#❛ ⁞ ◤ ——— ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇs

[sinistercall]

『 "𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓" 』

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘮, 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘯-𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Such a thing graced Ithuriel's eyes as she cut back into reality once more, finding herself laying down within her tent atop her bedroll - it smells sweet, like cinnamon ; how had she gotten here? Cinnamon ... Kettle ... Tea - Her gaze flicked over to spy that fluttering imp, right, she remembers now. The group had settled down for the evening after finishing up various chores, and she had thought it better for the night to read that 𝐆𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐘 romance novel Astarion had lent her. Something to clear her " 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 " and hopefully lead to ... " 𝘦𝘹𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 ". The comment racked a shudder across her being. Fel (   𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦?   ) had arrived shortly after, happy enough in her presence to speak with her plainly; his voice - despite all of the horrid vocabulary - somehow was a comfort. She'd managed to convince him to settle down in his chatter beside her, but ever diligent to work he kept twitching - so she had given him laundry to fold while she ‘studied up on runic symbols’. A lie, but one he didn't seem displeased by despite her confidence that he knew what she was actually up to. 

"Ahh you always were 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 for knowledge Master! You should really rest though, my Lady, you must be tired from all of the sorocide from today. However, if you insist, I will stay here to watch over you and make sure you complete your studies."

Like a parent guiding their child. Had it always been that way? Had there been a point where the Scleritas held her 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞 hand? Much to her chagrin, it brings a soft grin to her lips - a fleeting one as she peeks over to her gentlegoblin. She had no memory of being a child, no memory before waking up on the Nautiloid ... Surely she was 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, once? He had mentioned being a "   𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘭   '' himself, something made to aid and protect Bhaal's most beloved child - Perhaps if there was any good within the 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑, he had placed it into Fel to keep her company and guide her along the way ... If not just to puppet her back into the Dread Lord's sticky and crimson embrace. The Butler began to hum as her cerise gaze trailed downward to her - well, 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 - book once more.

"𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘳, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦?’ 

Surely he'd given her the wrong novel, this was far from some cheap romantic smut fest she had expected to open into, and she was unsure if she was disappointed or not. It was a fabulous book, one she had almost instantly bonded with; a traveler on a long journey fighting against his own corruption. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 - 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. Instinctually her stare lifts to the rest of camp, alone in her tent but never truly lonely; someone was always out and about. The Sharran and Blade of Frontiers seemed locked in wicked debate, though their voices were soft their bodies told a new tale. Yes ... That was it, she concludes - the book she was so fond of; it reminded her of 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓. Introduced crudely but swiftly found to be resourceful and, well, a joy. She should speak to her soon ... maybe the two could step aside from their differences. Although the woman’s piercing expression did little to ease any doubts dancing about Ithuriel’s mind.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘰𝘸𝘺𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Ithuriel observes over the camp once more before white moon-kissed locks greet her, eyes angling lower to watch Astarion mumble and pace about while holding a book that seemed much too heavy for his nimble statue. Her lips part with a tilt of her head, her own wintry hair spilling over her shoulder as she finds fuzzy moss growing in her. It's warm and fluffy and invades every part of her form, the garden inside of her chest feels like it's going to sprout from her mouth - and her ears flutter as though she were a butterfly prancing about from petal to petal. A blushing flush ran across her cheeks, she is safe in her small den ; and Astarion is far too preoccupied. She tries to further indulge in those 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘 feelings, and in the selenic glow, soft rays of silver and blue - he's as beautiful as glistening dew and the call of bird song. To her own reluctance, Ithuriel's mind begins to twist herself into the visage before her, next to him and listening to his murmurs of frustration and amusement. Her steady intelligent gaze studied him closely, noting the strength in his forearms that bore every inch of his determination and longing for freedom. 

Insurrection. Spite. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ... 𝘠𝘦𝘴 ... 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.

That is when those sanguineous eyes meet hers and lock in, her tadpole twitches - longing to reach out - but the shuddering of her skin gives her the strength to break the look between them. Ithuriel had never been looked at so 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘, within a moment he had undressed her soul - even buried under blanketed layers of wool she'd never felt so naked. The tiefling dares to look back at him; her veins turning to ice at the stark realization that he has not broken away yet. Not once.  Those eyes are full of a deep understanding and calm indifference. It is a crimson sea she wishes she could pour herself in to become the foam atop each wave of his iris. She is a person and he, as another person acknowledges that. 

                                               ... 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 ...  

How long ... How 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 had it been since she had felt like one? Not a monster, not a 𝐆𝐨𝐝, not a 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐍 -

" - Master, I have finished! -- Ohhh! Oh my Lady, did I startle you? It still pains me so to see my little liege in distress." The Sceleritas comforted quickly, soothing Ithuriel back from her skittish yip. "You appear to be on the same page as before! Are you troubled, Master?"

" ... No. I - Thank you, Fel. I - I," her hand fidgets forward to free the clasp of her tent, closing off herself from the outside world. From Warmth. From Friends. From Love. She doesn't dare look at any of their companions. Not now. "I think I will be turning in for the night, I ... Will you stay? I ... I think even with my loss of memory I have missed you."

"Ah ... Master, you make a butler 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇! I'll carve that compliment into my heart! Worry not, my demiurge, these feelings of distraction will wane soon enough and you will be back on your feet by the next moon! A person of your fine 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 is never down for long, I know the unholy guarantee of your Father's legacy will spur you on. It is woven into you."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

✧ ── 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 ۞ 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ɪᴛʜᴜʀɪᴇʟ ʟɪꜰ - ʙᴀʟᴅᴜʀ'ꜱ ɢᴀᴛᴇ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴜʀɢᴇ - @burntscars

[nvrcmplt]

@intcritus // First Meeting

It was a strange time, living up to the mantel piece of his Father's strength but Osakwe learned fast when his Dad came home with Shoto and Bon under his arms. The protective streak he understood out of most, and how quickly he acted to take the smaller of the two into his own arms and into the safety of the hideaway. The villain was strong, fast - but a little blinded by their ego that they didn't follow his Dad to this space. Thankful by that nature, Osakwe got the work in wrapping Bon's arm, scraped by something, in minimal gauze from the emergency first aid kit and took a cold compress to Shoto's head that held a bump.

