#Wave LED Bulkhead

[clariannt]

Discover how Clariannt Wave LED Bulkheads offer a blend of durability, elegance, and energy efficiency for all your lighting needs. Explore the features and advantages of these versatile lighting solutions suitable for both residential and commercial applications.

[brainrotcharacters]

Lifeline

ship: opla luffy x reader

summary: Luffy sees you hanging over the edge of the ship, holding nothing but a piece of rope in your hand.

a/n: remember when I said my meltdown felt finished? So that was a fucking lie. I wrote a comfort fic instead.

tags: sfw, one piece live action, reader is a devil fruit eater, suicide attempt, angst/comfort, friendship, the Strawhat crew is a found family, Luffy fulfills the caregiver role

--

Everything was set into place. After such a long time, you finally controlled one part of your life.

Ending it.

You were going to do it during a clear night sky. There was the sounds of the winds against the sails of the Going Merry, and the lapping of the ocean waves against its magnificent hull. Usopp took great pride in keeping the ship in peak condition― it was easy to keep filling his mug with booze as he boasted about the ship, and it didn't take long for him to weave belowdecks to find his puke bucket.

Nami and Zoro were more difficult to put under, until a comment misheard by one of them led to another drinking game that ended with both of them unconscious under a table. Sanji helped you get them to bed, but when Zoro wrapped a massive arm around him, he was as good as pinned to the mattress with them. You ignored his pleas as you slowly exited the room, moving two barrels of dried meat in front of the door. Sanji's kicks are strong enough to break through wood, but the idea was to delay his movement, not stop him.

The rope in your hand strained as you lean further over the portside. Your feet remained on deck, but the rest of you teetered dangerously beyond the edge. As a Devil Fruit eater, you had a death wish, setting out to sea. Now you were proving everyone right.

"What are we looking for?"

Goddamn Luffy. You couldn't think of how to put him under, and now you were out of time. Luffy descended the ratlines at your right, eagerly squinting into the inky black ocean. "Are there any dolphins? Are they awake at night? I couldn't hear them from up at the crow's nest."

"Luffy..." you loosened your grip on the rope, the literal lifeline that kept you anchored to the ship. "Leave me alone for a bit, please. Sanji needs help with Nami and Zoro. They've been drinking."

"Sanji can take care of them." He planted his sandaled feet on the bulkhead, detaching from the ratlines. "He takes care of all of us. Even you."

Oh, the bastard. A forced, empty laugh escapes your mouth. "I feel the need to ask. Can you tell what I plan to do?"

He blinked slowly, and that's when you suspected he might succeed to persuade you against it. "Yeah. By the way, if you jump, I'm jumping in after you."

This time, you laughed more genuinely. True; in the short time that passed since you first joined, you knew Luffy had that type of personality.

Luffy smiled, simply happy that he heard your real laugh. The you that was his friend was still in there somewhere. "Y/n, please give me your hand."

He lifted his own, palm facing up. All things considered, he could use his ability and yank you back. But he wasn't that kind of captain―wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm out of place, captain." You keep your attention fixed on the ocean. It was easier than seeing Luffy's face. "I don't have much to offer anyone on this ship, least of all you. Joining you was a mistake."

"You don't mean that." Luffy had seen a similar devastation before. Nami, back when they helped free Coco Village from Arlong. "We like having you here. We all want to keep sailing with you."

A scoff splintered your throat on the way out. "What's your point?"

Luffy shifted on his feet, confused. The point? "You said you're out of place. Then, we'll make a place for you!" He thought they were already doing that, anyway.

He watched your grip on the rope slacken further. Only an inch of rope left before you fall to your death. Luffy scowled. "What about your dream?"

You roll your eyes, even as they prickle with tears. You say over your shoulder. "Someone else will be born and have the same dream. Let them fulfill it."

Luffy stopped himself from complaining about how lazy, how defeated of a thinking that was. Think like a captain. He told himself. "Y/n, no one else will pursue your dream the same way you would. That other person will do one thing differently than you, and you wouldn't be able to scold them for not following your lead. Because you chose to jump tonight."

The stars shimmered on the ocean surface tonight. You couldn't see where the sky ended and the sea began, only that it was dark. And Luffy was a red and blue and orange beacon within your reach.

"They won't..." You swallow the image that formed in your head. A child who didn't know any better, deciding to change one key element of your dream for the hell of it. "They won't pursue it how I would."

"Right." You heard Luffy take two steps closer. "So come on, Strawhat. Take my hand."

You find the strength to turn your head. Luffy's hand remained lifted, open and welcoming. Especially to the undeserving.

He offered you a tender, genuine smile. The softness reached his eyes. "We both know that when you take my hand, I will help you. All of us will help you, Y/n. But only after you reach for my hand."

He was cruel, your captain. This was him asking you to continue living. To continue suffering, to continue feeling pain. With him. With everyone. The annoying thing about Luffy was that he believed his crew has each other's backs, and actively made sure it became true.

Zoro was half asleep, but he still protected the back of Nami's head when they both fell on their asses under the table. Sanji complained about Zoro's weight on him, but still made sure his and Nami's necks were at comfortable angles. Usopp embraced everyone good night and sang garbled songs about how he found his courage with the crew, on his way belowdecks. When the singing stopped, the puking began. Sanji and you had chuckled to overhear it.

Goddamnit. You think to yourself, twisting fully and grabbing Luffy's hand.

Your captain grinned, pulling you close. His arms were solid as they braced around your middle, hand grasping your shoulder from behind. His face was buried in your hair, his next words muffled. "There we go. The crew is complete again."

[lets-try-some-writing]

Do the Jasper Trio ever catch any of the other Autobots in their holoforms? I assume they’d be able to quickly tell it’s them after finding out about Mr. Pax being Optimus. They’d be able to connect some of the weird behavior Mr. Pax had to the other Autobot holoforms (aka not breathing, not eating, not blinking)

They have, and every single time it's like a cryptid sighting.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The children were distantly aware of the fact that all the bots had holoforms and used them every now and then, but it wasn't exactly at the forefront of their minds all the time. They had better things to do than stare at strangers when around town on the off chance it would be one of the bots. But of course, much like with Optimus, they located the bots in their holoforms after a while.

Ratchet was the first bot they noticed and it was only by pure accident. June had gotten sick with a nasty cold and since Jack had to go to school, the nurse had asked Ratchet to go pick up some medicine for her. Ratchet, ever the dutiful doctor, took the money June gave him and sauntered over to the local pharmacy in his usual disguise. But not breathing or blinking tends to be a dead giveaway when combined with bright orange and white hair. The kids were walking by chatting away when suddenly Rafael stopped and stared. A hushed conversation later, Ratchet found himself swarmed.

"Ratchet is that you!?"

"Children, you should be back at base by now."

"You actually use your holoform??!"

"Why else would I have it if not to use it?"

Ratchet drove the kids to base after his little outing. Since that day he has known no peace now that the kids are well aware he can leave base, he just doesn't like to. He has been asked to take them to the playground or other locations more times than he cares to count. Unfortunately for Miko and Jack though, Rafael is far more adept at noticing holoforms than them. Despite their pleading, he refuses to tell them anything about the incidents where he met other bots in their holoforms one on one.

Arcee doesn't usually go out except on the odd night she travels around the cities of America doing vigilante business. But every now and then she will go with Bee to his gaming events just to observe. This in turn has led Rafael to run into and notice the duo dozens of times, usually just as they are about to leave. Once they know they have been spotted, Bee and Arcee have made it a game to vanish before Rafael can get to them. He finds it infuriating, they find it funny to watch him try to get to them as they parkour out the nearest window for the dramatics of it and because of how it amuses the children. They always drive him home afterwards in order to make it up to him.

