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carrion-carry-on · 1 year

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Meeting Music

Okay so this is a (quite short) fic involving @cuppajj ‘s wonderful OC Drillburst, and my own OC Pillar.

When it comes to writing with another person’s OC, I do my best to get into contact with their creator. And Cuppa has been amazing with that! Still, regardless, any mistakes are completely my own.

Arriving back on Cybertron following the end of the war was different for every mech. That much was to be expected. Being that the Autobots had “won,” arriving in the company of two former Decepticons made things a touch more complicated. Iona, for her part, kept up her air of apathetic arrogance. Ace asked what was going on about halfway through each new vetting process; all these new faceplates and designations did no wonders on his already fragile comprehension. Pillar tried to manage both his comrades’ aggression and confusion the best way he knew how - by being present. He insisted that for every interview, every test, every licensing exam, he needed to be in the room. He wasn’t about to let two of the few good sparks he had left be screwed over by the new-age society that wasn’t as righteous and non-judgemental as it proclaimed itself to be.

This meant, by the end of the whole thing, Pillar was absolutely exhausted. he didn’t like socializing at the best of times. Two friends he could handle - he’d been stuck out in space with them, on a tiny shuttle, for Primus-knew-how-long. But all of the red tape and hoop jumping wore his people-skills to a thin line. When he snapped at Iona to “just buff her chassis herself” (which had been received with a mild raise of an optical ridge) Pillar knew he needed to get out on his own again. Murmuring an apology, Pillar quickly excused himself and retreated from the room, grabbed his tool kit, and transformed to race off down the unfamiliar streetways.

After some wandering, and realizing he recognized absolutely nothing, Pillar resigned himself to peaking his helm into random places until he found something suitable. He needed a smaller place, without too-boisterous of an atmosphere, and a good corner to hide away in. There was no way he’d be able to find a mech-less place in this city. But the fewer, the better.

He discovered his space for the off-cycle in a smaller, quieter bar. The moment his green optics peered inside and found a mix of Decepticons, Autobots, and even NAILs, Pillar felt a bit more at ease. Maybe, if he ever felt like risking the company, he might even bring Iona and Ace here. His entrance went unnoticed. To his surprise, and appreciation, Pillar noted more easily-accessible seating scattered throughout the main floor. It felt nice not to have to hop a bit to get into a seat.

There was no server that he could locate which suited him fine. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel like drinking this time around. Instead he pulled out his latest project and began fiddling with the wiring. His Primus-given helmlight was barely noticeable in the brighter bar. However, as the breems ticked by, Pillar failed to notice the dimming lights. That is until the surrounding mecha cleared their exhausts, startling the ex-miner from his reverie. Embarrassed, Pillar immediately snuffed his lights, even going so far as to dim the natural biolights crossing his chassis. Though it pained him to do so, Pillar extended his EM field, pushing apology to the forefront. Satisfied, nearby patrons shifted in their seats to focus ahead on the still-lit stage.

Pillar immediately stiffened in his seat, wondering how he could have missed something like this. (He knew how, he once again got caught up in his work and the world around ceased to exist/matter.) Checking the bar’s available public feed, Pillar quickly learned that there were apparently regular performances from local artists hosted at the establishment. That didn’t sound like his preferred space. He liked lights-on, quiet places, somewhere he could work without being disturbed too much by outside presence.

With his biolights still dimmed, Pillar quietly shifted out of his seat and made his way towards the exit. He made sure to weave around tables seating regular-sized Cybertronians, to avoid further humiliation of having to crouch. By this point, a large - scratch that huge mech stepped up onto the stage. That in itself might have given Pillar some pause. It was the mech’s design that actually made him stop.

They were almost entirely green in color, with massive column-treads over either shoulder. The continuation of treads along their pauldron-armor and legs spoke to a tank or similar alt-mode. That stopped at the drill halves situated over, almost shielding, the arms. This mech had to have been a miner before the War. And yet they did not wear a Decepticon crest, to Pillar’s surprise and growing respect. But it was a strange symbol, black and jagged. It looked most similar to an odd organic skull.

The mech paused on stage, seemingly waiting for some unknown que. His visor grew shadowed even in the only remaining halo of light. Then he began to hum.

The sound, amplified by the combination of speakers and the mech's own electro-bass, shook through the stage and down into the flooring. Pillar might find the tables trembling if he were inclined to turn his optics from the stage. Not long into those first few powerful notes, the mech raised a pede and lightly struck the stage. It didn't take long for bar patrons to join the beat. Pillar, despite himself, took to knocking one servo against his plating.