"Dad…"

"Stay down."

Osakwe could see that Olu was bleeding, a head wound so he knew from many studies they were the worst bleeders, but from what he could also tell was that Olu wasn't dizzy or slurring his words. So, he swallowed the panic and nodded firmly, taking hold of Bon's hand and Shoto's to draw some strength from the duo fast asleep. Knocked out? Osakwe felt sick, scared but he held it down. Swallowed with a heavy sigh and nodded to himself to scoot closer to his brothers at this point.

Oluwayemisi remained on his feet, smearing his blood from vision with practice ease and keeping his ears open with eyes ahead. Looking over the edge of crumbled buildings and crushed cars - the flames weren't as bad as they were pretty far from their place, just the smoke was the killer. It removed vision of the landscape, put him on edge and had his hackles raised. He could feel his blood boiling, the beast within himself ready to take over to fight and protect… but against what, was the issue. This country held hundreds of skilled and mutant like beings, Quirks as Todoroki explained to him once - they were many humans that held the wants to be Hero's but were villainized for their skills be them too dark or too creepy.

So, when Olu' braved the minute glance back to his son and his wards - Olu felt his stomach drop. Twisting just in time to dodge a metal pipe slamming over his shoulder - aimed for his face - to impale the wall behind them. Osakwe's bellow was enough to make his fangs bare - his claws swiping out to latch onto the metal item and yank it free to swipe it down in front of him. Colliding with another pipe, then another and another before it stopped all together. The enemy jumped through the cloud of ashen smoke - cackling as their arm extended to form gray in the skin and fire yet another hollow pipe from his skin.

Olu could only snarl as he used the first pipe to deflect the metal item again - sending it down into the Earth - another above to finally have enough and promptly javelin throw the pipe in his grip towards the maker with a bestial roar. Watching it take them down and over the other side of the car was enough - he didn't need to know the blood in the air was that child's, but it was enough to make him hiss. Young - they were all bloody young. What the fuck is going on here… ?!

"DAD!" The alarm was with the sound of crumbling foundations and above did his arms automatically pull away from the pipes to twist upon toes and cover the three lads with his entire frame. The pain was bearable, nothing compared to yanking his son under his chest and tugging Bon and Shoto under Osakwe… His fangs bared with determination and with a bestial strength he pushed down on his feet to give them just enough room to get light from under the caved in floor above. Sweating and feeling blood ooze from parts of his frame, Olu' couldn't care less and only focused on the three beneath him. Osakwe was cradling his ankle, Shoto seemed to be waking but dizzy and Bon was already whimpering, curling up in a ball, which was a good sign if anything. "Boys, be brave." He huffed through the noise and taste of concrete on his tongue - his arms trembled but he couldn't think of it right that moment.

He could just hear cackling but it was gone with the distance. Dumb shit… though a blessing. Arrogance was enough to keep the simplest of jobs to fail. Oluwayemisi stared down into the darkness, the minimal light was working only so much even with his special retinas. Luckily though he smelt no new blood that wasn't his own - Osakwe's ankle was definitely broken. The scent of tears were higher than anything else but to Oluwayemisi that's all he needed to care about. "Osakwe, look at me… You're going to be alright. All three of you are." He started with a need to make sure his cubs were safe. "Stay under me, stay close…" Though his back was protesting, though his thighs were trembling and his arms turning numb, he couldn't move.

Breathing wasn't the best either, from what he could tell it wasn't just the pressure from above, but around them. The air was thicker… that's when it clicked. "Shit." A cough from Bon, then himself, Osakwe followed next as Shoto was out cold again. Fire - a burning fire was closer than before now - filling the place with smoke. Just what he needed; his eyes stung - the kids were wheezing and now he felt scared for them. This was not how they wanted to go.

"Osakwe… pull them closer, as close as you can." He coughed, growling as the smoke filled his throat and lungs - it hurt, hot and thick. Not nice to taste at all either, so he bared his teeth again - feeling his skin itch as hairs began to sprout. "Hold them tight!" His bellow was enough to rattle rock and dust from their dome of debris. Metal screeched and rock crumbled but most of all, the air in their igloo of stone was fresh again. Oluwayemisi's frame thickened, muscle mass tripled with his strength, height and bulk. His mane thickened and lengthened and within moments of pulling the beast from his core - the stone covering was tossed aside.

Osakwe scooped up in one arm, Bon's in the other and Shoto's shirt in his fanged mouth - the four of them were midair as Osakwe opened his eyes again. Gaping at the sight before and below them. The building had been crushed, swiped almost and the floors fell inward. Osakwe couldn't believe his Dad was able to hold all that up for that amount of time but was thankful. He hissed when they finally landed on a road somewhere, his ankle was definitely broken and stung to high-heavens but he held himself upright when placed down and handed Shoto, who was still out cold. If he was awake, the building would have been iced over so easy but it was okay.

Shoto already fought hard to protect him and Bon from the sudden attack. Bon was able to open his eyes better now, though wheezing a heavy cough - the three of them together held each other. Sliding to sit on the floor and clear their airways - as Oluwayemisi, in his lion form stood tall, huffing the remnants of ashen clouds from his chops and keeping an eye on the surroundings. Osakwe couldn't really tell where his dad was bleeding from but he could see the wounds weren't as deep now that they were in the sunlight.

A sudden explosion has the group on edge, the sound of cars and something cackling back through the air. It's when Olu took notice of the bastard that tried to kill them in the first place - on the back of someone able to fly and weave through the Hero's pursuit. Though as his gaze focused more and his chest eased its ache - he noticed the Teacher that looked after Shoto. Aizaka or something, Eizawa? He didn't know perfectly but he knew one thing, he had a score to settle and he didn't even blink twice about pushing to the side to dig his claws into the belly of a motorbike on the roadside. And without any hesitation - launched it from where he stood into the direct path of the flying two fools.