Bulkhead was spotted by Jack one evening when he was on his way back from work on one of the few days Arcee couldn't come get him. Bulkhead was having a drink, or at least pretending to drink, with a few of his human construction worker friends. He was laughing and stood out starkly amongst the group. Jack hadn't been paying too much attention, but the big build, the strong jaw, and the ever so slightly glowing eyes had him pausing. He'd seen enough of Optimus's holoform to know the tell tale signs. And so having a ridiculous amount of confidence in his assumption, Jack waved to Bulkhead after tapping on the window. Bulkhead in turn waved back and it is now tradition for them to greet each other on the odd chance they pass by one another in the wild.

Wheeljack isn't around often, but his fanclub is very active. Miko sniffed out their Wrecker habits and creed immediately and has hounded them relentlessly in order to keep a lookout for Wheeljack's holoform. They think she is just a very enthusiastic Wheeljack fan. She is, but her main reason for being there is to get a picture of Wheeljack's holoform for her scrapbook. She has half the team in there already, but Wheeljack is a difficult one to track. Thus far she has only managed to get blurred images of him in large part due to the Wrecker knowing her game. She has continued to attempt to do increasingly bizarre things to hopefully get a sneaky photo.

The children firmly believed Ultra Magnus didn't have a holoform. They were proven wrong when he walked directly into school to pick them up after they got caught in a few too many incidents. At first they didn't recognize him, but the lack of breathing, blinking, or any natural twitching gave him away quickly. As they sat waiting to be released, they began to smile more than ever as soon as the glow of his eyes was noted. The poor mech was pestered the entire way to base as he drove the children back. Since then, whenever he comes to school to help Optimus with anything, he is greeted by a fond nickname.

"Magnus is in the house!"

"That's Ultra Magnus to you Miko."

"Who the heck names their kid Ultra?"

Smokescreen took a lot longer to be spotted, but when it happened, it was by far the most startling. Due to his tendency to mess with his holoform's appearance and to indulge in parkour, he usually isn't around or at least visible. But once while the kids were walking home, Smokescreen decided to tail them on the rooftops of the nearby buildings. His big mistake? He jumped directly into a wall while not paying enough attention and fell at least twenty feet to the ground. The kids of course saw and hurried over to assist or at least call 911. But instead they watched Smokescreen stand up, shoot them a set of finger guns, and take off up the building like spider man.

It wasn't hard to figure out it was him. He was mocked ruthlessly for crashing as soon as the kids got back to base.

[preservationofnormalcy]

[It is November of 2021. I am being led down a hallway that looks more like it should be on a ship than a government building. Metal walls with painted horizontal lines down its length, marked with “water depth” markers every 30 feet or so. My guide is a bored-looking man in a suit, balding, checking his clipboard. I seem to remember his name is Clarke, but he’s not who I’m here to see.]

M] Does this tunnel flood?

C] Hm?

M] The water markers.

C] Oh, those. Not unless something bad happens. She’s pretty good about it.

M] Is her name really –

C] Yth’Wa, Herald of Change. Yes. Changed it legally. Not that she gets out much.

M] …kind of an indoorsy person?

C] I mean she’s never in the outside world.

M] Not even to get food?

C] She has people for that.

[Suddenly, from doorways that lead off the hallway, we are joined by six figures wearing yellow robes that conceal their identities entirely. I smell brine and dead fish. Clarke looks back and seems to count the figures, but otherwise doesn’t react.]

M] Is this a joke? 

C] Wish it was, ma’am. Hey, fellas.

[Two of the figures wave. We approach a bulkhead at the end of the hall, and Clarke spins the wheel lock. The taste of salt hits my mouth - like the seaside, like brine. Clarke enters the chamber beyond, and three of the figures follow him. Three of them wait behind me, as if waiting to escort me. After a moment’s hesitation, I enter the chamber.

It is dark, hewn from rough stone, sloping downward into dark water. I look up, and the ceiling cannot be seen in the darkness. Utility lights illuminate the path downward, a few of them trailing into the still water. Clarke takes up a post next to the door, and the yellow figures form a pattern facing the water. Two of them kneel, two of them prostrate themselves, and two raise their hands and begin a chant. 

I can’t help myself. I back up, and whisper to Clarke.]

M] You cannot be serious.

C] You’re the one that wanted to meet her. 

M] Who the hell am I meeting? 

[Wordlessly, Clarke points to the water. A figure is emerging. 

A humanoid figure, also clad in yellow robes. Her hood is pulled low over her face, only the bottom half of her face visible. She has both hands placed together, palms pressed together in a gesture of prayer. She walks calmly from the water, up the incline, and it becomes clear she must be…seven feet tall, or more. Pallid grey-green skin is visible under her hood, and her hair….not hair. Tentacles. Tendrils roll down her shoulders and chest, spill from her sleeves. Her face is thin, her cheeks are marked with slits - gills.

As she emerges, she joins the chant with her own voice. As water spills from her form, fully on dry land now, her words change to English. An unearthly, inhuman voice…but not unpleasant.]

Yth’Wa] Fathoms deep, fathoms old. Fathoms dark, fathoms cold. We leave the cradle, leave the fold. To serve the one, the Lord in Gold. 

[There is a pause. Yth’Wa smiles and stands beyond the yellow figures, who are silent but have not moved from their spots. She is close to me, and seems to regard me with a small smile. Her face is…unnatural, but not ugly. Something beyond. When she speaks, it is with a strange resonance, and no small amount of amusement.]

Y] Ms Hendricks. I was told of your coming.

M] …wh…Yth’Wa?

Y] Do not be afraid.

[She moved her arms, spreading them out. Water dripped off her robes, and tentacles slipped back into her sleeves.]

Y] I am an ally of the Office. I do not harm the unbeliever, as they have their part to play in the grand Circle. The King Of All And Nothing has spoken, and we listen.

M] I don’t…I don’t know what to say. 

Y] Then speak your truth. 

M] ….I’m here to ask you questions.

[Yth’Wa’s smile widens. Her teeth are sharp, triangular, serrated. I look back at Clarke, who seems nonplussed. He looks at his phone and swears softly, seemingly realizing he doesn’t get reception here. Yth’Wa’s tone is not unfriendly, but somehow…as if she’s humoring me. Slight but not aggressive sarcasm rolls off her lips.]

Y] Inquisitiveness is what drew us all to the Circle, Ms Hendricks. It is a virtue worthy of the Yellow Empty. This is a holy quest. 

M] I feel like I’m being condescended to. 

Y] No force in the ocean could compel me to do so. 

M] But on land? 

[She puts her hands back together with a playful smile.] 

Y] What are your questions, my dear?

M] …I was going to ask you about the poster, but first…who are you? 

Y] I am Yth’Wa, Herald of Change, leader of the Yellow Circle. 

M] And what is the…Yellow Circle? 

[Yth’Wa gestures to the other figures in yellow behind her.] 

Y] We are the children of the One Who Dwells Between. We reach out in humility and hope to the space beyond our candlelight, and we embrace what we find. Our god, the Golden Father, shepherds us into the dark void, and bestows upon us gifts that we take upon ourselves gladly. 

M] And you’re….allied with the Office? They’re okay with this. 

[Yth’Wa’s smile is slightly more amused, almost smug. Her tone is like kindly addressing a child.] 

Y] It’s our world too, Meghan. We live here. We have a vested interest in keeping the things that slither around the lighthouse of the human mind at bay…or under our control. The Office often finds these skills useful. Such as your poster.

M] The….sock a Shoggoth one.  

Y] Indeed. It’s an old one. You saw a ripple of waters past, Ms Hendricks.

M] Sorry? 

Y] Do you know of Operation Deep Whisper? 

M] I…I don’t, no. 

Y] Mmmh. 

[She steps forward. I’m unsure of what to do, and in my hesitation, she walks around me. Studying me, her eyes never visible but nonetheless biting into me.]

Y] You’ve met Josiah. Josiah Carter. 

M] Of Psychotronics? 

Y] Of those who wade in pools they will drown in. Tell me. Did he talk about the things they invited? 