Pillar remembered this song. They sang a similar version back in the mines of Luna 2. And that brought a whole slew of unwanted information recalls to his processor. He had buried most with a reason. But he still found himself whispering along to those lyrics in the bid of a forgotten self.

It’s dark as a dungeon,

And damp as the dew.

Where the danger is double

And pleasures are few

Where the rain never falls

And the sun never shines.

It’s dark as a dungeon

Way down in the mines.

The miners kept time in their swings. And the mechs like Pillar stayed out of their way. But he still found himself singing when one would eventually demand he help haul. A technician solely in function title - at the end of the cycle, he'd still been made to pick up the slack. And there was always, always more work to be done.

The mech's field pushed a somber, melancholy feeling into the crowd. It was slow to come and gently flowing. And Pillar recognized it was echoed by many of the other patrons. Most seemed to be lost, like the performer, like himself, in darker thoughts. Darker thoughts, and darker spaces still. Places lit only by crystalline lamps if you were lucky, and your own lights if not. The smell of a new vein to promise success, calling them deeper. The sensation of shavings grinding inside pumps and vents, never rid of the past.

But, like a tide of oil, the performer's tone changed. His field gained a softer, almost hopeful, feeling, and weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He sang lyrics Pillar had never heard, even in all the different versions he'd run across.

Though I carry my scars

And feeling’s still new

And I pick through the rubble

And I’m most of’n blue

I’ll walk down the halls

And meet all new kinds

I’m ‘way from the dungeon

Way down in the mines.

Now the mech was looking up, away from the stage, and passing the ceiling. Something different graced his strong features; a small quirk of lip components in what Pillar could almost call a smile. The bar had grown quiet by then, all listening, watching. And someone started to clap. Then everyone was clapping, some even whooping their praise.

And their performer looked at his audience for the first time that cycle. The small smile was bigger, more sincere, and confident. He returned to his performance with renewed vigor, earlier mood appearing forgotten, and the cheering crowd grew softer.

Pillar stayed for the mech's entire performance. And though not all of the songs appealed to him, he still found himself enjoying the atmosphere they created. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed.

Drillburst of Velux (according to the information feed) played and sang for them, and for himself. As the set continued, his confidence grew. He still looked haunted, to Pillar's optics, but this was a break afforded by indulging in post-war freedoms. A miner performing on stage - far, far away from the deadly tunnels; a miracle from function.

Pillar returned to his shared apartment at the end of the cycle. It was around the time for another appointment with the newly founded "Reparation and Renewal" agency. Iona didn't say much, aside from a snarky comment on "behaving the better 'bot," which Pillar dutifully chuffed at. He was smiling part way through - something Ace seemed astounded by and loudly pointed out.

“I want to show you guys something.”

#transformers #Transformers MTMTE #not my oc #transformers oc #one is and isn't mine #My writing #I'm sorry it's not longer #Pillar

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steddiehyperfixation · 5 months

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don't you forget about me (part five)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve:

Steve sat in the back of Eddie’s van, lounging against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, perpendicular to Eddie who sat against the back of the seats, legs also kicked out and propped up on top of Steve’s as they passed a joint back and forth, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. The windows and doors were closed to keep the night’s cool summer breeze out and the smoke in, the air in the van pleasantly warm and thick and hazy; their minds so too.

Steve took a hit of the joint and attempted to blow smoke rings when he exhaled, making funny shapes with his lips and failing so spectacularly it made Eddie burst into a fit of raucous laughter. He threw his head back with it, hysterical and giggly in his high. Steve shoved at Eddie’s legs in mock offense at being laughed at, but it lacked heat, and he’d already caught the giggles from him too.

“You’re really beautiful, you know,” Steve said, dopey smile on his face as he watched Eddie laugh.

Eddie snorted. “And you’re really high.” He plucked the joint out of Steve’s hands, not giving the compliment much weight at all. People just say things sometimes when they’re too high, and he knew Steve’s tolerance for any sort of substance had gone way down since he’d gotten caught in that mall fire a couple weeks ago. Something to do with trauma or whatever.

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Steve agreed, blowing a raspberry at him. “But I meant it, though,” he said. His dazed eyes drifted lazily over Eddie’s face. “I think it all the time sober too, every time you laugh or smile or the light hits you just right. You have pretty lips and pretty eyes and pretty hair.”