It didn't hit them, well, not that he saw, but it shocked them into flailing out the way and promptly getting fucked over by the dual weight of each other. Plummeting fast and that's when his instincts kicked in. Launching forward upon all fours - twisting over car and around truck - the Lion leapt with ease to stretch out claws mitts to slash through the flying being's side, but also to grab onto them deep - as his fanged maw struck out at the no longer cackling fool's throat. Missing by an inch - Oluwayemisi didn't shy from snagging a mawful of the bastard's shoulder instead. Crunching down with ease in making the two slam into the concrete and rolled with them both with violence at his core.

Oluwayemisi didn't let them go until he heard Aizawa's tone - the red eyed glare in his direction and the lack of understanding as to how his bestial form remained. Still, the two villains were weeping - the flying one knocked out under his grip so he was released with a squelch of claws as the one in his maw, was silently screaming at the dislocation of his shoulder and crushing of his collarbone. Olu' wasn't as gentle upon releasing him from his fangs - releasing with a jerk and huffing a simple noise and spit to rid of its flavor.

Looking down at the Hero's that came by with wariness - his lips rippled at the challenge before he heard Osakwe. "Aizawa-sensei! Todoroki's hurt!" It was all Olu' needed to turn off his hunter and promptly return to his son's side - shedding his bestial form and kneeling aside Shoto to gently pluck the boy up with Bon holding onto Osakwe to help him stand upright on his ankle too.

To think this was the first time they meet proper outside a community center… Oluwayemisi could only nod towards Aizawa as he followed after the underground hero on his order of the kids being aided with them.

[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 . . . ]

[ravntm]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

What's your phone wallpaper: Reigen & Mob, one of my favs Last song you listened to: Unholy ft. Kim Petras - Sam Smith Currently reading: just … manga really Last movie: gotg vol. 3 aka THE GOAT What are you wearing: shorts, t-shirt, anything that beats the hot weather here Piercings / tattoos: none of that, tho i kinda wanna get a kickass tattoo  Glasses / contacts or both? Glasses all the way, just got new ones recently Last thing you ate: popeyes, tho i really prefer kfc Favorite color(s): black n’ gray, like the colors of my soul Current Obsession: honkai goddamn star rail bc i’m standing my hard-earned money on this game! also seele is my top dps, nuff said. Do you have a crush? naaaaaah, currently going for the single life… Favorite fictional character? that … i cannot decide right now

TAGGED BY: @gosutm thx bro! TAGGING: @kokorotm, @belliautore​, @executegod, @danhang​, etc. 

[haravatatscribe]

This is just a tags post- you do not perceive it.

[offreedom]

📼

JAMESTOWN, WEST VIRGINIA, 1610.

WHACK.

The stick came down quickly on her open palm, sore & red. Blisters were beginning to form at the base of her fingers, they had been at this for a while now. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but Grace kept her composure, as good as any child could.

"Read it again." The teacher commanded, circling the small desk that confined the child. An open Bible sat in front of her, the pages stained with tears from past attempts to appease. Try as she may, the words before her were nothing but gibberish, but there was no lack of trying. Each syllable was foreign on her tongue with the attempt to sound them out, but none of it ever made any sense.

"I can-"

WHACK.

A whimper of pain, her fingers twitching as if to close in on themselves. It hurts.

"We went over this lesson just yesterday. Are you lame, girl?" Lectures & lessons, every day it was the same thing, tiring attempts to read a language brought from the Old World & Grace fighting back tears from each failed attempt. It was becoming too much, but pain would make an excellent teacher.

Grace didn't understand the sneers & glares from the settlers. A devil child, they called her. Raised by savages & in desperate need of their help. They saw her with blonde hair & blue eyes & decided that she had been one of them, but Grace had never felt so alone.

She missed her friends on the other side of the wooden fence she couldn't cross. A life she had been severed from, wild & carefree with skinned knees and wide smiles running through fields of tall corn crops.

That life was gone now.

"We'll pick up later, then." The woman decided, slamming the Bible closed. "Review the scripture & try not to disappoint me."

Grace slipped from the chair without another word, her injured hand still throbbing.  There was never a point of complaining, it would only fall on deaf ears.

Maybe if Arthur were here.. it'd be easier

Get a glimpse of Keira's memories.

[woedensdag]

13 JANUARY. A dreary Friday , cursed with overcast & the threat of impending rain. A perfect day for the birth of a new child , a gift that new parents feared but oh so loved all the same.

It was late evening at the time of her birth , thunder clapped in the distance as if to honour the new addition to the Addam’s clan , a child pale & barely managed to cry. Some doctors suspected the child had been stillborn , dead upon arrival but that was the charm of it , the unknown & the potential fear that washed over the new parents of seeing their only child perish before they could properly bond. As enticing as it had been to keep the charade , a soft gasping cry had been heard. The first breath of life was rewarding , encouraging. Too bad they seemed so wasted on an infant who didn’t wish to give the satisfaction of letting her parents know she had been alive.

❝ It’s a girl. Congratulations , Mrs. Addams. ❞ Somehow that didn’t seem all too surprising , old wives’ tales & Grandmama’s speculations told as such. Although a boy had always been preferred in most family dynamics , to carry the legacy of the family name & take on the role of patriarch as soon as the old one withers & decays , a girl was a delight. So innocent , to be corrupted in the harsh lessons of life & the prejudice that follows all the fallen sisters before her. A little bundle , wrapped in a disgusting pink blanket that contrasted such delicate features would be offered to the matriarch , the woman who would be known not only as her Mother , but someone to protect & teach her.. To watch her grow like many of her beloved plants.

Little hands latched onto dark strands twirling them around chubby fingers while her eyes struggled to see. If she focused , she could see the adorning faces of her parents staring back at her , marveling at the gift they had received , one they almost didn’t deserve. A name was all that was left , none hadn’t seemed as fitting for the firstborn , but a poem that her Mother cherished had come to mind. A child full of woe , who barely cried when she was required to , a name that would bring pride to the Addams name. When all had been decided , cool fingertips brushed along cherub cheeks , relishing in the softness of the child’s skin.