M] He mentioned things that…came from their experiments. 

Y] Poor Josiah. He knew only half of what he unleashed. 

M] I don’t think I understand. 

[Yth’Wa took in a deep breath.]

Y] When men take hammers to glass, they should not be surprised when it leaks. Those at the Office, in their uniforms and titles. They frayed the real in order to see through it, and they didn’t like what they saw. What they let through. By the 1960s, the camera obscura  they had made in their blind stabbing through reality had become a tear. A broken fence post, and of course things came through. Things…not under our control. 

M] The things he described sounded horrific. What are they?

Y] Me and mine are…inured to them, somewhat. The Office now calls them Outsiders. Entities from other spaces, other realms, dimensions beyond ours. Beyond the veils. As you can imagine, they are often dangerous to humanity. Physically violent, or ontologically inimical to human life. Often...alien thought patterns, incompatible with the mortal mind. Ontologically incompatible - too many of them, and their reality leaks into ours...impossible geometry, mosses and fungi that degrade the integrity of realspace. Or reality, as humans see it.

M] And you can control them?

Y] More or less. Keep them at bay, influence their behavior. Sometimes they can appreciate something that thinks like them. But all that and more were slowly being unleashed through the world, a secret plague that threatened to collapse the Office’s so called normality. Beasts, anomalies, and forces threatened even our way of life. 

M] So they asked the Yellow Circle for help. 

Y] Indeed. I was not the leader at the time, but the Circle allied with the Office to eradicate this plague. Using resources and funding from the more mundane conflict in Vietnam, we battled the Outsider across the globe throughout the 1960s, and into the 70s. Our people call it Gul’tho Z’Thuth G-Uz, the Conflict of Brother Blood. But the Office calls it Operation Deep Whisper. It is there your posters come into play - propaganda, encouragement for a war against an enemy so alien that they cannot be understood. 

[That smile again.] 

Y] By the Office, anyway.  

M] And it worked? 

Y] You had not heard of Outsiders before you came to the Office, had you? We saved the world, Ms Hendricks. Our world. 

M] I guess we can chalk that one up as a success. 

Y] Indeed. 

M] I don’t feel the need for most of my questions….Yth’Wa. But I guess I had another. 

Y] Speak freely. 

M] You were…human, right? All of you, but especially you. Who were you before you were Yth’Wa?

[There is a moment of silence. Yth’Wa looked…momentarily annoyed, her thin lips turning down at the ends in a way that made my stomach churn. But after a moment, she seemed to reset, relax her posture.]

Y] Who I was is dead. The One Whose Sign Dances saw me for who I was, and made me into something…more. More real, more truthful. Who I was is…dead. Do you understand? 

M] I….I think I do. 

Y] Magnificent. If you had no further questions….

[She steps forward, and I flinch. She pauses, as if attempting not to spook an animal, reaching into her robes and slowly pulling free a single scallop shell. It shined like an oil spill in the dim light, runes and markings along the outside of the shell. They hurt to look at.]

Y] If you wish to see me again, throw this shell into the largest body of water you can reach in a day’s walk under the light of the moon. I will see you, I will reach you. And we can talk. 

M] …thank you, Yth’Wa.

Y] May the Shattered Lord keep you and guide you. 

M] Let the…the Keeper of Yellow—- oh, god, what…what was that? I can taste it. 

[Yth’Wa laughs, leaning in further, teeth gleaming in the odd light.]

Y] Truth. Oh, Ms Hendricks. You’ve tasted truth. 

(Buy the poster here!)

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Cybertronians meet the bloody Mary

Words: 2090

Optimus Prime x gender-neutral reader x Ratchet

Fluff/Comfort

Notice: This is a comfort fic for people with a uterus, suffering through their menstrual cycle. Meaning blood, function and structure of the uterus will be mentioned/explained.

I use Bloody Mary a lot in this fic not cause I am ashamed of having a period but more so because I found it funny to give it a name. Also not everyone’s period goes the same way so your period experience may differ from person to person.

This was a request from @theemoteam5994, that I was more than happy to write.

It was a pretty standard Friday evening I was sitting on the couch next to Miko reading a new book, I just got. Ratchet was working on the control panels recalibrating the ground bridge, Optimus stood at his control panel writing the report of the last mission for agent Fowler meanwhile Bulkhead repaired the lob ball. Jack had work, Raphael was out of country visiting family, which led Bumblebee and Arcee to drive patrol today. Resulting in Miko and me to hanging out alone. Which was fine it was a nice to not do anything for once.

Unexpected I started to feel something damp my pants, or to be precise my underwear. Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Mentally counting the days back since the last time, it happened and concluding that it had been indeed a month now, a defeated sigh escaped my lips. Which in turn made Miko turned to me in confusion.

“Whoa you good, what’s with the defeated sigh you sound like me when we are about to write a test.”

“Miko please just shut up and let me suffer in silence and desperation.”

“Yeesh since when are you so grumpy.”

“Since the high and mighty royal majesty, the bloody Mary decided to show up.”

“Ah Dave decided to visit.”

That caused me to raise a brow at Miko, to which she gave me a smile.

“Dave? Do I want to know.”

“You know that one sound “God, fucking damnit Dave, there goes the last shit I ever gave.”

“Omg, that’s genius.”

“Yes, it’s hilarious when you’re having period pain and just scream fucking Dave.”

“Oh man, Miko you’re a genius. By the way do you have tampons or a pad? I forgot my period bag.”

“Oh, shit did you just get it?”

“Yeah, and I would like to not have to explain to gigantic alien why my pants are red and what the menstrual cycle is.”

“Haha, understandable, I really wouldn’t want to explain what’s going on down there to Bulky.”

Giggling to each other, I’m forced to double over as a sharp pain shoot through my lower abdomen, causing a hiss of pain to escape me.

“Man, is your period always like that? It looks really painful. I mean my crams hurt to, but they are at least somewhat manageable.”

“Unfortunately, yes the problem with these I have to physically double over and can’t ignore them like the others.”

“That sucks. How about you go put on a pad or tampon or both and I call June if she can bring painkillers for you..”

“Oh my god Miko you’re a saint thanks.”

“No prob. The bag is in my front pocket underneath my slash monkey cd.”

Gratefully I go over to her bag as Miko makes her way to the medbay to find June. Finding the small cotton bag I take it out, zip Mikos bag back up and move hurriedly to the washrooms. Oh my god there is nothing more uncomfortable than sitting in a puddle of your own blood.

Coming back into the main hangar I moved towards the designated “human area” as Ratchet so lovingly nicknamed it. Miko was the first to notice my return and waved, as I climbed the stairs up. She intercepted me as I reached the stairs, I wordlessly gave her the little bag back, before she bend over and started whispering.

“Hey I called June and she said she bring some Aspirins and a few heating pads.”

“God I love that women, and you, bless you.”

“Yeah try to remember that the next time I go through the ground bridge.”

“Different issue Miko.”

“Ugh, well whatever, June said she bring the supplies when she picks up Jack after his shift.”

“Why does Nurse Darby have to bring painkillers and heating pads, and would you be so kind as to tell me why you didn’t think to inform me that you are unwell.”

Simultaneous Miko and I froze up as the very distinct sarcastic and very much unamused voice of the resident medic, rang from behind us. Turning around we were confronted with a very pissed of looking Ratchet.

“Ok you look like you can handle this right well my part is done, HEY BULKY LET’S GO DUNE BASHING.”

Miko didn’t hesitate to leave me alone and run up to the railing jumping onto her guardians servo as he immediately transformed around her and proceeded to race out of the base. Sharing his charges unwillingness to become a target of Ratchets anger. Left alone under Ratchets piercing gaze, I do my best to avoid eye contact.

“So, are you inclined to tell me now why you didn’t think it necessary to come to me for medical attention.”

“Oh uhm it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“If I didn’t treat every one that said “oh, that’s not that big of a deal” this entire team would be dead by now. So unless you miraculously became doctor you com to me with any kind of medical issue. Did I make myself clear?”

