#♔ || drabble.

[jeoseungsaja]

A ball of fog expands into the air after a trembling breath takes place; long fingers of one hand latched onto tubes painted aquamarine. The other hand is busy fiddling with what rests in his breast pocket, making sure, for the nth time, that the small box is still there, ever so present to the point that it's left a temporal dent on the fabric of his shirt. Teeth bite on his bottom lip --- once, twice; enough to leave an edge of mouth with a small peel which represents nervousness.

He doesn't even remember the last time he was with these many knots in his stomach; a collection of butterflies and twists alike, finding a home in the ever so chaotic depths of the detective. Hyuk takes another deep breath; grabbing his cellphone and glancing at the last text message received from his dear friend ('I'll be there').

It hasn't even been that long since the last time they saw each other; his brain still replaying that last meeting at the beach, when the calendar marked his birthday and his best friend etched a new feeling into his heart. It was brief but undeniably dulcet (and unconsciously wanted, too, that he figured out with time) moment; where time sweetly froze and he was able to decipher, with surprise and warmth, how well the lines of Patrick's lips matched his.

Oh, boy. Just thinking about it sends spirals of temperature up his neck. He truly hasn't been the same ever since --- in a good way. Even his co-workers wonder why he's been more lenient than usual. And, well...whatever this might be, he likes it. Just as much as he likes him. Patrick.

Regardless of feelings bubbling up, this isn't much about putting those puzzle pieces together (they will fall into place with time, won't they?), but about a special occasion; a special day: His best friend's birthday; a mark Hyuk never misses, no matter where he might be or what he's doing. It's why he's decided to take, once again, a plane all the way to Europe --- because a videocall won't do, nor a text message with those exasperating emojis that the detective can't even use properly. Patrick deserves more than that, and he can argue all he wants; Hyuk will not be convinced otherwise.

And so he's here, asking Patrick to see him at the London Bridge, at the time where is dark enough for the towers and rails to lit up and reflect their lights upon the dancing waters. It's a way to reminisce the past, about those days where they'd escape social events just for them to walk all the way here; about those days where Patrick would talk about the stories written behind the bridge and Hyuk would listen intently; about those days where they'd laugh and chat whilst living their adventures of youth.

It's a way to reminisce the past. And connect the present. Much like the bridge links one point to the other.

He waits, patiently so, actually. Knows that Patrick barely gives time for himself even when being a special occasion; prefers to carry on with his endless duties as a responsible professor and doting father. That's Patrick Myungdae Grace for you: A gentleman who often puts loved ones first before even thinking about his own self.

After a few minutes, Hyuk hears hurried steps on the humid ground; such a sound making him turn at once. There he is; the tall man with the kind face and soft eyes, a few strands of hair being blown by the biting, Londoner wind. He looks beautiful as ever, especially when his eyes crinkle due to a smile pulling his lips.

The detective's heart is singing. Loudly. He almost feels his rib-cage is going to explode.

Before Patrick could possibly voice any kind of apology about being a few minutes late (Hyuk doesn't care --- he just cares that he made it in one piece), an impulse makes Hyuk throw his arms around his best friend to wrap him into a tight, affectionate hug; the type only Patrick gets (otherwise Hyuk is too emotionally stiff, as some say). When he pulls away, his fingers remain clasped onto his dear friend's forearms, thumbs unconsciously rubbing the space there as a grin stretches his mouth.

"You look tired. Have you eaten anything? Don't tell me you're only running on tea and the birthday breakfast Hiro and Elise made you--" He scowls, before his features slowly turn softer. "I...wanted us to meet here because I thought...maybe we could, walk a little and..uh...eat at that place we used to go to...when we were younger. The one with fish and chips? I checked and they close until late---"

Since when is he a rambler? He stops himself, awkwardly clearing his throat whilst hands slip away from Patrick's body. "Oh," he quickly goes to fetch the box he's been guarding all this time and hands it to his dear friend. It's small, long; dark green. "For you. I also...wanted to see if they fit you right, could you...open it to check?" Hyuk tries to not rush Patrick into opening the gift, his fuse very short in comparison to his dear friend's. Once it's open, a pair of Rubik's cube cuff links is found inside. The little cubes even twist some, in case Patrick needs a distraction while wearing them. Of course Hyuk had to get them for him.

"Let me," Hyuk grabs one of the cuff links and then takes a careful hold of Patrick's wrist; turning it so his palm is exposed. At first, the detective's focused on putting it on, eyes even narrowing as to look at the shirt's hole under the shadow of artificial lights. But then, he realizes how close he is, how Patrick's wrist is exposed to him even if the rest of his shirt hugs his arm effortlessly. Suddenly, he can feel his heart in his throat and there's the need to---

Just do it, Lee Hyuk. For once, follow that voice. And he does it. He gently kisses the center of Patrick's wrist.

Even if heat crawls all the way to his cheeks, he pretends that what he did is casual; fingers stumbling a little but finally managing to keep the cuff link on place. "There. It--It looks nice. Let's see the other---" And he does the same thing: grabs the cuff link from the box, and then his dear friend's wrist.

He kisses that one, too. The mark tender. A honeyed whisper of utter affection. I'm here. I'll always be here. For you. Just for you.

A clear of his throat; a little, bashful side-smile as the detective attempts to gain his usual composure and peeks to see Patrick. He doesn't apologize for what he did, nor does he try to quickly change the subject. There's no ounce of regret in that body of his and, besides...at this point, that wall where the awkwardness of sentiment was stored is slowly but surely crumbling down, isn't it?

Slow but steady steps.

"I--also got you another thing, but I'll...give it to you until we get to eat." A rainbow fountain pen, that's neatly wrapped in the oh so famous newspaper wrapper he uses. It's saved in the pocket of his trousers; awaiting for the right time to fall onto Patrick's hands.

Hyuk's hands, which rested right under Patrick's wrists, move so they can meet his dear friend's shoulders. He pats them, then pretends to accommodate the lapel of his shirt, when in reality he's getting his palms ready to climb up. And they do, rise and a little timidly; fingertips daring to reach his dear friend's face. The detective's fingers are calloused, but his touch tries to be soft; caring --- loving.

He gives him a smile. One that, he hopes, tells Patrick how proud he is. Of him, his best friend (and something more). Of who he is, who he's become. And how he still holds gentleness and mercy by his hand, despite it all.

"Happy birthday, Dae-yah."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST WONDROUS PROFESSOR @ofgentleresolve 🥺🎂

[drachliebe]

FINALLY!! ART!! i wanted to give a little rough ref to lilli's different phases! the idea for cartoon!v is that because she's a water fairy, she changes w/ the seasons!

for winter, there's ref to snowflakes/sharp edges and her hair would turn to ice cubes when braided, spring is free-flowing water w/ a lot of curves, autumn is mist (and directly insp by villa amalka) , and summer give her a really poofy dress and hair to mimic clouds!

i also think that dep on her form, it also gives her different abilities--- like as a cloud she can float, autumn can turn to mist, fun things like that.

i also thought of a scenario that on her first transformation, lilli had no idea that any of this would happen and was expecting to melt after a day of playing in greenland w/ her friends. luckily that wasn't the case!

also extra below for reluctant dad having a crisis:

somebody went to the icebox for a week after that.

[unxdeadly]

heeled boots click rapidly against the sidewalk as she ducks into a small alleyway between two buildings, presses herself up against the wall, chest heaving.

she is out of breath.

she is seething.

Giselle had made peace with losing her Vollständig in the past, although the thought of anything being forcefully taken from her was enough to make her shake with anger. such is the feeling that pervades her now, seeping into her blood and bones like a cancer. the powers that be had stripped her of the very power that made her feel safe, in control.

she couldn't make zombies. people wouldn't bend to her will. it had become abundantly clear when she just tried mere minutes ago, having coerced someone into getting close enough to her. a smear of her own blood upon their skin from a self-inflicted cut on her finger would have been all it took, but all she got out of it was a startled scream from the stranger.

she'd been so surprised she hadn't even considered killing them to shut them up. she'd bolted, eyes wide and heart pounding in her ears.

there is but a small sliver of hope amidst her anxiety, however.

the cut on her finger had healed almost immediately.

"To what extent..." she murmurs, thoughts racing. she couldn't fully figure this out, of course, at the risk of dying, but she could do more than prick her finger, at least. pain didn't scare her. blood didn't scare her.

being helpless did.

with thin fingers does she grab onto the stupid toy bow she'd been given. with a strength unbecoming of her lithe frame, Gigi snaps the plastic in half, creating a sufficiently sharp edge. she wastes no time in rolling up her sleeve and slicing it down her arm. no wince, no blink, just a blank stare as her skin opened and blood gushed to the surface in a stream of ruby.

it doesn't last long. her skin begins to knit itself back together, slower than it would have back home, but seamless nonetheless.

a giggle bubbles up in her throat. the giggle turns into a laugh--

--which stops abruptly when she feels bile rise in her throat. clasping a hand over her mouth, Giselle bites back the feeling.

oh how she hated feeling so human.

[zacaraya]

During the Day, I don't believe in Ghosts. At Night... I'm a little more Open-Minded...

Sharp, beast-like fangs glinted under the moonlight as Zacaraya let out a long, silent yawn. Losing track of time is a common occurrence lately, he thought, as he lazily sauntered past Main Street in the dark. The darkness had never really phased him. Those scared of the dark were usually victims to overactive imaginations, and his mind was logical and practical... For the most part.

His gaze idly glanced at each of the Great Seven Statues as he walked past. He had only just finished skimming one of the inscriptions before a shadowy figure dashes past his field of vision, and even though he was wearing his usual windbreaker to keep him warm (plus 3 additional layers underneath), the temperature suddenly plumetted.

Before he could even get the chance to turn around, his ears had already instantaneously flicked toward the general direction of the movement. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but Zacaraya remained completely still for the moment in complete silence, his shoulders hunching lower and lower in an almost stalkerish posture as he readied himself to fight back if necessary.

He was not prey, and he despised feeling like prey. A low, feral growl sounded from his throat. A warning.

Suddenly, the instinct of being in danger was suddenly gone. Whoever, or whatever, it was, had disappeared.

However, he made sure to keep his place for a few moments longer, just to be sure, before he continued on his way, though this time with a more hastened step than earlier. He would have to tell his packmates to refrain from going out past dark alone.

[elitaxne]

┊ ❛ BATTLECRY: PART II ❜

❝ GO, GO, GO—  ❞

The orders ROARED from Corporal Kup at the front of the transport while the backend reclined downwards ( painfully slow ), prompting the company to exit into what appeared to be the middle of a battlefield. Blaster fire, far off cannons, explosions, shrieks of aerial engines, distant screams, all of it filled the cabin in a deafening white noise that kickstarted every spark pulse.

Without further hesitation those at the immediate back led the charge, sprinting head-first into the orange and amber surroundings. The first line had barely crossed the threshold when cannon fire in rapid succession pegged them all off, sending scarlet frames crumpling down to the ground in a bloodied heap.

The following Sentinels didn’t have time to notice the onslaught, line after line sprinting then tripping over bodies as they fell. Only a fraction were successful in navigating the growing obstacles as more and more Sentinels exited then died one after the other. Those that were able to stay upright fired off their own rounds at the shadows where the cannon fire originated from, blindly shooting forwards during a mad dash for cover.

Kup’s orders only continued to BELLOW from behind, forcing the troupe forwards despite watching line after line offline IMMEDIATELY, or to be trampled to death beneath advancing pedefalls of the remaining company. And those were the lucky ones... many had only been fatally wounded; writhing in agony as they grasped desperately at missing body parts, internal wiring spilling through deep gaping holes, and Energon profusely bleeding into thick puddles.

                                                But the SCREAMS...            Oh, the screams were enough to stop any sparkpulse...

Pure agony. RIPPING from vocoders with a ferocity that likely shredded them beyond functionality. In fact, spatters of blood spewed from mouthplates in show of just that. If not lifeblood then it was their own tank contents PURGED over scarlet chestplates or off to the side, adding to the disgusting squelches of bodily fluids now coagulating at every pede.