“Yeah, it’s the long hair, man.” Eddie laughed, genuine but dismissive, taking a hit of the joint and saying on the exhale, “Got the wires all crossed in that lovely little head of yours. Your high brain’s just got me confused for a girl or something.”

“No.” Steve frowned at him, bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout as he shook his head. “I’m not confused. I don’t think you’re a girl. I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy.”

“Hm.” Eddie took another hit, felt the weed float through his veins, cloud his mind even further. “In that case…” The smoke escaped past lips stretched into an unsuppressable grin. “You wanna know a secret?”

Steve angled his body towards him and leaned forward in interest. “Uh huh.”

Eddie snuffed out the joint, pushed away from the back of the seats, and pulled his legs off of Steve, sitting back on his heels instead as he shifted to face Steve better and move closer. Inches apart now, Eddie brought a hand up to Steve’s cheek and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy too.”

Steve giggled, smile wide and cheeks pink. He hooked an arm around Eddie’s waist and swept him onto his lap, making Eddie giggle too as he was pulled in close. Their foreheads rested against each other. Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes settled on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie thought he got the hint. He leaned in, and for a second Steve leaned in too, only for him to duck away at the very last second, the would-be kiss amounting only to the barest brush of their lips. A small whine, confused and wanting, escaped involuntarily from the back of Eddie’s throat.

“Waitwaitwait-” Steve said, one hand pressed lightly against Eddie’s chest to hold him back. “We should be sober first.”

Eddie huffed, but agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” His hand still cupped Steve’s face though, thumb running over his cheekbone as he asked, “Will you even still want to kiss me when you’re not high?”

“Of course I will.” Steve leaned into his touch. “Will you?”

“Of course I will. Have you seen you?” Eddie said with a light laugh. “How could I not?”

Steve grinned, bumped his forehead against Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna kiss you breathless when we’re sober, I promise.”

“You better.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek instead, for now. “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.”

He was rewarded with another giggle and both of Steve’s arms wrapping around him now to pull him closer to his chest. Eddie slipped an arm around Steve’s waist too and settled against him, curled up so that he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His other hand dropped from Steve’s face and drifted instead to land on the bicep of the strong arms that cradled him.

The giggly elation of their high was beginning to give way to a stoned sleepiness, the weed-soaked air draped around them like a blanket. They probably could’ve fallen asleep like that - it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d passed out back there after a smoke sesh - but the air would soon grow stale, not to mention every breath inside the hotboxed van only maintained their intoxication and Eddie kind of really wanted to be sober as soon as possible.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself away from Steve. “We should head inside.”

“Yeah, alright.” Steve, equally reluctantly, let go of Eddie and let him leave his lap.

They separated to climb out of the van and make their way to the trailer and back to Eddie’s room to get ready for bed, but they gravitated towards each other again, drawn together like magnets once they laid side by side under Eddie’s sheets. It was almost unconscious, really, the way they both reached out and pulled each other close.

By the time morning came, they were completely intertwined: both of them had both arms wrapped tight around the other, their legs entangled, Steve’s head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin and face buried in his chest. Eddie idly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair; Steve stirred at the touch and muttered a muffled, “‘Morning,” which Eddie softly echoed.

Steve pulled his head back from Eddie’s chest then and shifted himself up so that they were face to face - or, more accurately, nose to nose. “Oh.” He smiled a little. “Hi.” And Eddie echoed that too, with a matching small smile.

“About last-” Steve started to say, at the same time Eddie began to ask, “Did you-?” They both broke off into a light chuckle. Steve shook his head and said, “Sorry, you go.”

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and careful and hopeful.

“Every word,” Steve replied, his gaze soft as his eyes met Eddie’s. “Did you?”

“Every word,” Eddie confirmed. A slow grin spread across his face, and he slid his hand from Steve’s hair to trace his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You have a promise to keep now, big boy.”

“That I do,” Steve agreed with a smirk of his own, pulling Eddie closer.

Their lips met, properly this time. Steve kissed him gentle and sweet and slow, and Eddie all but melted into it, a syrupy warmth flooding his veins. He kissed back, matched the pace. Steve flipped them over, pressing Eddie’s back into the mattress as he deepened the kiss and settled his weight on top of him with a languid, full body roll. Eddie moaned softly beneath him, his lips parting to accept the caress of Steve’s tongue which licked into his mouth in easy, tender strokes. His hands curled in Steve’s hair again and in the fabric of his shirt, back arched in an attempt to press himself even closer as Steve continued to kiss him like he was drinking Eddie in, like Eddie was something precious and Steve was determined to savor every taste. It was dizzying, hypnotizing, thoroughly fucking intoxicating.

