked to be the dummy, so here he’s acknowledging it. But he’s also the one who’s given the longest speech in the movie about spiritual evolution, which he’s learned from the guru in the steam room. I was trying to give him a chance to be himself, but in a symbolic way. He is that way today, by the way. In other words, The Monkees became what they really were.” - Bob Rafelson, MOJO, June 2002 (x)

[phanhlee]

~First sight~

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(This is a commission. Both I and the writer are not English speakers so there could be mistakes. However, this is the story I want to share, story about a devil in disguise and a devilish judge (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡)

Tag: Claude Frollo x male!oc

His name is Helzon, Helzon Sullivan.

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Even when he was crushing gypsies with the sole of his shoes like they were nothing but mere bugs, Claude Frollo still believed he was never in the wrong. If anything, he’d only have to worry about dirtying his outfit. But the archdeacon couldn’t possibly cloud his thoughts with such mundane matters. He had been tasked with jobs that overlooked the entire archdiocese of Paris. As one who belonged to God’s land, he’d wish the challenges he gave to humans could slightly stop being so tedious. Carrying himself properly along the streets of Paris, Claude held his head high in pride and dignity. Throughout the streets of this archdiocese, his presence was hailed like that of a ruler.

Humans, vile as they are, were born with their sins weighing on them. Only those who want to repent at God’s feet shall receive his salvation, and this of course did not apply to the Parisien who just caused a commotion in one of the most crowded places of this archdiocese. Claude had to be as careful as he could, so as not to stomp on any bystanders with Snowball the horse. He didn’t want blood on his hands anyway.

Today, the uproar was caused by a lowly thief, who was said to be an orphan who lived in the slums among the dirtiest waste. Claude’s nose could barely contain the foul smell of peasants, but it was his duty to reprimand the thief. Chasing the criminal throughout the streets of Paris with the guards going before him, Claude silently cursed his luck. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the men of the church to capture their prey. The boy, who dared to lay his filthy hands on a piece of white bread, was cornered by Claude’s stern and calculating eyes. Injustice, he thought. The poor are always the cause of misdeeds in this city. No matter how many charities and donations are made for them, they would go back to their roots as lazy, unapologetic men who will not work a day as long as they can still play under the sun. More than once, have they been late with the payment of their taxes; being an establishment for worshiping God, the church literally had no means of income, and they had to rely on taxes. The nobles were too busy partying, and Claude had no interest in bothering those bluffing, blithering idiots. As he was busy chasing down and correcting those who called themselves God’s children undeservingly, an unexpected presence appeared in the corner of his eyes. He was standing in the way of Snowball, so Claude had to try his best to calm the horse down, so as not to stomp on him and cause an unwanted casualty. Even though everyone around him was scurrying around the busy marketplace, the man with cold silver eyes remained in his place. Calm but deep, his gaze was like the Seine flowing throughout Paris, but it was somehow piercing at the same time. As if his air was taken from him, Claude Frollo had to steady his breath, but that didn’t help much as the other figure towered over him. Determined to make himself look like he could stand a chance against the much bigger man, Claude frowned, his brows furrowed deep. With his cold and unforgiving voice, he demanded:

“Speak, brute. What makes you think you have the right to stand here? You’re in the way.”

The bloke, however, didn’t budge. His eyes intently stared, as if his gaze could match a thousand blades piercing through anyone who dared to look directly at him. It was a different kind of look from anything Claude had gotten used to. He seemed to be far from the other low-life Parisiens, but in the end the man could be anything but different from the crowd that Claude had so much disdain for. A sonorous voice, deep as the ocean, commanding like the voice of a god, grumbled from the man’s stomach. One may even think he was not used to speaking. Only a few precise, meticulous words came out from him, that Claude could have sworn they sounded like “monsieur de Paris”.

A gentleman of Paris, was what he called himself. A foreign-looking man, who did not fear the gaze of Judge Claude Frollo, who stood tall in the presence of the authorities. Oh how Claude despised this defying bloke who thought of himself to be greater than others! Arrogance was one of the greater sins for men to bear, and yet this person who didn’t even want to speak of his name was full of it. With a cane in his hand, Claude lifted his chin up. But his cane slipped, hitting him in the face. It appeared as though the man’s eyes narrowed in a heartbeat, but it was probably just Claude’s illusion. Somehow, it terrified him, even though his gesture towards Claude showed no malevolent intention. Quickly, he left, leaving Claude speechless with his henchman trying to get him back to his senses.

“I want to know… who that vile bloke is. Who does he even think he is, daring to oppose me like that.”

Back in the chapel of the Notre Dame, Claude tried to keep his composure as he ordered his underling to do his deeds. The trusted henchman scurried away with his orders. Alone in the chapel, Claude walked around impatiently. He could’ve sworn he borne nothing but disdain towards the bastard, but something different had sparked in him.

“My Lord, I have returned.”

“Then tell me, boy… what do you know about him?”

“From what I’ve managed to gather, his name is Helzon Sullivan.”

“That sounds quite foreign. Do you know where he came from? Corsica, is it?”

“Sir… It doesn’t seem to be Corsica. I asked all over, there was little to no information about him.”

“Really? What is he doing in Paris?”

“It remains a mystery still, sir. He does not seem to disclose his personal life to anyone, nor does he get close to any citizen. Oh but, it is quite likely that he is a soldier, who had made himself a frequent customer at the grand tavern.”

Indulgence, Claude thought. A grave sin of men. He specifically sought God’s light of guidance because he did not want to fall under the sinful ways most men indulge themselves in. Women, alcohol, money,… all temptations are earthly bonds that imprison one’s spiritual being to the earth, bringing them closer to hell than to God’s kingdom.

“So he… is a drunkard, you say?”

“On the contrary, sir. He could control himself very well, and he is… popular with the ladies. Though, it seemed like he only frequented such places for some drinking activities, not for the purpose of… coitus.”

“That, I did not need to hear. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Claude did not realize he was taking his first steps into his own hell. Instead of ignoring the peculiar man, Claude found himself drawn to him. Nothing but fate’s cruel grand scheme bound them together. Just as the archdeacon thought he had escaped his silvery eyes’ grasp, he happened to see the brute again.

It was Lent when their next encounter happened. This time, he was donning a military uniform, standing alongside other brutes. That was just like the information that the judge received from his henchman. But as Claude was watching him on the way down from the belltower of Notre Dame, he seemed to be in a hurry. It was probably orders from the higher-ups that forced his presence to be at the archdiocese, guarding the church for this occasion. All the while, the archdeacon went on about his day, as usual. Or that was how he made it seem. Claude played his role perfectly, but that was his job. The people of God cannot rest well if they knew their leader was unwell. In the confines of the glass windows, he stood to catch a glimpse of the silver-eyed man. The way his wavy black hair draped over his shoulder was bewitching, and although Claude called him “brute”, the way he moved was far from that. His elegance reminded him of a noble, and he was sure that eye color was also very uncommon for vermin to have. Sure, he’d seen his fair share of dirty grey eyes like a mouse’s coat, but this was pure silver.

The brute, whose surname Claude remembered to be “Sullivan”, stayed guarding Notre Dame for about a week until Lent was over.

Claude did not realize he was deliberately looking for the man at every turn of the corner. But he did, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. The hellfire was scorching through his veins, burning away every last bit of his being. Alas! For a man of God to bear such thoughts with another man, he was to be punished. Going against God’s will was unthinkable for him. He should not lay with another man, per the holy words of the bible. His mind was once pure, unclouded by lustful thoughts. But in the shadows of this wretched man, he was obsessed. As he took a peek into his own reflection in the mirror, Claude was horrified to find himself changed beyond his imagination. His ashy gray hair framing his face, sunken eyes of a clergyman who’d devoted all his life to serve God that he even neglected his health. At least, he didn’t neglect the task of grooming. But Claude was conscious that he had become unrecognizable from the image of himself that he’d drawn in his head, every morning as he opened his eyes and led the way for Catholic Parisians like a bunch of loyal dogs who tremble in fear in his presence. He was not loved, but feared. Right. That ugly, wretched, poor Quasimodo probably feared him as well.

....

But the man with those silvery, mercury-like eyes that could pierce through one’s heart was… different. He did not fear him. That alone had made him stand out from the rest of the crowd, apart from his astonishing height of course. He was immovable, like the pillars that held the establishment Claude was standing on. Hecouldn’t forget about him, even if he tried to. He’d imagined the devil residing in a gypsy’s heart, and in the hearts of sinners, unsightly preposterous sinners. The man he’d seen carried himself with an air of poise and grace so rare that Claude could swear he’d only seen a handful of those people throughout his miserable life. No one had ever dared to oppose Claude, let alone planting the seeds of eros in him. How could I be led astray by that tramp, Claude thought to himself.

Unless, that was his salvation, sent by God?

Claude couldn’t do anything but pray. He prayed and prayed, asking God for peace of mind. At a point where this self-righteous man had found himself to be shaken by the thoughts of another man, he felt as if the ground under his feet could crumble at any time. Claude had never thought of serving or devoting himself to anyone other than God, ever since he was a young pastor, an inquisitor, a church boy. His life had been all for the Bible studies, for his acts of service for God and Mother Mary, who looked at him from high up above. He had never had a taste of love and affection with another person of his peers. Climbing his way up the hierarchy of the grand church was an unforgiving process that allowed him no friends. Allies, yes, probably, but everyone aimed for their own good in this world. He was used to being alone, fighting his battles by himself.

But it was precisely his loneliness that triggered the downfall in Claude’s image of the perfect man, one that he crafted for him to aim for. The imaginary hands on his shoulders of Helzon Sullivan were warmer than anything he’d ever felt. It made Claude’s entire body shivered in a sense of unwanted joy and shameful yearning. He did not want to yield himself to desires - Claude Frollo was known to have a mind of steel. But just with these thoughts, he was already deeper in this painful yearning more than he ever wished to.

Alone in the chapel of Notre Dame, Claude stared outside, dreading. The clouds have pulled themselves down like dark, thickened cobwebs covering the sky. A storm was coming, and it was coming his way.

(me too lazy to color or draw a new one so I'm gonna an old one)

[tellio]

Life Brims. Shearing Day. Sláinte. (revised)

Life Brims. Shearing Day. Sláinte. Thousands of June bugs rising from the grass like metal green automatons, bumbles on the incandescent orange cosmos (as if they were feeding on the whole cosmos) some falling asleep as they feed a blithering of pollinators only to be believed if seen and tomatoes beyond eating. That’s ok because the turtles in the garden need to eat too Cukes growing so fast off…

[zaidshair]

"Ah. Mysteriousness, adorable," Zaid assessed dryly. If Colt wantedt to play at secretiveness, Zaid decided it was likely some half-arsed reason of little interest. Perhaps Colt was someone who liked to puff up themselves in a false way, to make themselves interesting.

And Zaid was the bloody donkey who fell for it, whilst assuring himself he hadn't fallen for it.

They'd proceeded into the cave - light from the entrance still visible, but still deep enough when Colt sprung his translation of whatever the fuck that groaning-screeching said. Zaid stopped short, and stared at Colt. "You're having me on. Piss off," Zaid immediately chastised Colt for making things up. Blood indeed. Colt must assume Zaid was a proper blithering nitwit, to believe that. "Just tell me you don't know, bruv. I promise I won't think you any less of a man for it."

Just fuckin' with you. Because of course Zaid was right, but Colt was just having a laugh at his expense. And did he have to sound so...Yank about it? That bloody accent. "Where are you from, anyway? America obviously, but where?" Zaid then added, "And stop calling me 'bug'. I can't tell if that's meant to be a pet name or an insult."

They kept going, losing sight of the entrance. Zaid focused, hands glowing whiteish-yellow like two small stars at the end of his arms. In truth, Zaid was fascinated by his own body. Scared he'd accidentally let loose and incinerate Colt (would it be much of a loss?) but also proud of himself for this control. Bit of a show-off for the big American bruiser with him.

Colt was right though re: giving blood, like Alex Panganiban mentioned at the meeting, with the generator. "What do you -" Colt sliced his own hand, and Zaid rushed forward in alarm. "Oi! What do you think you're doing??" A cold sliver ran down his spine as he realized: Colt wasn't taking the piss about what the creature said, just that Colt wouldn't take Zaid's blood. Instead, he used himself as bait?

"Are you mad? Nothing's worth this, mate. Don't do this. Let's just go - what -" The sound of impact, and Zaid whipped his hands up to see; but instead he was grabbed like a life-line. A terrible life-line as Zaid just went tumbling forward as well, limbs crashing with Colt's as they slid down a rock face, then careened a drop of a few feet, into water. A cold cave pool broke their fall.

And Zaid's light dimmed considerably. "Fuck this! Fuck me! Why'd I listen to you!" Zaid gasped, voice echoing as he paddled in the water, trying to find some kind of purchase. "Stupid bloody -" A cave wall, with ridges. Zaid held onto it with one hand, flicking his other hand to make it glow brighter again. "Fucking glow! Glow!!"

No response from his own traitor body, other than a dull light that illuminated everything in shades of grey. "Colt?"

"Didn't tell you because it ain't any of your business, bug. Gimme some privacy." Colt responded easily. Life had taught him that some things were better kept to yourself, especially if it involved finding spots to bury your valuable crap. He was gonna do hell and tell this guy that he'd been looking for a good spot to hide his cigarette stash when he'd found the cave.

By the point the voice replied, somewhat belated, the natural light from the outside was already long behind them. The blue glow of Zaid's hands poured cold, steady glow over the damp and dark cave walls that the howling bounced off of. Up close, though it was hard to tell if they were actually close, it stopped sounding human. Or like any animal Colt had heard crying in the Alabama forest.

"Yeah. That's an animal awright. And it ain't the voice I heard down here the first time 'round." Colt's eyes flickered around the cave, trying to see any sign of life between the rock and dirt. He wasn't scared of shit, but animal instinct was enough to make the back of his neck prickle. His voice was low when he followed it up. "Says it'll help us though, guess it knows where the missing girl is. Just needs somethin' in return." Colt turned around to his companion, the blue light illuminating his face with an eerie glow. "Blood. Good thing I brought you. I knew you'd come in handy."

Colt glared at Zaid for a moment, reaching for the knife, before he snickered. "Just fuckin' with you, bug. Don't run out on me now." Colt didn't want to be stuck in this place with just his zippo to get him out of there. Glowing hands might be a shit power above earth, but down here, Zaid was about as valuable as a shotgun in the woods at night. Not something Colt wanted to do without.

It was why his voice stayed low. They didn't know jack about what kind of critter had decided to set up shop down here. If it was living here, it couldn't be too big. Limited hunting grounds. If this place was just it's den, well, they'd have some issues. But that it was talking about a trade was a good sign. If it wanted to attack them, it could've done so by now.

"Don't know what the fuck is up with this place and wantin' blood. Fuckin' hell." Colt muttered, more to himself as he grabbed the knife, and - in one swift motion - slit the palm of his hand open. Blood bubbled up, ink black in the light, dripping down onto the rock below.

"We got some blood for you. Just gotta come get it." Colt couldn't even finish before something hard rammed him square in the back, sending him stumbling. "What the-" He reached out, back, grabbing hold of fabric - Zaid? - before suddenly, his foot stepped into nothing, as if the ground below him had suddenly gone out.

"Motherfuck-" Colt managed to get out before he fell, his body hitting the steep slope that awned below them as he dragged Zaid down with him into the unexpected belly of the cave.

[willowslily]

hidden desires | tom bennett

“Stop it Tom, can’t you see I'm busy? What a fuckin’ bastard.” You complained as you crumpled the letter on your table. You heard Tom chuckle, making you throw the crumpled paper at him. “Who are you even writin’ to? That lad from the diner? Wasn’t he in the army?” He asked continuously, hovering over you as you started rewriting your letter. 

“Yeah. Unlike you, he’s noble. Had to go with your sister to get you out of jail. Don’t you have an ounce of decency in you?” You retorted, making him step away from you, raising both of his palms in the air in defeat. 

Lois and his dad, Mr. Bennett, as you call him, were nice enough to let you reside in their home. You’ve been staying at their place for a few months now since your dad was deployed. You share a bed with Lois, which you were hesitant at first since she’s roommates with her brother. Tom is your best friend's brother. You despise him a lot because of his cocky and brash attitude. You hate interacting with him, you always avoid him, but he lives there too, so there’s nothing you can really do about it. But Tom wasn’t home most of the time, and he comes home during the day, just a few minutes before you leave for work. But for these past few weeks, he’s been staying at home more, bugging the hell out of you if his sister is absent. 

‘How are you James? It has been six weeks since you last wrote. I am getting a bit worried-’

Your writing was interrupted when Tom jerked the paper from you. You stood up quickly to retrieve the paper, but Tom is tall. He raised his arm and tiptoed so you won’t be able to reach the letter. You stomped in annoyance and smacked his chest which made him whine. 

“You’re still writin' to him?” He asked as he looked down at you and gave you a questioning look. You rolled your eyes and returned to your seat with heavy feet. You sighed and groaned. You leaned back and took a sip of your tea to ease yourself. 

“I’d like to assume that he’s dead cold as we speak, or fuckin’ some whore somewhere in Argentina. Maybe that’s why he won’t write back to you.” He teased which was your last straw. You had enough of him. You stood up and faced him, making him smirk. “You blithering son of a bitch. I had enough of you Tom!” You exclaimed but he just shrugged. You palmed your face as you let out an exasperated breath. 

“I need air.” You told him as you strode away to grab your coat near the front door. 

“It’s late and cold already.” He simply said. 

"I want to be away from you!" You yelled. With your narrowed eyes on him, he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Quit pestering me will you!? It has been weeks! You’ve been infuriating me with your presence! I feel bad for your family for having to put up with your intolerable personality." You took a step back when he strutted toward you. He was too close for your liking. You retreated, but your back met the door. He pursed his lips and appraised you. Getting dizzy, you blinked a few times to process how close he was. 

“Go on love, run your filthy mouth again.” He taunted you, making you break eye contact with him. He tutted at your action, you heard him let out a scornful chuckle. “Eyes on me sweets.” He instructed, but you chose to ignore him, still looking away. “I said, eyes on me.” He repeated, but with more authority in his voice, making your heart palpitate. You can feel his hot breath near your face. You’re nervous, you’re scared, you don’t know what’s going on, it’s the first time he acted like this with you. You looked up at him nervously. 

“Told you to run your mouth again didn’t I?” He said, maintaining his eye contact with yours. Your dumb pretty doe eyes making him weak in the knees and there's the growing ache in his trousers. Blinking almost every second to stop a tear from coming out. You were about to cry.

Your soft features were a feast to his eyes. You didn’t know about the way he ogles at you every time you walk out the door. The way when his eye quickly glances at your sleeping figure, your nightgown riling up to your thigh. When he looks at your lips after you drink your morning milk. How he imagines your red lips staining his white shirts. How he imagines you riding his cock, making a mess on his sheets. How he imagines you moaning his name every night whilst he sucks on your tits like a hungry calf. You didn’t know how much he wanted to fuck you. 

“Hmm, quiet now aren’t we?” He teased. You let out a heavy sigh as he gets closer to your body. It makes your knees weak. The boyish look on his face and his cockiness, it irritates you. But now, you couldn’t even utter a single word. He looks down on your lips before looking at your eyes again. He slowly leans forward, giving you time to push him away. His arms caging your body beneath him. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours. You tensed, making you hold your breath. He pulled away because of your reaction. Wide eyes narrowing on him. You kept quiet, making him groan in frustration. He brought his other arm down to place it down on your hip, pulling you toward his hard cock, making you gasp. 

You felt his lips on yours again, but this time you kissed him back. Messy and needy his kisses were. Nibbling your lips as he gropes your backside, making you moan in his mouth. His other hand on your soft locks to deepen the heated kiss. He pulled back so you can both catch your breaths. Your doe eyes hazy and your glazed lips parted, the sight makes him want him to take you right there now. “P-please Tom.” You pleaded before you pulled him back. While his other arm was still grasping your hair, he placed his thigh between your legs and his strong arm on the wall to support his weight. He groaned once you rocked your pelvis on his thigh. The hand on your hair went down to your breasts. Pulling the fabric down to release your mounds. His lips moved to your tits, sucking it while molesting the other.

"Fuckin' heavenly tits." You heard him mumble under his breath. Making your cunt ache mucu more.

“Please Tom”. You whimpered. He postured himself up, leveling his face with yours. “Please what love?” He sneered. “Please please touch me.” You begged.

He crashed his lips into yours once again. Fondling with your tits made you moan. His hand moved down to your skirts, ruching it up to cup your cunt. He glides his fingers over your damp underwear. 

“Soaked for me huh? Only my cock can shut you up eh?” His kisses went down to your neck, just below your jaw, sucking on it enough to leave marks as he pulled your underwear down. “F-fuckin’ hell Tom!” You whimpered once he inserted two of his fingers. His thumb circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you. Your knees weaken at his actions. You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. Submissively staring into his eyes as you rock your cunt into his slender fingers.

“Want your cock in me Tom please.” Your pleads were enough to make him go feral. You shuddered at the emptiness when he pulled his fingers out of you. Fastly undoing his belt and zipper, his angry cock sprung free. He spat on his palm to lubricate his member. He hooked up your thigh on his arm and positioned his cock near your entrance. He leaned his face against yours and kissed you. You moaned once he entered you. He was big. He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. Months of dreaming about you, how your cunt tastes like, your body squirming beneath him, begging him for release. Tom was filled with ecstasy.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" You cried out as he harshly thrusted into your throbbing cunt. The door squeaking from the powerful thrusts. The pleasure making you vulnerable beneath him. Your moans corrupting him completely. Squeezing your bouncing tits.

“What a tight cunt you have eh? You'll let me cum in you love? Make me a dad? Hm? Want me to fill you up nice and round?” He thrusted harder. Making you lean back completely on the door, holding onto his shoulder for stability. Tom’s mind was hazy. All he could think about at this moment was how warm and tight your pussy is. His cock moulds your pussy to fit his. He placed both of his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock. Your fucked out state was enough for him. 

“Did he fuck you too? That bastard leaving my pretty girl desperate and heart broken?" He asked. Jealousy was evident in his voice. “A whore huh? You’re too tight to be a whore. You're enjoying my cock too much.” Tom snickered. His hard thrusts are consistent, making you moan his name repeatedly. You placed your hand on his nape to pull him in for a kiss. The angle makes your knees weak. You moan loudly as you fondle with your tits. The sight before Tom made him weak.

“I-i’m close Tom!” You exclaimed. His thumb circled your clit as he returned to your neck. 

“Cum for me my sweet.” He whispered in your ear, the endearment making you clench around his cock. You gasped aloud as you released, making Tom pull out. Tom wrapped his arms around you so he could catch your weakened body. You looked at him with hooded eyes. Tom tidies your shirt and skirt and gropes your backside after.

“Y-you haven’t cummed yet Tommy.” You spoke in a husky tone. Tom adored the new state he was witnessing right now. You were weak and all over him. He pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Who told you that we're finished? Upstairs now.” Those sentences are enough to make you hurry upstairs with Tom behind you. Both of you were glad that Mr. Bennett and Lois were away for a week. Tom was already thinking of ways he’s going to fuck you through the night, and hopefully to fuck out that bastard James out of your mind.

[birthdaycakeplate]

Hi there, hope you're doing well! Let me start by saying I love your art, your style is super cute! Your writing is also amazing, it's so well written and always a joy to read! The art and fic you made of Optimus in a polyship with Megatron, Strika and Lugnut is something I never would've thought about but it's super cute and sexy and you've got me hooked. I'd love to see more, fics or art is totally up to you!

💕Zombie LISTEN, I didn’t know which ship you like the most, so I threw my two main ships at you at once 😭😭

This is Blitzbee/Megop with the ‘Cons being accidentally very soft and making the ‘Bot boys emotional for it. I would sum this up as, ‘crack treated seriously’.