Ariel and Cypher’s line was due up next, stumbling forwards to take their turn at being fish in a barrel. Skinny arms trembled, weaponry modifications locked and humming as large cerulean hues darted about from behind much larger, taller frames. Nightfall aside she couldn’t see for SLAG, too short to catch what was going on, only blindly HEARING the massacre; she wasn’t sure which was worse.

More tortured screams. More cannon fire. More frames smashed lifelessly — or nearly so — to the blood soaked ground. Cypher edged forwards alongside Ariel, spying a barricade of some sort off to the side in a split second parting of the scarlet sea. 

                                                           Their turn.

❝ Ari, t’ tha left. A’hundred yards! GO LEFT— ❞ he shouted, firing off multiple shots as they crossed the lip of the transport.

❝ COPY !! ❞ Ariel yelled back, shooting into the darkness as those before her had done.

Pedes tripped over the fallen frames. The near mountain of them forced her to leap unsteadily over as quickly as possible, spastically dodging on-coming cannon shots as they zipped past. Sparkpulses HAMMERED in her chassis so loudly it made her feel dizzy. Disorientated already with being dumped in the MIDDLE of violent warfare.

Ariel shook her helm, twisting and turning between wayward cannon blasts to return her own volleys, none of them making contact. Dammit. Her aim was HORRENDOUS with the added stress. Although, having to sprint through uneven terrain around wounded ( and deceased ) mecha also added difficulty to the task. If she could get into a locked position she’d be much better, thus, she saved her ammunition; right arm plates re-configured into an Energon shield, opting to block the blasts than continue dwindling her reserves.

           One hundred yards... Left... One hundred yards... Left...

Another blast WHIZZED past her helm, forcing the femme to duck and gasp. Close call. The brandished shield raised a nanosecond after in anticipatory retaliation, and thank the Maker, blocked two more blasts that would’ve offlined her INSTANTLY were her reaction time any slower.

Cerulean hues locked onto the barricade where three others in her company had taken refuge. Ariel’s helm turned, catching Cypher close behind her and unfortunately fairing no better when it came to sprinting and shooting. Lip plates pressed in a thin line. His Tarnish frame was tall and broad, making the mech an even easier target; he’d need cover fire in order to make it to the barricade. At least, such was the conclusion her limited battlefield knowledge was able to piece together. Strategy and tactics had only BARELY been touched on in the few months she’d been in basic training.

Optics shifted to find a smoking aerial transport halfway between them and the barricade. It was better than nothing. Mustering as much speed as she could, the femme slid then skidded behind it, shield propped up and over as her other arm raised the readied blaster.

❝ I’LL COVER YOU, KEEP GOING— ❞ Ariel shouted to Cypher over the ensuing battle.

Cypher fired off another shot, miraculously making contact with an enemy soldier in their shoulder pauldron; enough to wound, but not to eliminate. Orange optics burned into cerulean at the femme’s voice. There was no time for arguing, he forged ahead.

Ariel trembled in her crouched position, frantically trying to steady her ventilations enough to get a fix on the Hyperion targets. Ridges furrowed beneath the war paint, and she fired one shot, pegging the same soldier Cypher had hit a moment ago in their opposite pauldron. Threat of death aside she couldn’t bring herself to KILL the enemy; to take a life. Not unless absolutely necessary. That much she had promised herself when first joining the Sentinels.

A plasma blast ricocheted off her shield. Ariel continued with her own volleys, drawing as much fire as she could while Cypher sprinted to the barricade. Thankfully, he’d get there in good time in part to his longer strides. Once again, she bit back her jealousy. Shot after shot fired off-kilter into the surrounding darkness, flickers of orange and amber flames providing the only illumination to the landscape; an open plain with carved trenches leading to a lumpy hill.

The femme swallowed then grunted. Focus, Ariel. Sudden movement and yellow optics caught her attention and she shot at them immediately, unsure if she made contact with the Hyperion invaders. There was no telling how many of them were hiding behind mounds of the planet’s excavated surface, in the trenches, or littered in the hillside. Every now and then yellow optics or biolights would illuminate the shadows, but with uneven light sources and overwhelming stimuli Ariel couldn’t get a proper count. In fact, she wondered if Corporal Kup even KNEW how many enemies had been waiting for them.

❝ ARI— ❞

Ducking back behind the smouldering transport cerulean hues flashed up upon hearing her designation, finding Cypher safely tucked away and waiting for her at the barricade. Her turn. The three other Cybertronians beside the Tarnish mech continued firing into the hillside, unawares to her existence or need for cover.

Ariel shook her helm, spark pulsing hard and fast as vents spasmed. No. She wasn’t going to make it, the distance was far too great. She’d get shot down for certain. Fear choked out on her terrified EM Field, and beneath her bright warpaint fascia had grown pale, wearing an expression of absolute terror. At first she hadn’t the time to take everything in, and even now she still hadn’t. The mad dash had occupied her thoughts enough to send her on autopilot, but now that she was trapped in place, the whirring anxieties laying in wait beneath the surface begun to bubble over uncontrollably.

Two plasma blasts burnt through the transport behind her backplates, nearly singing her in the process. A startled gasp TORE from her vocoder. Frag. The makeshift cover wasn’t going to last much longer. She needed to move yet her legs felt like jelly, unwilling to budge as though suddenly stricken with paralysis. Violent tremors rattled her skinny frame between heaving pants, forcing her ventilations out of sync. Ariel hyperventilated and shook her helm, dizzy from the lack of proper air cycles.

                       She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make it. She didn’t want to die.

                                                She didn’t want to die—

Panicked cerulean hues stared helplessly at her battle buddy across the large divide. Cypher grimaced pleadingly, ducking his helm at another burst of plasma fire rocketing narrowly past.

❝ ARI. CA’MON, YA GOTTA MOVE !! ❞

The shield and blaster reconfigured into dainty digits, reaching up to grab at the sides of her helm as knee joints tucked closer to her chassis. Vents sputtered, vision blurring in and out of focus. She needed to get her air cycles back on track. In for four, out for four. In for four, out for four. The femme swallowed against a dry patch in her intake, the mantra wasn’t working. More plasma pierced the transport on either side of her frame, and she instinctively tucked closer in on herself.

Pricks of coolant squeezed from the corners of tightly closed optics as her frame SHOOK. In for four, out for four. In for four, out for four— Another blast WHIZZED by overhead, missing her by inches. Move, dammit. If she didn’t break from her current position soon she was going to be killed, or worse, Cypher would attempt to come back for her, risking his own life in the process. He would die because she was a COWARD...

Don’t be afraid.

Ariel GASPED desperately for air. Steadying the vents to a more manageable rate but even then it was heightened far past the realm of normalcy. Servos dropped from her helm, reconfiguring into the shield and blaster as before. Spark pulses COURSED through her frame like lightning in preparation, their strength so mighty she could practically see the vibrations in her optic casings.

                         Don’t be afraid.

Cerulean hues opened, wide and glassy, shooting over to Cypher whose focus remained divided between her and the relentless volleys of plasma fire. A sudden blast tore through the transport’s outer edge near her right shoulder pauldron, leaving smoking, burnt metal in its wake. It was now or never.

                                                     DON’T. BE. AFRAID.

From the depths of her chassis a carnal ROAR ripped itself free as the femme shot to her pedes in a blind sprint. Raising her shield on the attacking side immediate blasts from the Hyperion invaders made contact with its bright Energon-blue honeycomb’d design.

The blazing plains and hell erupting all around seemed to continue in slow motion with every pedefall she took. Plasma blurred past and behind her, some making contact a step or two away from her exposed legs and pedes, others hitting the shield in quick succession. Cerulean hues narrowed, locked onto awaiting orange optics as Cypher continued to call over, voice echoing as if speaking from the distant end of a tunnel. His large servo waved her over encouragingly, while the other kept a configured shield in place, outstretched cover held towards her in anticipation.

                                                       In for four, out for four...

All at once the world returned to its usual, frantic pace. Ariel heaved, jumping over an offlined Sentinel blocking her immediate pathway. Puddles of Energon on the other side splashed up onto pedes and lower legs. Another few steps was all it took for the femme to reach him, practically DIVING towards the barricade into the sturdy scarlet mass who promptly FLUNG her behind him for additional protection.

Staring up at the mech Ariel vented harshly and nodded. Before any words could be shared a grenade clattered against the ground a couple yards behind the mech, rolling to stop near the clustering of offlined frames she had navigated around. Optics widened.

❝ CANOPY. CANOPY !! ❞ Ariel shouted.

The three other unknown mecha thankfully heard her in time, each raising their shields to lock in place against their neighbour’s, creating a small protective bubble of sorts. Cypher turned away from the imminent blast to lean closer to Ariel behind his own shield, SECONDS before the grenade exploded into a violent fireball, blowing the heap of dead mecha to smithereens in a blink of an optic. The ground quaked beneath them as audials rang at high-pitched frequencies, briefly deafened from the sheer VOLUME of the blast not far away.

Ariel and Cypher shared a knowing look, anemic smiles and shallow vents filling the minimal space separating them. The clustering of shields remained online and in place.

❝ Yer one luck’eh bot — eh there, lass? ❞ the Tarnish mech vented.

❝ Not for much more, ❞ Ariel replied shakily, ❝ I think they were aiming for the barricade— ❞

The femme soldier beside her cut in, shouting despite being immediately to her right. Then again, everyone had to in order to be heard over the ensuing battle, and now, dissipating ring following the grenade.

❝ There’s no cover for anotha hundred yards in each direction. If we pull from here we’ll be pegged down instantly! ❞

Ariel shifted to face the other femme, marvelling quietly at the large, sturdy physique, reminiscent to Cypher’s build yet lacked the Tarnish accent. Whiteout, she believed her name was. Once again, unsurprisingly, Ariel was the shortest and skinniest of the bunch. Thankfully, her pathetic stature didn’t matter much at this moment, they were all in this fight together.

❝ Are there any Hyperions in the trenches between here and the hillside? ❞ Ariel piped up, ridges furrowed beneath the warpaint now speckled in Energon and dirt.

❝ Not a fraggin’ clue— ❞ Whiteout grunted, daring to peek up over the barricade behind her shield on a whim. From this angle she couldn’t tell.

❝ Mo’ good news fo’ ya: we think th’ Corporal’s on the right side. We’re on our own ova ‘ere! ❞ a mech, Redshot, chimed in from behind the femme, equally as physically imposing Ariel noted. Again, his accent eluded her in terms of determining regional origin.

Cypher shook his helm, ❝ Frag... ❞

Plasma blasts rained down on top of their shields with increased force, each of the pinned Cybertronians ducked down per instinct. The longer they stayed here the larger a target they made themselves. Ariel called up her HUD, scanning the data streams for any hopes of an advantage.

❝ Frag. There’s too much interference to track them on our HUD’s. Can anyone get optics on their numbers in the hills? ❞ Ariel called over, peering down the line of mecha who all bristled amidst another barrage of plasma. ❝ We need to figure out how many we’re up against... ❞

Whiteout frowned, ❝ We’re tryin’, but the lil’ fraggers keep shiftin’ around up there! ❞

❝ Oy, Goggles— ❞ Redshot prompted, elbowing the bot next to him on the end. ❝ Getta fix on ‘em yet, ‘ave ya? ❞

Ariel and Cypher glanced between them both. Goggles? Was that actually their name? Each craned for a better look at the last Cybertronian in the line, the largest of them if size and difficulty crouching at the opposite end were any measure. The mech in question turned back at them, large optical enhancers clicking and whirring in front of his optics, both at varying levels of apparent focus. As before, cerulean hues met orange in rivalling confusion. The jury was out on whether it was a name or nickname...

❝ I counted a dozen or so in our immediate vicinity, ❞ Goggles chirped, voice coming much higher than previously anticipated given the bulky Kaonite frame. That accent, however, Ariel IMMEDIATELY recognized. ❝ I never saw any movement in the trenches, though. Hopefully, that means they’re barren... ❞

Processors all whirred, adding to the continuous chorus of far off explosions, cannon fire, and heavy artillery. Cypher’s lip plates pressed in a thin line, disfigured fascia hardened in concentration. A dozen ( or more ) Hyperion soldiers scattered about the hillside against five Cybertronians trapped behind a crumbling barricade? He should’ve let the grenade take him, at least that death would’ve been quick and painless...