“Ratchet, it’s really none of your concern, I am fine.”

Quiet. It was deadly quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Ah shit, I fucked up, I fucked up big time. I did the one thing you don’t do, ever. I broke the one rule on the base, crossed the one line even Optimus doesn’t cross. Don’t backtalk Ratchet when it’s about medical decision. Well it was a good life.

“Oh it’s none of my concern is it? My how interesting would you care to elaborate on why that is?”

“I...I I am sorry Ratchet, I didn’t mean it like th-ughnn.”

A sharp pain went trough my lower abdomen forcing me to hug myself as I doubled over. As the pain subsided and I was able to stand upright again, a green light beam went over my body. Looking up I was met with the sight of a very concerned Ratchet and an equally worried Optimus. When did he come over here, weird? I was ripped out of my train of thoughts as a sharp exhale escaped Ratchets vents.

“YOU ARE LOSING BLOOD AS WELL AS PART OF YOUR INNER LINING IS DETIRIOURATING AND YOU RUN AROUND HERE ACTING LIKE EVERYTHING IS FINE.”

“Because it is?”

Apparently, that was not the right or more like best thing to say. I could already see the oncoming triage, Ratchet was going to put me through. Just as he prepared to chew me out and preach his speech on taking proper care of oneself, a big servo landed on his shoulder plate. Optimus gently pulled Ratchet back before coming closer, bending down to my level.

“We are worried about you. Asking for help is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Hmpf, especially if you lose essential organic fluids.”

“Ah, shit that’s not it’s, aww geez uh scrap how do I explain it.”

“While we both would appreciate an explanation, please don’t feel cornered or forced to please us. Though I do have to ask you to use a different manner of speech.”

“Huh, oh yeah sorry about that big guy. Just give me a minute”

Seeing Optimus giving a nod and even Ratchet, though begrudgingly, give me some space, I take a deep breath. Ok first me being a nervous wreck is not going to help anyone. So deep breaths, everything is fine. It’s not like you are going to have to explain how and what the menstrual cycle is, to gigantic aliens. Man, I sometimes hate my life so much. Letting out a deep sigh I turn around I make my way to the two bots.

“Ok, so first of all, I am ok, I will not bleed out or am sick with a terminal disease. What’s happening to me is a natural process that happens every month for more or less than a week depending on the person. Every person with a uterus goes through this with some exceptions. Yes, that includes June and Miko as well.”

Optimus and Ratchets frames slightly relax, tough confusion is still visible on their faceplates. Well, more on Ratchets than Optimus, though the leader frame is less rigid than before.

“But you are bleeding, isn’t the leaking of blood indication of an injury, do you mean it is natural for humans to injure their uterus every month?”

“What no we aren’t injured.”

“Perhaps it would help us understand better, if you were to explain on how this “menstrual cycle works.”

“OH, uhm sure. First of all the uterus is one of the reproductive organ’s humans have to reproduce. Each month, blood and tissue build up in the uterus to prepare for a fertilized egg in case a woman becomes pregnant. Important humans give live birth to their young not like other animals in eggs. Eggs is simply what we call the cell. If the egg isn't fertilized, that lining leaves the body through the vagina and that is what is called the period.”

Trough the explanation my eyes had driven away from the bots not wanting to see their faces of disgust.

“But then what is the menstrual cylcle? And that still doesn’t understand why you were in pain.”

Confused I look back up at Ratchet as he looked at me expectantly. Switching my point of view to Optimus he carries a similar expression though way more subtle than Ratchets.

“You, you aren’t disgusted?”

“Why would we I mean, its obvious a bit strange due to our different biologys. But so is your entire race.”

“As you explained, your period is a natural occurrence, there is no fault in that.”

“Oh ok.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah there are a lot of names for the period, like menstrual cycle, strawberry week.”

“I thank you for the explanation but there is still concern on your earlier episode of pain.”

“Oh yeah uhm, so basically to flush everything out, the uterus contracts itself which can lead to pain. How much pain someone experience is different for everyone. And well mine is sometimes so bad I double over.”

Both bots fall into back into silence, exchanging glances like they were silently communicating. Feeling slightly Causing me to shuffle my feet on the ground. Until Ratchets open servo comes up to me, an invitation to step into it. Confused I look at both Ratchet and Optimus. Sensing my confusion Ratchet responds.

“It is unreasonable to let someone alone when they are in pain, so get on.”

“What, no I am fine, I have dealt with this for the past 6 years on my own.”

“You should be resting.”

“No, I still have things to do I don’t need to rest.”

“Please do understand that we are just worried.”

Damn you Optimus, for making me feel bad about refusing help. Reluctantly I carefully climb onto Ratchets servo. Letting out a satisfied hum, he lifts me up to his chest, curling his digits gently around me. Carefully moving across the base, we go through a corridor I haven’t been in yet, only to land in front of a humongous door trough which Ratchet and Optimus can walk without any problems. Ratchet crosses the room and gently lays me down on the gigantic bed. Before turning around and walking around the bed to the other side before laying down himself.

Meanwhile, Optimus was closing a drawer, holding something I couldn’t make out and moved to join us. He deposited the content of his servo onto the berth near Ratchet. Before I could ask what and why they brought those things, my feet yet again left the ground.

Warmth surrounded me and weirdly a lot of red. Wiggling around I finally found the end of the blanket and looked up, only to be met, with two pairs of kind optics looking down at me.

“What’s all that?”

“We researched that warmth and comfort in the form of affection, food and a comforting environment prove, helpful when dealing with period pains.”

“Wait, you guys searched the internet to help me? Aww that’s so sweet.”

“Hmpf, well we can’t leave you alone in this time of you err, month.”

A smile starts forming, I snuggle back into the blankets happy about being so well cared for. My eyes are starting to feel heavy as a yawn escapes me, exhausted from the day’s events, I don’t fight the sleepiness taking over my body. Safe, warm, and protected by the two gentle guardians on each side of me.

Masterlist

[blueikeproductions]

Ok I think it has to be said. The current EarthSpark situation is basically this big from The Office style Muppets show.

It’s looking pretty apparent via a recent post by Wheeljack’s voice actor on Reddit and comments made by Nemesis, formally Axiom Nexus on the matter that after the final batch of S2…

“It’s over.”

“Noooooooo!”

While Wheeljack and some staff seem hopeful, the show hasn’t been greenlit for a third season, Hasbro and Paramount has increasingly been disavowing EarthSpark in favor of Tales of the TMNT.

And this was EarthSpark’s only appearance at SDCC:

Hasbro never spoke of it once either, all their focus is on TFONE. They’ve even admitted as much.

The next cartoon is already underway according to leaks, with recent leaks implying Mirage is a main Autobot… but that said the hint was an image of his DOTM self… who is also called Dino. It’s led some to incorrectly assume it’s some kind of Bayformers thing when apparently Hasbro has recently clarified they don’t like returning to older stuff (looks at Legacy and the countless G1 revisits along with IDW & Skybound… Hmm…), so I think it’s just the leaker trying not to be obvious by using G1 or ROTB Mirage.

On top of a group of Decepticons who aren’t the usual suspects in Megs, Screamer, & the Waves, I think it’s clear Hasbro has moved on.

Now Axiom Nemesis keeps insisting this is a TFONE cartoon, though atm I’m hesitant to agree. It makes sense, but we don’t know if TFONE will do well. RotB, despite doing well on streaming, ultimately tanked in theaters and the toyline is now on clearance. I don’t think leaping into a TFONE cartoon already makes sense yet. On top of the Decepticons not having Megatron in this new toyline, that doesn’t make sense to not have him in a TFONE cartoon. So I’m leaning towards this being a separate thing for now.