You made me so emotional with your message zombie 🥺 like what a compliment?!! Thank you, you’re so dang sweet😞

This is the longest thing I’ve made on here, so everyone *please* be prepared when you click that ‘read more’ down there. It’s 33,200+ words, so I broke it into ✨2 parts✨

💕Warnings are in the tags💕

(Canon is skewed all to slag, and is set during ??????? in the timeline.)

——- ————- ——

Terrorizing the locals was just a bonus and not necessarily Blitzwing’s end goal. The organics were easy to ignore -would be easy enough to squish, if they ever got under pede one day. Quite beneath his notice.

True, he did delight in the distant screams below, as the humans ran for cover, scattering like ants. There was a certain appeal to being the most powerful, impenetrable force around. Particularly when there was a mech like Megatron to come ‘home’ to an the end of each cycle, and be forced to remember where exactly you were on the food chain.

Thrill or not, it was all very unremarkable when there were greater things at stake than scaring a handful of blithering gnats. It wasn’t like it was some kind of chore to put the fear of Primus in the little things and anything but a challenge.

He’d hardly noticed all the times he’d flattened a car -or 12- while walking through the city at rush hour.

He hadn’t noticed when a wing tip had sliced through an office building on a fourth floor once, either.

All very commonplace for a mecha of his size and stature. All very easy to overlook.

But this time was.... different....

Leaking Energon from a lateral line in his thigh, Blitzwing was searching every dark alleyway for the little bug bot that’d gone and stung him good enough to sever it. He’d been caught off guard long enough for the minibot to bolt for cover. Of course, he wasn’t fairing much better either after a blast of ice to his center chassis.

Guerrilla tactics were somewhat of a welcome change to Bumblebee’s usual ‘strategy’ of standing around, spouting off rude nonsense, and trying to land a blow. Tamer, less destructive blows than anything Blitzwing could do to the minibot under his massive strength, of course.

Having him get a solid hit in for once and then running off to cower someplace, forcing Blitzwing to make himself a target for more competent Autobrats while he staggered about wounded, still had its own appeal -such as hunting down the dirty bug for sport and shelling him of his metal casing right then and there.

What a thing to look forward to. Perhaps he’d have the scalp of his helm mounted in his quarters.

Blitzwing pulled up the unsuspecting cars that’d been abandoned in the middle of the street, looking for an insignia. Bumblebee had at least proved smart enough not to hide in plain sight.

With no sign of the charming, little idiot Blitzwing was becoming more erratic- it would only be a matter of time before Bee emerged from the shadows to attempt another attack while Blitzwing had his back turned.

“Come out from hiding, jou little scrap!”

So he could push that flimsy frame into all sorts of interesting shapes. ‘Origami’, he’d heard it called.

An answering shriek came from somewhere below.

Far, far below.

So far below, that Blitzwing had to stop, face spinning back to blue as his processor tried to collect itself beyond mindless rage, and stooped down to one knee to better study the source of said shriek. And it definitely wasn’t Bumblebee.

An organic about the size of Sumdac’s offspring was stood there with a wet face, mouth agape, and struggling to vent inward.

A crying child. Blitzwing became immediately uninterested.

He stood again and made to continue his search when the tiny thing cried out.

“I-I-I lost my m-mom!” It wailed. Dripping all sorts of lubricant from various holes.

Blitzwing surveyed the path he’d left behind him for a glimpse of yellow lurking and waiting to make a move. There was nothing. No slimy, stupid minibots.

It wasn’t often Blitzwing scared this bot badly enough to stay hidden.

Or perhaps that blast to the chest had simply proven more fatal... He’d hate to be robbed of draining the little one’s life force himself, if he came across a corpse.

“I want my mom!” The child, who didn’t seem bothered by the tonnes of lunatic in his audience, outright sobbed, catching Blitzwing’s attention again. His voice caught and choked on the words.

“I can’t- I can’t- I can’t *f-find her*!”

His sobs distorted the words, but they were clear enough to pick out. The child’s voice high and whimpering.

The boy stood there, twisting his shirt up in his fists- a failed gestured to self-soothe.

Blitzwing then noted the creature was very pointedly looking up at *him*. Perhaps hoping to make his case that he was very much a helpless thing, and that that may somehow appeal to a sort of humanity in the alien, metal monster before him.

Illogical.

“Mom...” the child whined, hanging his head and leaking fresh globs from his opticals. He looked very close to entering some sort of tantrum. A loud one.

Blitzwing scowled at the pathetic display.

“Vell, vhere did jou last put her?” His voice, too sharp, caused the boy to flinch.

“Me?” He asked. His confusion enough to deter his panic for the moment.

“I... I’m not... I don’t ‘put’ her, um...”

It sounded like a question. Mostly because he was questioning the absurdity of an adult -what looked like an adult- asking him nonsense.

~WHIRR~

“She does not have handles for easier carrying?”

“W-What? No!” The kid said in absolute bewilderment. But the ridiculousness of the question was enough to soften the edge in his tone. And that crimson smile the giant terror wore was a surprisingly small comfort.

Tantrum avoided, Blitzwing allowed himself some crassness, as it’d seemed to have prompted the child’s natural playfulness, and stabilized his mood a bit.

“Jou don’t just tote her around from place to place, zen?”

“No!”

“Take her vith jou on field trips?”

“No!”

“Not even to ze zoo?”

“No!” The tiny organic was laughing now.

“I can see how jou lost her!”

Blitzwing trained his features back to blue and reconsidered himself. Then made his decision.

“Oh. Vell zen... Zat iz an oversight, don’t jou think?” He then bent to scoop the child up and bring him to chest level.

There was plenty of terrified shrieking yo accompany the move, but it didn’t last. Soon the boy was looking up at him with absolute awe. Marveling at the sudden position he’d found himself in- being held in the gargantuan hand of an unusually hospitable beast. One he clearly hadn’t understood the danger of, despite seeing him plenty on the emergency news stations.

“Can jou see her from up here?” Blitzwing asked, ignoring the strange gushing from his thigh wound, as well as inside his chest at the boy’s amazed, “Coooool!” upon looking out at the view.

The child looked out over the streets below, several blocks now visible, and a tiny frown began to slowly stretch his lips. Suddenly remembering why he’d been so fretful a moment ago.

“No... I don’t think... I don’t think I see her.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose with a sleeve.

He stood on his tiptoes in Blitzwing’s substantial palm, searching for a sign of his mother, but nothing came to view.

Worry was creeping over him again.

“I can’t find her.” He sniffled, whimpered. Looking close to fresh tears.

“I-I can’t find my mom!”

“Zen ve march onward.” Blitzwing quickly amended.

He held the child closer so he could move deftly through narrow, scraping buildings.

“Vhat does she look like?”

“Well, her hair is brown and curly.” The child began to recall.

“And, um, I think... she had a bright pink sweater thing on. Um...”

Blitzwing scanned the streets.

“Sveater thing?”

“It doesn’t, like, zip up?” The boy tried to explain.

“Oh, and her name is Rebecca!”

As if that could help in anyway. Blitzwing didn’t just keep the names of every organic on this pathetic dirtball planet on file.

“And I’m Jamal!” The boy shouted up at him, despite being well within audial range now.

Blitzwing’s normally good sense didn’t stop him before replying.

“Hello, Jamal.”

He had to slow his pace down to better study the crowd of confused, panicking people below for any pink sweater things attached to any women with curly brown hair.

How exhilarating his day was proving.

With no sign of this mystery woman, the child -Jamal- began to shiver. Seemingly affected by the difference in wind currents at this height all the sudden.

“Is my mom...” He trailed off out of fear of finishing the thought. But with the general chaos of the city, the distant and random screams and clanging from the two alien factions engaged in battle in the distance, he really didn’t have to.

Blitzwing’s wing struts tensed at the insinuation, and he surprised himself with how immediately he felt the need to correct that sentiment.

“Not hardly. I hear earth carriers are invincible.” Which he had, honestly. They were rumored to have eyes on the back of their heads, and a supernatural sense of knowing when their young was in danger.

The child’s mother was likely in a far more frantic state than he at the moment, searching for her little sparkling.

That gave Blitzwing an idea.

“Rebecca!” He suddenly shouted, his empty hand cupping close to his lipplates. “Rebecca!”

Getting the idea, Jamal chimed in shouting, “Mom- Mama! Mama!”

The two surely looked an outlandish pair, as they pattered between busy streets and circled around blocks, shouting at the top of their vocalizers. Blitzwing caught an optic full of Lugnut at one point in a chokehold with Bulkhead in the distance, laughing all maniacally and stupid.

The sun was reaching farther in the sky, prompting Blitzwing to hike a wing out towards his side to hold Jamal beneath it, under its shade.

They were walking closer towards the center of the battle Bumblebee had led him away from.

“Rebecca! Rebecca!”

~WHIRR~

“Rebecca, please come to ze front of ze store! Jou have a Jamal here vaiting for jouuu~”

No sooner did he make his little quip did the booming voice of his *leader* -fragging Primus- rise above the clash of metal and somebot’s glitching, robotic shriek.

Megatron of all mechs wouldn’t be particularly pleased to find him aiding a human, especially in the midst of a battle. And Blitzwing, in a moment of self reflection, wasn’t too happy to find himself aiding a human under *any* circumstance either.

He wavered, about to fit himself between two buildings and make his self-preserving escape when another voice was quickly accompanied by his commander’s.

“Watch where you step! My baby could be down there!”

“We will find your blasted mechling-“ Megatron grit out, discreetly taking better care of where he was now stepping.

“Not if you keep stomping around like that!”

“He will readily make himself known before that! You’re far too loud for him not to hear!”

As prophesied, Jamal jumped upright, twittering and bouncing precariously close to the edge of Blitzwing’s fingertips. “Mama?! That’s my mama!”

Blitzwing followed the voices -escalating in both threat and volume- to Megatron toting a woman in a closed fist -a silent promise to crush her- and seemingly searching the streets for something.

Jamal.

“My Lord?” Blitzwing yelled less than a block away. Somehow finding the courage to make his traitorous predicament known now seeing Megatron in a similarly mortifying state.

Megatron whipped his helm his way, bristling the slightest bit at having been caught, before he saw the tiny thing skipping about his palm like a flea.

“Mama!” It shouted.

“Jamal!” The woman cried.

Blitzwing felt relief wash over him at the sight of the boy’s mother. This problem *finally* out of his servos.

“Take me to him!” ‘Rebecca’ barked at her captor/rescuer, and Blitzwing answered her command on his lord’s behalf. Rushing over and bending to place Jamal back to his pedes next to where Megatron had lowered his mother.

They embraced one another in an instant, drawn together like magnets. Never having been meant to be separated in the first place.

And Blitzwing stared in abject horror at the thing he’d just done.

....A good deed...

“Vell... zis is terrible....” He mumbled at the sight of the unbridled affection below.

Megatron watched with him, humming in agreement. A painful clicking in his vocalizer when he tried to reset it.

This didn’t look good for either of their reputations as sinister, sparkless terrorizers.

Unbeknownst to them, completely beyond their normally keen eyes, two curious little bots had seen the near whole display in absolute shock.

———- ———-

It’d kept Optimus and Bumblebee up for cycles afterward.

“He was so... *nice*.” Bumblebee whispered into the quiet of another restless night. Optimus resting his chin in his palm, leaning over his berth, nodded absently. Inviting Bee to his room to practically obsess -not that they’d ever admit their secret fascinations of two war criminals was such a thing- had made Optimus considerably more lax and informal as time passed. Though, just barely.

“You should have seen his faceplates- he was even joking with the kid at one point. I *think* to make him *feel better*.” Bee sounded a little too much like he was awestruck.

Optimus gave a noncommittal noise, thinking distantly instead of his own bizarre memory of a certain, doting warlord.

“Should we like... tell the others?” Bumblebee posed then.

Besides Prowl and Ratchet being unlikely to believe them, there was really no reason to tell anyone anything.

They couldn’t suddenly go easy on the Decepticons in battle- the war builds could easily deliver swift punishment over them, if they were close enough, as it was, but then with the Autobot’s favor? Their hesitation? They’d play them all for suckers and steamroll them. It wasn’t like taking advantage of others wasn’t a delirious percentage of the Decepticon’s day to day operations.

The only motivation behind spreading the marginally good news that they possessed a spark under layers of all that tyrannical vengeance was if they were going to use it for *their own* advantage. Most likely a ceasefire of sorts. And that was-

Optimus stilled.

Well... Maybe that *could* work, actually...

Maybe.

Not usually one to take slim chances, unless the situation was dire, Optimus was up calculating the effectiveness of such a thing when he didn’t much of an incentive to offer the opposing faction to do so in the first place.

Much of his potential success depended on tapping into that bizarre, unlikely kindness in their sparks a second time. Somehow. Still unlikely. Still doomed to fail, if the teachings in the academy were accurate about war type psychology.

But as the cycle turned into dawn, and Bumblebee’s rambles began to muddle his processor with fantastical ideas of a peaceful Cybertron, Optimus found the thought more and more appealing.

The proposition was made in the morning, hoping to catch the others in a good mood and hear some more sensible opinions that weren’t sleep addled.

“Is it *worth* the effort?” Prowl instantly challenged. Bulkhead behind him stood there uselessly, looking plain shook to the core after hearing the whole story.

Prowl had a point, of course, and Optimus didn’t honestly know how to answer.

Was it? *Was it* worth it?

He supposed if it....

“Well...” Optimus sighed, processor beginning to overheat with exasperation and all the ‘what if’s he’d been cycling back and forth through all night.

“If it saves lives then... yes? I think it’s worth *trying*. I don’t expect a miracle. I just, maybe... expect... *something*?”

Something as surreal as a moment of compassion from the ‘Cons that’d risked their time and effort to satisfy the needs of two *human beings* again. A very tall order that was.

But as he considered Prowl’s words, a rare moment of optimism possessed him, and Optimus unwisely allowed himself to rely on the memory of the impossible sight he’d bore witness to that day to justify his decision.

That woman, ‘Rebecca’, had been very forthright and demanding of Megatron. Optimus had seen most of the display between keenly aimed swings of a sword, before Lugnut had come rushing him to the ground and separating him from Megatron.

When he’d next seen him, there was Rebecca. Helpless and in a dire state.

Optimus could only *imagine* what a woman scrutinizing the authority of a power junky like Megatron -who hated a pushy subordinate, much less a menial, disposable human- had done to appeal to the ruthless brute.

She’d stood there, eyes welling with tears, screaming bloody murder for ‘her baby’. Begging for help from terrified people trying to make themselves scarce.

“Please! My baby is missing! He’s just a child!” She’d screamed at Megatron, rightfully assuming another misstep of his in the direction she’d lost her child would mean ‘her baby’s’ immediate death.

Megatron ignored her easily for a time, stopping to aim his cannon at a hyper vigilant Prowl’s helm from a distance. But as her screaming turned into the wails of a wounded animal and she was near clawing at the ground, trying to shuffle through a crowd of chaos to find her helpless, innocent thing, *something* had apparently shifted within the mech.

Something...

However in the infinite universe that *that* ‘pathetic’, ‘weak’, groveling’ display had attracted the sympathy of *Megatron*, Optimus couldn’t fathom. He really couldn’t.

He didn’t even believe his own optics when he’d seen it at the time- Megatron stooping and trying to reason with the woman to recall the child’s recent permanence. What the child looked like.

Offering the oddest sort of ‘comfort’ by ensuring a child with similarly strong vocals would be capable enough of signaling his mother amongst the masses.

‘They aren’t Cybertronian’, Optimus had wanted to remind him. They couldn’t send out matching frequencies for their missing parent.

He’d wanted to take that woman and scour the city with her himself- make sure both of the helpless things remained unharmed.

Instead, he fluttered behind them some distance away in an absolute daze. Resetting his optics, trying to make sense of things. Trying to pinch himself awake from the inconceivable dream he seemed to be stuck in. Surely wasting away in a trauma induced hallucination after Lugnut’s assault.

What he was seeing just couldn’t be *real*. Especially not when the woman trying desperately to keep up with Megatron on foot had ended up in his servo, as he began to carry her to hurry things along. A rather unfriendly gesture- curling his fist around her and handling her with far less care than an Autobot would have.... Save for Ratchet...

But he’d done it all the same- Had left the frontlines of *battle* to search for a human sparkling and hadn’t wavered from his mission once in the several hours it’d taken them to find ‘Jamal’.

He kept Rebecca shaded beneath the curve of his sturdy chest plates, offered small assurances that the child had survived the city’s onslaught when the sudden, pesky tears began to flow, and became a beacon of patience when those tears never stopped.

She grew restless and angry when she seemed to remember the misery said giant warlord had caused her by endangering them all in the first place. And Megatron snarked back with harmless threats and a sharp tongue, all while searching for her child.

Shocking as it was, nothing had prepared Optimus for Blitzwing’s emergence. Carefully chauffeuring Jamal with a hint of softness in his face plates at the boy’s sudden outburst when the organics were reunited.

Two ‘Cons. Standing there in mutual silence as they observed the flittering of limbs, wrapping around one another and rocking together in an embrace.

Mother and child. Creator and sparkling.

That surely must have awakened *something* in them.

A sparkling was a millennia rare thing. A treasure, no matter what faction you came from.

Optimus felt that, coupled with the lingering image of the ‘Cons watching over the little pair, was enough to push things forward. To indeed agree that this idea of his was ‘worth the effort’, as Prowl had questioned.

What kind of Autobot could just ignore such a thing?

——- —— ————-

Megatron didn’t know what to make of the absurd spectacle, other than it was possibly the greatest assault on him and his forces he’d ever been met with. Greater than the Magnus rounding them up during the DRA in an attempt to exterminate their masses.

“I think you can see reason here, Megatron.” Optimus spoke with all the confidence of someone thinking rationally, and not insane enough to call a criminal warlord to trial.

“All I’m asking for is your cooperation.”

Which was as insulting as asking him to do tricks for him.

“*You*,” a lowly, little Prime- “Are asking *me*,” the leader of an entire faction- “To give up my cause.”

That was the fist of it anyway. No matter how he spun it....

This much too young, much too.... optimistic.... *fool*.

Incapable of understanding the physical impossibility of agreeing to *anything* even slightly ‘reasonable of their factions’, if it meant conceding to the will of an Autobot. Who cared who benefited? It only equated to a war frame being asked to go belly up and ‘behave themselves’ for their ‘tiny masters’.

And even if he was exaggerating or being a bit preemptive, he most definitely actually was not.

No. Megatron didn’t think so.

“You are in no position to ask a thing of me, Autobot. You are in no *position* at all.”

Optimus relatively agreed with this. He wasn’t important enough to be speaking to a faction leader about a truce of any sort. He wasn’t even a figure head- he was a captain of a maintenance crew, and one that could often hardly be bothered to heed his orders, despite their great respect for him.

Optimus swallowed, Megatron tracking the movement even from this distance. He was making the fool nervous- Good.

How dare he make such a pompous, arrogant, egotistical-

“I- I believe you’re capable of compassion.”

Weeeeiird the Autobot had taken *that* stance, but Megatron was too gobsmacked to beat him into making sense at the moment. So, he just stood there with audials at full volume to be sure he next heard him right, with patience fluctuating.

At least the Prime’s fellow Autobots looked of mind enough to seem concerned with his word choice, too. Optimus couldn’t turn back now, only press on.

And press on he did with a horrible, even worse accusation.

“You showed a certain amount of... ah, care when you... assisted those humans.”

Oh, so that’s what this was about. He’d seen that unfortunate error in judgement, had he? No matter. This puny bot hardly amounted to more than a stubborn thorn in his side. Megatron would undo any further misconceptions he might have about his cold, blistering spark by alighting the nearest medical center in a tower of flames. Really set the record straight.

“I believe moments of kindness should always be acknowledged.” The Prime continued to run his mouth.

“And rewarded?” Megatron snarled, unable to help himself. Tone clearly unbelieving. This *was* insane, after all.

So much so, that he felt the compelling urge to turn his wide optics towards a very pale, obviously flustered Blitzwing to try and share in the burden of his pure disbelief.

Optimus could recognize the disgust the Decepticon felt having interpreted his words as patronizing and condescending. To a ‘Con, kindness surely would seem as such. What a pity.

Even so, Optimus began to think of how he could make amends. He could admit now that he’d been maybe hoping too much for something magical to happen in all his excitement- which was the first time he’d done anything so whimsical in eons, daydreaming included, and he quickly chastised himself for it. He’d lost his optimism long ago from the many hard lessons life had routinely taught him.

Megatron turned his piercing gaze on him then, all fire and vitriol.

“If I wish to cease the hysterical, endless bellowing of one creature too incompetent to watch their young, so that I might aim my canon unhindered at your witless underlings, that is my Prerogative, *little Autobot*! And *you* will do well not to turn attention to anything less insignificant than the extinguishing of your loved ones’ sparks!”

Wow, ok. Optimus had struck a nerve and delivered them all a death wish.

Some self sacrificing might be his only saving grace here- Actually, leaving right now and calling this a very badly failed experiment was probably the best thing to do-

“It was sweet.” Bumblebee, who’d been under strict orders *not* to speak, then said. Much too firmly, much too loudly, much too certainly. Much too unbothered by how inappropriate it was.

All optics locked like heat seekers on the minibot, but he only had his sights set on Blitzwing. Blitzwing who flicked his wings, his face spinning several times over before finally settling on blue again. A look of plain horror in his features. Then his optics averted as the ground became all too interesting -though not interesting enough to keep him from questioning his entire existence, or why it’d been the focus of the minibot’s just now.

It was a pitiful display of ‘Con-ness, and Megatron was about ready to pull off a wing and beat him back into a figure of dominance in front of their enemy forces with it.

Lugnut, who went from terribly confused to mortified at the news, stood there open servoed and gawking between the Lieutenant and his High Commander. Megatron pressed finger pads to his temples.

Wonderful.

This whole thing had surely become the greatest, most embarrassing blunder in the entirety of Autobot and Decepticon history.

To whatever was left of the neutrals in the galaxy, this whole thing would read like something out of organic adolescent literature -Where the lead girl going through an emotional crisis would call out the moody, bad boy for having a soft streak. And his moment of self reflection and kindness would come off as charming and redeeming. Not to Decepticons, it wouldn’t -In this book, such a thing ended with the ‘bad boy’ snatching away the spinal strut of the accusing Autobot and disposing of it.

Optimus, correctly, knew an embarrassed ‘Con was a self conscious one, and one likely to cover their insecurity up by crushing down the source of it.

Blitzwing seemed to choose that moment to come back to himself and refute Bumblebee’s claims of their misperceived altruism, and that it was ‘sweet’.

~WHIRR~

“Ze only thing sveeter vould be ze taste of jour Energon, spilling from jour throat! I vill twist jour head right off jour shoulders, Bug Bot!”

Bumblebee didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked more determined.

“You can decapitate me, but the memory file will always right here!” Bee promised, poking a finger against his helm at his brain module- making a far greater affront to Blitzwing’s person than the threat of being beheaded ever was.

It earned shocked, awkward silence from everyone -everyone except an increasingly steadfast Optimus. But especially the flushing triple changer whose face had finally settled back to blue. His least erratic headspace, though undoubtedly his most conniving.

Truly, Optimus hated how intimate this had weirdly become, if only because the Decepticons were the ones who had taken it in this direction. They did a good thing, it deserved acknowledging- at least because it bred the potential for peace. Even the temporary kind.

But then that had to be twisted into some outrageous personal offense on their characters. As if slogging through the wreckage they regularly left of the city wasn’t a far worse offense to Optimus and his kin for the blatant and intentional disrespect. They’d earned their titles as bombarding thugs, and somehow proving themselves of having healthy morals made for a worse reputation in their book.

Bumblebee stood with fists clenched, completely determined to see this through. If he had to say the hard things for everyone’s sake, which would likely result in the humiliation of a bunch of destructive war frames 4 to 6 times their sizes, then he would. Whether it ended with his untimely deaths via crushing and dismemberment or not.

He was going to tell it like it was, slaggit!