Ariel’s helm dipped forwards, letting a quiet, steadying ex-vent pass from parted lip plates. There was a strategy she had read during basic training that she briefly recalled, one that had employed the use of shields to move the unit safely from one coverage point to the next. However, with the added terrain and possibly occupied trenches to take into account, it wouldn’t be an exact recreation... or guaranteed success.

But what IF they managed to reach the hillside? The Hyperions were littered about the inclined surface, shooting down at them while they’d struggle to climb up; instant targets. Unless... there was a decoy or a distraction. They needed proper leverage, or rather, HIGHER ground.

An idea flashed behind her optics. Cerulean hues squinted up beneath her still raised shield at the sky. She hadn’t seen an aerial transport overhead since arriving. Nor had there been any cannon fire encountered since exiting the transport. Presumably, the majority of the company had followed Corporal Kup to the right, drawing the cannon’s attention with them. Come to think of it, when Cypher and her crossed the plains to the barricade it had been blaster fire mostly. No cannons nearby... No aerial cover to combat... That’s it!

❝ I might have it— ❞ Ariel blurted, drawing the attention of the other four mecha.

❝ Have what? Like a rocket launcher or something? ❞ Whiteout asked, curiously, even hopefully. Goggles snickered from the back. Given the skinny femme’s frame size? Unlikely.

❝ No, no. A plan, ❞ Ariel replied, voice growing in volume as plasma again rained down upon their shields.

Cerulean optics darted about the faceplates staring back at her in a myriad of expressions. Even behind the grime, perspiration, and warpaint none of them appeared enthusiastic. EM Fields prickling with apprehension only further spoke to the lack of confidence among the cluster, at least, save for Cypher; his remained vaguely optimistic.

❝ Aye’ll take anythin’ at this poy’nt. Whatcha got, lass? ❞ he prompted from behind.

Ariel scooted to the left carefully, now able to face him and the others. Her free arm bent in front of her, forearm plating shifting to reveal a holo-projected map for them to see. A visual would help the explanation she assumed.

❝ There’s a few s-s-strategies from basic training I remember reading about. I think if we combine s-s-some we could— ❞

Redshot snorted, ❝ Sorry, wot? We’re gonna go off whatcha read in a data pad? Primus, Luv, you’re gunna hafta do betta than that... ❞ His optics shot over to Whiteout in silent question. Had she heard the stammering as well or were his audials misfiring?

Ariel bristled, ❝ L-Listen, I know how it s-s-sounds. But I think s-s-s— ❞

❝ Primus, get the marbles out of your mouth, will you? I can’t understand a word you’re saying... ❞ Goggles piped up from the far side, voicing Redshot’s thoughts without hesitation or tact.

Ariel’s fascia BURNED beneath the dirt and warpaint, likely matching the Sentinel scarlet frames they all boasted. A nervous pulsation skidded about her spark casing, sending an involuntary tremor to creep up her spinal column.

❝ Same, ❞ Whiteout huffed, eyeing the small femme immediately beside her, ❝ Your vocoder is havin’ trouble syncin’, Sweetspark. ❞ Then, optics widened, and she glanced over her shoulder pauldron to the other two mechs. ❝ Oh, Primus, she might have shell-shock... ❞ the femme vented worriedly to the group.

Ariel’s fascia hardened into a scowl while plates flared defensively. They didn’t have TIME for this.

❝ I have a s-s-s— Frag. S-S-S— ❞ Ariel groaned, wincing as she tripped even more obviously over her words thanks in part to the stress and embarrassment GRAPPLING her being. Venting harshly she forced the words out with continuing difficulty ( and slight pain ), ❝ S-S-STUTTER— ❞

Silence. Even the downpour of plasma seemed to stop momentarily. Redshot and Whiteout each made a face. The femme could barely control her own vocal patterns, and they were expected to listen to whatever apparent plan she concocted? They thought not...

❝ Perfect, ❞ Goggles cut back in incredulously.

❝ Oh, fer frag sake! Let th’ lass speak, ya slags! ❞ Cypher growled, tenor voice dropping with a distinctive edge yet volume increasing over the return of plasma fire. Orange optics BURNED brightly at the silenced lot, casting an unsettling fiery glow over mutilated fascia that gave him a monstrous appearance, especially with the addition of mandated warpaint.

❝ Dun see any of you comin’ up with anythin’. An’ we’re runnin’ out a’ ty’me! So, shut yer mouths an’ listen up if you know what’s good fer ya— ❞

The barrage of blaster fire pelted against raised shields, accompanied by a thunderous quake that rocked their frames; once distant explosions had now apparently drawn closer. Each of the scarlet painted forms trembled in place. They could practically hear the collective clock ticking down...

❝ Go on, Ari, ❞ Cypher prompted, nodding over to Ariel who’d been desperately clearing her vocoder, as if trying to FORCE it to sync properly through ventilations alone.

                                                  All optics fell to her.

Swallowing the lingering embarrassment ( and still burning fury ), Ariel cleared her vocoder a final time with a rough shake of her helm. Icy cerulean hues, narrowed and piercing, glared at the holo-projected map still illuminated above her bent forearm. It wasn’t the first time her speech impediment had been pointed out publicly and it wouldn’t be the last. Respect wasn’t so easily given, even in the lower-caste, and she had since given up trying. Besides, there was another glaring matter that captured her immediate attention: SURVIVING.

❝ We’re a s-s-small number, which means we can advance with our shielded configuration in a d...d-diamond, four-mecha formation. One to fire up at the hillside, two to s-s-survey the flanks when passing through trenches, and another one to cover d...d-down in the trenches ahead and forwards, ❞ Ariel paused, as Goggles shifted again in preparation to speak.

❝ Question: I count FIVE of us, Stutters. Did you miscount as well, or...? ❞ he trailed off, expression somewhat dulled to match his tone.

❝ If you’d l-let me finish... ❞ Ariel huffed, staring over coldly. The unwanted nickname would be ignored for now. ❝ I have an aerial form, and, I’m the s-s-smallest one here. If I join the configuration it’ll l-leave openings I can’t cover given the height d...d-difference. ❞ Attentions returned to the larger group, icy optics sweeping from one set to the next, ❝ I’ll make for a more d...d-difficult target for the Hyperions in the air, and I can provide a d...d-distraction with concentrated fire while you advance. That way, we can hit them from the front AND the back with their attentions d...d-divided. It’s the only chance we have to gain upper ground. ❞

More silence. Whiteout shrugged, helm bouncing from side to side in consideration while Redshot’s optical ridges raised, not at all expecting what had been laid out. Goggles simply pursed his lip components and hummed quietly in mounting agreement. Stutters was actually onto something, surprisingly. Cypher took it upon himself to break the silence.

❝ Ya heard th’ lass! You two’ll cover our flanks, while aye’ll take poy’nt, ❞ he nodded to Redshot and Whiteout who returned the action in understanding. ❝ Goggles, you’ll follow behy’nd meh fer peggin’ off targets up in th’ hills. E’ryone cop’eh? ❞

There was no time for deliberation and the small group replied in chorus, ❝ Copy! ❞

Ariel’s voice trembled despite best intentions, nerves once again rearing their head, ❝ I’ll go first. When I d...d-draw their fire move as fast as you can. ❞  The femme swallowed back the rising lump in her intake, fascia hardened by sheer will alone. ❝ But, s-s-stay in formation, and s-s-stay together. We’ll meet at the top of the hillside. ❞

The four other mecha each nodded their helms, rising apprehension now choking the airways on careless EM Fields. The odds of them all making it remained LOW, plan or no plan. And while Ariel’s frame was small and skinny as she had explained, that only meant her armour was less likely to recover from direct hits. The larger the frame the larger the surface area protecting sensitive mechanisms beneath. Ariel, unfortunately, had drawn the same conclusion. In fact, NONE of them had been given the luxury of battle armour. Coming from the lower-caste they were expected to enter the field with civilian metal, merely painted to look like a Sentinel. One direct hit was normally all it took to offline their tier on the battlefield.

While maintaining the Energon-shield canopy the larger frames carefully pivoted in their crouched positions, weaponry buzzing and at the ready. They’d provide cover fire as Ariel took to her flight mode, otherwise she’d be shot before ever even lifting off. Meanwhile, Cypher nudged into the skinny frame during the momentary silence. It garnered her attention, though, behind her optics, he could see her thoughts were elsewhere. A calmed smile twitched over welted lip plates, making the war paint on his fascia curl on either side.

❝ Be quick as a Lilleth out ther’, lass... ❞ he hummed in Tarnish, throwing her a wink, ❝ You got luck on yer side, rememb’r? ❞

Ariel nodded, again steadying her vents as best she could.

Beneath them the ground rumbled furiously, stilling each of their frames. Redshot, Whiteout and Goggles whipped their helms in Ariel’s direction, if she was going to go it had to be now. Beneath her plating transformation protocols rippled in her circuitry, stretching outwards from her T-Cog, and filled her with a sensation that could only be described as an innate PRICKLING.

Skinny arms fell to her sides, deactivating the holo-projected map and Energon-shield. Cerulean hues BURNED through the encompassing war paint in a dangerous and determined gaze, beating back the fears clawing their way from the depths of her spark. Lip plates parted once more and she scooted onto her back pede, turning around to face away from the barricade, ready to sprint once the others pulled from their current position.

                         3 . . .                                                  2 . . .                                                                            1 . . .

❝ NOW— ❞ she yelled.

All at once the Energon shields hoisted up and over, stacking above the barricade for additional height as the four larger mecha fired into the looming shadow of the hillside. Ariel kicked up to her pedes in a mad dash, running away from the barricade to gain the speed required of her to take flight. Scarlet plates hissed rapidly into the new configuration as she leapt upwards, boosters whirred to life and thrusted the still-shifting mass through plumes of smoke and plasma shots now targeted on her.

The world spun around her as she locked into the streamline flight mode, twirling higher and higher. Below, sensors found the four others taking to the diamond formation, navigating the trenches with a quickened gait. Warnings of approaching blaster fire RANG through her systems. Spinning wildly to evade the onslaught she returned with rapid volleys of her own, some of which appeared to make contact. The higher vantage helped, marginally.

Roaring up above in the clouds Ariel dipped on a sharp angle, jettisoning directly en route for the hillside. The Hyperions never relented, knowing that having an enemy in the air was ALWAYS a dangerous advantage to permit. Blaster fire lit up the sky like miniature fireworks, whizzing past her in fiery shrieks and forcing the femme to evade the clusters in maneuvers that could only be described as untrained. This was the first and only time she’d ever used her aerial mode for combat, and apparently, there was no time like the present for a trial by literal fire...

Sensors beeped and she counted eighteen Hyperions total scurrying about in the hillside. The small jet-mode spun away from another quick burst of plasma shots, firing hers in retaliation as she readjusted into better positioning. This time, she made her approach from their dorsal side, coming up behind them and unleashing SEVERAL shots at the yellow speckles among the shadows. Once more, her blasts burned into the hillside or lumpy excavated coverage the Hyperion soldiers ducked behind.

Ariel growled in frustration, while this mode was great for evasion her aim was even less accurate given the untrained-in configuration. She needed to get some shots to land in order to cover the ground team properly. From the few times she was able to survey them, their advance had been slow but steady. However, they could only get so far before being delivered right to the Hyperion invaders doorstep, where they would be outmanned 3 to 1. Cypher.

Spark pulses HAMMERED in its casing, the split-second decision flashing through her processors on instinct before lingering fears could dissuade her.

❝ Frag it— ❞

Transformation protocols hummed once more and Ariel somersaulted mid-air into bi-pedal mode. In-lined thrusters at the bottoms of her pedes maintained the height as the tiny wingspan and furiously spinning rotors kept her steady. Simultaneously, one arm onlined the Energon shield as the other took to her blaster, pointing and aiming on her first target some twenty yards below. The shot fired, striking the enemy in the side and forcing them to double over.