As for the future of the Terrans cropping in future media, dunno. A panel with Skybound has said to their knowledge they can use IDW original characters if they want to, so presumably new characters from Aligned, Cyberverse and EarthSpark could be on the table as SkyBound has expressed interest in using more non G1 characters like TFA Bulkhead. Will they use them is another matter, and I still stand by the Terrans will probably just be ordinary Autobots and Decepticons like what typically happens to the Maximals & Predacons. So brace yourselves for that if so…

[pandora-dark-shorts]

Welcome to the Fight

Dust and ash clung to the war-torn ruins of the Forerunner complex, its once-pristine metallic statues cracked and crumbling under the weight of battle. Blue Team moved through the rubble with ease. Master Chief led from the front, his armor slightly scorched but functioning, motioning for the others to fan out.

“Contacts. Multiple,” Fred muttered, crouching behind a half-collapsed bulkhead, his DMR already tracking movement. “They're close, real close.”

Chief acknowledged with a short nod. “We hold this ground.”

Out in the open, the air shimmered, distorting like heat rising from pavement. Then they appeared. The sleek figures of the Forerunner combat constructs, but these weren’t the usual Knight class they had been fighting since the got here. They moved faster, more coordinated. They were an elite killteam, designed not to contain but to eliminate.

Kelly blurred into motion, dodging incoming shots and laying down suppressing fire with her SMGs. “They’re adapting,” she called out. “Tactics, formations, they’re reading us.”

“We won’tbe able to hold out for long here,” Linda said calmly, her voice flat as she peered down the scope of her rifle. One shot cracked through the ruins. One construct dropped. The rest didn’t even pause.

A barrage of hardlight beams tore through their position. The pillar Fred hid behind shattered like glass, forcing him to roll into the open. Plasma sizzled past his shoulder. It was close. Too close. “They’re pinning us,” he snapped. “We have to move!”

“No,” Chief said, “Not yet, We draw them in. Break their cohesion. The more we have here, the less there are to bother Doctor Greco and Majestic.”

He tossed a frag across the courtyard. It bounced twice, then detonated mid-air, sending two constructs into the ether. But more came. Always more. For every one they dropped, another replaced it, faster, smarter. Kelly was right. The killteam was adapting on the fly.

Fred’s shields flared red. Kelly took an antimatter bolt to the shoulder. Her armor smoked, systems struggling to recover. Linda repositioned, tagging high-value targets but barely slowing down the advance. The killteam pushed forward, phasing in and out of reality, precise and methodical.

Chief swapped out his magazine. “Fall back to the core chamber.”

The team moved back to the collapsing walls, covering each other with an efficiency only Spartans could achieve. They fell into the antechamber, a circular space surrounded by fragmented architecture of whatever ancient purpose this place once held. There was no time to wonder as the killteam flooded in.

Kelly's serene voice came over comms, "We have a plan, Chief?".

"Survive."

Hardlight beams lanced through the chamber. Explosions rocked the floor. A wall collapsed in flames. Kelly was knocked to one knee. Linda’s sniper banged. Fred’s shield collapsed froma hard light shard. He was bleeding from a breach in his arm seal.

Chief stood in the center, unmoved, rifle barkijg. 12 rounds. 2 mags.

This was it.

Then came the rumble.

At first, it was distant. A whisper under the roar of battle. Then louder, deeper. The kind of sound that made even the constructs hesitate. The sky cracked open like thunder.

Through the broken ceiling of the chamber, they saw it, a shadow blotting out the sun, descending through the clouds like a god of war. Orbital strikes hit with pinpoint accuracy, carving fire into the horizon. Archer missiles arced through the sky, hurdling off unto the distance and exploding on unseen targets. The ground quaked. Then came the pods. Drop pods screamed through the air, some trailing fire. They smashed into the ground outside the chamber with thunderous impact. Spartans and ODST emerged from the smoke, rifles blazing. They didn’t speak. They just fought.

The Forerunner killteam turned to meet this new threat, but it was too late. The mystery Spartan team carved into them like a blade, their assault synchronized, brutal. What was once an unbreakable wave shattered into chaos.

Two heavily modified Condors thundered in low, barely half a click out, they're twin pulse lasers laying down cover fire. Dust and fire whipped around as one of their ramps dropped.

Then the voice came through the comms; calm, sharp, and unmistakable.

“Sierra 092 to Blue Team Actual. This is Red Team. You have Spartans on the ground.”

Chief looked up, just as a Pelican swung around, carving a path with its Anvill-II air to surface missiles.

Another voice followed, this one older, steady, a voice from the past that still carried command weight like a hammer.

“Spartan 117. This is Captain James Cutter, commanding officer of the UNSC Spirit of Fire. We are at your call, Chief. Tell me where you need us.”

For the first time in days, Chief let a beat of hope pass. The mission was no longer just about survival.

“Welcome to the fight, Spirit,” he replied, reloading his rifle with practiced ease. “Let’s finish this, then we can have a long talk.”

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 18: The Reach

CHAPTER SUMMARY: A blatant proximity trope. That's what fan fics are for, right?!?!

This is one of my favorite chapters :) Because I am always here for a good proximity trope. If you think about it, the entire Rogue One movie is a forced proximity trope...Tony Gilroy and Gareth Edwards, I thank you.

In this chapter, Cassian says something in Kenari. I did some research about the language and I read that it's a mix of Spanish and Hungarian. Sadly, I don't know anything about Hungarian, but I learned a smattering of Mexican Spanish when I was in high school. So, I decided my version of Kenari would just be Spanish (firstly because I don't speak Hungarian and secondly because I wanted to show Diego respect). Thank you to my dear friend Adela for double checking my translation and helping me make it more accurate. (It's a small moment, but there's more to come in future chapters.)

I hope you enjoy!

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 18: THE REACH

“One way out! One way out!”

Prisoners were pushing past him by the dozen, shouting their freedom chant as they jumped from the platform to the waves below. The crowd’s momentum pulled him backward, inch by inch getting closer to the edge. He stretched out his hand, reaching through the bodies. “Come on!” he shouted.

Jyn, dressed in the dehumanizing Narkina 5 uniform, cowered, pressing against the prisoners behind her. “I can’t,” she said shaking her head.

He could see she was terrified but this was their only chance. If they didn’t jump now, they’d be prisoners forever. “Jyn, take my hand! We have to go!”

She began to collapse to the ground. “I can’t swim.”

A large figure appeared at his side. He turned and found himself face to face with a man who preyed upon his memory. Kino Loy’s eyes were hard and filled with fury, his hulking body crowding Andor back until he teetered on the platform edge. Paralyzed by fear, the rebel’s own eyes widened with horror; he only had time for his gaze to shift from Kino to Jyn and back before the huge man brutally shoved him overboard. Jyn disappeared as the prison’s exterior wall rushed by. The fall lasted long enough to panic, but the plummet was so sickening Cassian couldn’t even scream. Instead of hitting icy water, he smashed into a durasteal beam, bouncing until he landed on a metal grate inside a citadel tower, every bone in his body bursting like stardust…

…Cassian’s eyelids dragged open.

He lay still for a long time, face down in his bunk, letting his heartrate and breathing return to normal before he allowed himself to move.

This one had felt real.

He hated vivid dreams.

His experience on Narkina 5 was so profoundly dark it had burned its memories into his bones. The prison’s clean orderliness had been a veneer barely masking a system that was so sinister, so hopeless, so deeply futile that it haunted Cassian to this day. Kino Loy, a man who commanded respect and led hundreds of men to a freedom he could never share, was one of Cassian’s deepest regrets. If he could go back and change one thing about his past, he would grab Kino and drag him to safety.

But it hadn’t been possible.

Cassian shivered as he realized he’d left Jyn on that platform just like he’d left Kino.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the metal bulkhead.

He knew what it all meant; the nightmares weren’t exactly subtle. He was afraid of missing his chance, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or in the right place at the right time and messing it up, or making a stupid mistake that killed someone he cared about.