Blitzwing hadn’t had to shelter Jamal in the shade of his wing. He hadn’t had to search the city for one useless organic. He hadn’t had to waste all that time while he was leaking from his wounds and making himself a greater target for a successful ambush. He hadn’t had to be gentle. He hadn’t had to comfort the child or try to make him laugh. He hadn’t had to raise him above his helm when he fitted between tight spaces with his massive frame to avoid the child becoming claustrophobic.

Blitzwing hadn’t had to do anything, but be his natural, chaotic self and revel in a forlorn little boy’s terror and misery. And he hadn’t done that, either.

Bumblebee felt his purpose anew. A wave of courage reached him then- the smallest amongst his peers and enemies, yet with possibly the loudest voice.

“You were really fragging nice for, like, *no reason*! You’re telling me we can’t *try* to work something out?! You’re all clearly capable of listening!”

Bumblebee was trying to capitalize off of what Optimus had opened with. ‘You and your kin are sensible bots, Megatron.’ 

Which that was actually a little questionable, but if it wasn’t actually *true*, Megatron wouldn’t have known when to accept good advice and come to this sudden arrangement to meet in person without his guns blazing and swords swinging in the first place.

So there was that at least...

And there’d been no counter attacks thus far into this painful blight, or any secret ambushes waiting. He hoped... which made Bee wonder what Optimus had said exactly to get the leader of deceptive, deceiving, untrustworthy ruffians to come peacefully into this rendezvous in the first place. He’d have to ask him when they inevitably vented about this later in the privacy of his room.

Optimus had always been suspiciously quiet about his thoughts on Megatron as a mech and his peculiar kindness during their little midnight get togethers....

But enough of that. Blitzwing was three shades darker than Bumblebee had ever seen him, and even less, had thought him capable of.

“I mean, *I* want to work this out!” He continued on boldly, as no one of sound mind thought to stop him.

“I’m ready to make a change!”

“Obviously, little fool. It is for *your* benefit!” Megatron barked, finally finding his voice.

Bumblebee didn’t take the bait.

“No, screw that! I’d just like to actually see you guys being cool for once!” Which was as close as he could get to saying, ‘I’d like to be friends’, since Bee wasn’t the ‘friendship is magic and beautiful’ type, and he wasn’t particularly starved for friendships.

It was just that the actual idea that they could potentially coexist on this terrible planet without running at each other with stingers and cannons raised at every encounter was more appealing to him than anything right now.

And maybe.... Yes. Yes, having a ‘Con for a friend did sound appealing, too. The first instance of such a thing in the records of their heavily doctored history books? Frag yeah!

And friends with Blitzwing? It was surreal, impossible sounding. Bee would never dispute that.

He could only attest to how much it’d burn him if the obvious potential for something good to finally happen since his wayward academy days -after an entire lifecycle of enduring problem authority figures who’d easily dismissed his own potential- just standing right here in front of him, both in person and in perfect memory banks, went to waste.

For it to all slip away from them just like that, regardless of how close they were or weren’t to making a real step towards change... The first possible ceasefire in their history- the first possible recording of Decepticon hospitality maybe! He certainly hadn’t heard anything of it before.

He couldn’t let it go.

And all Bumblebee could do was thank Optimus, despite his flaws and insecurities and endless worries, for thinking it worthwhile to extend a kindness of his own to the admittedly most undeserving of mechs.

Now this Optimus was the one he could follow. Bumblebee made a mental note to be more responsive to his comms when Optimus called, and be attentive to his leader’s requests of him. No matter how boring they’d undoubtedly be -like monitor duty. Optimus clearly meant well.

Bumblebee looked from Optimus, unaware he’d been staring at the blue mech, to Megatron. Hoping to find some kind of positive feedback.

What he got was beyond surprising.

A destroyer of worlds looking suspiciously calm all at once.

“If you truly expect us to end hostilities between our factions for the remainder of our time on this putrid planet, you are asking for the truly impossible. We have an agenda and a schedule to keep.” Megatron looked like he was making to reach for his sword before his servos then settled on his hips. Chin jutting up in defiance. And then-

“Regardless, I will consider it.... It’s unlikely to be considered seriously, however.”

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

Bumblebee wanted to ask how that was somehow better than any annoying thing he’d just had the gull to say, but the ‘Cons were gone with the concept of a possible truce in the making, and Optimus so rarely smiled like *that* that Bee couldn’t think to badger him.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Back in the safety of their lair, Megatron felt more freedom to cycle between mustering up his absolute outrage and allowing it to dwindle into careful consideration. He didn’t stay either angry or placative for long, twisting between the two so furiously, he was soon at the point that the feelings were indistinguishable, and he was closely approaching a sort of agreeableness born purely from stubbornness.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way. 

This...whatever this was..... was a different sort of challenge, though- not one he felt compelled to bend to. He had plans to conquer the universe after all, and with ambitions like that, it left little room if any to entertain the idea of peace for the sake of peace for even a short amount of time.

Why should he bother? The Autobots weren’t worth a truce- this starry eyed Prime wasn’t worth one. Never mind that he had been the first Autobot in Megatron’s long lifecycle to offer his respect enough to negotiate this -as impossibly unrealistic as it was, or as ridiculous as he’d been to do so.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

...Or that this particular Prime had attempted to make peace with him rather than incite more mindless violence without a thought to Megatron’s conscious capabilities -Think him little more than a primitive killing machine.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

He turned towards a blushing Blitzwing, no doubt recalling the events of that living nightmare and the utter embarrassment he’d suffered just hours ago. Stood there drowning in his own creeping horror.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

Bumblebee wanted to ask how that was somehow better than any annoying thing he’d just had the gull to say, but the ‘Cons were gone with the concept of a possible truce in the making, and Optimus so rarely smiled like *that* that Bee couldn’t think to badger him.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Back in the safety of their lair, Megatron felt more freedom to cycle between mustering up his absolute outrage and allowing it to dwindle into careful consideration. He didn’t stay either angry or placative for long, twisting between the two so furiously, he was soon at the point that the feelings were indistinguishable, and he was closely approaching a sort of agreeableness born purely from stubbornness.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way. 

This...whatever this was..... was a different sort of challenge, though- not one he felt compelled to bend to. He had plans to conquer the universe after all, and with ambitions like that, it left little room if any to entertain the idea of peace for the sake of peace for even a short amount of time.

Why should he bother? The Autobots weren’t worth a truce- this starry eyed Prime wasn’t worth one. Never mind that he had been the first Autobot in Megatron’s long lifecycle to offer his respect enough to negotiate this -as impossibly unrealistic as it was, or as ridiculous as he’d been to do so.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

...Or that this particular Prime had attempted to make peace with him rather than incite more mindless violence without a thought to Megatron’s conscious capabilities -Think him little more than a primitive killing machine.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

He turned towards a blushing Blitzwing, no doubt recalling the events of that living nightmare and the utter embarrassment he’d suffered just hours ago. Stood there drowning in his own creeping horror.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“We will play along.” He said at last.

“We will convince these self-important zealots that we are willing to pursue peace within our factions, only to strike when the time is right.”

Blitzwing seemed to be lost to himself- unnervingly set on a single blue face. Lugnut at his side raised his servos in an ‘All hail our glorious leader!’. Not assuming to question his greatness, even when it was well within questioning.

Where was Starscream when you needed her?

——- ———— ——- -

Evidently, Starscream was around just inconveniently enough to ruin much of Megatron’s plan.

Starscream was anything but a team player, and when she’d caught wind of a truce, of Megatron’s presumed compliance, Megatron was suddenly pressed with the issue of whether or not to let her in on his little conniving plan, in fear she may undo all his potential work in an effort to expose and eliminate him, or if he should allow her to believe a bit of it and go on a rampage telling every possible Decepticon comm frequency within range about their exuberant leader’s sudden bout of madness.

“I told you all he was going senile, but you didn’t listen to meee~ Did youuu?” She’d mock. She’d flutter her wings and puff out her chest plates, striking a pose similar to the one she’d assume during her imaginary inauguration as the new Decepticon leader.

Thinking about it was boiling the Energon in Megatron’s fuel lines.

No matter how he played this, he was losing his respect somewhere. He supposed upon further contemplation that it’d be easier to win his legion’s faith in him far easier than it’d be to come across this sort of precious opportunity again. There wouldn’t be another extension of kindness on an Autobot’s end for the rest of history after this, and it was a wonderful thing to take advantage of.

“So it’s *true* then?!” Starscream screeched, voice ringing through every twisting tunnel inside the cavern. Megatron felt his optic twitch.

“You’ve gone and made *friends* with the cushy little Autobots?!”

Starscream then tucked a claw under her chin and seemed to reconsider this. As Megatron had initially -and unsurprisingly- imagined, a wicked grin began to stretch her sneering lips.

“Why Megatron~ Won’t your loyal followers be *thrilled* to hear the good news... A new golden age on the horizon for Cybertronians everywhere. Even the ones who’ve been *banished* from their home world.”

Lugnut made to defend Megatron’s honor and correct the punishable offense that was assuming their grand leader’s compromise to the Autobot cause when the ex-gladiator promptly silenced him.

“Am I to assume that you will be the one to deliver this good news?” It couldn’t hurt to look vulnerable in front of Starscream when it was to lower the air headed seeker’s guard. It’d worked every other time.

“Why *yes*, it’d be my honor in fact! My ‘Dear Leader’~”

Not that Megatron had actually needed that confirmation. It was good to get a general sense of the basis of what false accusations would come against him though -and quite soon, he imagined.

He supposed damage control wouldn’t be too impossible a thing to maneuver if the transgressions his lot would perceive were as unlikely -and possibly even dismissible, coming from Starscream- as his defection to the Autobots.

Those who’d even believe it to be true would be doubly ingratiated to him when his plans inevitably succeeded. Renewing their faith and encouraging them to grovel for forgiveness- remembering then who they owed trust and loyalty to.

Starscream cackled like a hag and fluttered off, taking her sweet time on the way out. Certain Megatron was beyond all his cognitive functions at this point and wouldn’t chase after her.

Megatron watched her go, distantly hoping something as preposterous as her catching her broad shoulders between the rock clusters in her leisurely escape would happen to entertain his processor from the mounting stress of having his hard earned reputation soon sullied. No matter how temporary that relief would be.

——- ———— ———

He was forced to put everything into motion immediately after that. Luckily, the Autobot Prime didn’t have any reservations with this- nor any added stipulations. Just ‘keep the human populace out of harm’s way’.

Of course, that being exactly what Optimus had asked for was in itself the most audacious request anyone had ever made of him. And Starscream had once asked to have his throne for the duration of her report upon returning from the outer sector because ‘her thrusters hurt’.

This unlawfully sassy firetruck was essentially asking that he give up all his rampages and aerial strikes -and the fated Cybertronian battle as a whole- as there was practically nowhere they could go and nothing they could do about their efforts to undo the Autobot forces that didn’t directly disturb the lives of the humans infesting this gritty globe.

When he’d used the term ‘audacious’ every time before, he’d really meant ‘boundless, unlimited, unequivocal entitlement’. Even worse than Straxxus and Starscream.

The Prime thought he was being smart by working around that one ‘simple’ demand -leave the fauna and humans alone. As if it was a small request and entirely reasonable. It left Megatron powerless to do *anything* and rendered his efforts in every personal goal of his useless.

Which led him to wonder if Optimus was *actually* seriously expecting him to agree to that. Really, honestly, truly.

How stupid could he be? How blindingly hopeful?

“This is, er, surprising, I’ll admit...” The Prime murmured, having the unfortunate lack of awareness that Megatron wasn’t being any bit genuine enough to be flustered by this, too.

So young...

It’d be endearingly naive, if Megatron wasn’t easily reminded of the absolute absurdity of the whole thing -including his own contribution of such with this little plan of his that’d better prove beneficial- weighing at the forefront of his processor.

Really, even after his success, this would haunt him for vorns to come. He’d never been so foolish to waste time on such a speck of a sparkbeat before.

“I suppose, um, we should get started.” Optimus murmured

That perked Megatron’s attention, wondering what was more was to come now that’d he’d falsely agreed to this.

“And you are referring to...?”

“Hm?” Optimus blinked up at him then.

“Oh. Further negotiations.” He explained.

Megatron had to tamp down his honest confusion at that. Firstly, how important did this self-righteous Prime think he was? ‘Further negotiations’? Did Ultra Magnus -the old, fragger- even know about this? He couldn’t have, or else the matter of this entire operation would be thrust over to the appropriate authorities and squashed within moments. Did Optimus think himself a revolutionary?

Secondly-

“You said there would be no further stipulations.”

“There’s not.” Optimus affirmed. “But this is a historical moment for our people.” Optimus sounded like he actually believed that. Like he actually believed any of this...

“And this will require a delicate approach. I need to be certain you are being genuine, and that you intend to take this seriously.”

Well, Optimus was smarter than Megatron was giving him credit for, he guessed. He supposed he should know somewhat better by now. The Prime had proved a worthy adversary a couple times now, if he was being... never mind. He’d rather ignore any credibility this little mech might have.

Optimus continued obliviously.

“In order to ensure that, we need to discuss the needs of you and your comrades for the short term, and what you’ll need going forward to transition into peace time. Your people obviously have different needs than our own, how can we make them comfortable amongst civilian frames?”

Oh. Oh, he *was* serious.

Legitimately serious.

Oh, how utterly adorable~

Megatron could hardly contain a grin.

It was interesting the Autobot had chosen to address the needs of the imposing faction before the doubtlessly disrespectful conditions of his own people first. Conditions like ‘flight frame restrictions’ and ‘requirements for tank types to keep their hefty frames off the main roads’. 

And there was such a sincerity in those bright blue optics that Megatron thought he might laugh right in the young mech’s face and ruin this moment of welcome insanity. He somehow refrained. Somehow.

“Please proceed, Autobot~” Megatron purred, like an incorrigible bastard. Optimus didn’t seemed too disturbed by this, and certainly not enough to dissuade him from lifting his chin and looking him dead in the optics.

“I’m aware that agenda you spoke of before includes heavily conflicting ideas with our own.” Which was an unusually nice way to put it- unusual for the rather blunt Prime. He normally had no qualms being upfront with others. He did say this was all very delicate, so blissfully ignorant to the reality. How disappointed he’d be.

Megatron truly struggled to believe him so naive. Maybe he truly *did* know better and simply hoped to change Megatron’s mind with his authenticity. He could certainly try.

“I ask that you try to push those ill intentions aside for now.”

“You want me to stop planning to overtake our rightful place on the very planet we were given life and then pushed away from, along with any thread of worth we were left to claim for ourselves when your leaders assured you all we were undeserving of it. You want me to pretend to forget all of that for the time being and demonstrate some level of generosity for *your* benefit? You, who serves these leaders. Maybe pretend  I’m not attempting the overthrow of an entire government and its people, too? Is that right?”

To his credit, the smaller mech didn’t budge. 

“Your crimes will have consequences one way or another. That’s unfortunately what’s right for everyone.”

“Oh?”

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to be written out of a future on Cybertron- or your kin. I wouldn’t allow that.”

Well, this was reaching a god complex of some kind, surely. Megatron smiled down with wide optics, embracing the madness of it all. It was for the cause, he reminded himself. If nothing else, it was slagging entertaining.

Though maybe Starscream was right to call him mad.

Megatron pressed him.

“*You* wouldn’t allow it, hm?”

“No, I would not.” Optimus said seriously. Radiant, standing proud, optics turning bright and irritated. Good. What fun for Megatron.

Just to twist a bit, Megatron decided to prick a claw into the little bot’s processor.

“Oh, the Magnus must be *so* pleased with your work here, little one~ He must think you a hero.”

At that, Optimus went eerily quiet.

Ha! Just as Megatron had thought.

“Whatever Ultra Magnus’ feelings may be, you are Cybertronian, and you deserve your citizenship, should you accept a ceasefire.”

Megatron stopped smiling.

“And I’m sure you would agree,” Optimus’ finials twitched with the effort not to droop.

“That Ultra Magnus can be inflexible at times, and often unreachable.” Especially when it was Optimus who was doing the reaching.

The little mech was struggling all at once to meet the other’s gaze.

Megatron subconsciously leaned into him. Surely making a terrifying spectacle of them both to their ever watchful followers gathered at a distance in the event of an altercation. But his razor sharp claws remained carefully at his sides and easy to spot.

“That’s why I’m trying to ensure that this arrangement won’t be immediately turned away when I inform him. I’m taking quite a risk involving my team as it is.”

“So, perhaps, this isn’t worth the risk.” Megatron said, echoing Prowl’s consistent advice on the matter.

Optimus took it in stride, choosing not to let fear, and doubt, and inexperience decide for him how brave he could be when it was clearly needed of him. Or keep Megatron from taking the easy way out of this. Change would require constant effort on both their parts.

This was a once in a lifecycle opportunity.

And while really anyone else would be better suited for this position -Prowl with his unbothered confidence, Bumblebee with his strong sense of spark to lead him, Bulkhead with his compassion and understanding, Racthet with his logic and practicality, and even Sari with her determination- Optimus was going to try to make this work. Because he’d gotten them all into this and he was going to at least put himself at blame when it all went up in fire. The fire of their sparkless shells, most likely.

He looked to Megatron, optics speaking of anything but certainty or that idea the warlord had had of self righteousness, and said simply,

“It’s worth it.”

——- ——- ———-

Megatron hadn’t said when exactly they were going to ‘strike’ the Autobots down, but upon the third ‘negotiation’, Blitzwing was starting to wonder if they were in this for the long haul. What a heist this would be when it was all over.

Megatron’s earlier display of his outstanding patience being held captive on a foreign planet without use of his own body was proof of his ability to endure and resist- it certainly nothing to scoff at. He could wait as long as necessary for the perfect moment to strike.

He hadn’t led an army with such masterful precision and skill for millennia by fluke.

Truly, his confidence in himself was a live and dangerous thing, and it spawned many acts of the greatness you’d find in the honorable Decepticon literature of their leader. But upon their return to base from the fourth negotiation, there was a stifling, unsettled air about the mech. Primus only knew what abhorrent things the Autobot Prime was attempting to demand of them.

Under Lugnut’s curious prodding, Megatron shut him down with a very strict, “Confidential”.

Which that made zero sense at all.

They were plotting to overthrow them eventually, weren’t they? The details certainly didn’t matter -So why protect them?

What Megatron chose to keep private was his business, and the rest of them would do well not to disrupt his thin tolerance for the questioning of his authority. But Megatron also had never had a reason to lie to any of them about their plans to dominate and destroy- Starscream was the only bot that deserved and regularly earned his deception. Something he didn’t turn on his own people much if ever these days. Not with the stagnant state of things after the war.

Blitzwing tried not to dwell on it, which was easy enough when he was forced every few days to come and stand on guard with a bunch of Autobot lackeys, soaking up any free processor power he might have to feel conspiratorial. One such Autobot consisting of that dreadful bug bot...

He always stood much too close. Always talked for damn near the entire affair.

An abysmal affair at that- the lot of them wasting away in either wind or rain or the blistering sun. Forced to get along for the time being.

Unlikely, so long as Bumblebee and Prowl existed within the same space as each other, arguing about nature and technology -*of all things*- while their very reality was crumbling around them. And clearly this was a frequent discussion of their’s.

Blitzwing hadn’t met a mech such as Prowl so infatuated with the organic matter in the universe. Even Blackarchnia, half organic, was looking to rid herself of the affliction.

“You would be happier if this planet was completely technological in makeup- if nature had never existed here.” Prowl ‘observed’.

Bumblebee scoffed- as if having come loaded on a camping trip with computerized junk in his chassis once didn’t prove just how deeply his disrespect for nature ran.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Hmph. What a boring existence that would be-“

“*We* are made of technology, you half processored-“

“If the universe was devoid of this organic phenomenon on every planet, in every star system-“

“Do you believe in the Big Bang theory, Prowl?” Bee side blinded-on purpose- using a term he’d heard Sari only ever use once for study purposes and with only half the context for what it actually was.

Prowl knew a Bumblebee-setup when he heard one, and he wasn’t about to do battle with Bee’s straw man.

“I’m not familiar with it -Or how it *correlates*.”

“Basically these giant rocks crashed together 13 billion something years ago, and it sparked the entire universe into being!” Bumblebee looked ready to pull him into some kind of nonsensical ‘gotcha moment’.

“I don’t think that’s right, firstly. And I don’t understand how that correlates, still.”

“Just answer the question, Prowl! Do you believe in it?” Bumblebee rambled, refusing to make sense of things first. A mech of immediate satisfaction, and wishing mostly to hear that he was right about Primus knew what.

“I mean Cybertron is supposedly 10 billion years old, so that lines up with the timeline.”

“It does not.” Blitzwing huffed, unable to stay uninvolved in their madness. The Radom slice of himself, buried in the back of his subconscious, was itching to scream into the insanity presenting itself. He just couldn’t waste an opportunity...

Miraculously, Blitzwing didn’t give in to that side of his processor, only endeavoring to scratch that itch well enough to silence the urges.

“Zere is debate about the planet’z existence before zis, but ve know for certain zhat ze Allspark was a permanent fixture before time even began”

“Y’all are giving me a crisis.” Bulkhead mumbled mostly to himself, having sat through plenty of Prowl and Bee’s bickering to his breaking point before. But there was a genuine tremor of something like fear in his voice.

Blitzwing thought it was certainly odd to meet a bot who was squeamish about an existential subject. They were a practical people about such matters like life and death- for the most part. Even Starscream had seemed relatively unbothered by living on without a spark to bring into the afterlife. If perhaps she would simply cease to exist without one at some point.

Bulkhead, apparently, was less content with this topic.

Lugnut, who was watching Prime outright bark at Megatron like a yappy, little lap dog, his master answering with a laugh of shocked amusement, tuned into their squabbling just in time to hear of Bulkhead’s peculiar discomfort.

“I understand your despair, Large One.” He  turned to him and placed a servo to his chest. 

“I cannot imagine my life without Lord Megatron in it again! An uncertain existence is a terrifying thing!” And everything without Megatron’s guidance meant uncertainty to him. Blitzwing had seen how he’d faired the single time he thought his master actually dead.

“You’re one to be throwing ‘Large One’ around like that.” Bumblebee grumbled.

Bulkhead seemed rather thankful for the massive menace throwing his two cents in all the same.

In a strange sort of camaraderie, Bulkhead felt compelled to expand upon that.

“How did you meet Megatron?”

He wasn’t sure they’d had enough neutral interaction to actually receive a civil response from the bomber plane, but Lugnut was clearly thrilled to have the chance to enlighten them all about Megatron in any capacity. There certainly wasn’t anything about this in the Autobot’s military profile of him.

“Over 6 million years ago, I had the grand and marvelous pleasure of first meeting Lord Megatron in the gladiatorial arena, and I was promptly acquainted with the depths of my ineptitude! He ‘wiped the floor with me’, as the organics say!”

Bumblebee -leaning against Prowl, who was sitting against a tree- bolted upright.

“Whoa, whoa- wait! How *old* is Megatron?!” He squeaked when he’d put it all together. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had lessons on this in the academy. Megatron was a popular subject. The most popular subject probably.

Prowl waited patiently for Lugnut to rock his educationally delinquent world.

“It does not matter! Lord Megatron believes his life only truly began when he found his cause, leading the Decepticons! 14 million years ago!” Lugnut bellowed, eager to sing praises of his master and doing so entirely too loudly. It earned the attention of their respective leaders from afar- finials pricked high on the Prime’s helm. 

Optimus didn’t know what that was about, but the outburst served as some kind of reminder, as those finials then dipped low, as he regarded the towering figure before him once more. A mech roaming the plane of existence for far longer than he maybe ever would, if these negotiations ended violently.

Megatron, however, just looked perfectly annoyed.

“You seem to be in love with the guy.” Bulkhead said then, and it was so far removed from him to make a joke in a time as tense as a faction wide peace treaty, one ready to end in bloodshed the second one of them got too friendly and crossed a line. A peace treaty that was teetering on the edge of a total collapse, as the other Autobots were half convinced the ‘Cons were taking Optimus for a joy ride.