Ariel ex-vented shallowly, minimal training taking hold of her and keeping immediate focus as cerulean hues found their next target via HUD. Going to shoot again a Hyperion blast SHRIEKED upwards and the femme twisted awkwardly in the air as it passed by. Without hesitation Ariel shot two in quick succession, taking with it the Hyperion’s arm and blaster, bringing an end to that particular retaliation. Optics widened ever so slightly, she was starting to get the hang of this...

Dive, dip, return fire, twist, turn, block— over and over Ariel’s battle protocols became more in tune with each repetition, to a point it could almost be considered a dance; following the steps to a violent melody she created and heard. Countering the enemy fire with her own she zipped about madly like some sort of annoying insect they couldn’t get a clean hit on. As it had before while running through the plains below, Hyperion seemed to move in slow motion, the hellish surroundings of dark shadows and bright fires blurring together in a near-frozen blur.

The skinny scarlet frame spun around as another blast rocketed towards her, firing that of her own in the originating direction. Cerulean hues burned down at the target, watching on as the blast tore through the Hyperion’s mid-section. Spurts of Energon erupted from the crescent-moon shape left gaping in the side that made her own tanks CHURN. The soldier fell in a heavy heap and her focus again shifted, the battle kicking back up to its frantic speed in realtime.

Ariel tucked herself into a tight ball behind the honeycombed shield, blast after blast making contact with a ferocity that made her skinny arm QUIVER from the recoil. Thrusters roared and she shot up and away, seeking refuge in black plumes of smoke then returning on a sharp angle with rapid return fire. Landing four more shots of the seven she unleashed the immediate attack seemed to ebb. On her HUD she counted two other spark signatures below, both Cybertronian; her teammates must’ve taken out the Hyperion forces for good in her stead.

Banking closer to the agreed muster point thrusters disengaged and wings shifted to hug her backplates. Dropping down to her pedes Ariel stared up at the first two mecha coming over the ridge, bloodied and covered in dirt. War paint smeared and streaked with perspiration over their fascia. Given the bulky frames and scarlet paint jobs Ariel didn’t know just who she stood before. However, what she did know with absolute certainty was that her spark skipped a pulse as Cypher’s orange optics found hers. Marred Tarnish fascia dirty with Energon, paint, and battlefield grime split into a bright smile.

❝ Aye, there’s th’ wee Lilleth! ❞ he called over, jogging up the remaining incline to lessen the divide.

Ariel sighed weakly, ❝ Cyph, thank Primus— ❞

Once within arms reach the skinny frame crumpled slightly forwards with a wheeze, limbs trembling every now in then from ebbing adrenaline. Cypher coughed hoarsely from the surrounding smoke, resting a servo on her shoulder pauldrons with gentle reassuring pats. They’d made it, at least, they’d bought their lifecycles a couple minutes more, it was better than being offline.

Goggles, meanwhile, heaved off to the side. Large servos desperately flung upwards, clinging to the optical enhancers as they hung on a strange angle below his optics, demagnetized from all the jostling. Ariel only caught a brief glimpse of them between thick digits: pale blue with flecks of brighter aquamarine littered about, their circumferences, however, were almost entirely grey in appearance. Lip plates pressed firmly together, wrenching her gaze away before he could become wise to the staring, feeling as though she had already intruded far too much.

Just as Cypher’s optical hues were considered unnatural so too were Goggles, albeit originating from a medical condition whereas the Tarnish mech’s were accidental. It was in that moment Ariel realized the enhancers weren’t tactical in application, not entirely at least, they were to assist with degenerating sight. The three of them afflicted with different ailments and unfairly marked as outcasts it would seem...

Ariel finally straightened then coughed into her shoulder pauldron, intake irritated from the plumes of smoke clogging the airways.

❝ Where’s the others...? ❞ she rasped, quiet voice laced with the edge of foreboding, as if already anticipating the answer.

Silence. Cypher shook his helm. Horribly scarred faceplates bore the extent of his grief and sparkache plainly for her to see in prelude to the actual words. Ariel felt her spark twist painfully beneath scarlet chestplates.

❝ They... didn’t make ‘et, lass, ❞ he replied softly, brokenly. Somehow, he felt personally responsible but knew such was the unfortunate part of war.

Ariel’s own dishevelled features fell, large optics dimming at the words then fell over the crest of the hill. Small chestplates heaved on a laboured ventilation, while electric currents rippled through her wiring in an uneasy mix of grief and adrenaline. Cypher faired about the same as her if his mighty frame’s sudden jolting were anything to go by.

❝ We’re all that’s left in this area. The rest of the company is travelling east, as are the Hyperions, ❞ Goggles added as he stalked over to rejoin them, wiping residual sickness from the corner of painted mouthplates. The Kaonite’s true height TOWERED over Ariel at an almost comical rate, standing a full helm and shoulders above Cypher, and on her battle buddy she only came to his mid-chassis...

Only the three of them remained, standing on the lonely hill. Scarlet frames of varying heights and builds silhouetted by crackling fires, distant explosions, and the black of night. While the immediate threats had been nullified, there wasn’t any comfort to be found in being left on their lonesome in the middle of the battlefield, and on an alien world. The three Cybertronians each vented weakly, feeling the same nervous apprehension creeping through their EM Fields and coiling around the others in close proximity, desperate for the comfort of closeness.

❝ We need t’ rejoin th’ group b’fore another wave rolls ‘en, ❞ Cypher murmured, looking up to Goggles who’d already been staring over.

❝ Agreed, ❞ he nodded. Ocular enhancers clicked and whirred, focusing on the skinny femme at his side further below. ❝ So... what’s the plan, Lilleth? ❞

Cypher joined the other mech in looking down, orange optics gentle and unwavering. Ariel glanced between the two of them, then backwards down the opposite side of the hill. Her? Plan? Primus, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. Honestly, a large part of her hadn’t been anticipating to make it through their first charge. Processors whirred and lip plates pressed together, really, their only option at this point was to continue east in hopes of rejoining what was left of their company, and Corporal Kup. They needed an ACTUAL leader to follow, and she didn’t fit that bill at all.

❝ We go east, but we’ll cross over the ridge for cover, ❞ Ariel began, cerulean hues lifted once more to go between the pair of mechs. ❝ Nightfall won’t l-last more than a few hours, we need to make it to the others before then, or we’ll be even bigger targets— ❞

Cypher and Goggles shared a look, with the Kaonite snorting quietly. Bigger targets? They were already the biggest targets out here when it came to size in comparison to the femme, but, alas...

❝ Lead the way then, Lilleth, ❞ Goggles nodded, the briefest hint of a smirk twitching over painted lip plates. As far as nicknames go, at least that one was a step up from Stutters...

Cypher smiled down to Ariel, cocking his helm in the direction of their heading. For now, she’d be the one they’d follow — it was her plan after all. Ariel simply blinked, staring across the hillside at the miles of warfare stretched ahead. Spark pulses again bubbled up within their confines and she drew a steadying breath. Don’t be afraid.

Ridges furrowed and her jawline hardened, large cerulean hues narrowed in brimming determination. The same fire from before, the one that had burned within her during the first charge and previously in the transport raged from the depths of her spark, BILLOWING out in her EM Field with newfound ferocity. She wasn’t afraid. Taking the first step forwards both arms shifted into her preferred mods: blaster and shield, with the titanic mechs both following in close tow.

                             The fight for their lives had only just begun.

[ TO BE CONTINUED . . . ]

[kcrclrezni]

@tsareviich: ⌛ Send "⌛" for a glimpse into my muse's past in the form of a flashback.

The road to between Os Alta and Poliznaya is short and relatively pleasant on horseback or in a carriage, especially during the spring and summer months when the fields are either spotted with wildflowers or gleaming gold in the sunlight. Nikolai brings up the rear of their rather inconspicuous caravan, mostly because his horse has grown restless from the leisurely pace. If he waits and drops back for a moment, he can let Punchline run. He breathes in the fresh air, his eyes falling shut and a small smile tugging on his lips.

The weather is nowhere near his first venture to Poliznaya. Well, technically not his first, but he can hardly remember the times his father brought him and Vasily to take stock of the First Army trainees. Those times they'd arrived in the royal carriage, had a carpet laid out so that their shoes would never touch the mud, and feasted on fresh fruit and roasted game hen in the Generals' tent.

His journey to basic training was very different, indeed. He'd insisted in doing his time in the First Army on the front lines, despite the protests of his parents. But then his mother, seemingly just as stubbornly, had insisted he take a carriage to basic training. He'd outright refused, seeing as the last thing he'd wanted to announce to all of the First Army that he's Nikolai Lantsov, Grand Duke of Udova, second son of etc. She'd outright refused his refusal. He'd finally coincided and... snuck out before dawn the next morning to journey to Poliznaya on foot. At least he'd left a lovely note behind with an apology.

It was a splendid plan at the beginning. He'd avoided detection and escaped Os Alta due to the roughspun clothes he'd 'borrowed.' But then it'd started to rain. Then pour. Then he wore a hole through his sock. Then he realized he'd forgotten to pack a lunch. Nothing made a prince feel more like, well, a prince than being wholly unprepared and in a situation any person of non-royalty could have easily preservered in. It was the feeling of spite and ineptitude caused by that particular notion and the thought of a warm change of clothes that awaited him at camp that kept him moving.

He'd stopped at a tavern along the way come nightfall, soaked to the bone and shivering with absolutely no idea how much further he had to go. He'd had no difficulty paying for a room, to the dismay of the proprietors, who then pumped him so full of cheap kvas that he'd fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, he'd set off with brand new socks, but a roaring headache. He needed to make it to Poliznaya before his mother sent the entire First Army out to fetch him because, Saints, that would be embarrassing. He'd convinced himself he'd be walking for hours more when he spotted them from a distance: A troop of soldiers, all done up in olive green and brass, practicing drills with as much precision as a flock of those game hens they used to serve him as a child. The grin that spread across Nikolai's face would have been infectious, had there been anyone at all around to see it. He took off across the meadow with a last burst of energy, as though gunning for a finish line.

He hadn't expected to be tackle-hugged on arrival but, then again, he wouldn't have expected any less from Dominik.

Nikolai shakes his head, the memory fading away, finding himself alone on the road to Poliznaya once more. With a deep sigh, he digs his heels into Punchline's flank and takes off down the path to find the others.

[chichikoi]

IM MULTIFAnDOm

[gliitched-realiity]

Anonymous asked: ✉ from Glitch to Vincent omg please

TXT MEME.  || Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.

Glitch could barely think, if it was being entirely honest with itself. A terrible migraine had settled into its skull, the world was blurring slightly from all the wine he had drank in the past few hours, and he was fairly certain that he had accidentally hurt its already-damaged shoulders from exactly how tensed-up he'd been all night. How an ordinary evening at home alone had turned into... this, the Fracture didn't know.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could guess at how things had escalated into something so dreadful, at least. The original plan had been to rest at its apartment, drink until the awful sensations that had plagued its body all day were finally numbed, and then maybe, just maybe, try to get some sleep... None of that had ended up happening, clearly. Instead, he had found himself sprawled out across his leather sofa — drunk, muscles aching, with a screaming headache.

And nothing else that he'd been trying to numb had improved, either.

Too-quick movements, Glitch suddenly shifted to grab his cellphone from where it had previously been discarded onto the coffee-table. There had to be something he could do about this, even if he couldn't ——

        feed

               hunt

—— kill anyone, right now.

[✉ → Vincent]  Are you busy?

No, worrying the precious little dove wouldn't do any good. And surely, a question like that would do exactly that.

[✉ → Vincent]  Do I still have wine at your house?

Desperation, at best. Even if there was extra wine, laced or not, at Vincent's apartment, that wouldn't really matter. That wasn't ENOUGH for how fucking bad this had gotten.

A frustrated growl formed in its throat, cellphone angrily thrown to the side — clattering noisily against the end-table without a text sent.

     ❝ Damn it — ❞

His throat was absolutely on fire; it felt like somebody had shoved a lit match down it while simultaneously holding the point of a dagger against his vocal chords. That terrible gnawing pain had settled into its stomach again. Beyond the pains, he was starting to feel downright dizzy — and as much as he wanted to blame the alcohol, that had been happening all fucking day, so he knew that wasn't actually the problem. Everything ached, even muscles that didn't usually cause him grief, and at this point, it was starting to feel like the universe was playing some sort of sick joke on his nervous system.