But he also knew he couldn’t control any of that. Which ultimately meant the dream was about living with fear, accepting it, facing it, thriving in spite of it.

Cassian rubbed his hands across his face. “I need coffee,” he grumbled.

What he really needed was a solid night’s rest that didn’t include nightmares of Jyn screaming, bleeding, or crying. Tarkin’s torture had pried open a level of vulnerability Cassian wasn’t sure how to heal. His nerves felt raw, like his past was fighting with the present. Everything Jyn said to him the night before lingered in his mind, battling with a lifetime of insignificance. He had grown up the outsider, the selfish taker, the lost boy. He’d been aimless, careless, and angry. But ever since he’d joined the Rebel Alliance, all that pent up emotion was directed into something meaningful. Even so, Jyn had been right; deep down, in spite of his efforts, Cassian thought he was living on borrowed time. He couldn’t imagine himself as an old man, couldn’t even picture where he’d be in a year, and he always assumed that meant he wouldn’t live to be very old. He’d survived by mere chance so many times that he figured one day fate would catch up and want him to pay his dues. After Jyn said she was proud of him, for the first time in his life Cassian began to wonder if he’d survived all the horror for a reason. Perhaps fate had spared him because he was, in fact, trying to give others the freedom and safety he’d never known.

His brow pulled together as an uncharacteristically buoyant idea crept into his mind. He thought of Jyn, of all the moments that, when you added them up, equaled something undeniable; tackling him to protect him from a grenade on Jedha, supporting his injured body on Scarif, rescuing him from Tarkin, sitting by his bedside holding his hand while he recovered in the medical ward. He hadn’t just survived; he’d been protected. Perhaps they weren’t living on borrowed time; perhaps his time with Jyn was a gift, an opportunity for something neither of them had ever dared accept.

The idea almost scared him.

He loved her; he could finally admit that to himself.

But loving someone meant you had something worth losing.

And that vulnerability terrified him.

Cassian had already lost too much.

Could he risk losing her?

That’s just love. Nothing you can do about that.

Maarva’s words made him catch his breath; he could not think of his mother without also feeling the dull blade of grief.

But he relaxed and closed his eyes, letting the feelings have their way. Cassian lay back, tucking his hands behind his head, and turned inward.

“OK, Mom,” he whispered.

——————–

Rogue One gathered in the bunk room again that evening for another round of sabacc. No one had any money to gamble, so for credits Bodhi purchased several boxes of horrendously sour candy in the ship’s exchange. Whenever someone won a hand, they were required to eat a candy. Jyn currently had tears streaming down her face as she stomped her boot on the floor. “You bastard!” she shouted as the others laughed. She went to crunch the candy in half but they all protested.

“No, no, no!” Cassian cried, grabbing her shoulder. “You can’t cheat!”

“You know the rules!” Bodhi guffawed.

Baze was wheezing so hard he couldn’t speak. No one had ever seen him laugh like that.

Chirrut was beaming, basking in the ebullience created by his friends in the Force.

“I’m literally sweating!” Jyn squawked. “What kind of monster are you?” she pointed at Bodhi. The pilot was in stitches, hugging himself while he laughed. “This candy is evil! Why are you punishing us for winning?”

They had never laughed so hard as a group. And they knew it. An air of awareness hung over them, each realizing what a relief it was to feel joy.

“All the blood has drained from your face,” Cassian burst out, bending forward over his knees as he lost control again.

She gently shoved him and smiled, holding the candy between her teeth. “Just wait ‘til it’s your turn, Andor!” Finally, the sweets dissolved and Jyn gasped for air, wiping sweat from her brow. “You absolute bastard!” she glared at Bodhi. “You look all innocent and mild on the outside, but deep down you’re a fiend.”

“Keeps the playing field even,” Bodhi chuckled.

The group threw more candy in the table’s center for an ante.

“I never want to win again,” Jyn said wiping her eyes.

They played for a long time, but, despite his best efforts, Cassian began fading quickly. When the game paused while Chirrut and Baze went in search of drinks, Jyn turned to him and spoke quietly. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You can hardly keep your eyes open.”

He rubbed his face hard before pushing his hands up into his hair. “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“Is it odd being in a different place? A new ship, a new room?”

A grimace turned up the corner of his mouth. “No, I can sleep anywhere; on the ground, on a ship, in a prison, tied to a chair. I can do it all.”

She forced herself to smile.

“Is that joke too dark?” he teased.

Jyn rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

He sighed and let his head droop forward.

“Bad dreams?” she asked, her voice serious again but still hushed.

He nodded.

She leaned toward him, her body pressing against his shoulder as she gently touched the fading bruise on his forehead. “No injuries today?” She brushed a rogue lock of hair off his brow.

Cassian turned.

Their eyes met.

And for a moment neither of them could breathe.

“It’s too quiet in my quarters,” he finally said, not breaking eye contact.

“Lets the bad dreams in?”

“I think so.”

She could hear Bodhi rummaging in his footlocker nearby. The members of Rogue One were not fools; Jyn suspected they all assumed something existed between her and Cassian, but she still didn’t like the idea of anyone examining her behavior, no matter what evidence they were looking for. Even so, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from Cassian’s. “What would help you sleep?”

He glanced down at her lips.

She could see that his breathing had deepened.

Suddenly, all Jyn wanted was to push her fingers through Cassian’s hair and close her lips over his. Instead, she swallowed thickly before saying, “Maybe you should try sleeping somewhere noisy.”

Bodhi slammed his locker shut just as Baze and Chirrut arrived with a bottle and glasses.

Cassian blinked and Jyn turned back to the group as Chirrut handed them drinks. “This should get the taste of those awful candies out of your mouth,” the guardian said with a smile.

“You’re a true hero, Chirrut,” Cassian said dryly before tossing the amber liquid down his throat in one go.

“I help where I can,” the guardian responded warmly.

They gathered around the table and shuffled out the cards again, but it wasn’t long before Cassian began to fall asleep sitting up.

“Perhaps I gave you too much,” Chirrut offered as Andor’s head dipped forward before jerking back.

“I’m a lightweight these days,” Cassian replied with a slightly drunken smile.

“I appreciate a cheap date,” the guardian snorted.

“Do you mind if I just lay down for a little?” he asked the group. His eyes shifted to Jyn’s. “I don’t mean to invade your personal space…”

She smiled and gestured with her head that she didn’t mind in the least.

Cassian crawled behind her, stretching out on his back.

“Do you want us to be quiet?” Bodhi asked.

“No,” Cassian replied, his eyes already closed. “I like the noise.”

The bunk was muffled and cozy. His friends continued their game as dark sleep crept around his consciousness. Cassian hadn’t felt this safe in a long time, Jyn sitting by his side, Chirrut laughing, Bodhi shuffling cards, Baze telling jokes. The noise was good. He tucked an arm behind his head, stuffing the pillow into a more comfortable position. His last thought before drifting off was that the soft fabric near his cheek smelled like Jyn.

——————–

When the card game broke up about an hour later, Cassian was deep in sleep. So deep, in fact, that Jyn couldn’t wake him. She shook his shoulder and said his name but received no response. She leaned closer and spoke louder. “Cass.” His left eyebrow pulled up for a second before going slack again. Jyn looked at Bodhi who hovered by her side. “I don’t know what to do.”

The pilot gave her a pathetic noncommittal look before saying, “Nothing you really can do.”

The overhead lights flashed, indicating lights out in five minutes.

“Shit!” Jyn grumbled, throwing up her hands. “Where am I supposed to sleep? I have an early meeting with Draven tomorrow. I need to get some rest.”

“Just get in there next to him,” Baze said, leaning down from his bunk above Jyn’s. “You can fit.”

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but she stooped in and found that she could squeeze in by the inside wall.

“If an officer sees you both, you’ll get in trouble,” Bodhi warned.

“I’m an officer, and so is he,” she said hiking her thumb at the unconscious Andor. “If you have a better suggestion, I’m happy to hear it.”