Her name is Wednesday Addams.

[domainofmuses]

tag dump

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ #4

PAIRING: Kim Mingyu x f! Reader

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Possessive!Mingyu, Cum eating, use of handcuffs, dacryphilia, overstimulation, unprotected sex, subspace, daddy kink.

WORDCOUNT: 1.1k

A/N: I would like to apologize for not posting the whole week y'all, but I hope this is good! (Although I'm quite insecure about this)

JOIN THE PERMANENT TAGLIST: Here

Mingyu's hand had a possessive grip over your waist, his other wrapped around the back of your neck pulling your lips into his. His lips moved furiously against yours. You wince in pain when his teeth nibble down on your lower lip. Your wrists are soon confined in between his thick fingers.

He pushes you against your wall, mumbling ‘mine’ after every kiss he meets your lips with. His tongue intertwines with yours, desperate to taste every inch of you. Your nostrils flare slightly from short of breath while your pants interrupt your make-out session.

Mingyu finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your parted lips. His hand which gripped on your wrists – now came down to squeeze your ass rather aggressively. Before retrieving to come down harshly on your clothes butt. “Did you perhaps forget who you belong to, princess?”

A reply barely reaches your brain when you are thrown over his muscular shoulders. His smuscles constricted under your skin – arousal pooled in between your thighs from the movement.

Placing you down on the bed, Mingyu was fast in pushing your body down with his – while his lips worked their way from your jawline to the sweet spot on the flesh of your neck. His tongue glided over the mark his teeth bit, eliciting pleasure like current through your body. The pleasure coaxed your mind into turning hazy as your eyes closed due to the blissful feeling.

But you're immediately pulled out of your maze by Mingyu tugging your head back, a loan gets caught in your throat. “Aren't you enjoying this a little too much? We should take care of it shouldn't we?”

No sooner did his sentence come to an end than a clank was heard. You feel the metallic confining feeling around your hands – your mind barely comprehends the said action. His hands come down from your wrists to your jaw, squeezing your cheeks lightly causing your lips to pucker.

A sudden jolt of pain ripples from your pussy – making you realise his thick fingers slapped down on your clit roughly. “Who do you belong to? Who does this pussy belong to?” His tone was authoritative, coaxing you into obeying. “Yours” Another slap comes down on your pussy, “Gonna make sure you remember that well.” His tone turned more dominating, his middle finger sneaking in between your folds. He rubs circles on your flesh, causing slick to leak out.

You chant his name loudly when the pads of his fingers rub your clit at a faster pace, your hands thrashing to grasp onto his biceps, like you usually did, but only for a whine to fall off your lips due to the failed attempt. Mingyu’s lips stretch into a menacing grin, as his other hand comes down to slap your pussy yet again.

The pain mixed with the pleasure, and the overwhelming pleasure had you cumming on to his fingers in no time. Your back arches from the pleasure circulating through your nerves, but the sight of Mingyu pulling his fingers away from your pussy to lick off your cum coating his fingers with his eyes intently staring into your eyes – swiftly has your juices pooling again.

It didn’t take long for Mingyu to notice the way your hole needily fluttered around nothing – drawing a mocking chuckle from him. His index and middle finger didn’t resist the urge to bury themselves in between your walls again. “Daddy-” a choked sob from your own throat stopped your sentence when his fingers started moving relentlessly in you. Mingyu hums, as if asking you to complete your sentence when he obviously had you falling apart around his thick fingers.

“What is it, love?” If you were in your right conscience – meaning if you weren’t about to squirt all over your boyfriend’s fingers – you would’ve slapped his shoulder for the feign curiosity in his tone. But the nickname rather pushed you down to your headspace. Tiny tears prick at the corner of your eyes when his fingers pumped faster in you, bringing you to your second orgasm faster than you could process the first one.

A drawl of his name followed by a loud whine was enough for Mingyu to uncuff your hands without a thought. He brings your almost bruised wrists to his plumpy lips. Pressing light feathery kisses before, he pulls away.

You had been floating in your pleasurable bliss to notice Mingyu had gotten rid of his pants and boxers until the feeling of the tip of his cock prodding against your entrance brought you out of your trance. “Let’s see how many rounds you can go before you turn into a whiny mess again.”

His husky voice, his large hands caressing your sore muscles and his veiny cock rubbing against your wet folds already had you turning into a whiny mess.

Mingyu barely gave you a warning before he slammed into you with a push, making your throat go dry and a breathy gasp to replace your whiny whimpers. Beads of tears swarmed in your eyes – you barely had a thought swimming in your head as his relentless thrusts turned you into nothing but a babbling mess.

His long fingers intertwined with your hair, pulling you up to smash his lips into yours. His movements were fast and rough but also possessive. His hips collided against yours to fill the room with skin-slapping noises.

Pulling away, Mingyu dragged his tongue across your cheek, groaning at the salty taste of your tears. “Fuck- your tears make me want to fuck you harder till all you can do is shed those pretty tears for me.” His words had your back arching as your walls clamped around him – cumming around his cock.

Mingyu groaned at the feeling of having his dick coated with your hot cum, his movements turning impossibly faster, forming a white ring around the base of his dick. But within a few minutes, he came inside you, filling you up to the brim with his cum.

Pulling out, a long stripe of white cum connected his dick to yours while the sight of cum leaking out of you had him cursing out.

Your head was back on the pillow, loud pants from both of you resonated throughout the room. He leaned down to peck your lips ever so softly, while his length slowly slid back inside you.

Your eyes widened from his action but Mingyu only drowned out any protest with a long kiss. Pulling away from your lips, a smug grin was painted on his face. “We’re not done till my dick is imprinted on your walls that you feel it for weeks.”

©️ WOOYOUNGMYBELOVEDHUSBAND.