When Steve finally pulled away, Eddie was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak. He stared up at him, dazed, eyes wide and mouth still open soundlessly.

“Told you,” Steve said, a smugness in his smile, “breathless.”

“Man of your word.” Eddie found his voice again, remembered how to pull air back into his lungs. “An attractive quality,” he murmured before tugging Steve down into another kiss.

This one got a little more heated. It was Eddie who took control this time, and he kissed Steve with fervor. He switched their positions, rolling over so that Steve was the one lying beneath him now, Eddie’s body grinding down as he landed on top of Steve. It was not soft and neither was the sound Steve let out in response: a guttural groan that rumbled against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallowed that sound, bit down on it, devoured it; craved more of it. He left Steve’s mouth to kiss down his neck, scraping his teeth against those stupidly biteable moles and sucking a bruise onto the skin. Steve’s breath stuttered; as Eddie paired the lovebite with another harsh grind, Steve’s hips bucked up to meet him, pulling another deep groan from them both.

“Eddie,” Steve gasped out then. “Eddie, we should slow down.”

Eddie immediately clambered off of him. “Right, yeah. Too much. Sorry.” He put some distance between them, sitting more towards the edge of the bed and looking away awkwardly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steve said as he sat up and shifted closer, placing a hand over Eddie’s. “I just- I don’t want this to be just that.” His other hand reached up to turn Eddie’s face back towards him. “I want something real with you. I want to do things right.”

“Oh. Yeah, I wouldn’t just-” Eddie shook his head and smiled softly instead, taking Steve’s hand from his face and holding it. “I want something real with you too.”

Steve sighed, smiled with visible relief. He squeezed Eddie’s hands. “Okay, good.”

Eddie’s stomach grumbled audibly then, and he said with a grin, “So, how about you take me out to breakfast, sweetheart, and we can go from there?”

Steve laughed. “Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning in to give Eddie one more lingering kiss first.

Eddie wakes up wanting, a deep ache in his heart like there’s something missing now that he’s awake. Steve is still holding his hand, and Eddie looks over to see the guy passed out in the bedside chair, head lolled to one side, mouth open, a line of drool crusted down his chin. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking adorable. The ache in his heart twinges.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie groans to himself. He knows what this is. He’s got a fucking crush. On Steve fucking Harrington. Of all people. Of course he does.

For all his anti-jock rhetoric, even for all his protests yesterday about not being obsessed, Eddie always did have a sort of fascination with Steve Harrington in high school. More of a passing fancy, really. He thought Steve was attractive, sure, but in the way a celebrity is attractive - unobtainable and unreal - so it was always more like Steve was just his favorite reality TV show rather than an actual crush. But now Steve is real, and worst of all, he’s kind. King Steve Intangible Hot Asshole Jock Harrington is now Sweet Lovely Gorgeous Goofy Perfect Steve who holds Eddie’s hand when he’s scared and tells stupid jokes to make him laugh and always seems to know exactly what he needs, so of course Eddie never stood a single goddamn chance. Of course Eddie only had to spend one fucking day with this man for his old teenage fascination to trip and start falling for him, for Eddie to start having stupid, sappy dreams about him.

Because Eddie’s sure that’s all it was. No way was that dream a memory; his brain was just taking bits and pieces of what Steve had said yesterday and filling in the blanks with fantasy. Dumb, sweet, soft, romantic fantasy. Complete with fucking yearning and shit.

Eddie groans again. Why couldn’t it have just been a sex dream? He knows how to handle sex dreams. Sex dreams don’t come with actual feelings.

Steve begins to rouse then, probably stirred awake by all Eddie’s grumbling.

“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie says as Steve lifts his head and wipes the crusted drool from his mouth.

“Eddie?” Steve rubs his eyes with one hand, then blinks and squeezes Eddie’s hand with his other as his face breaks into a smile. “Hey, you slept through the night!”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m your infant child reaching a milestone.” He puts on a slight character voice, pitching up his inflection, “‘Baby Eddie slept through the night for the very first time! Mommy Steve was finally able to get some rest!’”

“Ew.” Steve wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, even as he scoffs out a laugh. “Do not call me mommy.”

“Oh, sorry, would you prefer daddy?” Eddie asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Because he’s stupid and has no fucking filter.

“Uh-” That startles a nervous chuckle out of Steve, pretty pink blush blooming in his cheeks. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head again, and takes a breath to regain his composure. “Yeah, no, that’s not my thing either.”