“You didn’t try very hard to wake him up.”

“Be my guest.”

Bodhi took a timid step forward before leaning into Jyn’s bunk. “Cassian,” he said loudly, shaking the commander by both shoulders. A small grunt came from the back of the sleeping man’s throat but other than that, he didn’t budge. Bodhi turned back to Jyn. “Yeah, he’s not waking up.”

“Thanks for your help,” she muttered sarcastically as the pilot retreated to his own bunk. The overhead lights flashed out and orange running lights came on along the floor. Jyn sighed and made up her mind. She grabbed hold of the rack above hers and climbed over Cassian’s body, careful not to jostle him. She pulled shut the long, black privacy curtain then settled against the inside wall. The bunks were incredibly narrow, and since Cassian was flat on his back taking up most of the room, she had to prop up on her right side. Jyn didn’t mind; she’d slept in worse conditions.

A thin line of orange light peeked through the curtain’s edge, backlighting Cassian’s features. Before drifting off she watched him, listened to his steady breathing, felt his weight on the mattress. Her last thought before falling asleep was that seeing him so peaceful was worth getting in trouble.

Hours passed and the room eventually settled and grew silent, apart from the usual sounds aboard a star freighter and the occasional snore.

In the night’s deepest hour Cassian became restless, his arms and legs contracting so much that it shook Jyn awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, unsure what had roused her, but when she heard his panicked breathing she knew he was in the throes of a nightmare. At first, she wasn’t sure what to do; anyone startled from a bad dream could accidentally lash out. The last thing she needed was for Cassian to flail around in these close quarters and break her nose.

Eventually, she settled on trying to calm him without waking him, so she ran her hand across his chest and gently stroked her fingers along his collarbone. She tried to send calming, comforting energy through her palm into his heart.

Without warning he rolled onto his side toward her, bringing them so close together she could feel his breath on her cheek.

He sighed deeply.

She could sense he had awakened.

“Jyn?” he asked too loudly.

“Shhh,” she whispered.

“It’s so dark I can’t see.” he whispered back. “Did I fall asleep in your rack?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

He was quiet for a long time. She couldn’t see his face anymore since his shoulders now blocked the light coming in around the curtain’s edge.

He didn’t move to leave.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he finally asked, still keeping his voice quiet.

“I tried and so did Bodhi.” She shrugged in the darkness.

“But now what am I supposed to do?” She could hear the smile in his voice; he was teasing her. “What if someone sees me crawl out of your bunk?”

“Who cares?”

She could feel that his face had moved slightly closer to hers. “You don’t care?”

“No.”

“You don’t care how it looks?”

“I’ve never cared what other people think of me. It only matters what I think of me.”

Once again, they both fell silent. She could feel that he was breathing harder, just like her.

Jyn would be lying if she said this was an unpleasant predicament. Cassian’s friendship, their unspoken devotion, was a lovely, meaningful thing. But she could not deny that she found him absolutely and completely attractive. He was handsome to be sure, intelligent and disarming, but his good looks were magnified by far more important traits. No other man could both challenge and uplift her as he did. He was independent, confident, but not too proud to admit when he was wrong. He laughed with her, spoke to her as an equal, treated her with respect even when they first met and he wasn’t sure he could trust her.

Now that they were only inches apart, rolled together in a narrow ship rack in a room with fifty-nine other people, the rest of the galaxy seemed to disintegrate.

Cassian suddenly pulled her into his arms, breathing her name as he nuzzled against her, their lips brushing together. She cupped his face in her hands and gently traced his jaw, his cheek, his lips. He smelled like clear, fresh water warmed by the sun; she found him intoxicating. His fingers slipped up her neck and disappeared in her hair, pulling her even closer against him. Their eagerness was palpable, but they didn’t kiss. Instead, they clung to each other, as though Scarif’s scars demanded they finally come full circle, holding each other as they had on that deadly beach. Their breath came in shuddering gasps as an untenable dam of emotions threatened to break. Pleasure and pain and loss and joy surged to Cassian and Jyn’s surface. These two people, haunted by wrongs they could not right and misfortunes they could not repair, had finally reached for each other. That feat alone was a massive leap of faith, letting their guard down long enough to not just admit their desire, but to act on it.

She hooked her leg over his and completely closed the distance between their bodies. “Cassian,” she sighed, pulling his lips nearer.

His thumb gently played across her mouth. “Te quiero besar,” he whispered in a language he knew she didn’t understand.

She could feel his breath on her tongue.

Just as he was about to press his lips to hers, the bunk above them creaked and Baze grunted down the rack ladder, his foot shifting on the wrung mere inches from Cassian’s head on the other side of the curtain. Cassian froze, both he and Jyn instantly snapping back to reality. He listened wide-eyed as the guardian’s steps hit the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom.

He refocused on Jyn. “I should go. If I get caught here, we’ll both end up in the brig.”

She nodded.

They were disappointed by the interruption but energized by the wall that had suddenly come down between them. Cassian smiled and quickly pressed his cheek to hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered in her ear. He drew back, one final caress sliding over her neck before rolling under the curtain. She couldn’t hear his steps as he walked away. Still a spy, she smiled to herself and pulled the blanket over her head.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE HOLOGRAM” - Jyn finally learns why she wasn't put on leave. She is not a happy camper. Brace for impact.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 “The Rogues”

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 "The Reach"

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[theforestghost]

The Consort and The Warlord Ch7

Summary: Megatron uses the All Spark to gain access to Cybertron and demands a peace treaty. An Autobot Consort is offered and Optimus is chosen. A Bonding Ceremony takes place and now Optimus has three vorn to figure out exactly what Megatron wants to do with Cybertron.

Pairing: Optimus Prime x Megatron

Continuity: Animated

Status: Ongoing

Optimus stopped, optics wide and stabilizers frozen. The femme ahead of him stopped as well, her multiple red optics locked onto him in just as much surprise. She recovered quickly however, as she bared her fangs and opened the door she was next to and closing it behind her. 

Optimus stood where he was for several nano-kliks. The femme had been very different from any other he'd seen. She was the same height as Ratchet, had several optics and her frame was strangely familiar to an organic creature he'd hope he'd never come across again. But there was something else about her that bugged him. He knew that femme, but he couldn't figure out for the life of him how. 

"Bossbot!"

Optimus broke from his thoughts and looked up to see Bulkhead, waving with a happy grin. Optimus waved back and decided to push the femme to the back of his processor for now. He'd come to visit Bulkhead after several cycles and he wouldn't let his processor get bogged down more than it already was. Walking up to the large green mech, he noticed that Shockwave was there as well. Bulkhead stepped forward and picked Optimus up in a tight hug. 

"You doing okay?" Bulkhead asked. 

"I think that's my question." Optimus said. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah! I mean the work is tough, but I'm having fun!" Bulkhead said.

"Most bots do not find the formulas for quantum physics, fun." Shockwave stayed bluntly. 

"But it is fun." Bulkhead said. "It's like putting a puzzle together."

Shockwave shook his helm. "The thoughts of a genius are unreasonable." He said with an ex-vent.

"Genius?" Optimus asked, looking up at Bulkhead. 

"I gave Bulkhead several tests and he scored amongst the top 0.01 percent for physics, quantum physics and quantum theory." Shockwave explained. "How he became a mere repair bot shows the incompetence of his instructors."

Bulkhead scratched his cheekplate, flushing at the praise. Optimus was clearly surprised, he knew Bulkhead always had a knack for space bridges, but he never thought that he was a genius. His chassis felt a bit tight; he should have paid closer attention to Bulkhead. 

"I'm glad he's finally getting the recognition he deserves." Optimus said. The large mech beamed down at his leader.

"Want to see what we made?" Bulkhead asked. He was eager and almost giddy. 

"Is it safe?" Optimus asked. He didn't know much about quantum physics but he knew it was dangerous.