   Fuck, he was so HUNGRY.

The next several... ( minutes? hours? it was getting difficult to keep track of time with how hazy his mind had gotten ) ... were a distressing blur that, in all honesty, he'd entirely lost track of. There was too much of everything — too much pain, too much disorientation, too many intrusive thoughts to even keep track of where one started and another ended.

When the world finally tried to refocus, the taste of fresh blood was pooling in his mouth. A brief moment of ecstasy flooded through it, back arching slightly, a low whimper of unadulterated NEED slipping out from its lips.

       Fuck, more. Please —

Crimson eyes snapped open abruptly, a gasp echoing through the otherwise silent walls of his apartment, as the sharp pain in his own wrist actually registered. And for a minute, he sincerely had to debate if he actually cared that it was his own blood, that this wasn't actually going to make the hunger stop for very long, that the years of self-destruction for the sake of easily-accessed blood were supposed to be OVER.

After a moment's struggle, it finally managed to force its own fangs away from its skin. The bite-mark left behind wasn't terrible, in the grand scheme of things, but the distinct puncture wounds were undeniable. A greedy tongue swept out over them, lapping away at the bloody injury until supernatural healing, inevitably, started to try to knit the skin back together.

It shouldn't have been so fucking easy for those to close, damn it.

In the aftermath, Glitch was panting, breathes hitched with some twisted cocktail of hunger, lust, and distress. Pale fingers twisted, roughly tugging at a ruby tie to loosen it — anything to take some of the pressure out of his burning throat. He desperately needed to FOCUS, he knew, but trying to do that was... easier said than done.

Minutes passed in silence, save for its heavy breathing and the muffled buzz of household appliances that always felt a little too loud when nobody was making sound in the apartment. Dual auras flickered harshly around it, a harsh contrast to the otherwise dark room, vibrant colors twisting and flaring alongside the seemingly endless series of emotional flips.

When he could finally halfway form rational thoughts again, though they still felt dreadfully 'to the left', he tried to reevaluate the situation:

Why did you bite yourself? You haven't done something like that in ages.

Starving vampires do strange things, don't they?

Right. Of course that was the problem; he was fucking HUNGRY, because he hadn't been able to hunt in over a month, so he'd finally slipped up. Nobody could expect a vampire to spend that much time without feeding and then NOT end up struggling ——

—— No, no, no, STOP.

   You're a Fracture.

      You are a FRACTURE.

   You are not a —

Something hauntingly similar to dysphoria sparked before he could even finish that thought, a visceral growl tearing its way from his throat. Disgusting. Everything about this was DISGUSTING. Damn it, why wasn't it —

You're NOT a vampire. You're a Fracture.

   You are not —

FUCK.

         ❝ Fuck! ❞

The curse was shouted into an empty apartment, echoing off the walls, a shrill ringing briefly filling the room before it was forcibly silenced. Immediately, a terrible cough followed the curse, as the Fracture's hand flew to his own neck, trying miserably to sooth that awful burn as it flared again. Tears briefly stung at its eyes before they were harshly blinked away, and then he moved to pick his cellphone back up.

[✉ → Reese]  I need your help.

No, even they would think that he was fucking crazy for whatever this spiral was. Hell, even he was starting to wonder if its sanity had finally cracked a bit too far.

[✉ → Vincent]  I think this fixation shit is getting worse. I feel fucking crazy & I don't know what to do.

But could he really say that to his host, of all people? Not hardly. Surely if the Fracture was suffering this much, then somewhere in the depths of Vincent's mind, he wasn't well either. Either that was the case, or Glitch was just finally snapping itself, and regardless of which this may have been...

No, it wasn't rational to reach out to its host right now. Perhaps they needed to discuss the topic later, but right now, in the middle of these agonizing spirals, that wasn't going to work out.

Fuck, he was so hungry. And when had he started actually crying — ?

[✉ → Anti]  Please come over. I need blood. Now.

[ervptions]

OOC TAGS --- ;;;;

[crownlesslord]

tag dump

dumping tags!

[rodolfoparras]

RODOLFOPARRAS MASTERLIST

MDNI, 18+

♚ Top Male reader ♔ Bottom Male Reader 🎲 Gender Neutral Reader ♞, verse male reader

🎲 ♚ GN but suitable for top male reader 🎲 ♔ GN but suitable for bottom male reader 🎲 ♞ GN but suitable for a verse male reader

HEADCANONS

König w/ a size kink | x ♚

CONTENT TAGS: SIZE KINK, DEGRADATION, BLOWJOBS, RIDING, KÖNIG W/ A SMALL COCK, SEX TOYS, MIRROR SEX, SDH

Sex w/ Gaz | i, ii, iii, iiii♚

CONTENT TAGS: MENTIONS OF BLOW JOBS, CUM PLAY, MENTIONS OF FACIALS, SPITPLAY, BALL GAGS, ROUGH SEX, BREATH PLAY, RIMMING, POWER DYNAMICS, MIRROR SEX, FACIALS, HOMEMADE MOVIES, BRAT!GAZ, FTM!GAZ, NIPPLE PIERCINGS, SLIGHT EXHIBITIONISM, DRUNK SEX, POSSESSIVENESS KINK, BRAT TAMING, HAND JOBS, WATERSPORTS, SENSORY DEPRAVATION, THREESOMES

DRABBLES

In which you and Keegan get up to some fun of your own while at work x| ♚

SPITBALLS

What it would be like…. Rimming w/ Gaz while he sleeps x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: SOMNOPHILIA, RIMMING

What it would be like…. rimming w/ Gaz x | 🎲

CONTENT TAGS: RIMMING

What it would be like…sex w/ Gaz while he wears nothing but…. x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: JEALOUS!GAZ

What it would be like…. free user reader w/TF141….x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: THREESOME, OVERSTIMULATION, FREE USE

What it would be like… alpha reader w/omega TF141…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: A/B/O, POSSESSIVENESS, EXHIBITIONISM

What it would be like… barrack bunny reader w/ TF141…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: OVERSTIMULATION

What it would be like…dating barrack bunny Soap…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: WRITTEN DEGRADATION, BJOBS, FOURSOMES

What it would be like… Rodolfo w/ a high sex drive… i, ii | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: OVERSTIMULATION, GUIDED MASTURBATION, USE OF TOYS, ORALSEX, COCKWARMING, SCENT KINK

What it would be like…Ghost as a dad…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: BREEDING KINK

What it would be like… baby trapping w/ Graves…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: BREEDING KINK, ATTEMPTED BABY TRAPPING

What it would be like… baby trapping w/ Gaz…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: BABY TRAPPING

What it would be like… Alex w/ a mommy kink…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: MOMMY KINK

What it would be like…secret relationship w/ Alex…x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: JEALOUSY, RIDING

SERIES

Thinking about…

Thinking about all the times you’ve made Ghost cry x | ♚

Thinking about how Alejandro is the type to tease you for your weapon of choice x | 🎲

Thinking about how Soap would never outright confess that he likes you x | 🎲

Thinking about being in a Polyamorous relationship with Ghost and Soap x | ♔ 🎲

Thinking about how sex with Soap is absolutely ridiculous (in the best way possible) x 🎲

Thinking about old Soap and new Soap x | ♚

ONE SHOTS

Remedial Work x

There seems to be a consensus among your classmates at the police academy that you and Leon don’t get along. However, they couldn’t be more wrong. | ♚

MISC

Soap Alphabet x | ♞

SPITBALLS

What it would be like… titty fucking Peter x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: TITTY FUCKING

What it would be like…… Miguel with a breeding kink x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: BREEDING KINK, BULGE KINK, LACTATION KINK

What it would be like… Miguel during spider mating season x | ♚

CONTENT TAGS: MIGUEL W/ TRAITS OF A SPIDER, INAPPROPRIATE USE OF WEBS

DRABBLES

In which you and Spot try something new….x | ♚

SERIES

Thinking about Miguel and the kinks he likes to indulge in x | ♚ 🎲

Thinking about The Spot and the kinks he likes to indulge in x | ♔ 🎲

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with The Spot x | 🎲 ♔

Thinking of all the ways you can be intimate with The Spot x | 🎲 ♚

Thinking about Noir and the kinks he likes to indulge in x | ♚

ONE SHOTS

Finish line x

In which Peter learns that a little bit of encouragement goes a long way | ♚

Color show x

In which Noir wants to learn about colors and you’re more than happy to help | ♚

Laundry day x

In which Peter discovers some unusual perks with laundry day | ♚

Detective’s work x

In which Noir tries to keep you off the streets and you try to keep him inside the sheets | ♚

Workload x

In which you find ways to spend time with your boyfriend Miguel even though he’s busy| ♚

One More Time x

In which both Peter and you learn that one more time doesn’t always mean one more time | ♚

Pillow Talk x

In which Peter, a married man, gets off to the thought of being with someone other than his spouse | ♚

Lights, camera, action x

In which you make it your personal mission to ruin Noir’s career by fucking him | ♚

ONE SHOTS

Nothing compares x

In which it’s your first time with Eddie | ♚

Brainrots, fic ideas, nsfw discussion about characters and hc discussions with my lovely anonies, mutuals and followers x

[venusjeon]

morning after

a l'aquelarre drabble

the morning after, you wake up convinced he regrets it.

♔ PAIRING: witch!jungkook x human!reader

♔ GENRE: magic au, angst, humour, FLUFF

♔ WORD COUNT: 0.8k

♔ WARNINGS: mentions of sex, swearing, a bit of anxiety, making out

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: i don't know why this has taken so long given how short and simple it is, but here's a ball of fluff for you (also known as a jungkook!)

The radiance of the sun squeezing through the blinds woke you up the next morning.

It was a softer welcome into the day than jolting awake to turn off an ear-piercing fucking alarm, but nonetheless annoying, so you turned your back on the source of light to be met with that of Jungkook’s naked one.

Last night hadn’t been a dream, huh?

You smiled against the pillow at each memory. Dancing closely at the party, holding hands on your way back, kissing under the exploding bracket lights,  gasping against each other’s skin as you came… It had been perfect, and so was waking up next to him. Usually, you’d hurry to get dressed and out of the place of whatever guy you’d hooked up with to avoid the typical morning after awkwardness, but this time around there was none at all. No, you felt cosy enough to stay. You didn’t need to wonder why, the answer had been there for weeks. Because I love him.

But, in silence apart from the light breathing of both, seconds passed. And more seconds. And more, and more. And suddenly you feared he regretted it. Not the sex, which was undeniably bomb, but the fact that he’d had it with you. A girl who just happened upon his shop. It was a miracle he hadn’t realised yet there was nothing really to you, but what if he’d needed to fuck in order to work it out? You knew Jungkook wasn’t the type who’d ditch a girl after getting in her pants, but you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t know that instead of love, all the feelings that had been brewing inside him since you met translated into a lust that could be solved with a night of passion.

You began to contemplate leaving. It would make things easier if he indeed had no feelings for you; spare him the trouble of having to kick you out and make it clear that he didn’t want to date you... For the first time, you’d leave a guy’s place brokenhearted.

By Jungkook’s yawn and stretching at the other side of the bed, turns out your plan was thwarted.

Should you pretend to be asleep? You considered it in the short time it took him to turn over, but decided against delaying the blow and to get it over with as soon as possible. No need to prolong the apprehension.

Then, as his eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was yours, a soft smile stretched his lips still sore from your lovely abuse of them the night before, and it became ever so clear that of course this boy was in love with you. How could you doubt it? Idiot.

“Hi,” he whispered with a raspy voice you wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook’s hand shyly sought yours and held it between your bodies, caressing it gently as though it were precious and delicate—hysterical, given the force with which he’d non-stop thrust into you hours ago, but you kept that to yourself. With the passing of minutes in a comfortable silence, your eyelids became heavy, as Yoongi’s did when petted. If humans could purr, rest assured you would. Once your eyes completely shut, Jungkook took the chance to get you off guard and leaned in to kiss your cheek, making you smile.