[nvrcmplt]

Manticore Origin ||

He never liked it, this place; they always had something to prod him with; to inject him with; force him to sleep and wake up after days of slumber that made his body feel not like his own the last time he was awake. Sometimes he woke to broken bones, watched as he is forced to heal in odd conditions; forced under the sun; underwater, made to dance over rocky terrains, over sandy shores, swamp conditions. It was a bother and like today of all days; it was time to be fed, but instead of a meal that was prior killed and filled with vitamins to aid his odd body get the supplements it needed to work and function; this one was live.

 And not an animal…

No, not even a random human; this was a scientist that slipped into his dwelling… A monster of needle and scalpel, a beast that had no idea that this wasn’t his domain to reign even if they created it. Though he was awake; it was as if they were looking for something. Himself, in his cave, camera long destroyed over years of trying to constantly fix it after Mardya’ destroys it again and again. He was a ghost in his own terrain; new additions to his body; some he wasn’t sure the scientists even knew of; as he slipped out from his home and landed upon toes with literally no sound given off the drop. Wings tucked close to his body like a second skin and his tail low, just above the ground; where the scorpion curl of his stinger began to bead in a yellowish-brown venomous bubble.

He hadn’t been fed for three weeks, he hadn't seen these creatures of science in his domain for a month tops; and they obviously thought of him dead; but wrong. He may be a little weakened but he was still a monster to be dealt with. Stopping all movements upon a spot below a thicket of tree, and in a brush of elephant leaves the size of cars, Mardyakhor’s hues widened to allow all light in the area to aid his sight; pin-pricking his optics to form horizontal slits before his lips pried apart with a heated breath. His fangs itched for blood, to kill and to maim that who had harmed him for so many years and eons in the name of ‘research’. But; as his hand rose to move forward; it froze mid-swing – gunman; a whole crowd of them came in through the metal doors of the facility.

Oh?

Mardyakhor’s ears twisted upon the sides of his head, wings tensed and tail flicked to the side at the offer of more than just one meal. Weaponry however was given a wrinkle of the nose towards, the noises as loud, he hated them a lot; but his body moved onto a different path either way. Slithering through the rotten greenery of his enclosure; he was easily able to circle the group of humans with weaponry.

They were focused so much on one area of the tank; though it made the beast think before his tail rose, spines stood on end and a glance to the glass roof was all he needed before he gave his tail a hefty swing and shot the spines into the ceiling with heavy thuds; causing all guns to raise, bodies to stop and him a distraction to easily slip on out of the domain doors that were open. Sticking close to the wall; he eased himself into the darkened hallways; though not before slamming the bulb of his tail into the door pad - causing the thing to spark and close upon the humans held within his home.

A proud Lion he was, moving with liquid ease through the halls, scenting out empty room after empty room, climbing upstairs and meeting not a soul. How painful it was, yet, he felt a surge of energy. His gait once languid picked up in speed, trotting with bouncing footfalls - until he froze at the alarm sound that came from behind him before it came before him.

Hissing, long and hard; the noise travelled throughout the facility; igniting the fear within scientist and team of gunmen. Mardyakhor was a quiet creature; but angered, he was a monster that took time to calm. Paws now sank claws into the metal halls, pushing a tired body forward; galloping with wings streamlined to aid with speed. He took off down the halls, panicked of course; but the smell of the outside world made his lungs expand to their fullest; turning a sharp left, launching himself through metal doors left open in the stupid scientist's wake. 

It was a trap; his gut told him in that instant; this wasn’t a pathway for his freedom but capture; the only thing he delayed behind him was bullet-holes in his body, making it easier for the scientist to carry his corpse, but this? This was different; before the moment his body turned the next right corner, the click of triggers was heard before the massive explosions of gunpowder. Mardyakhor’s body was still in the motion of momentum thus as the bullets began to rain towards his body; his figure was already leaping onto the wall, crushing metal under foot, flinging it off the walls in maintained panels before leaping over a line of projectile weaponry. 

Mardyakhor’s roar, stilled them to the core.

The rest of the attack was left to the imagination of the scientist and army that were running behind; where the silence was deafening in worry - and the sight before them around that corner was vomit inducing. Bodies sliced in half, another pinned to a wall with porcupine spikes jutting out of every facial orifice. Throats torn out, guns broke from collision force; others shot by their comrades from misdirection and most of all, the blood splatter that covered the walls that easily formed wings. Paw prints through bloody puddles and windows shattered with the doors torn apart after being scratched through with enough force to dent the hinges that held them.

But most of all; Mardyakhor was gone.

“Call, Mr. Kessler. 089mce is alive and has escaped.”

Wings were flapping with determination to carry him across the oddity of an ocean; the smell was nauseating and blinding whenever the sun was directed at his sights in a certain angle; but as his body began to succumb to exhaustion; the beast descended with a fading consciousness. Eyelids were heavy; dropping, becoming harder to keep open, even as his wings flapped harder, the winds burnt his lungs and the waters below spoke of his death — he fell without much grace. Colliding with the surface, skidding a few spots before falling beneath the ocean depths. Cleaned from blood, stinging in areas in which he didn’t know were open wounds, the beast found himself touching the sea’s floor. It was an odd feeling in all honesty; but it was nothing compared to the feeling of said flooring moving. Capturing him in a net with several clams and shells. 

Dragged across the ocean’s floor, higher ground and then into the air - metal creaking to hold his weight - the boat itself was silent; but it mattered not to the beast whose sight collapsed and form didn’t move a single muscle after being released with the haul gathered in one of its nets.

When he woke hours later, his ears were the first to move, causing a rush and hush of creatures to stop literal breathing in his vicinity. When his lashes fluttered awake, his first instinct was to attack, defend and get away, but the moment his lids did raise to stare a piercing crimson gaze upon those around him, he noted the bandages upon his wings, arms and body. Head rose from the floor, glowering and hesitant, but the smell of meat caught his attention next. Tail shifting, curling over his side out of habit to show no harm as he tucked it under his wing as he began to move.