All of them except Bumblebee.

“Jesus!” He squealed, when he successfully reset his vocalizer. “Frag! You bots are *ancient*!”

“And you thought I was old.” Ratchet grumbled. Servos crossed, as far removed from their chaos as possible, as they stood there waiting.

If they could only do this somewhere more comfortable with someplace to sit....

“You *are* old.” Bumblebee assured him. “Why aren’t *they* falling apart like you are?”

“I *am* in love with him!” Lugnut then shouted in response to Bulkhead, choosing to say so much too loudly once more. This time Megatron hid his face in his hands.

Blitzwing excused himself from whatever *this* conversation was to stalk about the edge of the invisible line the two faction leaders had drawn, in an attempt to keep some privacy to these negotiations. Optimus surely assuming Megatron would be more open to talking that way.

This Prime hadn’t accounted for Megatron’s magnificent crassness when it came to speaking his truth, then. After the words ‘brainless floozy’ had once left his vocalizer without even the excuse of being overcharged, Blitzwing knew he wasn’t worried about his brash etiquette in public, and that he himself would never have to censor his tongue around the mech.

Regardless, Blitzwing kept his appropriate distance and remained quiet. He only needed a moment away from all the noise, finding himself frequently overwhelmed by such. The struggle to remain cordial in a time where it was necessary a constant battle.

When the voices in his head became too loud, it was easy to direct his frustration on another equally frustrated being- like any other Decepticon at arms length. This pretend peace treaty left him grasping at straws as it was -despite the art of deception frequently requiring the uncouth and undesirable in any strategy his sort devised- and it was becoming a challenge to keep a grip on his sanity in order to appear collected and patient.

An effort at the best of times.

Naturally, Bumblebee chose that moment to come over and make it worse- had the audacity to roll up on the heel of his wheels and look bored with everything.

“Dude, I get it. Those guys are so annoying.” The minibot said, waving a servo back at the others in the purest lack of self awareness to ever exist.

“*Oh, do jou*?” Blitzwing ground out, honestly baffled. He should just turn away right now before he reached the point of no return and flattened the little scrap.

He had enough reason to as it was for outing him before. In front of *everybody*... Like he wasn’t haunted with the inescapable reality of his actions in the dead of the night cycle.

Lugnut naturally overlooked their glorious leader’s involvement in the whole debacle, but *Blitzwing*? Oh, no. He had to suffer some serious mockery over his comm link for his pathetic display. As if he wasn’t disappointed with himself enough already.

Bumblebee either didn’t care about how totally pissed off he was making the giant, or his obliviousness was astonishing.

“Yeah, I totally do! Here,” He said, reaching into his sub space which jingled ominously with the sound of far too much junk for one little chassis to hold safely. If Blitzwing stepped on him, would he pierce his stabilizer on something sharp that shouldn’t be in anyone’s sub space, let alone a compact model? Did he have woofers in there?

Bumblebee pulled out a handheld device and turned it on one servoed, his other kept digging. Blitzwing was equal parts impressed and disgusted.

“This is what I do when the chaos gets to be too much.” The bug said, handing him the device -a game console. Likely the one Blitzwing had caught him playing around on many times before when he was supposed to be patrolling the streets.

“Iz zere ever zuch a time for jou, jou little pot stirrer?” Blitzwing snapped, unable to keep up the pleasantries with his broken peace of mind. If he had to stand here and play buddy-buddy with the source of his greatest humiliation yet -worse than sleeping through a mandatory aerial strike before he’d even earned a designation for himself- he might break his beloved game device over the point of those horns.

“Slag, yeah, definitely- Bossbot is the greatest mech I know, and I’m not just sayin’ that. But he is the tensest, most boring, most painfully stoic fragger in the universe. Getting him to smile is a chore, and I’m the funny guy around here.”

Bumblebee reached over and did something with the device, and the screen flickered on, making sure to mute the volume. This was supposed to be a serious occasion and all.

“Zen leave him in peace and don’t bother him.”

“Nah, I can’t do that.” Bee said seriously.

“I care about him way too much to see him waste away into whatever’s wrong with Ratchet.”

Blitzwing snorted, unfortunately very amused by all this. He allowed the minibot to fiddle with the thing in his hands and stand much too close to him. Like he always did.

“The goal is to collect spraycans and deface the city with ‘em.” Bumblebee instructed when an avatar appeared on screen. Blitzwing was quietly delighted by that objective and decided he could indulge the little fool this. It wasn’t a terrible way to whittle the time.

Until the bot started talking again -just as Blitzwing mastered the controls, of course.

“You missed a whole row of them!” He whined.

Blitzwing was infinitely less invested in doing well at this than him, but his already flaring temper made it hard not to take offense.

“Zis is just a game, jou know.”

“That you bite at.”

“I’m sure jou can do better, and zat iz good enough reason for me not to take zis seriously. Anyzing jou might have accomplished can’t pozzibly be vorth celebrating.”

“You would do so well in Fortnight.” Bumblebee said with a distant look in his optic.

“I’ll have you verbally destroy all the raging neckbeards on there. It’s mostly a children’s game, though, so spare the kiddos.”

“What are jou even saying?”

“Hit X! Brake this window for 15 points!” Bee shouted, by some divine intervention not attracting Megatron’s wrath to them with it.

Blitzwing did as told, maneuvering the joycons as best as he could with the immense difference in the size of their servos.

“Vhat do ze points do, exactly?”

“Oh! I’m saving them up for the ninja costume. Uh.... Don’t tell Prowl. Don’t want him thinking he’s cool, ya know?”

Blitzwing wondered for just a moment if he was actually having fun doing this. In the comfortable small talk that followed, he was able to forget this little creature beside him was his enemy and that he was stuck in the hot sun pretending to be a peaceful ‘Bot lover for an undefined amount of time. No doubt a laughing stock with a pretty, red target on his helm from whatever ‘Cons out roaming the wild had gotten an audial full from Starscream. It was admittedly hard to recharge with the thought of thousands of other Decepticons thinking he’d defected, even though it was perfectly likely, too, no one would even believe what Starscream had to say. Whoever she’d reached in her travels.

“Are you gonna start playing this when we come out here?” Bumblebee asked, possibly sounding a smidge too hopeful the other might say yes.

At Blitzwing’s curious look, Bee corrected himself.

“Tryin’ to figure out if I can just keep your points or if I have to make you an account, too.”

“I don’t vant ze points- or an account.”

“Ok, good-“

~WHIRR~

“Unlez zere iz a bird costume!”

Bumblebee made a strangled noise.

“A what?!”

He nearly swatted the things out of Blitzwing’s grip with how quickly he turned on him.

~WHIRR~

“Like a bird.” Blitzwing continued, unfazed.

“Wh-why...? That? I don’t...”

Blitzwing shrugged.

“I vant ze vings.” He said simply.

“Like mine.” And flicked his wing struts out to illustrate.

Bee looked him over. Probably thinking much too hard about the significance of this strange moment.

He failed to keep the mocking from his voice when he said, “Well, I mean. Hm. There is an *angel* costume you could wear.”

Blitzwing considered. This little avatar Bumblebee had made, scooting around on speed skates and stealing spray cans, breaking public property, then wearing an angel costume. And the wings...

Good enough.

“Ja, ja, I’ll take it.” Blitzwing nodded enthusiastically.

Bee, despite the loss of his months worth of accumulated points, smiled. Happier than he thought he’d be to forfeit them in order for Blitzwing to get those stupid wings.

“Ok, dude. They’re gold and stuff, too, so they’re actually pretty cool.”

——— ————- ———-

Megatron knew he’d receive word one way or another -whether via assassination attempt or comm link- when the others had heard about this giant misunderstanding. This excruciating, preposterous misunderstanding that Megatron was *truly* slated to change his ways for the Autobot cause, only made worse by the Prime’s genuine concern for their future coupling as a people, all with movements for equal rights pushed more aggressively upon each ‘negotiation’.

Megatron had decided after that tremor in Optimus’ vocalizer when he’d tried to assure Megatron, as much as himself, that they could teach the civilian builds to trust in their core that they were all sentient beings with sparks deserving of nurture and acceptance that it was time to strike. It was time to end this.

This was becoming painful, and it shouldn’t be.

It should only be a fun little game for him of how far he could push this stuck up stick in the mud before the Prime either denied his autonomy out of frustration, as most were keen to do, or labeled him a classless brute beyond reasoning and earned himself a severed limb.

It never came to that, though, no matter how much Megatron pushed, and no matter how much Optimus pushed back. The disrespect or even the fundamental mistreatment associated with the Cybertron elite never came. He never thought to back out of this attempt at a ‘future together’. 

Optimus never even felt those unfavorable ways about him in secret, probably...

Maybe.

That was hard to consider- it felt foolish to, almost like Megatron was hoping it true. But it seemed eerily likely. 

Megatron had had enough- this game had lost its appeal.

Eager to end it, he prepared to deliver some amazing plan to his underlings that didn’t give away how much of a waste of their time this had all been, now that he was unwilling to go through with it. And then, like Primus was real and spiteful as the day Megatron had first onlined his optics, waiting for this exact moment to deliver swift justice upon him, Megatron finally received word of the deeply terrifying consequence from his people for his actions.

Without a sub space communicator to reach anywhere far enough to contact his forces, it was all very horrifying that it was Cyclonus who was the first to contact him *in person*. Having apparently traveled at break neck speed all the way from the Magnokor Asteroids through mysterious means to reach him. Unlikely, and exaggerated, but he was here wasn’t he?

He was here...

Oh, Spark....

Megatron almost faltered right there at the sight of him slicing through wind currents, his metal frame still scorching upon his impact with the Earth’s mesosphere. He stopped just shy of the ground, projecting the sort of deranged panic with his abrupt landing and transformation into bipedal mode that only he could.

Megatron steeled himself for a madness rivaling Blitzwing’s.

“Lord Megatron! Lord Megatron! I came as quickly as I could!”

“Are there others close by?” Megatron asked. He would like to know how many times over he’d have to explain himself if there were. And how many mechs might be aiming something at his spark chamber right now.

“I operate alone!”

Typical. That was one less thing, though, he suppo-

“Team Athena.” Megatron whispered hoarsely. If Cyclonus had heard the horrible news, Strika had, too.

*Strika*. *Not*... *Strika*...

She wouldn’t let him hear the end of this extravagant screw up. Also typical that Cyclonus had left her and the rest to come bother Megatron while he could have him all to himself. If only Cyclonus’ interest in him was something as definable as blind loyalty like Lugnut’s.

“Commander Strika is making the appropriate accommodations.” Cyclonus said then, as Megatron must have said something of her out loud. He could hardly be bothered by looking out of sorts in front of his soldiers, though, when the words at once began to form a truer and darker meaning.

‘Accommodations’?

*Strika* of all his faithful kin was about to revolt against him? And she’d believed so *easily* what only Starscream could have shown her of their ‘conversation’.

So Cyclonus had come here to side with his leader and forewarn of her treachery?

Megatron had heard of greater betrayals in his time as a leader. He’d only served lifetimes of it through Starscream. Who else, but Starscream....

Cyclonus was still rambling about something he realized.

“All rebel forces that would act independently are being closely monitored and are under strict orders. Though I can assure you myself, my Lord, they shall *not* challenge your great vision! Commander Strika will see to it herself if she must!”

Megatron then shut his hanging jaw hinge and stared.

“I wouldn’t speak for the blithering masses- ‘Commander’ Starscream, for example. But I have complete confidence that they are as grateful to follow you as I! Your loyal Cyclonus!” Who was suddenly proving his loyalty far more blind than Megatron’d imagined.

Inevitably, Lugnut would have some mild questions about this, and Blitzwing would begin to have his doubts in him. But Megatron could handle two Decepticons versus an entire army who were- *apparently*- ready to accept whatever insanity he’d created for them all.

That was what Cyclonus was telling him in this instant, yes? That the idea of a truce was somehow believable and even worth attempting?

That’s what Optimus had been trying to tell him. 

“....What sort of accommodations is Strika making?”

——— ————-

Optimus felt lighter. Another negotiation under way and Megatron had approached it with far more sincerity then all the ones previous. Meaning they were making progress.

Was it possible Megatron was playing them all for senseless little fools? Optimus would have needed extensive convincing from Primus himself to believe otherwise.

He hoped beyond all his years, full of doubt and little faith in even the most tangible ambitions he’d once had, that he could reach a mech of such horrors as Megatron somehow- if only because he’d witnessed for himself that the mech was capable of some level of benevolence. But this hope he held a bit too closely to his spark -the first hope he’d had for anything since the loss of Elita- was bordering something like delusion.

He knew this. The realist in him knew this.

But that hadn’t squashed the stupid nagging optimism he’d been named after from blossoming in his chest. This optimism, the curse that it was, he’d long since abandoned. Or maybe it had abandoned him.

As they came to meet at an odd hour much later than their usual meetings, beside a riverbank miles outside the city, Optimus was just lucid enough coming out of another sleepless stasis to push his random giddiness at having been contacted aside.

This could be an attack- it was the first time Megatron had ever reached out to *him* for anything since they’d started all this.

He kept that thought in mind when he found the other waiting for him in an almost serene state, stood by the river’s edge, servos crossed. Watching the flow of water, basking in the moonlight. His back fully turned to a very obvious threat. Optimus liked to think himself one, at least...

They’d brought their respective colleagues. If only because Megatron couldn’t shake Lugnut for anything now that he had him, and Blitzwing was oddly competent in handling Optimus’ crew. Ratchet didn’t waste anytime complaining about the hour all the same.

Optimus thought it another small victory that Blitzwing readily agreed with him and assumed their places at a distance, rather than feeding in to any snide comments they’d send each other in the beginning.

Optimus approached the foreboding figure by the bank- reminded vaguely of a jungle cat from one of Prowl’s documentaries when his hips shifted their weight, moving fluidly like the swish of a large tail.

Optimus hadn’t thought about the fullness in his frame before beyond his larger mass. About the additional plates and cords it took to move a mech of such bulk. What kind of power the seams interlocking those weighty plates were capable of to function as effortlessly as those of a gentler frame.

And he continued not to think about that, as he came to a stop behind him.

When Megatron didn’t answer, he bristled at the thought that this might be one of his little power trips by ignoring the Prime. Then he spoke to him with an edge in his voice that Optimus had never had the privilege of hearing before.

It sounded distant and casual- like he was musing with an old friend.

“Much has changed since we began these senseless negotiations.”

Optimus did bristle then, finials sharp.

“They *aren’t* senseless.”

They’d already proven in about 6 of these meetings, depending on if you counted the first proposition, that they were absolutely capable of behaving themselves -cultural and ideological differences, and all.

Megatron sighed, but his tone hadn’t changed.

“You can promise me nothing. For all your efforts, this amounts to little more than a lot of cheap talk.”

Optimus felt vulnerable in that way he’d found that only Megatron could make him feel. When Sentinel reminded him of his value to Autobot society as a defunct and irrelevant piece of it, it was easy enough to ignore. Sentinel was just as incompetent. What good was a Prime that rolled happily in corruption?

When Megatron did it, Optimus could only accept that a capable, experienced general of an entire people knew what he was talking about- Had had to root out the frayed ends of their chain of command and done away with the useless, straggling bits of it himself. Regardless of how violent their actions could be.

Optimus was there, at that straggly bottom.

He’d be the one Megatron would toss away into repair crew duties -if he didn’t kill him. The major flaw of their people, acting frequently in absolutes.

Only.... Ultra Magnus did a lot of that, too.

It was the other way around, he supposed. Meant to be for the good of all, and what was best for Cybertron. It still left many bots damaged and forgotten.

Optimus wouldn’t say he was one of them.... Exactly.

Then Megatron turned, and when he spoke, that edge to his voice that never quite reached whatever emotion it faintly projected struck Optimus deeply, and reminded him painfully without even intending to of his place.

“I will not settle these matters with anyone who can not promise me change. If that person is not you, I am not interested.”

Which sounded also *vaguely* like a compliment. Maybe. Or maybe Optimus was reading to far into it. When Megatron was actually offering those, they usually doubled as insult.

“You just said much has changed.” Optimus tried. That had been his exact phrasing.

Megatron looked to be considering his words extremely carefully then. Likely filtering much of what he wanted Optimus to hear.

“My people have taken some surprising liberties.” He agreed.

Optimus perked. Fear and excitement mingling together.

Megatron continued.

“However, with nothing to ensure these great ideas you have for their future,” the mention of Optimus personally constructing the futures of a people did sound like he was taking liberties.

He flushed.

“Then I must put a stop to it. I cannot allow this to go any further.”

“W-What kind of changes?” Optimus pressed. His spark was beating so hard that his throat felt tight from the Energon pumping through the lines.

‘Change’ could mean anything- but Megatron putting an end to changes that endangered the lives of Autobots everywhere was unlikely.

So, ‘good’ changes then. He wanted to stop something good -for the *Autobots*- from happening, and Optimus couldn’t even process fully that anything positive was actually coming from these negotiations well enough to imagine what kinds of changes those could be. Only that he had to stop Megatron from stopping their progress. No matter how small.

“It is irrelevant.” Megatron said firmly.

“Because you want everything to stop now- Tell me what your kin are doing. We can talk about this-“

Megatron rolled his optics. The most patience he’d ever had for Optimus after he’d clearly struck a nerve. In this case, it was likely him demanding answers of him that would ultimately sacrifice his authority and admit that Optimus was in any way important enough to weigh his opinion on it.

Which they both knew wasn’t true.

“Autobot-“

“My *name* is Optimus Prime.”

“There is nothing more you can do for me. You made an admirable effort for a cause you believe in- I commend you for this. But it’s time we move on. These means are ineffective, and I won’t waste my time further.”

“So, this is over?” Optimus *tried* not to immediately encrypt this into another section of failures he kept on file by instinct.

He gestured towards their respective cohorts having a not so respective conversation about Blitzwing’s vastly developing video game skills, as Bee defended being bested on his high score. It involved the use of many inappropriate hand gestures.

“What will we tell them?” He asked bravely. Or stupidly. They both knew Megatron hadn’t a concern in the entire universe for their thoughts on the matter.

Optimus tried, though.

“The truth.” The bigger mech shrugged.

“The reality is quite simple.”

Optimus didn’t comment on how nice it was seeing everyone in one place, free of violence. Of course that’d appeal to a cushy, little civil frame.

“So now we go back to fighting and just forget everything we’ve accomplished here?” Optimus knew he was dangerously close to sounding plain petulant, and less suited for strategic truce talks.

“What have we accomplished Autobot?”

“Whatever your people are doing, it’s something good! It’s something we can stand behind and build upon, I’m sure of it!” Optimus tried not to sound desperate.

Megatron didn’t look nearly as heated by all this.

“You’ve no idea what they have planned.”

And Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to ask twice. Instead, he took a moment to calm himself and level his straining vents to work at an appropriate speed. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate because of a shouting match, and come away from this looking like an upset sparkling. Especially because that would mean admitting he’d allowed his hope to consume him and all his rational thought.

This was indeed over, and he would be feeding into that childish optimism again, if he tried to negotiate any further.

He took one last look at Lugnut nodding enthusiastically to whatever Bulkhead was saying and said goodbye to the image of their factions dallying quietly away together until their leaders had finished. This would be the last time, and he’d been ridiculous to think a future like this was achievable with people like Megatron and Ultra Magnus in power of saying otherwise.

“Alright.” Optimus swallowed. It was an effort to.

“Is it too much to ask that we walk away in one piece now?”

Megatron thought killing them all right here and now would make this final exchange and the disappointment he’d be leaving behind in them all much easier. But that would be a great disrespect to Optimus’ work here, and he’d been the only Autobot Megatron could admit he’d had the pleasure of taking seriously.

The only one possibly... definitely worthy of his respect.

“It is not.” He agreed, and he watched Optimus leave with a stiffness in his backstrut that looked nearly painful.

———- ——————

He didn’t think it’d come to this. For Strika to act so absurdly, one of his most sensible commanders and perhaps, honestly, his most trusted. For his ridiculous little plan to spiral so madly out of control. For the Autobots’ and that audacious little Prime to turn something sickening in his chassis when they left that night.

He didn’t expect for it bother him...

Optimus had been an enormous fool, but, unfortunately, a virtuous one. A visionary, even if he didn’t know it, and a fine diplomat.

Ultra Magnus had better be proud of him and more protective of him in the future. Though Megatron knew all too well that was unlikely the case.

He sent Cyclonus away to send word to Strika, whenever it’d reach her, to lift the bans on taking Autobot captives and every other horrible thing she’d done to lessen the destruction of Autobot forces, and to stand by for further instruction.

He didn’t expect to see Cyclonus again after that, but when he did, he was carrying an urgent message from Strika with him, looking beyond exhausted from everything he’d just put his frame through for the last couple weeks, flying until his engines rattled even when he was stationary.

Megatron took it and clicked it on to read ‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes’ written boldly enough for his pitiful vision to see from space. All in all, Strika seemed rather unbothered by everything that’d transpired this past month.

It was then Megatron realized those orders she’d issued to evacuate Autobot territory, and release captives mostly unharmed, and abstain from pillaging their much need resources, *weren’t* because freedom for all and a world where their people thrived in togetherness had appealed to her. Had moved her to the core or even licked the smallest flame within her spark to seek peace. Of course, not.

Strika’s job wasn’t to fall over herself doting on her master, or turning a blind optic to his shortcomings to save face. Or remaining silent in fear she might say enough blasphemy in one breath offering him council to get herself shunned to the ‘Megazarak table’.

It was to highlight his stupidity when he was exercising it.

She’d done so excruciatingly... and yes, this was definitely her most blasphemous, disrespectful display of doing so, yet.

Megatron felt thoroughly reprimanded. He’d give her a raise for being the first mecha alive to humble him.

Feeling petty, he sent Cyclonus away for good this time with a message of his own.

‘Wasting resources and presuming to undermine me publicly was a greater mistake than the one I made. Starscream is to be brought to me alive for her torture and execution.’

“That is not for your optics.” He warned Cyclonus, and sent him on his weary way. Worried he might fall right out of the sky seconds after lift off.

It was time to get his hands on that subspace communicator and resume those tenacious plans of world domination. He was suddenly reminded of those weird, disproportionate cartoon mice Blitzwing watched sometimes at the thought.

Unfortunately, setting those plans into motion meant dismissing every rule Optimus had tried to set into motion for him since their negotiations had begun. It’d mean running into him and his odd little crew, coming face to face with the Prime and brazenly announcing he was back to pursuing grinding them all into iron filings.

He reminded himself that that was only the logical conclusion to the unfortunate end of things, and that this would not affect him.

Only inconvenience him.

——— —————

Optimus knew with the nonexistent truce off, the people of Earth would be a target again. How would Megatron get anything done without enacting a hefty does of chaos and genocide? And how would he do either without risking the lives of innocent, easily squashed organics?

Optimus thought bitterly of Rebecca and Jamal.

Remembering the past was a waste of his energy. What had happened must have been some random blip in their coding. That marginally explained why both Blitzwing and Megatron were affected at once.

Except, it actually didn’t explain anything.

They’d had enough time to fall back into a somewhat normal routine since their parting on such abhorrent terms. Failure still a bitter taste on the tip of his glossa.

Optimus couldn’t help but actually admit to Bumblebee that he felt stupid for thinking things could be different for so long. Rather that he’d *hoped*, and that was a more punishable offense than going behind the Magnus himself to arrange all these peace talks ever could be.

Bumblebee had taken to moping around his room with him when the others were asleep. A mutual disappointment of the events that’d turned the tides in their favor for such a short time being lost to the winds now. A little taste of victory- hardly even that- but the memory of the lot of them coexisting in quiet and having legitimate conversations with each other was still fresh in their processors. Bumblebee unwilling to let it go, and Optimus unable to forgive himself he’d lost them such a irreplaceable gift.

“It would have been so fraggin’ nice not to have to fight each other all the time.” Bee sighed.