“Sneaking up on me, you witch?”

He chuckled, “You do bite.”

Before he could get away, you buried your fingers in his silky locks and lightly pushed the back of his head close, guiding his lips to yours to bite them not too hard, but enough to rile Jungkook up, tempt him to kiss you back.

And there was the heat again. You felt it both inside, igniting each nerve in your core, and outside, as his hot breath mingled with your own. While you wondered whether it was the nearest you’d ever get to feeling magic, he was sure the addiction that had once corrupted him fell embarrassingly short of it.

Anyone would think you’d bewitched him but Jungkook didn’t care, wasn’t ashamed, gave in willingly to the effect you had on him. He wanted you to come to his shop every day and to kiss you deep as he now was. Instinctively, your legs spread and wrapped tightly around his bare torso, and Jungkook took the hint to climb on top.

Just as he was doing it, though, the door opened with a creak. A meow followed.

Jungkook broke the kiss to sigh.

“I can’t believe him,” he muttered, getting off you and failing to kick Yoongi off the bed the second he jumped on it. “Get out.” The familiar responded with a hiss. “No, you fuck off!”

“Come on, let’s play with him a little,” you struggled to say between giggles. “He’s so cute!”

“He’s a perverted cat, is what he is.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to get up—a great sight, given he was naked—and drag Yoongi out to the living room, despite his attempt to cling to the sheets by the claws. Closing the door behind him, Jungkook rushed back to the bed and on top of you. “Besides,” he whispered in a low voice that gave you goosebumps, “I want to play with you alone.”

[zacaraya]

- tag dump

[elitaxne]

┊ ❛ BATTLECRY ❜

Skinny digits smeared the bright blue war paint over her fascia in thick yet precise globs despite the trembling. Lip plates, chaffed and worn, pressed together tightly in an attempt to steady the quivering, though it hardly made a difference. Every pulsation of her spark HAMMERED in her audials, its vibrations rippling violently from her core to the ends of her circuits; frame shaking from each and every heightened electric surge.

                                                 In for four, out for four...

Large cerulean hues glanced down, watching as digit tips dipped back into the paint jar then brought the new coat back to her faceplates; obscuring youthful features to the best of her ability. Ariel vented anemically. At least paint hid her blanched appearance... it was about what every member of her company were thinking if the rattling metal and trickling ex-vents filling the prep station were anything to go off of.

Their first deployment, right into the heat of a skirmish on Hyperion — nearly an entire solar system from Cybertron. This wasn’t even their war, and yet here they were, shipped off to the edges of their sister colonies without a secondary thought. It was almost as though the High Council WANTED them off-world. Less mouths to feed, less bodies that would likely return. Young as she was Ariel wasn’t naive, she had seen the reports in the news and overhead internal conversations among her superiors; Hyperion was a relative death sentence.

It was no coincidence either that they had filled the barracks with as many lower-caste mecha as they could draft. Ariel had joined the Sentinels WILLINGLY, volunteered of her own volition as a last resort to climb the ever-elusive caste ladder. The rest of this company, however, were here against their wills. Mandated with knocks on the door in the dead of night and brought to the Sentinel base from all over Cybertron.

This mission wasn’t WORTH the more advanced soldiers, at least, such was the impression. No. Those mecha, those who volunteered to maintain proud military lineage or simply to serve their planet remained in the outskirts of Iacon, Tarn and Altihex. Middle-caste mecha who considered service as more of a pastime if anything. To the lower-caste, with infinitely less training, time, and education, however, military service was the only option to avoid poverty. A roof over your helm, Energon in your tanks twice a day... it sounded better than the alternative of rotting in the gutters of Cybertron, or worse, being sold into servitude.

Still, the divide remained even within the Sentinels.

                                                             SENTINELS.

Primus, the name itself made her upper lip curl. Sentinel Prime’s own doing EONS ago and remained even after entering the Golden Age, after gaining a new Prime. During the Uprising, whatever fledgling Cybertronian military that had begun to form had named itself in the the Prime’s honour, once independent, operated underneath an all-encompassing banner. A singular faction without borders, acting on behalf of the High Council to maintain peace and order in their world, and in cases such as Hyperion, beyond.

More paint. More shakily glided digits over her fascia in the trained pattern: a thick band across her optics to the outer-most metal, two thinner lines trailing down from her optics over cheekplates to the edge of her bottom jawline, and a final line from her lower lip to her chin. Slowly, distinguishing features blended into the paint, losing her individuality to join that of the singular military entity. The design itself was reminiscent to the paint Sentinel Prime himself wore in battle against the Quintessons during the Uprising. However, facial war paint wasn’t the only means of disguise, or rather, sacrificed self-identity...

A paint droplet rolled from the bottom of her jawline and fell to her plating below, optics watched in the dingy mirror with a blink. Cerulean hues peered down, the bright Energon-like blue droplet marking her just above the Crest of Cybertron insignia emblazoned at the centre of the petite chassis; the Sentinel badge each member of the military wore, along with scarlet paint schemes from helm to pede. Cybertronians were made in the Primus own image, and the military in Sentinel Prime’s, she mused...

The pain scheme was mandated for all foot soldiers — another cog in the expansive machine. Superior Officers got to keep their original schemes, making them easier to distinguish from the general horde. Actually, Ariel didn’t mind the colour change so much. Her previous scheme had been a pale pink; nearly opalescent upon first glance. Nothing remarkable. Nothing particularly optic-catching. Bright, saturated colours were worn predominantly by middle and higher-caste mecha after all. Those below bore protoform-like silver or naturally muted hues blanched by sunlight and low-quality Energon.

Ariel reached to the side for a rag, wiping the paint from scarlet chestplates quickly, precisely. Every action pounded into her from the few months of training she had received, to a point it could nearly be considered instinctual. The timeframe was more than the others around her had been allotted, so she took solace in the fact. Still, she couldn’t shake the knowledge of being SEVERELY underprepared for the impending deployment. The basics nowhere near having been mastered and skills virtually non-existent.

As was the case with the rest of her company every superior made clear she didn’t belong, even among the other lower-caste drafts. Short. Skinny. Ariel had embarrassingly struggled with nearly every facet of basic training. As quick of a learner the femme was, she lacked the strength, sturdy frame, and height to be formidable. Ariel had SQUEAKED by on her speed, agility, and improving marksmanship alone, activated for deployment purely because they needed BODIES for Hyperion. She wasn’t a soldier, not really; she was a TARGET, a soon to be short-lived shield for other, stronger mecha.

                                                   In for four, out for four...

The young femme vented then shuddered again, swallowing back the nerves despite the dry lump caught in her intake. Ridges furrowed and her jawline hardened. Digits finished painting the design on her fascia with a last swipe. Ariel stared back at her reflection, assuring all was even and to Sentinel standard. Perfect. Skinny servos wiped themselves off with a cleansing rag, leaving not a single bead of paint left to be seen in the crevices of her digits; a tedious task given how they continued to shake.

❝ Ya dun alred-eh there, lass? ❞ a voice quietly asked beside her, Tarnish tongue and thick accent unmistakeable.

Ariel looked over to her battle buddy, Cypher, still struggling to get the lines evenly painted over marred fascia. Cerulean hues darted about the multiple attempts left staining the horrifically scarred faceplates; acid burns mutilating the near entirety of his fascia from his chinplate to just above his optics.

It had been an unfortunate and agonizing factory accident. A vat overheated and splashed up into his fascia, corroding the metal down to its inner components. Fresh surface metal had been retrofitted to cover the wounds, but, the burns and welds keeping his fascia together were vast. Ariel, along with every other mecha he came across involuntarily GAWKED. At least with her the gaze hadn’t been in disgust, which Cypher appreciated. The both of them quickly befriended each other as the defective mecha they were in their company; him facially, and her vocally.

                 How he wished his defect was as simple as a stutter...

Despite Cypher’s current reflection, at one point, he had been considered an attractive mech — now, he wore a facial covering as much as possible to hide the monstrosity he’d become. Heading into battle, though, such was not permitted. It left Cypher feeling naked, wanting to lather on the paint to cover up his deformity as fast as possible, but the raised ridges and welts made the task near impossible. He’d never gotten the hang of it in the two weeks of basic training he’d received prior to being activated for departure.

❝ Aye, ❞ Ariel nodded, speaking in his native tongue, one of the few she actually knew besides common Cybex. ❝ Need s-s-some help? ❞ she asked, turning towards him pre-emptively.

Cypher nodded almost too eagerly and wiped off large digits on his sullied rag, the linen completely blue from his many, MANY failed attempts. The taller mech hunched over to grant her better reach. Ariel’s lips pursed in assessment, careful not to upset the still drying paint marking her features. He’d been able to get the thick band over his optics ( and above his disfigurement ) done properly, but the smaller lines in the design proved to be the source of setback.

Swiftly getting to work her digits coated themselves in Energon-blue paint, dragging over the uneven surface meticulously. The Tarnish mech momentarily flinched upon feeling her cold touch, then settled. He’d only known Ariel for two weeks but the cooler-running systems of the tiny femme ALWAYS caught him by surprise. It was like being touched by a walking ice box. Both frames shuddered on another ripple of nerves, ever-present in them both and likely would be until they returned... if they returned.

                                                   In for four, out for four...

Ariel vented deeply inward then outward. Cypher watched her intently, studying the flits of her optics between the passes of her cold servo, and the scrunched expression that crossed her fascia while she concentrated. The mech bit back an amused grin. She looked like a sparkling would while focusing on a task, and given Ariel’s age, he wasn’t far off in his assessment. He himself wasn’t much older than her from what he’d learned, the deformity only gave him the appearance of such. Sparklings, practically, the both of them — they all were.

❝ D...D-Don’t move yer mouth— ❞ Ariel hushed, quiet yet no less demanding. Time was running out before their Corporal would come by for pre-checks, and he ran a tight operation.

Cypher complied instantly, tenor vocoder emitting an acknowledging hum. The mech sucked in a wavering ventilation. Large black servos trembled as they unconsciously fidgeted in his lap. Cerulean hues shifted to meet his orange gaze — another marker to his ‘otherness’. The acid has splashed up into his optics, eating away at the natural colour filter and tinged them deep orange. Very rarely did mecha have optic colours other than blue, always drawing attention whether intentional or not. Despite the accident occurring millennia ago Cypher still struggled to recognize his new reflection; cobalt optics and handsome fascia now only a painful, distant memory.

❝ In fer four, out fer four, Cyph, ❞ the tiny femme murmured encouragingly. Demonstrating just that with her own ventilation pattern. One, two, three, four she vented inward. One, two, three, four, the vents expelled steadily from her frame, unable to hide her own nerves as they swirled about on her EM Field. It matched his own terrified energy, and that of the entire company. All of them choking the prep station with their unease.

Cypher took the advice in stride, remembering the shared mantra and putting it into motion. Silence. Another repetition of vents. It helped... marginally.

❝ What in the PIT do ya think yer doin’, Rookie?! ❞ a gruff voice barked over in mandated Cybex.

Ariel and Cypher recoiled, each bolting upwards from their seats to stand at rigid attention as the older mech clomped towards them. Piercing azure optics practically peeled the femme’s paint, narrowed in a hardened glare and stealing the air from her vents. Although, the tar cygar the teal mech incessantly puffed away on was also partially to blame. Bitter white smoke stung her optics as he stopped in front of them, LOOMING over to block out the overhead lights. At least Cypher stood closer in height, only a half-helm below the Corporal. Ariel, meanwhile, barely came to the Corporal’s mid-chassis. Something the intimidating older mech never failed to exploit.

Processors whirred, expertly switching to Cybex in preparation.

❝ Assisting my teammate, S-S-Sir, ❞ Ariel quietly dared to answer, knowing full well she couldn’t remain silent to his query. Cerulean hues didn’t budge from their froward stare, catching the Corporal’s movement only by peripheral vision and forceful EM Field beating her weaker one into submission.