These people were villagers, creatures that were human like a part of him, but skin black, tanned, some white and red? Sunburn? Most likely but they seemed different; fascination in their gaze, wariness in their pulses. It was odd to be stared at with this kind of — want to know what he was, and not the stares of needs to be better or more. His chest pushed out with a huff, lips parting to allow tongue to stretch over nose and return to maw like he was a feline more so than a creature with a man’s face. Shifting once more, the pain dulled in his body, allowed him to settle upon his stomach instead. Hind paws resting comfortably, wings too less pressured and his front spread paws to allow chin to rest back on the floor. Huffing a few more times, he yawned, showing the clear difference in his structure to that of a human's everything… Sleep came swiftly once more.

Waking however to the sound of vehicles, Mardyakhor noticed the lack of watchful eyes; and now he saw how tense these people were. His attention moved from one figure to the next; then to a child that was even curling a little closer to him, as if he was a family pet. Nostrils flared however, wings twitching causing a few heads to turn to him as he tested out his limbs to stand up. Though it was clear they protested his movements, his body was his to rule and his gaze alone held their tongues at bay. Movement to look about himself, a mouthful of meat taken from a bowl of offered delicacies, before his body moved to step down from the bedding they offered him within this oddly structured home. 

“Wait… “

“The back entrance.”

Mardyakhor stares, then blinked, lowering his head for a moment to flare nostrils. The vehicles were in front of them, coming closer, so he nodded once - to which the child smiled and the Mother of them, judging by the similarities between them, motioned him to follow her. Though the house, his large frame was liquid, slipping over pots and pans, bedding and bodies that slept for only a moment's difference to waking up in his passing. The next thing Mardya knew, his body was touched by several hands, a word of prayer and good luck given to him without much of his knowledge as to why.

Still, his gait slowed for only a moment before his took off through the opening and he didn’t even look back as his frame easily disappeared into the thickets of the Jungle’s trees.

It was easy to avoid those chasing him, he waited until nightfall to fly to new areas, he kept his waste hidden and mixed with other trails of animal dung, his markings on trees was minimal, bathing was often ridding the smell of ‘new beast’ to a ‘jungle monster’ within a few weeks. His companions became animals, his enemies became machinery; wilderness was natural to him, travelling at top speeds, hunting for energy, sleeping in trees to keep safe. He learnt, he understood, he gained more knowledge upon himself and his creation. He became a myth, he became a monster, he became himself.

[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 . . . ]

[luvjunie]

— ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs !

ᴍɪʟᴇs ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇs.

— ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

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ᥫ᭡ broken promises (e-42!miles)

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ᥫ᭡ trust who? (e-42!miles)

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ᥫ᭡ roller skating (e-42!miles)

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— ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇs

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summary: it’s your first day at a new school, and surprisingly, making a friend isn’t as hard as you thought it’d be. wc: 1,853

ᥫ᭡ facetime (e-42!miles)

summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537

ᥫ᭡ less is more (e-42!miles)

summary: miles makes quite a bit of cash from his jobs, and with his love language being gift giving he often likes to spend a lot of it on you. however, you didn’t grow up with much, and this makes it especially hard for you to accept such expensive things from him without feeling overwhelmed. wc: 1,224

ᥫ᭡ 2:00 AM (e-42!miles)

summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205

ᥫ᭡ besos (e-1610!miles)

summary: your makeup leaves kiss imprints all over miles’ face and neck, which you quickly have to figure out how to hide from his mother. wc: 1,033

ᥫ᭡ braiding his hair (e-42!miles)

summary: Miles is very particular when it comes to how his hair looks, so he doesn’t let just anyone put their hands in his head. His mom has been braiding it for him since he was in middle school, and he’d found no reason to change routine until you’d randomly expressed interest one day. wc: 702

ᥫ᭡ miles “i got it” morales (e-42!miles)

summary: miles is so used to do everything for everyone, so you show him that things don’t have to be the same way with the two of you wc: 591

ᥫ᭡ closer (e-1610!miles)

summary: your boyfriend’s arms are your favorite place to be. so much so that you wish you could be even closer to him than humanly possible. wc: 505

ᥫ᭡ matching nails (e-42!miles)

summary: you ask miles if the two of you can paint your nails a matching color. wc: 476

— ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs

ᥫ᭡ miles 1610 or 42 as your older brother

ᥫ᭡ miles 42 as your older brother (pt 2)

ᥫ᭡ what it’s like dating earth1610!miles

ᥫ᭡ what it’s like dating earth42!miles

ᥫ᭡ ice skating with earth1610!miles

ᥫ᭡ earth42!miles with a plus size reader

ᥫ᭡ miles!42 and miles!1610 as twins

ᥫ᭡ what life is like for miles!42

— ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘᴀʀᴛ ғɪᴄs/sᴇʀɪᴇs(s)

ᥫ᭡ Unforgettable (e-1610!miles)

↳ part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

— ᴍɪsᴄᴇʟʟᴀɴᴇᴏᴜs

ᥫ᭡ miles g spotify playlist

ᥫ᭡ incorrect miles!42 quotes

ᥫ᭡ texts with bsf!miles

— my fics are written through the eyes of a black reader, sometimes implied, but typically not specified!

all rights reserved to © luvjunie 2023. do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works.

updated: nov. 21st, 2023

[kiiozawa]

•.¸♡ 𝑶𝒉, '𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 ♡¸.•

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴇxʙғ! sᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ x sᴇʀᴠᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ: sғᴡ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟɪsᴍ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sǫᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄɪᴛʏ, ᴇxᴇs, slight ᴀɴɢsᴛ (ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ), ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴜsᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs: ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ɪғ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴀᴅᴅ ɪᴛ ʟᴏʟ,

ᴡᴄ: 𝟷.𝟸ᴋ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟸 ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ)

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴡᴇɴᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀᴅ!! ɪᴍᴀɢᴇs ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

The sun was too bright and your bed was too warm. You could feel your brain spin in your skull as you tried to rise from the sauna that is your bed. The memories of last night were unbearably hazy and you couldn't pinpoint this weird feeling that you had in your stomach. The tequila from last night was definitely not helping.

How did you get home last night?