“Noted,” Eddie says, and then physically bites his own tongue to stop himself from asking something even more stupid like so what is your thing then?

“Anyways-” Steve seems a little desperate to change the subject. “No nightmares last night?”

“Nah.” Eddie taps his fingers against Steve’s hand. “You’ve got some sort of magic touch, man. I never have nightmares when I fall asleep with your hands on me.”

Steve smiles at that, a small thing. “Told you I’d fight them off.”

“Man of your word,” Eddie mutters. His heart gives a little lurch as he echoes his dream, a reaction which is consequently made clear and apparent for anyone to see by the immediate uptick of beeping from his heart monitor. So that’s going to be a problem.

“Yeah-” Steve glances at the monitor, then back at Eddie, a concerned pinch between his brows (Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it away; his heart only beats faster). “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie glares accusingly at the heart monitor, like it’s betrayed him on purpose. “I don’t know why it’s doing that.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I can go get someone to check on you-” He starts to stand like he means to leave, but Eddie tightens his grip on his hand so he can’t get too far.

“I said I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie insists, a little sharper than he meant to. He takes a breath, smooths the edge off his voice. “A slightly increased heart rate is not gonna kill me, alright? You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“I always worry about you,” Steve mutters. Though he does settle back into his chair, he keeps eyeing the heart monitor and worriedly chewing on his lip - as if that’s going to help Eddie’s racing heart situation.

“Okay, you gotta stop doing that, man.”

“What?”

“Acting all nervous like I’m about to drop dead,” Eddie says. “You’re stressing me out. No wonder my heart’s beating faster.”

“Right, sorry.” Steve looks away from the monitor and releases his lip from between his teeth, bitten red and plump now. Jesus.

Eddie breathes in slowly. He can be calm, he can be cool. He takes another few breaths until his heart rate finally starts to chill the fuck out and the monitor stops beeping so incessantly. “See, I’m totally fine.”

“Yeah.” Steve relaxes visibly. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, gives an apologetic smile. “Of course you are. Sorry I stressed you out.”

“That’s alright.” Eddie smiles back with a shrug, brushing it off. “Means you care, Stevie. I appreciate it.”

Steve’s expression turns warm then, and about 95% of Eddie’s higher brain functioning is now completely focused on trying to keep his heartbeat steady under the glow of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his hand. He doesn’t even hear whatever it is Steve says in response, just lets the timbre of his voice wash over him. It sounds like something soft, something kind, but not something that requires a reply, so Eddie stays quiet and continues to count each beat of his heart in the easy silence that settles over them.

Steve can’t decide if he wants to stay right here forever, holding Eddie’s hand and making sure he’s alright, or if he still wants to run so far from the ache it leaves in his chest.

Hanging out with Eddie yesterday had been overwhelmingly bittersweet. It felt so good to laugh with him again, to talk with him the way they used to, to see his face all lit up and happy. It felt so good to know that Eddie wanted him there, that he enjoyed spending time with him. There were moments that set Steve’s heart aglow, moments so effortless, so simple, so them, that he could forget, just for a second, all that was still missing between them. But each good feeling came with a stinging aftertaste of grief as Steve would remember and he felt the difference in the depth of their affection like a great gaping chasm, vast and black and bleak.

His emotions are frayed, all stretched and pulled in so many different directions at the same time. He wants and he worries and he aches and he loves; desire and despair.

Time makes his decision for him, though, as he catches sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly remembers, “Shit- I have to go, sorry. I promised Robin I’d finally come back to work today so she’d stop having to be stuck on shifts with Keith,” Steve says, starting to stand.

“Oh.” Eddie blinks like he’s been startled out of a trance. A brief disappointment flashes across his face. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back tonight, though,” Steve promises with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Soon as I can.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tug up into a small smile then. “Yeah, I know you will.” He lifts Steve’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it before letting go. “You’re my good luck charm.”

It’s such a small, innocent thing, but it wrenches Steve’s heart. The feeling of Eddie’s lips lingers on his skin like it’s haunting him, taunting him; the barest trace of something that once was, a ghost of what he’s lost. It’s almost cruel. Steve hates it, and he aches for it.

He’s quick to leave the room before Eddie can see the tears in his eyes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t like to see him sad.

(part six) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#fun and interesting new developments #i am dragging this shit out sorry lmao. not too much longer tho #i'm thinking this'll probably have maybe 3 more parts to it? we'll see.#steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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