Speaking around the cygar poised in the crook of his mouth the mech drawled lowly. ❝ He don’t need yer help, he’s a grown aft mech! Everyone does their own paint— ❞ the Corporal barked again. Ariel narrowly escaped the instinct to flinch. Glowering down to Cypher he continued, ❝ Finish up. On yer own. NOW. ❞

❝ Aye, Corp-eral Kup, Ser— ❞ Cypher replied, his Tarnish accent ever prevalent. Seating himself he immediately started back on task. Praise the Maker, all that was required was the line from the lower lip to his chinplate... Primus bless ya, lass.

Ariel remained in place, optics forward, servos clasped at the base of her spinal column, shoulders back and chin level to the floor. Perfect stance. Kup leaned closer to come within inches from her fascia. She didn’t move. Locked in place like a statue, rigid and tensed.

❝ Ya think ya did such a perfect job ya can offer yer services to yer buddies, eh, Rookie? ❞ he scoffed, blowing the cygar smoke into her faceplates.

Ariel wheezed ever so slightly against bitter air, ❝ No, S-S-Sir— ❞

❝ Then keep yer servos to yerself! ❞ Kup replied loudly, assuring everyone in the prep station could hear him. A few closest to the pair braved their curiosity to peek over, then just as quickly returned to their own paint jobs. The threat of deployment already hung above their helms, they needn’t a terrifying altercation with Corporal Kup to add to the mix.

❝ Y-Yes, S-S-Sir! ❞ Ariel stammered in acknowledgement, feeling another involuntary tremor course through her circuitry. Dangling scarlet cables at the top of her helm rattled behind matching backplates, catching Kup’s scrupulous attention. Dammit. Ariel bit back a wince, already anticipating what he’d say.

❝ An’ get those THINGS properly secured. If I catch ya with ‘em down one more time, yer aft will be doin’ waste chute cleanin’ for a VORN— ❞

❝ Y-Yes, Corporal! Right away, Corporal! ❞ the femme sputtered, all but THROWING herself back into her seat.

Trembling limbs frantically tore into her subspace for the helm-cable covering, yanking the cables up and twisting them in preparation at break-neck speed. Meanwhile, Cypher cleaned his digits at the side, too petrified to look over. Her covering magnetized in place with a CLINK, cables neatly secured and out of sight. Ariel despised how she looked without them, feeling a deep betrayal to her Carrier in even taking such an action in the first place. Helm cabling was an inherited trait— one of the few Ariel took PRIDE in. A marker of the great Solus Prime’s influence, or at least, so she had been taught. But, these were the rules. Plus, the alternative was less appealing: having them chopped off at their roots.

What must’ve been a nanosecond after the Corporal stood at the front of the prep station. Gruff voice loudly echoing off the walls with another order, assuring everyone could hear despite the slight distance from front to back.

❝ Company, ATTENTION— ❞

Creaks of metal shooting up to stand followed immediately, all taking to the proper military stance in a sparkpulse, Ariel and Cypher included. Every optic was trained on Kup, hardened expression partially hidden by the never-ending wafts of cygar smoke. If anything, it only added to their anxiety; never quite able to tell where he was looking at any given time, or at who.

❝ Weapons! ❞ he demanded.

The conglomerate of mecha — about one hundred or so — complied instantly. Plates shifted into the proper configurations, bringing onlined weaponry mods to view for inspection. Down the line Kup went one by one, checking their war paint and weapons, assuring they were calibrated, properly cleaned, and paint up to Sentinel code.

Unfortunately, the process took longer than he liked and wanted, high standards aside the mecha before him were incredibly underprepared. Greener than green. If half returned from Hyperion he’d consider the mission a success, but in the recesses of his core he anticipated every spark in the room to be snuffed. A disheartening part of the military, especially when it concerned the lower-caste drafted soldiers.

Not nearly enough resources were put into proper training as it was simply considered wasteful. Lower-caste mecha were a dime a dozen, their population large and only increasing with every passing year. While Kup never spoke of it aloud, he assumed on more than one occasion the High Council did so purposely as a means of population control. Still, he’d would do his best to TRY and get them all home, as he always had done. Despite his reputation even HE wasn’t completely sparkless...

Standing in front of the skinny femme once more Kup grabbed her helm, tipping it from side to side roughly to check the war paint. Clean, even lines. Perfectly spaced. Near perfectly straight, though, he hadn’t expected any of the strokes to be all that steady given nerves. Lip plates pursed. Good. Kup released her with more slightly force than intended, she was simply much lighter than he’d been expecting and had exercised with every other mecha in the company.

Ariel vented shallowly, locking her weapon in place as he reached forwards. Sparkpulses continued to RING in her helm, vibrating against the confines of her chassis so violently she swore Kup could feel it coursing through her limbs.

                                                   In for four, out for four...

The Corporal turned the blaster over from side to side, next checking the internal components, and again, perfection. He huffed. The femme had an incredible optic for detail, meticulous as a seasoned vet would’ve been, it mildly impressed him. When it came to being technical the kid EXCELLED, but when it came to physicality... that was her constant challenge. She simply wasn’t BUILT for being a Sentinel. Every form served a function and this was so obviously not hers, but, she came as a volunteer; a rarity from her caste. Whatever it was she set out to prove in being here remained to be seen, and likely never would.

Kup withheld a sigh and released the weaponized arm back to her side, gentler this time, though however barely. Today would be the true test he supposed. Just like that he moved onto the next, Cypher, without a second thought. Sentimentality and emotions had no place here. Besides, he hardly knew the femme — knew ANY of these mecha — there was no use lingering on things.

The inspection lasted ten painstaking minutes before finally coming to completion. After which came a quick briefing. Two boundaries on Hyperion were locked in a deadly and bloody battle over a border feud. One trying to absorb the other to gain power over the resources ( and reach ), with the other fighting to maintain its independence as their own region. A tale as old as time...

Previous waves from both Caminus and Cybertron had come mainly to assist in civilian transportation and TRY to maintain peace, but, as the battle waged on, their services were needed to push back against the invading region’s forces. Caminus pulled the majority of their guards after the first wave. Cybertron willingly continued to shuttle in wave after wave of mecha, each less prepared than the last. But what they lacked in skill they made up for by sheer NUMBERS, bolstering the allied forces just enough to maintain position against the invaders. This company’s objection remained simple: hold the line, advance if at all possible.

❝ Load up an’ shove out, LET’S GO— ❞ Kup suddenly barked, stepping ahead in preparation to lead.

The sea of scarlet frames moved as one unit, falling into their orderly lines and marching out of the prep station to the distinctive tune of heavy pedefalls. Cerulean and orange optics of both Ariel and Cypher respectively shared a nervous glance. If the shared look were any indication they each were seconds away from purging. Even beneath the bright war paint the blanched colour tinging each faceplate were unmistakeable, and in Cypher’s case, making his welts and burns all the more apparent. Surrounding frames trembled as they marched, adding to the general cacophony of the company with Kup blazing forwards at the pre-determined brisk pace.

Ariel clenched then straightened dainty servos at her side, desperately trying to fight the heavy and numb sensation overtaking her extremities, taking to shaking them one then the other. It did nothing. Processors whirred and she swallowed against the perpetual lump in her vocoder, struggling to complete the action with her mouth now entirely parched of saliva.

Once in the main hangar they could hear the whirs of rotors preparing takeoff checks, adding to the white noise of the bustling space: vehicle transports, other marching company’s, superior officers giving and relaying orders, overhead speakers echoing updates and notices. This was happening. There was no turning back now. Reality settled over Ariel and every other mecha surrounding her like a thick, dense fog. EM Fields frantic and frenzied, mixing into an endless wave of FEAR.

Each pedefall brought them closer and closer to their aerial transport, the large back entrance open and waiting to swallow them. Ariel took a last peek around the hangar, too overwhelmed to notice any real details in the moment before crossing the threshold and marching up the inclined ramp. Kup gave another loud order and they settled onto the benches, seated and ready for takeoff — each secretly hoping the transport would be delayed in one way or another. Or, better yet, word that the conflict had miraculously ended. None came.

Large doors closed with a heavy creak and pneumatic hiss, sealing them inside along with their fates. Bright white lights of the hangar were now replaced with total blackness. Cypher’s vents hitched to Ariel’s side, deeply phobic of pure darkness such as this. Ariel glanced over and reached for his servo, skinny digits giving the thicker, warmer ones a small squeeze. Cypher reciprocated, CLINGING to her for the small comfort the touch brought; chilly as ever. A click. Dimmed red lights slowly onlined overhead to feebly illuminate the interior, allowing their optics to adjust to the nightfall exposure awaiting them at their arrival point. Servos remained tightly wound but hardly anyone noticed — they weren’t the only ones taking such action.

Scarlet plates all RATTLED against each other at varying levels, piercing every set of audials in the hull. Shaking, squeaking metal against neighbouring metal filled the space in an unsettling melody. Short, staggered vents wheezed all around, nervous ticks becoming all the more apparent now that they were officially en route. Pedes tapped at the ground, some simply let the entire leg bounce erratically. Digits thrummed over bent knee joints, or cracked the components in each digit on repeat. Denta chewed on lower lip components and inner mesh. Shoulder pauldrons lifted only to then fell, trying to dispel the tension pent up in tight neck cabling. The list went on...

Engines whirred to life as did rotors. The transport lurched forwards then up, briefly jolting the company trapped inside. Take off. Overhead, static pre-emptively filled the broadcast comm, followed by a muffled voice from one of the pilots.

                      >> ETA: TWENTY-MINUTES TO OBJECTIVE <<

Ariel cycled inwards and outwards as steadily as possible. Keeping to the four count she had been taught back in her youngling years by her Creators. Ridges crinkled, the familiar phantom ACHE made its presence known in the depths of her spark. A pained vent trickled past quivering lip components. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. Her Carrier’s voice continued to whisper to her over and over like a faulty record. Soft but strong, just as she had when Ariel had lost her—

                             No, when she had been TAKEN from her.

Large cerulean hues stung with pricks of coolant threatening to fall. Ariel swallowed hard, it would muss up her war paint if they did, Kup would be furious. Optics screwed shut as she focused on her ventilations instead. Reaching up, servos blindly felt around the back of her neck joints for her helm cabling, going to pull them forwards to comb skinny digits through yet only found air. Optics opened. Right. They were fastened beneath a covering at the top of her helm.

Beside her, Cypher rocked gently back and forth while massaging slow circles over his sparkpulse, self-soothing in his own personal way as many mecha had taken to. Beneath his breath the quiet tenor voice every now and then met her audials, mumbling a half-realized song to himself. The melody barely existed, but Ariel picked out the longer held vowels and slight dips and rises in their enunciation. Actually, the hull had begun to fill with similar whispers, mecha speaking to themselves or partner next to them. Same region-originating mecha took to their own languages and traditions in the form of prayers, mantras, and other offerings the young femme could only partially understand. All of it bled seamlessly together into a constant yet hushed hum.

Ariel watched the circling passes over Cypher’s much broader chassis, the mark of a traditional Tarnish bot through and through. Sturdy. Strong. Exactly as her Sire had been. Primus, never had she wished to have inherited such a frame more than in this moment. Instead, she took mostly after her Carrier; slim, slight, pure-bred Vosnian. The few curves Ariel’s form bore were the only hints to her mixed-race, a confusing mash-up of thoroughly opposite regions that all too often made her stick out like a sore thumb. Not Tarnish. Not Vosnian. Not a pure flyer. Not a pure grounder. Simultaneously two things and yet nothing.

Circles continued over wide scarlet chestplates, steady and constant. The mech’s thumb caught on the Sentinel insignia at the centre every now and then, but remained largely undeterred in their pattern. A beat. As if feeling her gaze on him Cypher looked over, soft smile briefly twitching across the horrific scars and metal-grafts. The unoccupied servo reached for her nearest one, bringing it to the petite chassis and guiding the same circular action gently over her plates.

❝ Aye, jus’ like that, lass. Nice an’ slow, as yer reg’lar pulses oughta be, ❞ Cypher murmured in his native tongue, tenor voice shaking despite his best efforts.

Ariel expelled another unsteady ventilation, nodding slowly as optics blinked furiously against the welling coolant captured in the crooks; never fully banished back, yet still refused to fall.