The answer to that question was in your living room. You pulled on one of your fluffy robes over your shoulders and hastily tied it as you walked out of your suffocating bedroom.

He was already awake by the looks of it.

"Sukuna." You mumbled out. Your eyes tried to adjust to the brightness of the living room as you racked your brain for the missing memories.

"Princess." He purred. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"What-, why are you here?" You asked in a shaky voice as you eyed your ex-boyfriend, who seemed to have no trouble making himself at home. Despite his hair being a mess from sleep, Sukuna still looked as handsome with how it was tussled. It was absolutely sinful how he looked so good wearing a plain black t-shirt.

"Because a certain someone got absolutely plastered at a bar." Sukuna chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, "I had to stop what I was doing and pick you up."

Sukuna. Bar. Tequila. Sukuna. Drive. Sukuna.

Fragmented memories started to slowly come by as you tried to piece it all together. You remember that you were at the bar, but what you couldn't remember was why. Sukuna stretched on your sofa as you continued to ponder.

"I shoulda put you to sleep on the couch. My fucking back is killing me from sleeping on it." Sukuna rubbed his neck as he got up from the sofa. "Now. Princess, can you explain to me why I had to drop what I was doing to pick you up?"

Embarrassment coated your cheeks as your face heated up. You had stood your ground to Sukuna for the last couple of months and threw it down the drain in one night. For what reason? You couldn't even remember last night fully. Sukuna had to pick you up because you were wasted on cheap tequila.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother-"

"That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking why the fuck were you drinking to the point that someone had to call me to get you." Irritation coated Sukuna's words with what you think is sincerity. He stood toe to toe with you as he asked, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I don't know!" You exclaimed in frustration as hot tears began to well up behind your eyes. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. "I don't- I don't even remember what even happened last night for the most part. It's all a huge blur." This was unlike you completely. You enjoyed drinking, but very rarely had you ever drank to the point like last night. The last time you got that intoxicated was when you received your 8th rejection letter for a job that would have allowed you to leave the restaurant.

"Princess." Sukuna raised a hand to cup your face. "You asked about my 'date.'"

An important fragmented piece landed right back into place. Sukuna had a date. That's right. And you fucked it all up by getting wasted. You were walking with Nobara at one of the gallerias yesterday. She was helping you pick out a new outfit when you both saw Sukuna walking with a very pretty woman by his side. She was absolutely stunning with her stupid, pretty hair and curvy figure. The instant that you had caught yourself, you felt shame fill your stomach.

Nobara tried to avert your attention somewhere else, but it was too much! You ended your outing early as the ugly feelings were eating you up inside. It felt so pathetic because you shouldn't have felt jealous or angry at Sukuna. If anything you should have felt glad that he was moving on. Except you didn't and you hated yourself for it. That's how you ended up at that bar and approximately 6 double shots later Sukuna came to get you.

"I... I didn't mea- I wasn't trying-" You couldn't get the words to come out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The apologies slipped out, your shame overrode your pride this time.

"I wasn't on a date, princess."

Sukuna seemed so sincere that it took you a second to register his words. It was jarring considering that half of the time he was arrogant and the other half was condescending. You have seen glimpses of this side of Sukuna before, but this was the first time you had seen it stay for longer than a moment. And just as you were taking in the softness of his beautiful maroon eyes, it was gone.

"I would have saved myself the trouble of chasing after you if I had known that taking a business associate to dinner would cause you to cry for me, princess," Sukuna smirked as he squeezed your cheeks with one hand. "If you beg a little more, I'll gladly take you back."

This arrogant asshole.

Fuck the shame that you felt, your pride may have been wounded, but hell would freeze over before you begged for Sukuna back. You understood your feelings too well, but that doesn't mean you would just hand over your heart again. It was love, you loved Sukuna and you certainly didn't stop loving him. But you loved yourself too.

"What was that you said before?" You yanked your face out of Sukuna's grip, "Oh that's right. You hate clingy girls." You dramatically gasped. "As much as I would love to beg for a second chance, I think I'll pass." You responded sarcastically and ignored the shadow that passed Sukuna's face.

Sukuna was a man who held very few regrets. He doesn't believe in lingering in the past, so he doesn't understand why you were so hung up on that. His smirk was replaced with a scowl as you moved away from him. There was a nagging feeling in his stomach, one that he chose to ignore. He had already settled on having you crawl back to him. What Sukuna loved enjoyed about you was how fierce and independent you were.

Never did you expect sweet flowered words, you always found meaning in Sukuna's actions. He remembered how you were always insistent on attempting to pay for your dates, except Sukuna would never let you. You were never afraid to voice your opinions and you always acted in your best interest. He loved liked that about you. So why the fuck were you so insistent on saying it out loud.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath. "Fine. Be that way, sweetheart." He brushed past you as you avoided looking at him.

Part of you wanted to turn around and reach out to Sukuna, but you couldn't. You didn't want to spell it out loud for him. Instead, you decided to let him go through the door.

"...I didn't thank him." You whispered to no one in your silent apartment.

[offreedom]

📼

Look into Keira's memories.

DECEMBER 7TH, 1941. PEARL HARBOR NAVAL BASE. HONOLULU, HAWAI'I.

A day that will live in infamy.

It'd be foolish to believe the atrocities of the East could find their way to the shores of the West. With Japan's most recent invasion of China, following the massacre of Nanjing, it was becoming evident that their thirst for dominance in the Pacific would not rest. Emily had not been convinced that the Japanese would dare attack her land, her people. No one would be that idiotic, to attack a small base on a group of islands with no defense, could they?

Emily had arrived early that morning for routine inspection of the harbor. She drank coffee with the men still awake on base & played rounds of cards until shift change ; these were her men. Men who served proudly & would die for the privilege to see their children & their children's children to know what peace was.

The attacks happened just before 8am.

Many recalled hearings of a thunderclap in the sky as incoming warplanes from the Japanese Imperial Army bombed the base with torpedoes. It wouldn't take long for the alarms to ring out ; signaling a surprise attack that brought many of the men to action - but could do nothing but watch as their brothers in arms were bombed by the enemy & tossed into the water below like rag dolls.