“Well, that goal was unrealistic anyway. There will always be those that oppose change like that.” Optimus stared miserably at his hands in his lap.

“We can’t make everybody happy all of the time.”

Bee scowled at him from across his berth, his chin propped up on one servo.

“That’s some advice you should live by.”

Optimus’ finials twitched. That wouldn’t particularly sound like an accusation, if not for the face the minibot was making at him.

“Care to expand on that?” Optimus asked slowly. A few octaves too low for friendly.

That was one hell of an invitation for a boisterous, unrepentant Bumblebee when he felt he had something he needed to say.

He did seem to stop a moment and consider his words before Primus possessed him with the same foolish courage he’d needed to out a couple of ‘Cons for their soft-sparked squishy moment all those cycles ago.

“I mean.... All due respect, Boss, you aren’t known for your strong backstrut.”

Actually, that was the opposite of ‘all due respect’, and Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to roll over and take it for maturity’s sake and prove him right.

“You’re out of line, Bumblebee.”

The minibot gestured helplessly around him.

“Were you in line when you tried to negotiate peace talks with the fraggin’ Pit Spawn himself?!”

Which was hypocritical when he’d *obviously* encouraged it -had even suggested it. And he’d completely supported Optimus’ choice to do so, too.

But he had a point to make here.

They were both rule breakers, and Prime wasn’t as straight laced as he tried to make himself out to be.

Trying to fit himself into the mold of a good, little, mindless cog in that ever churning machine -Bless him.

Optimus stood and rounded the berth on him. His size admittedly terrifying when his engine was rumbling like that.

“What *exactly* do you want to say to me?”

Bumblebee was only just brave enough to pretend he was more angry than disappointed by everything they- he- had just lost and was misdirecting it on the only other mech who’d been just as hopeful.

“You should stick up for yourself more.” He said plainly. But it was the challenging glint in his brazen stare that spoke of the true viscousness in his words. The kind of look Sentinel often turned his way.

Optimus used all of his patience as a leader, and the nagging responsibility he had to look out for his crew, to train his features into something reprimanding rather than the uncomfortable dread pricking beneath his plating. 

“You think that would have won the Decepticons over? You think I wasn’t confident enough in my convictions?”

Bee knew he should have stopped there, even as he was opening his mouth.

“I definitely don’t think you should have *walked away*.”

Which how could he make that call? He knew he was speaking mostly senselessly with the sole goal of landing a driving punch somewhere on the other. But he’d wanted it so bad at the time, much more than he’d realized he had, that he likely would have stayed and pushed the futile issue if it had been him in Optimus’ place. Which was why he *wasn’t* in his place.

“Out.” Optimus said coldly. The bill of his helmet was tipped down so he couldn’t meet the other’s optics.

Bumblebee was just upset enough to let anger keep him from apologizing and assuring Optimus he was everything he could hope for in a leader and more.

‘More’ definitely including the safe place he’d made just for Bumblebee to come vent about a nefarious war frame without repercussion. Now he’d just have to pretend like none of that mattered to him anymore, as well as Optimus’ peace of mind....

————————-

Sari was plenty ruffled to learn much, much too late that her friends had purposely not included her in this whirlwind slag storm. Surprisingly, she was  more forgiving about what exactly that whirlwind slag storm had actually consisted of.

Trying to level with Megatron and his crew sounded like a genuine enough endeavor, and she couldn’t fault them too much for reaching towards a future without having to kick ‘Con butt every time they wanted to catch a drive-in movie.

“I could have told you that making friends with ‘Cons would end terribly.”

“Youuu aren’t old enough to have an opinion on anything.” Ratchet insisted.

Sari sat on a spare tire in the medbay, kicking her feet and trying her hardest to blend in with the background while Bumblebee got his tune up and Ratchet fussed at him. She was picking up bits and pieces of this incredible slag show, and Sari had finally gotten enough to, indeed, form that opinion of her’s. At least on the matter of Blitzwing- since he’d only come up about 12 times.

“Jeez, Bumblebee.” Sari said thoughtfully.

“You sound like you’ve got a crush on the guy.” Then proceeded to snicker at her friends immediate outrage.

“I- I- W-WHAT?!”

“Ha!” Ratchet snorted. Probably thinking much the same, now that she’d said it.

Bumblebee pushed off the slab, shoulder joint still loose, and looked ready to run out of there at any moment in both fear and betrayal. Clearly Sari had hit a little too close to home there.

Of course, he’d never admit something like that -if her half hearted jest was any bit true. Surprising as that’d be.

So, Sari spent that afternoon poking Prowl and Bulkhead for answers. Neither seemed entirely convinced a mech like Bumblebee could fall for a ‘Con in any capacity. Platonic or other.

Bumblebee was a easy to offend and anything but patient. Both attributes would be tested heavily in a cross class relationship. More importantly, they were enemies, and Bumblebee couldn’t be sparked into rolling over for any mecha standing against the Autobot way.

Unless that ‘Con could prove reasonable and daringly handsome, Sari was willing to bet. Not that she knew much about Bee’s romantic interests beyond her own assumption.

Sari didn’t think Blitzwing proved to be either- but he did have those strong servos Bee always yapped about when he ogled the fighters ‘in secret’ on her Mortal Conquest game. She’d bet Blitzwing would absently rip the spines clean out of his victims the way Bee liked those fighters to do, too...

“They did play on the Game Box together for a while. Whenever there was time. But I think that’s as close as they actually got to being friendly.” Bulkhead mused to himself.

“He hasn’t explicitly expressed an interest in Blitzwing to me.” Prowl agreed. As if he was the authority figure on all of Bumblebee’s controversial and embarrassing secrets. Which, fair....

Why *would* Bumblebee tell him, though? Wanting to be best buds, and a little extra, with a ‘Con wasn’t something an Autobot would advertise.

When Optimus eventually slunk through the base at an unusually late hour with audial fins low, Sari thought she might as well question their fearless, somewhat all knowing leader about Bee’s latest erratic behavior.

It was not a pleasant talk and only left her with new questions about the insane, sane-less, insanity she’d missed out on more than anything.

“Bumblebee was hoping for a miracle, I suppose. We should all have aspirations-“ Optimus sounded quite pragmatic about the whole thing. But then-

“Unless they cloud your processor to the point of poor judgement.”

Sari felt awkward- smart enough to know she was getting herself involved in something personal by the prickly edge in his tone. Not smart enough that her love for her two dear friends going through a rough patch would keep her at arms length of it, though.

Only just smart enough not to tell Optimus Prime that her best friend might have a crush on a ‘Con. Or remind him of that fact, if he was already aware.

“I can’t blame him.” Sari shrugged.

“I’d like for all of us to be friends, too. Imagine if there were even more giant friendly robots around here! That’d be awesome!”

Optimus looked surprisingly upset all at once by that, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. Sari was an innocent in all this.

“Yeah, it would be. But to tell the truth, I don’t see much point in entertaining that kind of thinking anymore.”

“Well, aspirations and all. You can’t set goals for yourself without envisioning it first.” Sari used his words against him in a fairly good point.

At least good enough to make Optimus look guilty about his harshness.

Not good enough to pass an opportunity to lecture his young companion.

“If your vision is only ever an optimistic one, you’re just preparing yourself to be disappointed when reality settles. It’s called overindulging.”

“Someone just told you that so you wouldn’t chase your dreams.” Sari countered, ‘cause that was *exactly* what that sounded like.

Optimus grimaced, remembering that he had been the one to tell himself that. Still...

“Why aren’t you this articulate when you’re explaining ‘me me’ culture to me?” Optimus diverted.

Sari mirrored his frown.

“I think you’re probably too young to be saying that wrong...”

“Oh. Well, just try to believe me when I say that we- that *I* overshot my expectations for Megatron having some sensibility in his one track processor.”

“I would have, too, I bet. I get my hopes up all the time.” Sari agreed. Hoping right then that she could put a smile on her most stress laden friend’s face.

This, again, seemed to be one of the worst things he could hear at the moment.

Optimus gave a nod, optics averted, and excused himself back the way he came- towards his room. Not a good sign.

————- ——————-

Blitzwing was a ball of nerves.

“Professor Sumdac is the expert in this field and, luckily, in relatively large supply of the resources we’ll need. The less attainable ones will be dealt with as the issue arises- For now, we collect our new compatriot and set to work. It’s time I paid my dear friend and the hellish prison he’d held me captive in a visit.”

Blitzwing knew retrieving an organic, even one the Autobots prized, would only be as difficult as a physical fight, some bloodshed, and the Decepticon’s most likely victory. That happened to be the case a good chunk of the time- he definitely owed credit where credit was due, though, concerning these wily, steadfast little bots. They could hold their own plenty well enough.

What bothered him about this simple task of ‘collecting’ their human hostage wasn’t anything to do with the genuine lack of effort he was willing to put into a fight like this after feeling dreadfully unlike him self these past cycles.

It was, of course, about *who* he would be fighting. It was just a niggle at the back of his processor, just a pinch of nerves. It wasn’t overwhelming his logical outlook of things in that they had no choice *but* to return to fighting.

Of course, they did. He welcomed it even. Anything to rid himself of his nauseating unease.

The fact that Megatron had made it clear he would be leading this mission was another trouble, though. His leader’s intent likely to make a point for when they came face to face with Optimus Prime once more.

That point being, ‘We are enemies from here on’.

And Blitzwing was stumped as to why that left such a terrible taste in his intake.

Like all things that threatened to twist the logic in his good sense, Blitzwing pushed at the thoughts to keep them as far from his processor for as long as he could until they could be overwhelmed by the more important matters he had to attend to.

That only lasted until they reached Sumdac’s tower, as a zap fluttered up his spinalstrut at the sight of a familiar yellow figure below.

They landed and, being met with a surprising lack of a response, made themselves known. Landing within perfect firing distance.

Blitzwing felt numb. His optics trained on a point in the distance and stared- anywhere else, but on....

He only caught a glimpse out of his optic of Bumblebee in a similarly uncomfortable state.

Megatron was naturally the first to speak. The same old haughty tone, as if they’d never wasted cycles away together in mutual ceasefire.

“Stand aside Autobot, and we will have no reason to fight you.”

But they definitely would.

Indeed, that had certainly made good on that imperative message if their presence here hadn’t- They weren’t ‘neutral’ anymore. Never had been.

Blitzwing looked then to asses the battle field. Optimus was of course there, a leader who played as frequent a part in his subordinates’ endeavors as Megatron. Prowl was beside him, looking unusually put upon by something. Probably the ‘Cons becoming a factor of their immediate survival. Bulkhead stood between him and Bumblebee.

The smallest bot stood there, grinding his denta hard enough to hear from where Blitzwing was.

His fists were clenched hard, vents hitching.

When Blitzwing turned to look him over once more, Optimus proved to be in much of a similar condition. Though he seemed reasonably more in control of his obvious outrage, as any leader should. Finials lowered dangerously, eyes narrow, and suspiciously quiet.

Ratchet was nowhere to be found, and as there was clearly some kind of drama unfolding painfully before his very optics, Blitzwing noted that it would be true to form that Ratchet would try and avoid it.

Whatever they were doing outside the tower looking ready to eviscerate each other, who could possibly say. The ‘Cons dropping by to no doubt inflict widespread terror had been unaccounted for, and left them in an even more compromised state.

They were wildly unprepared for a fight and this move Megatron had made to announce his intentions plainly and truthfully going forward had proved to be the most effective -and unintentional- stealth attack they’d actually imposed upon them. Nothing short of cloaking their signatures could be as powerful.

Emotionally tangled civilian types proved especially easy to eliminate.

But these bots had never been the ordinary sort, he’d found.

Optimus hadn’t torn his optics away from Bumblebee and vice versa, leaving Prowl and Bulkhead to do an evaluation on what they were in danger of themselves. It was the most careless display Optimus Prime had ever made, as their primary protector.

Megatron wasn’t ridiculous enough to think Optimus so incompetent he likely made a habit of such behavior. Immediately, Blitzwing was sharing the same strange concern as his commander was in the twinge of his field- that something was off about this.

The little organic, Sari, chose that moment to make herself known from behind Bumblebee then- completely obscured by his frame previously.

“Uh, guys can this maybe *wait*?!” She said, flapping her arms and making the most honest show of a creature fully aware of the magnitude of being on the receiving end of Megatron’s wrath.

Her panic wasn’t quite enough to break whatever spell had possessed the two glaring mechs, however. Bulkhead attempted to break optic contact again, looking between his friends and their impending doom a few yards away, but Bee was happy to move whichever way around him and assert himself in this peculiar standoff, while Optimus might as well have been baring a pair of fangs at the other, and likely was just barely repressing such an urge.

If this had been a ‘Con issue, they would already be rolling through the refuse, punching each other.

Blitzwing looked to his fearless leader for answers then and found a mech with a rapidly decreasing mood over whatever they’d just walked in on.

“Autobot,” He was addressing Optimus again.

“I’m taking Professor Sumdac to use as I see fit. Do not stand against me, and I will return your mercy.”

“Guys! They’re trying to take my dad!” Sari squeaked. Fearful of how helpless her position was in all this. They weren’t listening, and the promise of human extinction was likely on the rise, if they didn’t act soon.

As Sari had correctly feared, having watched the brutal escalation of this argument unfold, this did nothing to dissolve the suffocating tension surrounding them. The promise of Megatron moving into attack, however, seemed to shock their systems into action.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of action any of them needed right now.

More arguing.

“Megatron wouldn’t be alive to take the Professor, if he hadn’t helped him back to function in the first place.”

The other ‘Bots visibly flinched.

“Optimus! How can you say that?!” Sari cried hysterically. She looked between the four of them -her four supposed ‘friends’- then up at the three ‘Cons, no doubt leaving her a grand impression of what she’d be seeing in her nightmares for years to come.

Megatron stared back, soaking in the bewildering sight, at a loss for words. Likely a first for him.

“Way to lay blame, Prime.” Bumblebee *hissed*, and Blitzwing had never heard him speak like that to anyone before. With them recently becoming more acquainted with each other in an effort to form their future bonds, it felt distinctly personal, and he was surprised to find himself feeling uncomfortable. Even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Bumblebee wasn’t finished, though.

“That was a mistake, and we all know it! But since we’re pointing fingers,” The minibot then pointed at the petulant little pout Optimus was sporting from around Bulkhead’s side.

“Megatron wouldn’t even be here to take him for pit-knows-what, if *you* had been more assertive about the truce!”

“Untrue.” Megatron found himself speaking on the other’s behalf. Mostly spurned to take a side by his inherent desire to see order amongst rank. Perhaps impulse more than anything.

“The success of a peaceful truce between our factions was out of your leader’s hands from the start. He could no more promise the glimmer of hope in your spark such a thing than his own.”

Optimus finally looked away. An unbearable vulnerableness overtaking him.

Megatron spared him a single glance, speaking with conviction. Unused to such a show of submission from the Prime.

“He had far too great ambitions -Though you cannot fault him this. I think them quite admirable.”

Bumblebee looked a little hopeless then.

“I... It’s just...”

“You must possess the same ridiculous ambitions yourself, for what good you think you’ll do questioning your leader in this manner.”

It wasn’t a fair fight with Optimus in Megatron’s favor, but Blitzwing wasn’t dumb enough to inject himself into all this. Yet.

He may have never questioned his own leader, but he would have gladly done so, if he’d had had the privilege Bee did of surviving it.

Absolutely nothing had come of Megatron’s ‘plans’ to gain their trust and then turn it against them. Absolutely nothing had come of wasting away in the abhorrent weather on this planet, playing goodie goodie with a bunch of outspoken, annoying, overly friendly Autobots. Desecrating his name for it.

And worse than all of that still -worse than worrying over the incredible waste this had all been, and *still* was, throwing himself into an overly complicated Autobot ‘travesty’ of the mollycoddling kind, that he was *unfortunately* finding himself *invested* in- was that Bumblebee looked dangerously close to crying....

Blitzwing would question Megatron for letting it go on for so long and getting the little one’s hopes up so high.

All of the little ones.

These civilians were far more sensitive about these things- obviously. A ‘Con wouldn’t have wasted time smashing each other through the dirt the moment someone challenged their person. They wouldn’t have bothered with anything short of their offender surviving the brink of death to agree to have a chat after about their disrespectfulness.

He should have passively reminded Megatron a delicate touch would do the most good for this lot. The difference between their class types was often extreme.

And, no, he wasn’t being overly protective of a largely independent, very capable class of Cybertronians just because one of them, the only one that mattered so much to him apparently, proved to be quite sensitive to insults and tethered to his insecurities at times. That was definitely unrelated.

Megatron had been too harsh, was all.

Bumblebee might have been just bold enough -and emotionally compromised enough- to turn his anger on Megatron then, and then Blitzwing thought he really would have to intervene to keep him in one piece. But then the little bot gestured uselessly at what an utter mess this all was, his chest puffed up, holding in a whimper, and set his teary optics on Optimus again.

“It could have been different.”  His vocalizer abruptly cut off at the end, but the message was clear. He was upset to the point of tears.

In front of a bunch of *Decepticons*. In front of the *Leader* of the Decepticons. In front of *Blitzwing*.

All horrified sets of optics looked on- even Optimus, whose outrage had melted away with the last vestiges of his energy, maybe even his will to exist at the moment, and looking to be a shell of himself. Totally hollowed out inside. Distantly aware this all needed to come to the surface one way or another, and Bumblebee was going to be a tiny little wreck for it afterwards.

Optimus decided in that moment that his own despair could take a back seat.

“You always back out when it matters.” Bee murmured, lacking the powerful heat that’d been in his glare.

“That’s not true, Bumblebee.” Bulkhead said with a soothing edge to his voice. Of course, he understood what he was going through. He’d been on the receiving end of Optimus’ wrath plenty before, and knew he’d see more of it in the future. Their leader prone to snapping before bending when things became heated. And still-

“Optimus was brave enough to give this whole thing a try. Remember?”

“There was no way to guarantee it would work.” Prowl agreed.

Their teammates keeping calm enough to remind them of the facts should have been enough to bring them back to themselves. But Optimus was as easily turned a martyr as ever, even when it was the least sensible time to allow guilt to fog his processor.

“I think the reality is that I was ‘stupid’ enough to give this a try.” He supplemented. A distant ache in his chest- and processor. Both for two entirely different reasons.

Megatron might have felt a fuse blow in irritation.

Lugnut, who’d been forgotten to even have existed at the moment, stepped forward at Megatron’s side. His servo raised, retracting inward to be replaced with the dreaded, horrific POKE. Blitzwing’s wings flexed with the effort not to retreat to the skies.

“Gah! Since you blithering fools will not cease your *bickering* and *move*, I will do it for you!”

Blitzwing’s body didn’t even have a chance to subconsciously move towards Bee to shield him before Megatron was holding up a hand to stop the big brute.

“Silence, Lugnut. This isn’t a matter of strength of arm.”

Obviously -and the romantic in him just barely avoided calling it ‘a matter of spark’, and thank frag.

Prowl watched the trio curiously, hyper aware of their every little twitch. Condensation heavy on his frame from trying to keep a calm visage, while his team was in disarray.

Megatron took another step closer, successfully avoiding looking like a threat under the ninja bot’s intensive gaze, and offered himself to Bumblebee’s full attention.

“Minibot, you should direct your grievances unto me. I am the one who denied your leader’s proposition. Now, what are your qualms?”

Bumblebee just sniffed at him, realizing that would be entirely useless. He couldn’t hope to win a dispute with Megatron for anything. More importantly, Megatron wouldn’t care to give him either truthful answers or serious ones.

He was a *Decepticon* after all. *The* Decepticon.

Instead, he gave a vague, “He just gives in....” as his defeated answer. The only information he was willing to share, and completely indecipherable in meaning for Megatron, who’d only ever known a mech willing to bite his head off over imaginary equal rights.

Bumblebee vividly recalled the choice words Optimus had had for them all after Megatron’s uprising from Sumdac Tower -crushed under the immeasurable stress of leading a repair team, an insubordinate one, he’d explicitly reminded them, against the current greatest threat to their species and the universe. And the way he’d spoken to them when he’d finally succumbed to that pressure- a way Bumblebee would have never turned against his teammates. His friends. People who hadn’t signed up to be stuck on an unmarked planet, expected to protect life as they knew it from extinction.

Remembering, too, the conversations with Sentinel on the vidcoms. The way Optimus almost predictably caved when the bigger bot became aggressive. Which was practically immediately. The way he’d allow Sentinel to get away with talking to *them* next.

But he didn’t say any of that, of course. It sounded childish to have bothered him so terribly when he knew well and good he was in no shortage of faults himself. Like pinning too much expectation on Optimus to succeed in a multi-faction campaign had been -all while he was supposed to wait quietly on the sidelines and rejoice in the easy victory he’d been secured.

He couldn’t help feeling that unsavory way about his minimal efforts when it was so easy to get confused about the horrible way this wonderful prospect of change had ended. But channeling it into the bruising of Optimus’ dwindling ego wasn’t the way.

Megatron couldn’t hope to know anything about Optimus Prime’s private life with his comrades. He could only bare witness to the deeply stricken, spark guilty mech he was seeing before him now and decide solely upon that alone that he would like to put an end to this pointless blaming *immediately*.

Frailty did not suit this mech.

“I have determined peace between our factions to be insufficient in fueling our objectives as a people- and not you, or your leaders, or anyone else, could have changed my mind.” Megatron grit out through clenched denta. Shockingly affected by the little bot’s blatant disrespect.

“With this in mind, I will say that if anyone *could have* succeeded in turning my opinion, it would absolutely have been your steadfast Prime.”

Steadfast. The very opposite of what Bee had been saying about him being so easily broken.

“But he couldn’t, could he?” Bumblebee snarked, reaching into the shallowest part of his spark to deliver the hateful comment unto his utterly stricken leader, standing there with finials low and optics unseeing. Accepting it.

Blitzwing stepped forward when Megatron did then. Hoping his instinctive urge to protect the tiny bot from another ‘Con’s attentions would be overlooked at the moment by Megatron’s own peculiarly strong urge to do so for Optimus.

Not entirely so, to Blitzwing’s pure mortification, as Megatron turned a snarling show of teeth upon him for assuming to assist his chosen object’s assailant.

Blitzwing wondered if the other civilian frames all caught up in this were aware of the Con’s unfortunate coding making choices beyond their processors for them. Acting entirely on a deep rooted instinct that went beyond even simple programming. Humiliating, if so.

Lugnut obviously did, and he could only watch on *helplessly confused*, seeing his master acting in such a state. Perhaps even coming to terms at last that his blind loyalty might need its first reevaluation.

“You have become entirely too invested in this fantasy of your own making.” Megatron said to Bumblebee, a warning clear in his tone. His optics flittered over to Blitzwing then -the assailant’s impromptu guardian- causing the other’s vents to stall out.

To his own amazement, he found himself standing unflinching beneath that molten hot glare, appearing as a beckon for the defenseless minibot. Megatron could applaud him that at least.

The little yellow hellion sniffled, fresh tears of frustration prickling his optics, but refusing to let them fall.

“Th-That’s not true! He wanted it as bad as I did!”

Optimus miraculously found his voice at that.

“*Bumblebee*!” He hissed, but a warm blush on his cheekplates dampened the effect.

Bumblebee ignored him.

“He won’t admit it, but he did! I’m not the only crazy one here!”

And this was all very much crazy.

Blitzwing acknowledged that applied to him just as well, and Megatron, for being equally as disconnected from reality in defending a pretty, blue and red doormat more or less. The two of them attempting to secure these distressed little mechs from their fussing and rebuild the crucial bond civilian types kept preserved.

It was the oddest, most demoralizing urge to see that through, but neither seemed in a state to rectify their primitive coding.

Or admit this had stopped being an issue of mindless coding the moment they had begun to respect their counterparts and find them worthy of protecting in the first place.