❝ What was it ya were s-s-singin’? B’fore? ❞ she croaked, again swallowing back the knot in her vocoder impeding the Tarnish dialect.

Cypher’s smile broadened slightly, ❝ Ack— don’t tell me you’ve nevar heard th’ tradish’nal war chant a’ Prima... ❞

His servo fell from hers though neither took notice. Without warning the transport BOBBED to the side, forcing its occupants to grasp at hanging holds for stability. Tanks LURCHED violently into her intake. Ariel shook her helm, focusing on Cypher instead of their current journey and growing nervous nausea.

❝ Well, s’ppose there’s no time like th’ present, ❞ he half-chuckled, ❝ Aye’ll teach ya. Watch an’ listen to what aye do, lass. ❞

The servo over his spark pulse tightened into a fist. Completing three circles across his chassis the fist banged against the insignia twice in quicker succession, then dragged again in another three circles to repeat the pattern. At the same time a large pede stomped quietly against the ground in a baseline beat, feeding into the growing rhythm. Steady. Strong. Dropping his tone a guttural hum manifested in the pit of the Tarnish chassis, low like rolling thunder. Cypher held the tone as the pounds and stomps continued. It was then that his large frame couldn’t help but move along to the rhythm, swaying back and forth ever so slightly in place as he had done before. Moved by the music he created.

Ariel nodded slowly, mimicking the actions in a fast study. Pounds and stomps came not as powerfully as his, but they didn’t need to be, she could feel it move through her all the same. Dropping her vocoder to as comfortable a low register as she could the pitches harmonized in perfect tune, cerulean and orange optics locked onto each other in an unwavering connection. Ready.

Cypher broke the hum as Ariel continued, singing the ancient Cybex chant to the same steady rhythm:

[ Listen Here ]

❝ Iron and ore ignite the Wellspring, Bright white light to carry me home, Sunlight cresting to the Moons new splendor, Rise and fall

Vows of honour and fight for freedom, Spark catch fire to warm my form, Energon pulses hot like lightning, We stand tall.

Raise your fists and come together, Fate shines down upon this day, Know no fear when your might is sundered, Heed the call.

Oh-ho-oh My spark I give eternally Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Oh-ho-oh To claim our promised destiny Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Great Maker call on me... ❞

Cypher regained the previous low hum, nodding over to Ariel. Her turn. The pounds to his chassis and stomps grew in intensity, garnering the attention of the nearest mecha beside and across from the pair. Ariel ex-vented, lyrics committed to memory as well as tune. From the top she repeated the chant just as the Tarnish mech had, in perfect time to his continued beat. Every word sung earned more and more self-assurance, the once meagre embers of her persona flickering to newfound life.

❝ Iron and ore ignite the Wellspring, Bright white light to carry me home, S-Sunlight cresting to the Moons new splendor, Rise and fall.

Vows of honour and fight for freedom, S-Spark catch fire to warm my form, Energon pulses hot like lightning, We stand tall— ❞

Behind frightened cerulean hues a fire caught before his very optics, BURNING behind Ariel’s gaze. The younger femme’s features hardened underneath the warpaint in a different kind of way than the mech had ever witnessed before; a ferocious, unyielding determination.

❝ Raise your fists and come together, Fate shines down upon this day, Know no fear when your might is sundered, Heed the call— ❞

A sudden shiver ran down his spinal column, spark growing hotter and hotter in the bowels of his chassis. Cypher’s optics flashed, lowly rumbling the final lines of the chant along with the femme in perfect contrast to her higher register. Their combined fervor and volume GREW.

❝ Oh-ho-oh My spark I give eternally Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Oh-ho-oh To claim our promised destiny Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Great Maker call on me. ❞

By now, a few bots had caught on. Several knew the ancient chant by spark whereas the majority learned in the moment, joining in from the top to both Ariel and Cypher’s surprise. Even more surprising was when — without any sort of warning — the femme SHOT upwards to her pedes, unable to be confined to her seat... or was it contained?

Cerulean hues SEARED into orange, skinny frame willing ever fibre of her being to stomp harder into the ground and against her chassis, repeating the words even louder than before; stutter vanished completely. A dangerous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, prompting Cypher to do the same. disbelieving what he assumed to be such a meek femme to make such a STAND. Little did he know, however, she had performed in front of crowds teeming with tens of thousands of mecha back in Kaon, a couple hundred now as witness was nothing to her.

Courage BILLOWED from Ariel’s EM Field with newfound ferocity, goading the others in proximity to lose themselves to the feeling as it flooded over and surrounded them. For a moment they could only stare at the femme and take in the small but mighty energy SURGING from her with a power comparable to the sun; a different kind of strength that they had never seen or felt the likes of which ever before.

                                                            MESMORIZED.

Unthinkingly, Cypher joined her in standing, heavy mass drawing more power and volume for those seated farther away to take note of. He turned, facing to the back of the transport to engage them as Ariel did similar with the front. In an instant, clanks of heavy servos and thuds of weighted pedes added to the growing tally. Down the multiple benches the chanted words and steady rhythm caught like wildfire through the red-lit hull. Each repetition bringing forth more and more participants as the words and music were better learned.

The transport roughly dipped to the side in choppy air. Ariel briefly clung to Cypher to stay upright as he reached up for a hanging grip, yet the chants never relented, if anything, it merely ROSE in volume to drown out the approaching battle. Optics burned brighter and brighter as frames rocked to the music, and one by one throughout the hull, mecha came to stand at their places.

Some opted to keep the constant baseline hum, others chanting along with the words. Some simply bobbed their helms and frames, fully focused on the beats to their chassis or stamps of pedes, garnering more power with every movement. Each and every bot of the hundred-mecha company echoed with their chosen method LOUDLY in the cabin, banishing back their fear in defiant unison again, and again, AND AGAIN. Together, they made known to the High Council back on Cybertron that their sparks would not be so easily extinguished today.

❝ Oh-ho-oh My spark I give eternally Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Oh-ho-oh To claim our promised destiny Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Great Maker call on me. ❞

Kup sat at his place in the back dumbfounded, cygar threatening to fall from the jaw now hanging completely agape. Never before had he seen ANYTHING like this, especially from the lower-caste drafts. Widened azure optics fixated on the tiny scarlet femme and disfigured mech at the centre of the storm, soon afterwards losing sight of them as now EVERY bot had come to stand on their pedes. Synchronized movements ebbed and flowed like ocean waves to the beat, infectious as ever.

The energy palpitating in the hull could only be described as ELECTRIC. A furious, relentless power that felt as though every spark in the vicinity were about to burst into a great cataclysm; an absolute super nova of strength. Every pound to a chassis and stomp of pede against the metal flooring brought a deep BOOM felt in the pit of each spark casing, vibrating the cores in a visceral, instinctive pulsation as though the Well itself had manifested in the transport; loud and HEAVY.

¦ ¦  Corporal, what in the Pit is going on back there? We can feel the transport QUAKING.  ¦ ¦

One of the pilots filled his comm. Kup had to STRAIN to hear above the thundering volume. The teal torso twisted to face the wall immediately behind to try and dampen the background noise though it was of little use.

¦ ¦  DON’T YA KNOW A BATTLECRY WHEN YA HEAR ONE?  ¦ ¦

He shouted over the BOOMING chants, clanks, and stomps.

❝ Iron and ore ignite the Wellspring, Bright white light to carry me home, Sunlight cresting to the Moons new splendor, Rise and fall— ❞

¦ ¦  — 5 minutes to objective, Corporal!  ¦ ¦

¦ ¦  COPY.  ¦ ¦

Now, Kup also rose to his pedes. Those nearest him took notice and watched with wary expressions, unsure if he were about to give them a verbal lashing for their unruly actions or not. Sucking in another long ventilation of the tar cygar its bitter smoke whistled from his frame. Azure optics flashed, pede stamping against the ground in unison with the company, naturally gravelly vocoder adding to the baseline hum.

❝ Vows of honour and fight for freedom, Spark catch fire to warm my form, Energon pulses hot like lightning, We stand tall... ❞

Down the rows mecha begun to turn around slowly but surely, never breaking stride or beat as they came to face their Corporal. Ariel and Cypher remained at the centre, lost to the sea of Energon-blue war paint and scarlet frames. Kup took the cygar from his lip components, chanting through the residual white tendrils as the transport banked in descent.

❝ Raise your fists and come together, Fate shines down upon this day, Know no fear when your might is sundered, Heed the call— ❞

The horde continued, undeterred and unapologetic. Savouring the high that came with the indescribable feeling claiming them for as long as they would be permitted. Their possible final moments ticked down in pings overhead, only adding to the raucous rhythm.

❝ Oh-ho-oh My spark I give eternally Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Oh-ho-oh To claim our promised destiny Oh-ho-oh Great Maker call on me Great Maker call on me. ❞

[ TO BE CONTINUED . . . ]

[gabbytbll]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

REQUEST'S ARE CLOSED!

ANNOUNCEMENT!

♕Hey! so I'm making this, so you know what to ask for whenever u decide to ask for head canons, etc. ♡

these are all the characters I'm comfortable with writing ♡

i will add more characters in the future!

Ps I don't rly know how to do full story's yet so please bare with me I'm still learning!♡

↜my upload schedule is very random because i need inspiration✎↝

-quick reminder I'm sorry if i don't do ur request i have been very busy lately

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝑺𝒀𝑳𝑼𝑺~

✦𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♔

SYLUS HEADCANONS Pt 2

SYLUS NSFW ABCS COMMING SOON~

𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬~

❄ ~𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬'𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺~❄

~❄️Your sick darling be careful now❄️~

❄𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐂'𝐒❆

𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹~

MINI DRABBLE COMING SOON~

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑵𝑶𝑰𝑹~

HEADCANONS COMING SOON~

𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑫𝑰𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝒀~

HEADCANONS COMING SOON~

NSFW ABCS COMMING SOON!

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻~

𝑴𝑨𝑬𝑽𝑬~

✄𝑴𝑨𝑬𝑽𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺✯ 18+

𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑩𝑼𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹~

𝑲𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑲𝑶~

PLATONIC DRABBLE COMING SOON!

𝑨-𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵~

HEADCANONS COMING SOON~

NSFW ABCS COMMING SOON!

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑻~

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 (more to come)

𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑺~

𝑴𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑴𝒀𝑬𝑹𝑺~

HEADCANONS COMING SOON~

𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑

𝑮𝑰𝒀𝑼𝑼 𝑻𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑶𝑲𝑨~

˙⋆✮𝐆𝐈𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐎��𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍'𝐒✮⋆˙ + 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄'𝐒

𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰~

𝑴𝑰𝑻𝑺𝑼𝑹𝑰~

𝑮𝒀𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑰~

𝒀𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑰~

[novasintheroom]

Prince!Vash arranged marriage AU masterlist

Painting by Kyle Ma.

Story Chapters - TBD

Drabbles/Headcanons

♔Prince!Vash arranged marriage AU headcanons - Part 1

Prince!Vash x Princess!Reader; general headcanons about the first part of the Prince!Vash story, your evolving relationship, etc.

♔The villagers and their prince...and new princess

A drabble about how the villagers and city folk view their prince...and his new wife.

♔ Favorite flower

Prince Vash intends to find out what your favorite flower is.

♔Journaling and royalty

Prince Vash learns about your interest in journaling.

♔Tournament day

A tournament where Prince Vash gets to show off his archery skills for you.

♔Getting dressed w/ Prince Vash's help

You ask your husband for help getting dressed.

♔Kissing Prince Vash's cheek

You kiss Prince Vash on the cheek, just to see what happens.

♔Visiting your old kingdom and family

A visit to your family, and particularly, your father.

♔A "jealous" kiss w/ Prince Vash

Drabble about you talking w/ your former fiance and how Vash reacts.

♔Prince Vash caught staring

Drabble about Vash being caught staring at his beautiful wife (you).

♔Laughing with the duke's son

Small drabble about Prince Vash seeing you laughing with a duke's son.

♔The door between rooms

You finally open the door between your rooms to ask Prince Vash something...

♔A thunderstorm for the night

Drabble about how a thunderstorm comes knocking, so you seek out Vash for comfort.

♔How would Vash propose?

You ask your husband how he would actually propose if he was given the chance.