USS ArIzona was the first ship to go down ; crippling her ammunition magazine & exploding from impact. A thousand men sent to their deaths, trapped inside a burning ship with no way out.

Three-hundred planes & twenty ships had been destroyed. Two thousand men perished, thousands more were injured. Aiding those who were injured, ensuring their safety as aid arrived when all had settled had been a personal priority. The ones who survived were in more need than the ones still submerged in water ; their fates already sealed. Suppose it could have been a much worse turn out had most of the ships had left for Midway & Wake Islands to support deployed troops. They were lucky, but it couldn't be said for others.

Never mind the burning sensation along her back, seeping into her nerves, she remained composed. Casualties were common in times of war ; Emily never suspected the carnage to come to her despite the urge to remain outside of another conflict despite her allies falling into the hands of a common enemy. Peace & neutrality was never an option.

The goal of the attack was to cripple the Pacific fleet ; but their victory would be short lived. Battleships, while useful, weren't the important vessels but rather the Aircraft Carriers. In their desperation to destroy the American spirit, the Japanese failed to take into consideration of the oil storage, submarine docks & shipyards had remained intact.

If it is war the Japanese Imperial Army wanted, then it is war they shall certainly have.

[woedensdag]

THE MOMENT THE HEARSE LEFT the estate , Wednesday could not shake the sinking dread that this was nothing but pure intentional sabotage. It seemed too convenient , Pugsley's & her own belongings packed up after her short conversation with the new babysitter. How she had managed to convince Mother & Father that sending them to summer camp was truly what they wanted , Wednesday will never know. Wednesday always preferred solitude within the manor , surrounded by decapitated dolls & torture devices that she frequently used against her younger brother. When she hadn't been tormenting & attempting to cut Pugsley's life pre-maturely short , the family library had been her sanctuary ; surrounded by ancient tomes passed down from every Addams that had ever lived.

The scent of pine had begun to irritate sensitive sinuses. So used to the dust & cobwebs that littered every nook & cranny of her once beloved home , the sunlight nearly burned & had Wednesday not been properly dressed , she most likely would have been cast in flames. Were it not for the second hand smoke of her Father's & brother's cigars , Wednesday would have walked into the calm lake & promptly drowned.

❝ Wednesday, look at all the other children. Their freckles, their bright little eyes, their eager , friendly smiles. Help them. ❞ Wednesday barely acknowledged her Mother's words, inwardly cringing at the sight of who would be acting as her make-shift guardians. Gary & Becky Granger. Oh , how Wednesday wished she could watch them suffer with their stupidly wide smiles & over-enthusiasm that made her want to vomit. The bottle of arsenic not too far from the child's grip before it was opened & she took a sip , a rather long one , for if she were to suffer here it would desperately be needed. Who knows , perhaps the poison would become more effective if she were subjected to torture.

There was no doubt Wednesday already had a plan set in motion to escape this hellish pre-pubescent nightmare. Fire would be too good for this place.

❝ Why are you dressed like that? ❞ A shrewd voice , coloured with judgement & the intention to harm. Dark hues instantly locked onto the new target of interest , wearing a floral dress with pretty blonde hair. Amanda Buckman , she introduced herself without previous direction to.

❝ Like what? ❞ 

❝ Like you're going to a funeral. Why are you dressed like somebody died? ❞ 

❝ Wait. ❞

Of course , Wednesday had her fair share of ignorance in her short life. Between being evicted from her own home from her uncle's greed & classmates alike it was nothing she hadn't become used to over the years. This however , struck a cord with her. It wasn't enough that she was being dropped off at a summer camp , having imbecilic councilors that were too cookie cutter & would probably shove some sort of happy go lucky agenda down her throat , but now , she had a new target. An annoying victim who acted as though she were better for simply being alive.

Wednesday would destroy not only Camp Chippewa , but she will bring the same fate onto Amanda Buckman. That , she swore on the graves of her parent's graves & an Addams never breaks a promise.

[ncis-nerd]

ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ:

☆ ꜱɪʙꜱ [Sᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱᴏɴɢs] - ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀɴᴀᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴀᴠᴇɴɢᴇʀꜱ!)

☆ ɢʀᴇʏ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ - ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ!ɴᴀᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ( ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱʜᴏ ᴡꜱ ɴᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. ꜱʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ɴᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ )

☆ ᴛᴡᴛᴀᴀᴛᴍ [ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴏᴄʀᴇ ] - ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ!ɴᴀᴛᴀꜱʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏᴠ x ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ!ʏ/ɴ ( ʏ/ɴ ɪꜱ ᴍᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅꜱ ɴᴏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ. ɴᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ .

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ:

☆ ᴅᴇꜱᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴜɴɴʏ - ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ x ɴᴀᴛ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ( ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜ ᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏ/ɴ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱʟɪᴄᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ? ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀ ʟᴇꜱꜱᴏɴ. ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ!! ) +18

☆ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ - ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ +18

☆ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʙʟᴇ - ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ +18

☆ Needy Angle - Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader (Wanda loves it when her perfect little angel baby is in her floaty headspace and she gets very possessive.) +18

☆ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ - ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ!ɴᴀᴛᴀꜱʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ x ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏꜰꜰ x ɴᴀᴛᴀꜱʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ. +18

☆ ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ - ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʜɪʟʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ʙᴏꜱꜱ ʟᴀᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.) +18

☆ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ʟᴏɴᴅᴏɴ - ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ +18

☆ ᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ - ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ꜱᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛꜱ!ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀɴᴀᴛ +18

☆ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ - ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛʀᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴏʀ ʀ! x ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ!ɴᴀᴛᴀꜱʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏᴠ +18

☆ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇʟɪᴇꜰ - ɴᴀᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ +18

ʜᴄꜱ:

☆ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙʀᴀᴛ +18

☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ +18

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜰɪᴄꜱ:

☆ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ꜰɪᴄ +18