At some point during those silly ‘negotiations’ that’d left much to be desired, these lively, colorful little idiots had started to look more and more like a welcome addition to suffer the tyranny of a war build’s naturally possessive behavior -Their only defense against such being their unlikelihood to become attached to most things that didn’t extensively benefit them to do so.... Which especially included fragile little Autobots.

Of course, they hadn’t known the little fools had managed to sink their claws into them *somehow*, until they were being forced to acknowledge it. Forced to consider their very existence, as they stood there defending them and their bickering.

There was a moment of awkward tension where the little bots stared at one another with nothing but hurt and fury in their optics. Bumblebee just at the cusp of shaking apart under all his pent up stress. But then Optimus caved, as hard as Bumblebee claimed he would, seemingly coming to terms with his own reality of the events that’d transpired over the last few weeks and how right Bumblebee was- at least, how Optimus thought he might be in a moment of his nonexistent self-esteem managing to plummet further.

“I know this all blew up in our faceplates... I know this opportunity was wasted because of me...” He murmured.

Megatron was deeply disgusted by this proclamation, but he didn’t get a chance to say how that was precisely the stupidest thing he’d ever heard- even knowing several Decepticons who’d willingly chosen to remain illiterate to this day, Optimus’ ‘confession’ had easily exceeded in stupidity.

Before he could snap an iota of sense in the otherwise sensible mech, the ridiculous little firetruck went on confirming his subordinate’s ill regards.

“I wish that I’d done this right when I’d had the chance to.... But I can’t change the past.”

“How could you have done this any differently?” Megatron didn’t even hide the bewilderment in his vocalizer -wondering what portal he’d stepped through when they’d landed where his words as the crowning war lord with the upmost priority in the ranks of Decepticons and Autobots alike were excused and ignored within seconds of uttering them.

He’d very clearly stated that this was out of the Autobot’s servos. Everyone had heard him -unless he’d been speaking Vosian without his knowing.

Optimus rubbed at his tired optics.

“If I’d had never gotten expelled in the first place, I’d be making a difference right now... I’d be more important to the cause, and Ultra Magnus might listen to me if I told him about my ideas for a truce.”

Optimus tried to shy away when Prowl made to reach for him, but the truth was that his palm on his shoulder plate was the tiniest bit grounding, and Optimus needed whatever help he could get in keeping his optics dry.

“I had to solidify my efforts somehow.... He wouldn’t have listened to me otherwise.”

Not for the first time, Optimus was reminded that he wasn’t helping his people here- essentially exiled on earth and running his mouth at Decepticon warlords like it was a sport. Why else had he thought he could take this monumental task on himself? He hadn’t really believed he could make a difference with a track record like his, had he?

For the bots he could make a difference for -his team- he was doing nothing more than endangering them all with this arrogant pursuit. It didn’t matter what Bee had encouraged, or even Sari, now that she knew. They were under his lead, following his orders. He had authority over them... They had to do what he said, as much as Jazz had to listen Sentinel.

“What would you have me do?” Megatron asked then, feeling like his processor had been bled dry of logic altogether.

“Abandon the people who expect me to bring them justice? Abandon our cause? I couldn’t do that- no matter what you hoped to accomplish, it would never come to be, little Autobot.”

Megatron stilled, considering very carefully the wisdom he wished to bestow upon the mech stood anxious and uncertain behind him. His own struts stiff and uncomfortable -unsure if he was willing to accept how fantastically things had derailed under his own supervision.

And then he turned to face Optimus, stooping the tiniest bit to be more at his level, and said firmly.

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for the misgivings of others.”

And if Optimus was as willing as he’d seen thus far to do ‘right’ by other bots, he really shouldn’t.

“You deserve the utmost respect for your efforts, especially from yourself.”

Megatron had a fleeting moment of unadulterated horror to think how compromised his logic had become to offer *comfort* of all things to his little nemesis. But then the smaller mech turned another shade darker, and he couldn’t remember why he actually hadn’t done so *sooner*.

Optimus bit into his bottom lip, looking up at the taller mech. Starkly aware he shouldn’t be looking at him in anyway that didn’t draw him as a giant target to slice his axe through. Optimus tried for all of a klik to muster his once boundless hatred for this mech before the true meaning of his words touched him deep in the most neglected part of Optimus’ conscious. The part of it he tried to convince himself didn’t desperately need approval and validation.

Meanwhile, Blitzwing took the blessed lull in their energy fields to look over at Bumblebee and find him finally seeming to soften with the want to apologize. To reach out with kindness to his leader and make right what they’d said to each other.

“You can’t let other’s affect you so when you’re a leader...” Megatron continued, utterly compelled to.

“They will have their doubts in you, but you will show them through action of your own that you deserve their trust and their respect. If they do not offer you either, it isn’t your responsibility to be burdened by their ideas of you.” Because they were all fools if they didn’t, and Megatron couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

He looked at those hopeful, blue eyes searching into him.

Those eyes so blue in more than me way.

Megatron sighed.

“But, you’re so young...”

It was unlikely Optimus could ignore the cutting words of anyone who might seek to knock him off his pedes.

Something plagued this mech. Something troubled him too terribly to instill much faith within himself, and that was about the biggest blight on all of Cybertron and the Allspark Megatron had ever known.

Optimus, genuine, selfless, thoughtful, uncertain, absurdly hopeful Optimus should never had been abandoned to feel so unsure of himself or his incredible talent. His compassion, his gentle nature, his ability to spread good will- or at least his desire to try.

Nobody had ever told him otherwise, had they? Not the right people- not the people who could have made the biggest impact on him. Shaped him as a soldier, given him time and care to grow. Those people had most likely even done the opposite.

Buried him further where the light of his own hope could no longer reach him. Promise him his worth was destitute.

Megatron felt incredibly troubled to know this mech all at once.

“Uh... Um, hey....” Sari began, coming out from around Bumblebee to stare wide eyed at the telenovela worthy chaos before her.

“Uh. What do you guys want with my dad?”

“Ve need him to make us a subspace communicator to contact Lord Megatron’s forces.”

Blitzwing answered truthfully. Either way, they’d all be coming away from this deeply scarred and with a magnitude of trust issues. Where was the harm in admitting to attempted kidnapping?

Bulkhead perked then, seizing the opportunity to continue this without violence.

“Well... Maybe we can work something out?”

Megatron felt himself age a few thousand years.

———— ————

Of course, the little scraps had lost contact with the Steelhaven since crashing on this insipid planet, and there was nothing they could ‘work out’ regarding Megatron’s need for a communication source. Nothing they could do more than the lot of them walking  quietly away from this, so everyone could cool down and come back to their senses. All expecting Megatron to simply leave empty handed of one organic, reverse engineer.

What part of ‘No Truce, Only Enemies’ did they not understand? Now Bulkhead was trying to make empty compromises?

What hope had he that Optimus, Megatron’s only fond acquaintance of this incorrigible lot, narrowly didn’t?

Exactly none, that’s what.

“I have asked generously that you stand down.” Megatron snarled.

“I will not repeat myself.”

And then, when they inevitably refused now that he’d talked them out of their senselessness, there’d be nothing left to do but fight.

And that was all there was to it, it seemed.

Optimus nodded, resigned to the inevitable, and began reaching for his axe- battle mask forgotten in his half sparked desire to lead a defense. Maybe he was actually expecting to be bested quickly in his subpar state, so they might return to their base, and Optimus could retreat into himself for a few moments just to process this ungodly embarrassment before constructing an outline of Sumdac’s rescue. Essentially expecting defeat.

It was, without a doubt, the most pitiful display Megatron had ever seen, and so unlike the Prime he’d come to know in every conceivable way.

Distantly, so very distantly and obscurely and almost impossibly, Megatron couldn’t help but wonder if a loss like this having such an impact on his seemingly unshakable rival might be because there was more at stake than the loss of one unlikely truce. Something beyond his struggle to outlive the failures of his past and his abysmal sense of self.

Perhaps perceiving some great loss in the ‘loss’ of Megatron.

Like, perhaps, he’d wanted his camaraderie? Like he’d wanted more time to speak candidly with another mech, when the option was so rare. Like he’d wanted his company in some familiar capacity. That he’d wanted something.... else...?

Megatron shunned the thought. Thinking like that was gravely beneath Optimus’ deserving. He was to be respected- especially since he wouldn’t respect himself...

But a fight was the only logical course of action here on, as neither faction could simply surrender.

Bumblebee followed Optimus’ lead and readied his stingers while Sari took cover. The other Autobots preparing themselves, coming out the other end of the emotional minefield they’d marginally survived to embrace battle. However successful they imagined they’d be in such a debauched state. Brave little bots, as they ever were.

Megatron looked at an exhausted Optimus and knew he’d have to fight this mech then. There truly was nothing left for them beyond a mutual agreement to disagree. Bizarre as it was that Megatron was having trouble justifying beating a mech in such a shaken state, despite him being a thorn in his eye since his reawakening on this planet, Megatron knew it was the only path for them.

Perhaps their destiny, even. Megatron was just romantic enough to believe so.

Across from him, Blitzwing looked woefully unwilling to do fighting of any sort. Fanning his wing the tiniest bit to shield the minibot. Megatron could deal with such insubordination later.

This moment right now was his calling- his time to take up arms once more for his people. The past was the past, the ‘peace’, real or not, was over.

Lugnut took all of one step forward with servo raised and POKE ready before Megatron was quickly throwing out a hand to catch him by the forearm and promptly put a stop to that.

“Hold all fire!”

Bumblebee pointedly did not lower his stingers. But as they were raised towards Megatron’s helm and Megatron’s alone, he didn’t imagine Blitzwing would be too upset about his eagerenss to take a shot at one of them.

Megatron found the threat seriously lacking.

“Prime,” He snapped, quickly turning his attention on the Autobot who’s finials twitched. Sensing... something.

A strong intuition, this one.

“There is no need for us to spill each other’s Energon.” Megatron tried one final time. Terrified that he was about to do something awful. Something even worse than slaughtering this tiny mech. Something like letting him *live*.

“You can prove yourself a competent leader now, and stand down!”

“I can’t let you take professor Sumdac, Megatron.” Optimus said in what was left of his authoritative tone since having a crisis in front of everyone and Primus. He looked in no such state to back that claim, but-

“I *won’t* let him go without a fight.”

Optimus could realistically accept what that meant for them then, and raised his axe to his chest. Prepared.

It was only a blip in the next nanosecond that Megatron perfectly recalled Strika’s message to him about ‘playing stupid games’ and the consequence of such, to remembering pivotal moments in the millennia he’d spent leading an army through war. Remembering what he’d had to sacrifice to earn his stature and rank.

It took marginally less time than that even to ruin everything he’d ever worked for.

“We shall attempt this truce of yours once more!”

Not that it was ‘Optimus’ truce’, and not that it didn’t cater heavily towards the justice of war frames. But Megatron wasn’t willing at the moment to take responsibility for that, too, on top of his single handed destruction of the Decepticon empire just now.

Optimus blinked like he hadn’t heard him. Maybe he hadn’t.

“We’ll try one final time.” Megatron reaffirmed. His vocalizer feeling stretched thin.

“Ultra Magnus must have a hand in securing our progress, however.”

Optimus, like everyone else within audial range, needed several kliks to process that. He spluttered and clenched his axe towards his chest, like he was desperate for something to hold on to. Something to put between himself and Megatron’s impossible promise. One he surely couldn’t mean.

Bumblebee flapped uselessly behind the triple changer.

Blitzwing was forced to recalibrate his gyroscope. Feeling as though gravity had just dissipated from the atmosphere and the earth was shifting beneath him, because this was definitely not part of some plan anymore....

Bee’s strangled squeal from his side grounded him immediately.

This.... this *was* real, Megatron had definitely just said that. Possibly without an ounce of the appropriate consideration it honestly demanded. 

Starscream was right that their leader was no longer fit to be such, and Blitzwing was hard pressed to find a fault in that.

Megatron, to his credit, gave a valiant effort to seem indifferent to the little Prime’s equally ill suppressed glee and barreled on before he could drown in the severity of his tremendous regret.

“Though the fact pains me greatly, Ultra Magnus is the only mech that can incorporate these changes you’re pushing for. He must have a hand in these negotiations.”

Optimus tried to argue that those changes ‘he was pushing for’ were all strictly in Megatron’s interest in that he receive equality and the rights of all Cybertronians who were willing to do good. Not that Megatron was of course. Yet... If ever...

But neutrality and peace was an indirect, indisputable good. Wasn’t it?

Optimus, processor spinning a mile a minute, could hardly think otherwise.

He was shaking, cycling through unspoken emotions, some entirely new to him. Excitement muddling the words he longed to say. Megatron watched with a carefully blank face, hoping his spark doing strange leaps in his battle warn chassis weren’t detectable through that immaculate intuition alone, and, finally, the dearly important words stuck in Optimus’ throat stumbled out.

“Wh-what if... I don’t think Ultra Magnus will take a liking to this suggestion, I.... Wh-What happens then?”

Megatron very sensibly did not admit that he was well aware that Magnus’ involvement was a great unlikelihood when he’d agreed to a second truce in the first place. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was mysteriously invested in seeing Optimus at ease for once- eager and motivated, like he’d been during negotiations -when he thought he was being helpful.

Megatron did not pity his efforts, nor belittle them. But he did, in truth, find them endearing- in a soft sparked, blue eyed -literally, too- bot trying to find some good in the world sort of way. This young, sweet thing.

Megatron scowled.

As far as Ultra Magnus went, while preserving some of his reputation as a sparkless, conniving war lord, well...

“He may very well not come around, but I offer you this opportunity all the same. It’s your choice whether you take it-“

Then he stopped, acknowledging the unholy level of responsibility even that would place onto Optimus, *again*, and quickly back-peddled.

“And we will consider other alternatives from there. I strongly advise his involvement and hopefully some degree of compliance.”

Optimus was beyond thrilled, but all he could muster to show for it was a ridiculous -adorable- gaping mouth that opened and shut several times over in his loss for both words and processing power.

Megatron couldn’t remain prideful in his half baked, overly confident decision for long. Optimus’ finials subconsciously lowering as he bit at his lip and studied the ground in a fierce battle to fight the smile from his face knocked the hot air right out of Megatron’s vents. He covered it up well enough by looking daringly at the other Autobots to challenge him.

No one did of course. The shocked silence spoke of no such protests, and the faces full of awe -some being his own soldiers’- stared back in wonder. ‘Wonder’, or utter disbelief.

So it was to be, apparently, that Megatron would be making a fool of himself once more. For a depressed, foolish Autobot’s benefit of all things. 

Only....there was one enormous issue lying plainly before them that they hadn’t thoroughly considered....

The watery smile slipped from Optimus’ faceplates as he looked up at him in dawning horror. 

“Well, I... I *would* tell Ultra Magnus, if I... if I could reach him. I-I *will* tell him, just... as soon as I’m able. Ah... I...”

Megatron turned his paling face away from the gathering mecha.

That meant he’d have to play nice in the meantime. For however long that would be -Because he’d already sold himself to this preposterous, humiliating arrangement, and it was definitely only because of that, and not because of Optimus lighting up like starlight.

“We’ll have Professor Sumdac start to work on that communicator then...” He said at last. Realizing that was about the only thing they could do.

“And until then?” Prowl was smart enough to ask- While Optimus was unfortunately succumbing to that hopefulness he fought so hard against from consuming him and dared not voice such concerns.

His optimism did seem to have a way of defining much of his processing. Megatron was distraught to find that little bit endearing, too.

“Until then... we will... enact a ceasefire between our.... factions.” That was almost painful to say.

He could push it aside well enough to admire the way Optimus seemed dumbstruck, torn between awe and graciousness and worry -and that darling, blossoming hope.

He was already rushing to continue where they’d left off.

“Those changes you talked about that your people have been-“ But Megatron would rather not speak of that in front of the others.

“We will discuss those matters in our next negotiation.” He said plainly, with a palm held out to quiet him. The promise of negotiations resuming was enough to quiet him. But not pacify him.

Optimus looked like someone’d set off a fire works show in his chassis. He turned soft blue optics away to rejoice quietly with himself, smile wide and vibrant, while the others voiced their opinions at one another.

“Sweet!” Bumblebee was the first to speak, pumping his fist in the air and coming forward to backslap an unmoving Blitzwing.

“We can play more Jet Grinder now! I can get my high score back!”

Blitzwing scoffed with all the superiority a mech that’d delivered the smack down upon a noob-ish fool like Bumblebee could.

“Don’t bet on it, Bug- unless jou are betting jour points.”

Bumblebee made a rude gesture he’d picked up from the locals.

“No way! You’re gonna cry so hard when I get my initials in gold letters back at the top of the score board! Sucks for you~”

Blitzwing flicked his wings in irritation, so as not to express the fact that he could hardly contain himself at the moment.

Sari, who’d been too overwhelmed by whatever she was witnessing in both the mech of horrible legend and the normally stoic, unexcitable Optimus, looking a little too invested in one another, excused herself from the whole mess entirely to go inform her father inside the tower that they would not be coming in to check out that super-amazing-latest invention they’d came here for anymore.

Also that’d he’d almost been captured and exhausted of all his resources by the Decepticons before Megatron surprisingly wussed out for some reason. Well, not for some reason... But she wasn’t willing to give life to the fact that it’d been because she’d seen similar behavior in those lovey-dovey romance movies.

For the sake of everyone, nobody needed to openly acknowledge what was happening between them there. She was fully convinced Optimus was oblivious to that poorly disguised soft look in Megatron’s optic, anyway, so he wasn’t to blame.

Prowl took the next opportunity to remind Optimus that they were treading very deadly waters now. As if he needed the reminder.

Maybe a little bit....

He wasn’t looking as cowed and serious as he should be at the moment, staring up at Megatron in wide eyed wonder.

————- ———————

“I *was* out of line. You were right.” Bumblebee mumbled against Optimus’ side sometime later that night.

However short lived this giant victory and the impossible high it’d given them was, they intended to savor it. Make even poorer decisions than spilling their sparks in front of a bunch of war mechs they’d hardly gotten to know in any civilized way in the quiet of their rooms. Together, preferably.

That meant apologizing.

Bee stared at the wall, finding it easier to speak his truth without having to look at the other.

“You shouldn’t have said that slag about Professor Sumdac, though.”

Optimus tensed against him.

“Yeah... that was awful. I shouldn’t of... I need to apologize to Sari.”

“Later.” Bee hummed, too tired to leave Optimus’ room to seek out his own berth. He nestled closer to his side instead.

This moment wasn’t terribly common, but was frequent enough to be labeled as one of those soft civilian luxuries that Bumblebee found deeply depressing Blitzwing said war types abstained from. He’d die without Prowl to cuddle and pester at awful hours of the night cycle after playing a really scary level on Cutter.

“I’m not done talking about how awesome what happened was....” Then added thoughtfully.

“...Or apologizing.”

“No more.” Optimus assured him, nudging against him, attempting to reserve himself from pushing too strongly.

Bumblebee didn’t let him retreat into himself, though, in his latest bout of guilt.

“Ok, ok. But you do know that I care about you, right?”

“I care about you, too. You gave me the courage to give the truce a try, despite all the odds against us. You just seemed so sure.”

‘And you listened?’ Bee wanted to laugh, but when hadn’t Optimus listened to his teammates making a serious suggestion? He couldn’t always put them into action, but he did do his best to listen.

So instead, Bumblebee teased him.

“Oh? I did? Am I your muse, Bossbot?” Bee batted his lids, and Optimus snorted. Feeling emboldened by the other’s goofiness to nuzzle his little helm under his chin with a blue servo.

“When you’re happy, it’s hard not to find inspiration.” He murmured, clearly struggling with such openness.

Bee felt uncomfortably warm, but allowed himself to bask in the wonderful intimacy  this simple bonding with his cohort instilled. Feeling a familiar security in his spark under his leader’s protection.

“That’s an oof for me.” He muttered anyway.

Optimus perked.

“Is that...? That’s me-me culture stuff, right?”

“Oh, God, no. Prime, please don’t grow up to be like Ratchet.”

Optimus scowled over the top of Bee’s helm.

“Ratchet doesn’t tease me during bonding.”

“He doesn’t gush with you over tall, dark, and terrifying war machines, either.”

Optimus jolted, optics going wide. Too scared to pull away and broadcast his horror at having been caught. It was a little too true, regardless of how blatant a jab and lacking in substance it was *meant* to be.

Instead, they sat their silently, leaning against eachother and into the berth slab behind them. Pretending that neither one of them actually felt that way.

———————————-

End Part 1

I just want a computer, so I can make italics easier. These * hurt my eyes

[koemiii]

Hii! I'm here for the matchup if it's alright.

Sexuality: AroAce, but I'd like a QPP [Queerplatonic partner] i am fine with being paired up with both genders.

Pronouns: He/she/they [any of the three is fine]

🏹 — AESTHETIC:

Metalhead all the way, and the other 1% knightly aesthetic.

🕸️ ; PERSONALITY — My personality is basically a brazilian on crack, I'm very loud and chaotic. I alternate between being clever and walking headfirst into a brick wall, I'm also very oblivious and blunt, you'll have to explain something to me at least 10 times again if i don't understand, i also like to make jokes, and puns sometimes! In general i just adore making jokes and getting a good laugh. I am just a crackhead. Speaking of crackhead, my humor is extremely broken; I'll laugh at anything ranging from the most chaotic thing (examples: a goddamn picture of an m&m, a horse with high heels, a piece of bread falling, the word balls, someone flying, literally an image of a tree with music) honestly anything ranging from just that will make me wheeze like my lungs just exploded, I'll be laughing like a deranged fox. I am seen as pretty chill, I'm honestly a happy-go-lucky person and I can socialize with everyone, i have a habit of cursing and invent the most absurd sounding curse words my favorite ones are “you blithering feculent shithole” “What in the name of sweet dong tickling horse fuck?!” “bunch of putrid douchesquatting cretins” “you shitsmearing fuckass” and finally “how can you be such a fucksquatting pain in the waste chute” i also have a knightly persona and act like a knight despite my use of constant profanity. 'Tis but the truest way of the knight! Any chance i get to act like a knight, I'll take it. if I'm in the presence of an animal and you're talking to me? I'll pay more attention to the animal. I usually miss major signs due to me being an oblivious asswhiffer. i also have a habit of usually just agreeing on anything and never really taking action, just obeying orders lol- i basically act like an actual knight to their queen/king. 😭

🕸️ ; HOBBIES — drawing my QPP partner in a cute art style,reading, writing, playing the guitar, cracking my bones- like how people crack their fists, i do that except with every bone in my body, ankles, shoulders, neck, fingers you name it. Acting like a knight, or just whatever random clusterfuckery my dumb fuckass of a brain can come up with

🕸️ ; LIKES : animals,cats,ice cream,peanuts,the color red,Greek mythology,heavy metal/deathcore metal,dad jokes or any jokes, romcoms, cold food & drinks, the season of winter.

🕸️ ; DISLIKES : Tea, Coca Cola, Strawberries, Hot food, The season of Summer, icing and cake, any bug.. i guess there's not much.

INSECURITIES: my face i actually have a baby face and it ain't good, the scar on my left eye, my fear of thunder and thunderstorms it leaves me sobbing, another fear is bugs it also leaves me sobbing no matter the size of the bug i will scream so loud. The fact that I cook bad :'(

SOMETHING I LIKE IN A PARTNER: uhm anything really i don't think i even have a dislike.

---

BONUS:

🕸️ ; AFFECTION — I love making "fun" of people.. in a loving way. like I'll say something that's like “Hi there little stinky baby!” In a high pitched voiced to someone i find stinky [mean demeanor or just tsundere behavior] basically like how cat owners talk to their cats, if they mess up a word I'll also mimic them in the same high pitched tone while rubbing their face and lightly squeezing it adding a “you're so cute! Such a cutie!” everytime, if I'm far away; I'll be giggling and doing squeezey hands. I also love cuddling! I love being the little spoon despite being tall. I love drawing my partner in a cute art style! Only way to describe my love language is basically affectionate teasing. I'm very clingy too-

----

I really like spiders! They actually don't scare me at all, in fact when i see one i pet them using my finger and let them crawl on my hand. I actually have a pet spider too! His name's bobby and he's a tarantula! His species name is Arizona Blonde

Hope this wasn't too long..

Hihi!!!! How are you? Ahh you're like me in someway!! My humor is brokenmm too like ur mum. /j

results down there!!

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Your fated partner is... Hutao!!

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Y'all will definetely go out to have a movie date and theme park hangouts i'm sure of it. Life's no fun without these things!!

You and Hutao share the same broken humor. She has patience in explaning everything to you despite your nature!!

You and her's like two peas in a pod. Loud and chaotic? Her thing.

The habit of absurd sounding curse words from you, hmm...she has learnt a few- well, maybe not a few. A plenty of them to count. Or maybe you can't count anymore. Okay. Too much to count.

Ooh you act like a knight? She's interested in roleplaying with you!! She just geniuely loves the vibes you radiate (especially around her.)

Do you know, Hutao loves to write poems!!! So I think this will be a great opportunity to exchange ideas on poems, stories...etc.

Everytime she hears you cracking a bone, she'll never miss the chance of selling you coffin(s). She thinks you’re helping her to boost income!!!

There's a cat outside the Wanghsneg Funeral Parlour. Hutao feeds it daily wayy before she met you. She has been friends with the stray cats n dogs in Liyue since she's stil young!! Sometimes takes you to where the animals are. She knows you like them!

She's into heavy metal/deathcore metal too, not surprisingly. I feel like since you and her share the same aesthetic, she steals your clothes 24/7 and doesn't even tell you until you ask her hehehe. She just gives you back a cheeky smile when she returns your clothes.

You and her sleep together everynight. And those nights are always filled with bedtime storytelling, from you telling her Greek Mythology to her telling you histories about Liyue which she heard from Zhongli.

When it's winter, y'all go out to have a snowball fight!!

In conclusion, although she seems to sell you coffins everyday, she doesn't want to lose you. She doesn't want you to die on her too fast. As her partner, it's her job to protect you!! She loves you so much.

Woww...you love spiders and you even have a pet spider!!! That's so great!! But Hutao rembers that you dislike insects...hm, well, maybe spiders hold a special place in your heart just like herself.

Bobby's cute!! She knows that. Finds it amazing too, letting Bobby crawl onto your hand. However she had tried selling bobby pint-sized coffins.

Hutao loves your cat so much!! Whenever she and Morrigan cross paths in the home, she'll pet them. Who can resist a floofy and warm cat, she says.

I assume the origin of Morrigan's name have became some night's bedtime stories with you telling her.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳BONUS!! -ˏ͛-

Everyone has their own insecurities and fears, so it really doesn't matter to her. She understands. She promised that she'll protect you!!

She doesn't find your baby face bad. It just makes you yourself unique!! Instead she finds it cute and she doesn't hesitate to tell you that you're cute. That's really what she thinks and this isn't your flaw. It's what makes her little stupid boo special!!

When it's having a thunderstorm, she know that you'll be scared. She may seem unrealiable at first glance but she's wayy more than that. She'll engulf you into her, cover your ears and whisper comforting words. May even pat your head too!! So don't be scared.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

sorry if this took too long!! hope you like this ;) lmk in the comments if i missed anything please!!

[fandom-smut-shots]

YOO can i get a matchup for Rosario Vampire? And One Punch Man [if possible] if matchups are closed please ignore this and I'm sorry.

T's romantic of course!

I doth not has't a preference, for i am rated e for everyone!

[I'm so sorry for the Shakespeare]

----

⚔️ — NAME : Caynine or Vinicios (or the americanized version: William)

------

⚔️ ; APPEARANCE — I have monolids, and a long scar on my left eye due to 5 yr old me being stupid I also have glasses, and am a complete blind shit without them. Overall i am seen as intimidating, either because of my eye scar or the fact that i dress the way i dress [for reference, think of metalheads but with alotta chains and spikes] my voice is very deep and mature like, I'm about 198 cm (6'5 i think)

⚔️ ; PERSONALITY — My personality is, despite being seen as intimidating and cold, is the exact opposite I'm basically a brazilian on crack, I'm very loud and chaotic. I alternate between being clever and walking headfirst into a brick wall, I'm also very oblivious and blunt, you'll have to explain something to me at least 10 times again, if i don't understand; i also like make jokes a lot, and puns sometimes! In general i just adore making jokes and getting a good laugh. I also tend to say stuff that is labeled as nonsense like “is orange called orange because oranges orange or because oranges are orange?” i like to make people confused, though people call me bonkers for that. Speaking of bonkers, my humor is extremely broken; I'll laugh at anything ranging from the most chaotic thing (examples: a goddamn picture of an m&m, a horse with high heels, a piece of bread falling, the word balls, someone flying, literally an image of a tree with music) honestly anything ranging from just that will make me wheeze like my lungs just exploded, I'll be laughing like a deranged fox.

I am seen as pretty chill, I'm honestly a happy-go-lucky person and I can socialize with everyone, i have a habit of cursing and invent the most absurd sounding curse words my favorite ones are “you blithering feculent shithole” “What in the name of sweet dong tickling horse fuck?!” “bunch of putrid douchesquatting cretins” “you shitsmearing fuckass” and finally “how can you be such a fucksquatting pain in the waste chute” i also act like a knight despite my use of constant profanity. 'Tis but the truest way of the knight!

Any chance i get to act like a knight, I'll take it. I probably pay more attention to animals then humans, if I'm in the presence of an animal and you're talking to me? I'll pay more attention to the animal. I usually miss major signs due to me being an oblivious asswhiffer. I’m also really vengeful but can never enact on it so i just suppress my emotions, my way of thinking about heroes is similar to that of Garou (how the hero demographic gets ALL the benefits and praise. Even in play fighting. I believe a villain is a living being and could become so much more if they weren’t labelled so bad. I overly detest the over-egotistical nature of the heroes and just how easy life can be for them. I label it as injustice. The inequality is crystal clear, If i could i would also bring justice to the villains)

⚔️ ; HOBBIES — drawing, reading, writing, dancing, i have a habit of cracking my bones- like how people crack their fists, i do that except with every bone in my body, ankles, shoulders, neck, fingers you name it. Acting like a knight, or just whatever randomness my dumb fuckass of a brain can come up with

⚔️ ; LIKES : animals,cats,ice cream,peanuts,the color red,Greek mythology, heavy metal/deathcore metal,dad jokes or any jokes, romcoms, cute things.

⚔️ ; DISLIKES : Tea, Coca Cola, Strawberries, Hot food, The season of Summer, icing and cake, any bug i guess there's not much.

⚔️ ; AFFECTION —

I love making "fun" of people.. in a loving way, like I'll say something that's like “Hi there little stinky baby!” In a high pitched voiced to someone i find stinky [mean demeanor or just tsundere behavior] basically like how cat owners talk to their cats, if they mess up a word I'll also mimic them in the same high pitched tone while rubbing their face and lightly squeezing it adding a “you're so cute! Such a cutie!” everytime, i also love cuddling! I love being the little spoon despite being tall. I think I would like my partner to quote unquote "order" me around as i am not the type of person to order others. I guess i am kinda submissive. I love drawing my partner in a cute art style!

— hope it wasn't too long!

I don't mind the Shakespeare at all, and I appreciate your support via request but I have never seen One Punch Man and I no longer write for Rosario Vampire. I'm sorry! I haven't updated my match-up master in ages so I have no idea what fandoms are even listed, and I've actually been meaning to close requests as I have too much going on. But thank you!

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Daffy: Porky then sthaid he reckoned he could drive a lap of our track in a car, whilthst in a sthleeping bag.

Bugs: Can you?

Porky: W-w-well, let's f-f-f-f-find out.

Bugs: Oh, here we go.

Porky: H-here I am driving along, in a S-Suzuki Swift, exactly as you were.

Bugs: And are you wearing normal clothes, Porky?

Porky: N-n-n-no, I'm in a s-s-sleeping bag!

[from inside the car]

Shuffling wheel. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

Bugs: Now just tell me, was it easy?

Porky: Th-th-there was only one problem actually...

[from inside the car]

Th-that blithering idiot d-d-duck has turned the heater up to full blast because he thought it was f-f-funny.  And of course I can't reach the n-n-n-n-n-n-knob!

[blitherbug]

Hey you,

Yeah you,

you should make ref sheets or your charcter, not just cause there usefull for you, but cause if people like your art(they will) they can make fan art of your charcter, and then you have more art of your schmungus, how cool is that

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: patchwork heart; roman reigns

Notes:

Another ask that came in on my main and subsequently got buried below layers and layers of my bullshit. I was kinda feeling the idea of Alpha!Roman, but.. So many people have ‘already gone there’ til I’m not sure if I can say whether I would or not. It’s certainly something to consider.

Summary:

Eve and Seth were a couple but they broke up. As per usual, Seth was quick to move on, Eve is just kind of.. Finding her footing again. When Seth starts a confrontation in the airport -with the help of Mandy Rose, and Roman steps up, it gets Eve and Roman to talking.

Pairing:

Roman Reigns x OFC, Eve

Warnings:

uhh, none?

2 weeks downtime and not one single call. Not a text, nothing. It really blew her mind how Seth would  just willingly throw away what they had. And then, on top of it, not only blame her for it ending, but do all he could to paint himself the ‘victim’ in their relationship. The thought sneaked it’s way into her head and frustrated, Eve sighed and wrinkled her nose, continuing down the path that thought had her going down..

… then again, he had one foot out the door for the last year of it and I know it…

With that thought to finish things for the moment, Eve picked up her bags and started to make her way towards the check in area, avoiding as many of her co workers as she could in the process.  God knows, they probably all took his side. Everyone here does. Seth never does a damn thing, it’s literally any and everyone else’s fault… that thought had her scowling to herself. She swore to herself she was going to just let this roll off her, hide out until it all blew over. And what was she doing? Standing in the middle of a crowded airport, letting Seth Rollins win all over again.

The tap to her shoulder had her turning and the glare came easily as she stared up at Mandy Rose.

“Didn’t you cause enough damage before we left for downtime? Next time you want someone all to yourself, life pro tip, you blithering idiot.. At least try to find something true to run back and tell your target. I mean… Me and Roman, seriously? The guy thinks I’m an annoyance, at best…”

… does what she said really matter?…

… he obviously believed it…

… the funny thing is, what upsets me most is that I truly do believe that Roman thinks I’m an annoyance… Two weeks ago, it was Seth and me fighting… maybe the time away was good for me…

Mandy shrugged and sighed, giving her one of those condescending looks. “Are you still accusing me of that? Gosh, so pathetic, get a life.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m stating facts. Now move, Mandy or I’ll - “ her statement was cut off by someone clearing their throat from behind. Roman stood there, Seth not too far away. Seth barely even looked at her, and Eve made herself stare at anything but her former boyfriend.

… Nope, not gonna happen… not gonna let those puppy eyes sway me, and obviously, it’s better that we don’t speak, so yeah… just gonna look for a hasty exit… Eve thought to herself as her eyes darted around them. She’d been just about to make a break for it, but Roman inched closer to her side, making her tense as the scent of him filled her nose all over again, rugged and spicy. Eve glanced up at him and Roman smirked down at her, mouthing something. She couldn’t move.

Seth was staring a hole through her, and he acted as if he suddenly had something to input. Which he did, seconds later. “Here we go again, man.” was muttered in more annoyance than anything as Seth rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze to Eve, almost as if he were blaming her for popping off, making a scene that he now had to bear witness to. Eve rolled her eyes right back and went back to letting them wander around, doing anything but meeting those dark eyes of Roman Reigns yet again.

… because the way he stared at her lately, it was… enough to melt the clothing right off her body…  She cringed as the thought came, because considering the huge mess and the accusations before downtime started and she told Seth she wasn’t going back to Davenport with him, - and Roman’s sort of standoffish attitude towards her, prior to the little ‘break’ between her and Seth, it was the last thing that needed to be happening right now. She needed to have a little more respect for herself than drooling over her ex’s best friend.

Even though God knows, that man is a walking sex ad…

“She told you to move, Mandy. Why not do something useful for once and move. Nobody wants to hear whatever this is.” Roman turned, narrowing his eyes at Seth as he told him calmly, “And you.. Just shut the fuck up already. Don’t even think about startin it, Seth, or so help me God, you will not like the outcome. Aight? We good?”

“Super.” Seth said it with as much venom and sarcasm as he could muster. Ever since Roman started lurking around Eve, who was supposed to be his girl, Seth was getting more and more tired of the way Roman just kinda… Took over things.

… Or made Eve smile a time or two, made her laugh, you know deep down, there’s something there, even if they both swear there isn’t… and it drives you goddamn insane…

Eve turned finally, with all intentions of yeeting herself as far away as possible from the whole thing in it’s entirety  and she  found herself body to body with Roman Reigns. Like usual,her mouth opened and closed and Roman continued to give that calm thousand yard stare at Mandy - and Seth, she noticed, both of whom finally relented, though Mandy grumbled and pouted and visibly sulked about it the whole time. Seth just gave Eve a look as if somehow, he blamed her for this too. And Eve rolled her eyes when they met his, just as he went to walk away.

Eve’s feet shuffled awkwardly and she raised a hand, dragging it through her hair. Her mouth did the awkward as hell open and close bit for at least another few seconds. Roman chuckled and nodded to the check in counter.

“We kinda need to check into the flight.”

“I.. uhh.. Yeah. Look, thanks for… that… just now.”

Roman laughed and shrugged. “Not a problem, baby girl. Kinda got sick of her shit when she was tryin to run interference with Naomi and Jimmy a while back.” and while he didn’t say it, he thought to himself, … and then there’s the fact that nobody messes with my girl…

Eve picked up her bag and started to turn away but Roman grabbed at her wrist just as a crowd came by that would’ve knocked her over. She felt his other hand rest across her lower back and that chuckle…. Dear god.

Roman started to lead the petite brunette across the lobby, navigating them easily through crowds and the like until they reached the line for check in. The entire time, it was on the tip of his tongue to just come out and speak his piece on the actions of his former close friend Seth as of late, but he thought better of it.

Even though, he thought to himself calmly, as soon as Roman figured out what Eve was to him, he was filled with this deep seated rage that made it damn near impossible to be around Rollins without wanting to kick the other man’s head in.

… she belongs to us… everything will be okay now… baby steps, man… you gotta take baby steps… everything that happened earlier this month really hurt her… Seth’s good at constantly hurtin her. Gotta earn her trust, get to know her better, let her know it’s okay to depend on me and that I ain’t Rollins…

She must have said something and he missed it, because she was giving a quiet laugh, shaking her head and preparing herself to turn away from him and towards the line in front of them both.

“What’s wrong?” he leaned down to mumble next to her ear. Eve swallowed hard and made herself meet his gaze and answer quietly, “Nothing I just… I kinda annoy you. You act really tense and edgy around me.. I figured you were getting annoyed, so like… I was gonna turn around and give you space?” the statement came out sounding like a weak attempt at a question instead.

Roman laughed, almost snorting at one point before stopping himself to meet her gaze and shake his head. “It’s nothin like that, baby girl. I can promise you that.”

“Oh..o-okay?”

The fluttering in her stomach that tended to happen around him -or in awkward situations like the one she’d just been helped out of by him, it was back and in full force.

Eve fanned her face and shook her head.

It felt hotter in the airport and Roman’s cologne was almost overpowering, but not in a bad way.

In a comforting way.

It was the best explanation Eve could come up with.

Roman eyed her up. Her scent was almost sweet enough to make his mouth water. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, suddenly super conscious of the fact. She wasn’t really saying much and just a quick scenting gave way that she felt comfortable… Well, beyond the jumble of thoughts and emotions his mate was currently trying to work through.

“You okay?” he asked the question, his hand rubbing at her lower back lazily as they moved up in the line.

“Seth and Mandy can pretty much ruin anything.” was the only explanation Eve gave and she shrugged, shaking her head with a cross look in her eyes. Roman glared in Seth’s direction and then turned his gaze back to her, stating calmly, “You’d probably be a lot better off if you quit lettin that asshole get to you. He’s gonna pull the little wounded bitch act. If you act like it doesn’t bug ya, he’ll knock it the fuck off. That’s how he operates, trust me baby girl, I know him like the back of my hand.”

Eve stared up at Roman intently for a second or two. “I’ll umm.. I’ll definitely have to remember that.. Hey, weird and totally random, but… Do you wanna sit together on the plane?”

“I’d love that, baby girl. You hungry? After we check into the flight, we can go find somewhere to get food, we’ll have about two and a half hours to wait.”

“I’d love that, Roman.” Eve smiled up at him and Roman smiled back, chuckling. “That’s good.”

[fan-writer02]

Have a blind Astrid AU. I don’t think I’ve posted this one yet, truth be told, I can’t remember. XD But if I did just lemme know and I’ll delete it. This isn’t much anyhow, just a pointless drabble I wrote up for no good reason. I just figured, what if Astrid was somehow wounded in the battled against Grimmel, and loses her sight? Here’s a little insight on the subject. (haha, I’m so funny :PP)

Memory 

People would ask: How much do you remember? She would always laugh, because it seemed like they expected her to forget. How could she forget when it was all she had?

He had a round nose. Big emerald eyes (Not green, they were more then that. They shone and sparkled.) and big ears. He had a gap-toothed smile- auburn hair. With her little braids behind those comical ears of his. And... he'd had hair constantly flapping over his eyes. She'd brush it aside. He'd grin. 

Oh. He had freckles. So many freckles. All across his nose and cheeks, the back of his neck. On his shoulders. His hands, even. 

And scars. His left leg was only half there. He had a scar on his chin, a long smooth white scar on his right hand. And an entire chip out of his left index finger was gone. From the forge work. He had a splattered burn scar below his elbow. 

He was tall. Taller then Fishlegs. But he'd never been as tall as Stoick. She was okay with that, for if he'd been any taller, she wouldn't be able to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

Once, after they'd married, he'd begun to let his peach fuzz grow. She'd betted he wouldn't be able to grow a beard at all "with those chin whiskers", but turned out he could. At first, she wasn't sure she liked it. Now, she loved it. And not just for the appeal, but also the sensible part of it as well. She could easily kiss him now without missing his lips. (And Hiccup had gloated it up, that cheeky blither. Telling her he'd finally beat her at something: growing whiskers. She'd threatened to shave it off while he slept, though she never ever would even if she wanted to.)

She remembered, a few months after the "incident", Hiccup had been extra quiet one evening as they sat in front of the fire. She prompted him to tell her what was wrong, and finally he did. 

"My braids." He said lowly. He paused, and she waited. "I- they've fallen out now. Both of them." 

Her heart danced. So he did like them. Of course he did, she knew he did, no matter how many times he said they bugged him. A smile tickled the corner of her lips.

"Yes?" She prompted. 

He shifted uncomfortably. "Um... W-well... to tell the truth, I was sort of wondering- well you see..." 

She laughed quietly and turned in his arms. She lifted her hands, gently searching for his ears. They weren't hard to find, and she tugged on them teasingly before grabbing a hunk of hair behind them, twisting them into tight little plaques. 

It took a few tries to tie the ends, but she'd got them eventually. After the first one, she'd done a second, then a third. Then a fourth. It wasn't until she started a fifth that Hiccup protested.

"Geez, Astrid!" 

She bit her lip to keep from giggling. She finished it off, then with a little ruffle of his hair, she patted his head playfully.

"There, beautiful! I can't even see and I can tell you look like a spring daisy." This time, she did laugh. 

Hiccup grumbled about it some more, saying he'd only wanted two braids at the most, but she noticed how he didn't take them out. She made it a habit to check, and if a few were missing, she added another. 

It was one of the things they could still do together. 

But Hiccup was amazing. She'd never loved him more for it, because no matter the mistakes she made, he never gave up on her. He helped her practice throwing a weighted axe. He led her by her arm about the new Berk, helping her to get used to the roads to and from different places, and describing the progress of huts being built. The Great Hall was newly finished, so she often times found herself taking her well memorized path to it, where she'd find Valka dealing with small chiefly matter that Hiccup assigned her to.

He would always make sure she had what she needed without making it feel like she was being babysat. At first, he was clingy, staying with her wherever she went. After telling him he needed to attend his duties as chief (with assistance from Valka, Gobber, and the gang, who all urged him to do the same) he finally left her side. She appreciated his concern of course, but... she wasn't used to being so dependent. Now, she'd just have to let one of the neighbors know when she was going out, which had taken some time for her to actually give in and do. But when she realized how worried Hiccup was when she didn't, she'd swallowed her pride and done it. Plus... the "neighbors" were only Fishlegs and the twins, so it wasn't so hard.

It took getting used to, that's for sure. Especially without Stormfly...

She quickly shoved that thought out of her mind. She mustn't think about that, lest she wanted to cry.

And now, here she was, exploring one of the newest streets of Berk, lined by huts and a brand spanken new bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread tempted her to the shop door. She carefully lifted her booted foot and searched for the step. Upon finding it, she entered the room.

"Lady Astrid! What a pleasure to have you m'dear! Cookies? Straight oughta the oven!" The lovely smell wafted about her, and she readily agreed.

As she munched the cookie, she let the robust woman lead her to a table. Said woman rambled on, proudly explaining what had been done to make the building as fine as it was. (Or so she said. For all Astrid knew the walls could be a wild assortment of blue's, greens, yellows, and polka dots with stripes.)

After being trapped into talking with the proud woman for about an hour, Astrid finally managed to leave. She nearly tripped over the forgotten step, but quickly caught herself before she fell flat on her face. She scolded herself under her breath for neglecting to remember it was there. She had to get better at that. She back tracked down the street the way she came. The air was cool, the sun must've set. And as full as her belly was with three cookies and a slice of bread, she longed for something warm and sustaining. So, she turned left and headed up the familiar path for the Great Hall. She hoped Hiccup could be found there. But she didn't even have a chance to reach it before someone stepped up beside her from the few mingling people in the street. She stiffened only for a moment, relaxing when she realized it was Hiccup himself. She was surprised she hadn't noticed him approaching, usually she could hear the pattern of his feet. He shuffled more then others, with his leg.

A kiss pecked her cheek, and she smiled. "Hello, my beautiful wife." Hiccup sniffed. "Ohh, you smell good. Better then usual." 

"I stopped at Mrs. Angus's bakery. She preened like a bird."

Hiccup laughed, tucking an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I'm sure! She was a tyrant to work for, though. Picky as picky could be. The first building on that block to be completed, all the fellows were fed up working for her." 

They walked in silence for a few seconds. Hiccup moved his arm from around her waist to pick up her hand, instead. Astrid's heart burst with happiness. She knew people might look at her and feel pity, but by golly, she couldn't remember a happier time in her life.

Who needed to see when she had everything she had? A loving and supportive husband, great friends, and a lovely home. Even without the sense of sight, she could tell New Berk was beautiful. And no matter what happened, she couldn't be more grateful for what she had. She just couldn't think about what she was living without, and all would be well.

[anthonylora]

Flash Fiction Friday 29 - Golden Rings

This week inspired another standalone piece associated with my Catchers serial. This time I wanted to have some fun with Reba, the resident empath, and Eran Volos, the lizardman engineer. And you can’t have a good multiverse if one of the worlds in it isn’t loosely based on Sonic the Hedgehog a video game where you collect rings, right? Tagging the awesome @cawolters and @inexorableblob

Title: Friendly Competition Word Count: 1000 (love straddling that line)

This mission was downright insulting. Eran watched as his partner, Reba, jumped onto a colorful trampoline, whooping and hollering as she was propelled through the air. She reached out and grabbed a set of golden rings before sticking her landing on the small platform that was hovering above them. She turned around and held her arms out, her smooth almond skin lit up by the glow of the three rings around each of them.

“Your turn, E-man!”

Eran looked up at her and shook a clawed fist at her. “I told you not to call me that!”

Reba laughed. “You don’t like E-man, Scales, or Big V. What can I call you?”

“My name would be a nice start,” he muttered. They’d been sent to this world to catch a target that had spread these odd golden rings all over the lands. The locals started finding them and upon learning of the power they imbued, split into factions and fought over their possession. This odd industrial area with floating scaffolding was their first stop. Their secondary objective was to actually collect as many of the rings as possible and bring them back to HQ, a goal Reba seemed happy to fulfill.

“Whatever, just get up here already,” she said. “The view from up here is pretty good! I see another clump of rings for us to get!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just tell me where they are and I can retrieve them.”

“Do you see how many platforms and buildings there are to climb around here? It’s parkour central! We need to take advantage of it. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t do fun!”

“Oh come on, we both know that’s not true. That stick up your ass isn’t nearly as big as you pretend it is!”

She wasn’t wrong, per se. Eran did enjoy the thrill of tripping someone in battle with his tail and the rush of endorphins whenever he figured out how to combine technologies from different worlds into one weapon. This carefree rushing from one place to another like a blithering idiot on too much caffeine? This was more Reba’s thing. No offense meant, of course. He was told he needed to be nicer. “My way is more efficient! We’re already behind schedule.”

Reba pouted. “Oh fine, be that way you party poo— oh shit, what’s that behind you?” She pointed, eyes blown wide open.

Eran turned quickly and pointed his stun gun ahead, taking the safety off. Approaching him was a slow-moving, four-legged robot, that at best, reached his knees. Assuming it was capable of jumping, it would likely pose a threat, but its chassis had a cutesy lady bug pattern and that did nothing to make it seem intimidating. Then he noticed on its back was a small bullseye and he immediately imagined someone, probably Reba, jumping onto that exact spot to squash and decommission it.

He sighed. Absolutely not. He refused to honor the rules of a world where the robotics engineers created weapons that could merely be stomped on to death. He looked over at Reba who was grinning down at him. “Stop pretending this world is anything other than joke.” She only laughed in response. He turned back around and fired three shots at the machine. The arcs of electricity trailed across its body, causing it to stop in its tracks and short circuit. It wasn’t long before it fell completely apart and two rings popped out of its remains.

“Nice! The bad guys drop them, too!” Reba yelled.

“Great,” Eran said. He stepped forward and reached for the rings, which expanded just enough to wrap their way around his wrist. He gazed at the rings, admiring the way they brightened his own scaly green arm. Just as he was about to look away, the rings blipped and a small number “200” appeared. The reports did say that the rings created some sort of “scoring” system to indicate who had the most power. A sense of pride and achievement churned in his stomach and he couldn’t help but wonder where the next set were.  He looked back up at Reba and for the first time noted the “500” that glowed above her head. He squinted in her direction. Not fair! He could have gotten more points if he wanted! In that instant, he realized his mistake, and quickly pushed down the feelings of agitation.

“Haha! I saw that!” Reba pointed at him. “You’re feeling competitive. You want a higher score!”

“What? No! Me?” He was so glad that he couldn’t blush. The stammering was probably not a good look thought. “This is your doing!”

“Sorry Scales, you know I can’t do shit to you from up here. This is all you, babe!”

Ugh. He looked at the trampoline and sighed. He ran forward and jumped onto it, feeling the rush of air as he shot up and landed next to Reba. “Whatever, just show me where the next ones are so I can show you how it’s done.”

He could imagine the smug grin on Reba’s face, so he did his best not to look at it. She pointed to a rooftop just past several more floating platforms. “There. A bunch of robots, too. They look bigger than the one you shot. Must’ve been a prototype. That or it’s to compensate the fact that we’ve—”

“Please don’t say ‘leveled up.’”

“Gotten more badass?”

“Only a little better. Let’s just go ahead. We don’t have all day for me to beat you.”

“Ooh,” Reba said as they both took off running. “I was going to be nice and give you a head start since I’m already ahead, but now you get nothing!”

Eran remained silent as he jumped onto the first platform. He pulled his gun out and started firing at the bots. He’d beat Reba and then get her to admit that he was right and none of this was fun. And he’d enjoy every second of it.

If you enjoyed that and want to read the actual serial, you can do so here.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Thumbillina

REAL LIFE: X FAIRYTAILS COUPLE: TBS X READER  RATING: ADORABLE!

I smiled as I stretched sitting up in my little bed, my bedposts made of old unused Qtips, with my little blanket woven from the stray cotton's of clothes I hopped out of bed across the wood of the little coo coo clock I live inside. The clock hasn't ticked in years so I had used what I could and built my little house once I got dressed I opened my little trap door and slipped down the chain of the coo coo clock as far as it could go and hopping onto the little wooden decking half way up the wall walking along it to the built in book self and making my way down to the floor or the room my clock is in, I got my little chart I built from some old buttons and lollipop sticks I found whistling as I got sorted out "mimi?" I call and within seconds I heard a little scutter up the staircase and Mimi the little feild mouse ran in the room and up to me cuddling me tight "aww good morning" I smile she happily took my cart as I satin the back as we hurried down the side of the spiral staircase and into the kitchen, the house we live in is very old a lady used to live here and had family often visiting but she passed away not to long ago I had heard from some big people who had come cleaning and re arranging that her grandson was having the house for his county home, well I just hope when he gets here he says out if my way, I climbed up the cabinet to the side of the kitchen over to the little bread bin filling my bag with breadcrumbs and little bits of cheese I filled my jar with jam and hurried off back down to Mimi she looked upset so I smiled giving her a bit of cheese which she happily had and we hurried off upstairs again but as soon as we got back to my room I heard a car so I climbed up the curtian and sat on the other window sil looking out out to the drive it was an old blue car battered a little with a young man stepping out sorting his things I didn't like him already.

I sat waiting for my opportunity I sat on the bookself hidden Behind a little metal model of some rocketship thing watching and waiting for- Bleep bleep bleep bleep "Ughr..." He groans slamming his hand on his beside table to turn of the alarm and turning back over in bed he has been here a couple of months now and o all the rooms to choose in this house he picked mine to live in I didn't mind to much it made it easy for me to hide and sometimes he brings up pizza and toast to bed with him leaving the crumbs everywhere for me and Mimi but all he does is sleep! I climbed down from the shelf and wondered around the floor for things I could use having to avoid the piles of dirty clothes and plates till I reached his dresser so I climbed up using the half open draws as steps having to climb up a shirt sleeve on one of them and walking along the top looking at the watch the face almost as big as me so I kept walking, a pen but it didn't have enough ink to be useful for me, a key? I could use it but he would likely miss it so I gave up with the dressed and jumped the little gap between his dresser and bedside table almost not making it his alarm clock day ticking away, his lamp sat turned off, a bottle at on the table bigger then me it was s press down like soap a little drop was hanging from the nosle so I touched it but it dropped on me all slimy and sticky "Ewwww!" I complain getting a tiusse from the box on the side and getting it all of me  throwing my tissue with the other discarded ones on the floor by his bed I looked at the black brick I didn't know what it was but I looked like a mirror but black I saw my reflection and fixed my hair as I did the thing illuminated with red and blue and a big white words saying "JACK CALLING" I went to move away but before I could he picked me up along with the phone I jumped away onto his bedsheets as he answered it "Hello? Yeah yeah I know, alright see you later" he says before putting the thing back on the table and rubbing his eyes with a sigh and he sleeping opened his eyes and saw me "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" He screams "A bug!" He yells trying to hit me with his alarm clock I jumped and ran around his duvet trying to avoid him hitting me "I'm not a bug!" I yell "Y-yyyyou can talk?" He asked dropping the clock on the floor in shock "Of course I can talk you blithering idiot!" I yell standing up and crossing my arms "Yyoyouyour tiny" he stuttered "Well done" I sigh "now can you kindly apologize for throwing me half way across the room! My size you could have killed me!" I order "I uhh I'm sorry, little lady" he says lifting his knees making the duvet rise a little so he could see me better and I was closer to him "Thank you," I nod "Do you live here?" He asked and I nod "how long have you lived here?" He asks "Longer then you, I was here before your grandmother bought the house" I tell him "Ohhh... I'm sorry I had no idea the house had tiny people in it" he says "No just me" I shrug "Your kinda adorable" he laughs putting his hand on the bed so I sighed climbing in and letting him lift me up looking at me alot "your so small..." he laughs pokeing me with this finger "Owww!" I complain as his poke pushed me over making me fall on my bottom "sorry" he chuckled "Hu your only like just bigger then my thumb, awwwwwwww your like thumbilina" he laughs "Don't call me thumbilina!" I yell getting up and crossing my arms looking very cross at him even stomping my foot "I'm sorry, what is your name?" He asks "Y/n" I answer "Okay y/n, I'm thomas" he smiles "Hello" I nod "can you out me down now!" I complain "Ohh sorry here" he says gently setting me down on his table "So what where you up to on my nightstand then?" He asks "Looking for things, I might need or I can eat" I shrug "Ohh? To eat? Where you looking for your breakfast?" He asks and I nod "uhh well I can take you down to the kitchen to get something's if you like" he offers "You would!" I ask very exited "Sure, I don't mind, your so small I don't mind feeding such a little thing" he smiles getting out of bed and putting clothes on and offering his hand so I climbed on holding his fingers tight "what's the matter?" He asks "I never much liked heights... Plus I'm so very small one slow step to you is a lightning fast earthquake to me" I tell him "Ohh right, well I'll be slow and gentle I promise" he smiled tapping my head "Oww!" I complain holding my head that really hurt "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you" he says as he left the room I kept my eyes shut not liking traveling so high up till we got to the kitchen and Thomas put me down on the side "so what do you eat?" He asks "Breadcrumbs, little crumbs of cheese, jam, anything really?" I shrug "Well, how about I make me breakfast and you take whatever you like" he suggested and I nodded, by the time he was finished making his own food I had my own little saucer full of food he sat me on the top of a little jar or honey while we had our food "so... How did you get this size?" He asks and I shrugged "well have you always been this size?" He asks "As long as I remember" I answer "Well, I don't mind feeding you y/n and carrying you around and things so long as you help me out where you can" he says so I nod.

"Y/n! Where abouts are you?" Thomas asked as he came home "Kitchen" I smile as I sweep "Y/n... I thought you where going to clean the kitchen for me?" He asks as he saw me putting the shopping down on the kitchen table "I am, I did the table and the dishes and now I'm doing the counter top" I complain "I've been gone three hours" he laughs "I'm much smaller then you! Things take long to clean when your small" I complain "You've done what five inches of the counter top, and just putting the dishes in the sink is not doing them" he explained "I'm sorry" I said sadly "Hey I'm sorry y/n, maybe housework isn't for you" he smiles caressing my face with his finger before going and starting to sort the shopping out I helped where I could till everything was away "now I got you a present while I was out" he says "A present for me?" I ask and he nods "Well two actually, first I'll run you a bath" he smiles getting a little teacup putting it on the table and getting the boiled ketel pouring the water inside letting it sit a moment "your first present I got you a little bath bomb" he smiles in wrapping a little paper bag it was in the shape of a  bear about the size of me "uhh I think you'll only need about a ear worth" he laughs breaking some of it off and putting it in the tea cup "there that will last you a few baths now" he laughs putting it away "there you have a bath while I set up your other present" he smiles giving my head a little kiss "Thomas! Don't do that I always get scared your going to bite my head off" I complain "Okay, I'll come get you when it's all done" he says going off out to the car so I slipped off m little clothes and climbed in my little teacup bath the bath bomb was lovely making the water smell like strawberries I heard him coming in and out the house with little boxes and bags of things carting them all upstairs I kept hearing loud swearing and clattering up there for a while till I climbed out and got wrapped up in my little towel Thomas made it for me by cutting off the bottom of an old tea towel and once I was all dried off Thomas came back "all done?" He asks and I nod letting him pick me up and I sat happily in his hand "What where you doing?" I ask "Sorting your suprise" he laughs taking me gently up the stairs to his room I watched him confused as he knelt down on the floor "go on have a look" he laughs do I turned and saw... A doll's House it was beautiful it looked like a old beautiful country manor house with three floors "go on, it's your house" he says "What?" I asked "I bought it for you, go on have a look inside" he says so I stood on the floor infront if the front door it even read 'Thumbilina's cottage' on the mail box I opened the little door and went inside there was stairs and a chandelier and book shelfs all of it perfect for my size there where so many rooms, a kitchen a dinning room, all with perfect little furniture the walk opened and I smiled widely at him "I had it made for you, all of it perfect your your little size" he smiles "the stuff works too the lights, the fireplace is electrical, even your TV works" he says "How?" I ask "Runs on little bulbs and a battery in the back, the TV is just my old phone it's charging thought the wall so don't worry" he laughs "look even the kitchen had little plates and cups that are your size" he laughs handing me a tiny little plate just the size for me "the bathtub works too so you don't have to use my teacups anymore, but I will have you bring you the water up" he laughs "and you have a little bedroom with a real bed too" he laughs showing me each room "ohh and upstairs is the best part" he says so I happily ran up the whole room was a wardrobe with little dresses and clothes all of them my size "How did-" I began "Dolls clothes, theres a shop in town they do all sorts of dolls clothes most your sort of size,I got you these for now anything else they have a catalogue I could show you or even take you with me next time" he explained I giggled running in and trying on s little blue dress and letting him see me "awww you look adorable" he smiles "Thomas... I don't know how I could even begin to repay you" I tell him "thank you so much" I smile hugging his fingers "Awe it's okay, do you like it?" He asks and I nod "then that's thanks enough little thumbillina" he laughs "Stop calling me that" I giggled

I smiled cuddling in my soft cosy bed with my tiny teddy bear and.. I remembered "Thomas!" I yell getting out of bed and slipping my little nightie on and my bunny slippers running and opening my window "Thomas!" I yell to his sleeping form in his bed "Hu? Who? What?" He asked sitting up very puzzled turning and clicking his lamp on he had moved my little house to the top of his dresser he didn't like me being on the floor for whatever reason so my second floor window was about level with him as he sat up in bed "what is it y/n? It's like half one in the morning?" he asks checking his clock "I know what time it is Thomas! I remembered" I smile "Re- remembered what?" He yawned rubbing his eyes "I have a present for you" I smile "A present? Couldn't this wait till morning?" He asked "No, quickly before I forget" I tell him "you have to go to the forth shelf down on the built in bookself and push the back panel" I tell him he looked puzzled but got up and did it "Okay there are some bottles?" He asks "Bring a green one" I tell him do he came back with the little green bottle about as big as I am  "that's your present" I smile "It's lovely y/n, can I go back to bed now?" He asked "Read it!" I tell him "Okay okay.... Shrinking potion? What? Really?" He asked and I nod "The yellow ones are growth, green are shrinking, I used to use them sometimes when I had to go outside the house and things" I tell him "So... If I drank this? It would make me as little as you?" He asks and I nod "for how long?" He asked "Till you drank a yellow one" I shrug he smiles going back to the shelf getting a yellow bottle sitting it on the bedside table I ran down out my house and jumped over onto his table next to the yellow bottle he took the cork out the green bottle and rank it all I smiled waiting a few moments "Whoa! I see why you don't like me carrying you... This is terrifying" he says I looked and he was my size sat as he had been on his bed so I went and sat beside him "hi" he smiled "Hi, you look different my size" I smile "How different?" He asks "Good different" I smile giving his lips a gentle kiss "that's your present Thomas, as a thank you for everything" I smile making him blush alot "Ohhh well I uhh..." He stuttered "Shhh, come on you can sleep in the dolls house with me tonight" I smile tugging his hand along with me he struggled a bit with it all being so much bigger then him and taking him up to my room "It's much easier to see how pretty you are, when I'm your size" he laughs holding my hands "and it's nice to kiss you without pushing you over" he laughs and I smiled Hugging him tightly "Ummmm I love hugging you now, your perfect cuddle size" I smile giving him a little kiss "come on bed" I smile tugging him to lay in bed with me cuddled up in my doll house bed "goodnight Thomas" I smile "Goodnight y/n, my little thumbillina" he smiles "Stop calling me that" I laugh giving him a kiss and cuddling tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

[go-diane-winchester]

Could Travis and Ty's scandals be linked to Misha?

Thank you for the ask.  Let me point out that these are merely my theories.  Although there is information that is unavailable to the public because in Travis's case, the investigation is still ongoing, my theory is based on the information that is available.  I am also a victim of abuse, so I am not being unsympathetic to Ty's victims, because Ty's victims really are victims.  Travis's victims are a little suspicious.   

Travis Aaron Wade:

I know what predators are generally like.  Because of being a victim myself, I was on the side of Travis's victims until I looked into the case.  There is more issues to pinpoint, but I am keeping the topic only to Misha here, because I have dedicated a few posts to both Travis and his ''victims''.  These are some notable points in the case.:

They were claiming that he was abusing them during breakfast panels and Saturday night concerts, in front of too many people, and yet they had no witnesses.

Two of the victims confessed to lying. 

All the victims were destiel shippers and Misha minions.

Misha, Briana, Kim and Matt Cohen know a few of the people involved personally, follow them on SM and leaving voice messages for them.  I heard Briana's voice message. 

One of the victims, Sara Burnhope, who knows Misha and his parents personally, told Travis on social media, that Misha hates him. 

One of them, Lua James aka Theresa Cotter [@Poptivist on Twitter], stabbed a knife into Travis's door and then fled California.  She is Kim's friend.  They were spending time outside of con. 

Why did Misha hate Travis 

Misha has two babies as far as his work on SPN went.  One is Destiel, and the other is the Wayward daughters.  These two babies ensured that he was always employed on a show that kills off every other non lead.  One of them, Wayward Daughters, derailed because Misha is wrong. 

Destiel

Travis threatened destiel because he was gushing over J2's friendship during his panel saying that he had never met two people more in love.  He described their friendship so much, that he was pulled out of the next con by Clif, the resident drama queen.  Way to be suspicious, Clif.  That is exactly what you do when you don't J2 Tinhats to become alert, blithering idiot.  In none of the gushings did Travis say anything regarding Jensen and Misha or Destiel.  Misha didn't want that.  Notice how destiel-positive Osric and gang are.  Even Alex is becoming destiel positive now, because when he wasn't, the hellers bashed him on SM.  They did the same thing to Samantha Smith.  But Travis not only didn't acknowledge Destiel.  He was elevating J2's friendship above all the other relationships on SPN.  And Misha was getting livid. 

Wayward Daughters

Wayward Daughters was something that only Misha and his hellers pushed.  I always wondered why he did it, because I consider him to be a liberal poser.  He pretends to supports something if it benefits him or his reputation.  Crusading for women's rights and then calling them perverts for having a love for shipping, seems hypocritical to me.  I think he pushed Wayward to secure a future for himself.  There is rumor that's been going on since last year and the Js want to finish of with SPN completely.  They want to long hiatus from acting.  Nobody knows when.  If that happens, Misha doesn't have a job, and we all know that other than the hellers, nobody else is impressed by his acting.  He gets laughed at.  If there is a spinoff, Castiel is likely to have a home there, because most of the fans will be Misha fans.  Misha would have still been able to bait his fans, by 'reminiscing' about Dean in a suggestive manner and if CW was on board, showing scenes between Dean and Cas.  He might have even confirmed Destiel because Jensen wouldn't have been around to stop him.  The bottom line is he would have used destiel to keep that job as well.   

Kim and Briana were on his side, because they had vested interest in the project and are fake militant feminists.  Unfortunately, Cole [Travis's character] became so popular that some fans wanted a spin off for him, and when Cole was pitted against Jody and Donna by Geekiary, for best spinoff candidate, Cole won.  I can just imagine how angry Misha and gang were.  And it now makes sense, for Kim and Brianna to know the accusers and the implicated parties personally.  My theory is that they all got together and set Travis up to get him out of the way.  Until the case goes to court, and reaches a conclusion, that is all my assumption will be.  A theory. 

Ty Olsson

In his official response, Ty admitted that what he did was 100% wrong.  And he was.  Fans had cause to complain and feel violated.  I am not taking away from their grief.  They really are victims.  I think that, just like Travis, this guy is a complete idiot.  Travis was causing too many ripples because of his big mouth, and Ty was sipping from other people's drinks.  He said it was not enough to get drunk with.  He said that he was roofied.  Why do I believe him?  Because someone who had such habitually bad behavior would have a reputation to match.  He would have misbehaved at other cons and set environments.  Consequently, he would have not gotten hired for projects.  He would be blacklisted because he would cause terrible PR for any studio.

Ty has worked on SPN before.  He played a bartender during the earlier seasons.  That means, that J2 and co have known Ty for years.  There are women on that set too.  He has never misbehaved with any of them, but he chooses one event, especially when there are witnesses and victims have cameras and can film his bad behavior, to just go nuts?  Does that make sense?  Ty has also worked on other projects before and since.  In fact, after the scandal, he worked on 14 projects and even won an award in 2017.  He's around women on these projects too.  How come he isn't misbehaving now?  How come he lost total inhibitions and professionalism on one night?  And how come nobody is stabbing a knife in his door?  How come the fans are all a mixed group of people, and not just Misha's fans.  Who would roofie him and why? 

There are only two drugs that he could have been roofied with.  Rohypnol and GHB.  Rohypnol can cause euphoria, reduced inhibitions and reduced ability to make judgments.  Users may slur their speech.  That is why people thought Ty was drunk.  GHB effects begin 15-60 minutes after use [like in the Green room] and typically last up to six hours.  Just about enough time to do photo ops.  It can be detected in the urine up to 12 hours after ingestion.  This is why I agree with Ty, that he is a completely idiot.  He only guessed that he might have gotten sick [symptom of both drugs is nausea] because of roofies and only then did he do a urine test.  By then the GHB was undetectable. 

Ty guessed that one of that one of the fans roofied him.  But they were all drinking from their flasks, and none of them exhibited the same symptoms that he did.  So it had to be someone who had access to the Green room and Ty's beverage.  Time wise that would make sense. 

So who would benefit from Ty being out of the way.

Misha, is my guestimation.  Why did Ty bother Misha so much?  Because of Destiel.  Destiel is Misha's floatation device.  When Benny came on board, he had a strong connection with Dean.  And Jensen enjoyed working with him, according to what he said during his panels.  Ty even got to do a panel with Jensen.  Misha only gets one panel a year, on average with Jensen.  No other person, neither Rob nor Richard, has ever shared the stage with Jensen.  Ty got that chance.  I think Jensen was missing Jared but then why not get Misha to join him.  Why choose this guy?  That must have bugged Misha.  And no, he doesn't love Jensen.  He is not obsessed with Jensen.  He just loves riding Jensen's coat tails. 

People were even shipping Benny and Dean together, which is baffling because Benny and Dean were on screen while Cas was still there.  Purgatory was supposed to be a big moment for Misha and Destiel because Misha would have had Jensen all to himself without Jared being around to take the limelight away from him.  Misha probably assumed that this vampire was not going to pose any problems.  Misha doesn't know how slash works, does he?  At one point during Jibcon, Ty tried to make Jensen laugh, very provocatively.  He felt bad about making Jensen feel uncomfortable so he came back awhile later and apologized to Jensen in front of all the fans.  Jensen was shocked [as I was] and quickly said: '' You don't have to...are you kidding me?  I loved it.''  He sent him off with a butt smack and a ''I love you, man.  No worries.''  

Misha apologizes for none of the horrible things he has done, no matter how uncomfortable he makes Jensen feel.  Watching that footage again, especially Jensen's genuinely shocked and moved reaction, actually made me tear up a little.  Whoever roofied Ty, acted alone, did it in the Green room and the effect lasted a solid six hours or so.  So who has access to the Green room other than the actors and their handlers?  I will leave that up to debate.  Roofieing someone is dangerous because it can kill a person if mishandled.

I hope this answers the question. 

Below are citations and links

Ty apologizing to Jensen - 2013 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NutNcJH4JbA

Citation for roofie drugs

https://www.narconon.org/drug-abuse/signs-symptoms-rohypnol-use.html

Complete investigative report on Travis Aaron Wade

http://www.spntrollsvstravisaaronwade.com/

Ty's official response

http://ty-olsson.com/response.html