"Of course! The reason we closed the science department before this was to make sure everything was safe and stable." Bulkhead explained. He began to push Optimus towards a door that led to the engineering department. 

The first room Optimus was in was messy, machines lined the wall along with desks covered in half built machinery. Scans dotted the area with readings Optimus couldn't even begin to understand. He had to step over thick tubing and he noted a medical berth off to the side with a bright light over it like some makeshift surgery table. Tools that made Optimus' tanks sink surrounded it and he was certain that the dried fluids were energon. Taking a glimpse back at Shockwave, Optimus remembered that this mech was and still is a feared mad scientist. 

Optimus was stopped outside an unsettlingly thick door that opened as Bulkhead pressed his servo to a scanner. A thick rush of cold air sent an alert to his hub as he entered the chilled room. The inside of the room was much neater than the previous one but cold air made the entire room feel like space. The center of the room was a large table, datapads, beakers, small machines and more were scattered about. At the very center of the table was a beaker with a small swirling blue orb.

"Isn't that a space bridge portal?" Optimus asked in surprise. He stood a bit closer and leaned down to peek into the beaker. 

"Yup!" Bulkhead said happily.

"Why is it in a beaker?" Optimus questioned.

"Because we made it small enough to fit in a beaker!" Bulkhead said. 

Optimus was still very much confused so he turned to Shockwave in hopes of a simpler answer. The warframe was checking some data and glanced back at them. 

"We managed to create our own space bridges but we decided to try see if we could make one without the bridge itself." Shockwave explained but seeing Optimus' confusion, he continued. "The space bridge itself acts as a coordination key but also as a stabilizer for the space bridge portal. It is capable of remaining open and stable due to the technology in the bridge and tends to be rather sensitive. A reason the Autobots deployed repair crews to keep constant maintenance on them.

"While Bulkhead is working on a better construction to strengthen the space bridges themselves, we decided to also work on a theory where a space bridge portal could function without the use of a space bridge itself." Shockwave said. "Unfortunately we cannot make it any larger or it becomes unstable and causes a massive suction."

"So you have a blackhole in a beaker." Optimus said, stepping away from the table.

"Kind of?" Bulkhead said with a laugh. "It's harmless right now but since it's constantly connected to the dimensional rift, we have to be careful. Megatron almost dropped the project when we did make a blackhole the first time."

"Lord Megatron was not amused with that miscalculation." Shockwave noted. "We managed to fix the formula but now it is only large enough to transport a cube."

"And we don't know where the cube goes." Bulkhead mentioned. "It isn't picking up the coordinates we insert since that was the job of the space bridge itself."

Optimus stared at Bulkhead and then back at the beaker before looking back at Bulkhead. "Do not let Bumblebee know you have a blackhole in a beaker."

"I wont!" Bulkhead laughed. 

"We should leave this room now, the readings are becoming unstable." Shockwave mentioned, gesturing towards the door.

They left swiftly and after a decontamination bath, due to possible radiation, Optimus sat on a stool as Shockwave prepared them energon. Bulkhead shook off the last of the disinfectant from his digits.

"What do you think?" Bulkhead asked.

"It's amazing." Optimus said honestly. "Science isn't my strong point, but I can tell you're working hard."

Bulkhead smiled brightly at the praise. "You know, I was so excited about working with space bridges that I didn't realize I'd be working with cons until I was already here." He explained. "But Shockwave and the others didn't ignore me or dismiss what I had to say. They listened and they asked for clarification. Shockwave is blunt and can be pretty rude, but he just wants to understand things correctly. Even Black Arachnia is easier to talk to."

"Black Arachnia is the other Science Lead, right?" Optimus asked. Bulkhead nodded. "Does she have multiple red optics and kind of small for a Decepticon?"

"That's her!" Bulkhead said. "Do you know her?"

Optimus shook his head. "I saw her in the hall and she glared at me." He said.

"Black Arachnia is a difficult bot to like." Shockwave stated, holding three cubes in his servos. He gave one to each of them as he sipped his own. "She seems to hate everybot and her loyalty to Lord Megatron is simply because he funds her research. I will admit that she is a talented scientist."

"She managed to create an energy efficient fuel that uses less energon consumption but still works the same." Bulkhead explained. "We are trying to get it to work for space bridges but it might not be strong enough."

"It is strong enough to power city states which is what Lord Megatron wants." Shockwave stated. "The less energon we have to spend on energy, the more we can have for fuel."

"I've noticed that DDecepticons ave very rich energon, even engex and energon goodies." Optimus noted. "The amount saved with this fuel must be substantial."

"Let's just say that this formula of hers is the only reason Lord Megatron keeps Black Arachnia in the ranks." Shockwave states. "Her other formulas tend to border on chemical warfare. Apparently that is her hobby."

"That's a nasty hobby." Bulkhead muttered as he put his cube down. "Was she born with the optics and appendages?"

"No, apparently that was caused by an accident stellar cycles ago." Shockwave said. "She is a techno-organic now but she used to be a full robotic organism like us."

Optimus froze and looked down at his servos. His cube was mostly full but he found himself no longer craving fuel. Black Arachnia got stuck in an accident and mutated… why did this bother him so much?

"Oi Bulkhead we've got some issues with the machine!"

A warframe Optimus didn't recognize stuck his helm out from a doorway. Bulkhead got up immediately and made his way to the warframe, stepping over thick wire bundles as he does. When he disappeared, Optimus slowly turned to Shockwave to see if he should get going soon since Bulkhead was now occupied.

"Are you and Lord Megatron in a disagreement?" Shockwave asked suddenly. 

Optimus flinched and leaned back. "H-how-why does everyone know that?" He stuttered. "And it wasn't a fight!"

"Lord Megatron’s mood has been down for the last couple of cycles." Shockwave explained. "Given that he isn't angry at anybot in particular, it is obvious that his mood has to do with you."

Optimus looked down at his servos again and frowned. He still didn't know what to do. His processor was going over every pro and con that each scenario has and all he can see is Cybertron going to war and not bring able to stop it. 

"I do not understand the turmoil you are currently in, Consort Optimus, but I do think it would be wise to at least speak with Lord Megatron about it." Shockwave stated. 

For a moment, Optimus thought he was talking to Longarm Prime again, but he pushed that thought to the side. Now wasn't the time to remember a mech who technically never existed. Now wasn't the time to falter. 

Standing up, Optimus thanked Shockwave and left. In the elevator, he found Lugnut waiting for him obediently. 

"Where is Megatron?" Optimus asked, the door closing behind them.

"LORD MEGATRON SHOULD BE IN HIS OFFICE THIS CYCLE!" Lugnut stated.

"Take me to him." Optimus said. 

Lugnut nodded and pressed a certain button on the elevator. It took them to a floor in the middle of the tower. This floor was packed with bots going about their business and Optimus was almost worried he'd get crushed until Lugnut led him to a different elevator. Inside was only a scanner and after pressing his servo to it, Lugnut leaned forward to allow an optic scan. The lights in the elevator dimmed as they began a long ascent to the top of the tower.

They went higher than Optimus' habsuite, most likely to the very top floor given the time it took. When I finally came to a stop, they were greeted with an open hallway not unlike any others. Walking down it, they came to a door, guarded by two large warframes who acknowledged Lugnut with a nod before bowing deeply to Optimus. The last action twisted his gut, but Optimus ignored it and stepped closer to the door.

"Lord Megatron is in a meeting." One of yhe guards stated.

Optimus looked out at the sky from the window. It was only midday. "I'll wait." He said, taking a spot against the wall and leaning against it. 

Hadeen began to set before the door to Megatron’s office opened and a mech with a deep blue frame and red visor left. Optimus still stood against against wall, Lugnut seated on the floor beside him looking absolutely bored. Optimus had gone through plenty of discipline training as a cadet so he was used to standing and waiting. The Decepticon with the visor stopped in front of Lugnut but nodded for the guard to inform Megatron of their guest. 

"Soundwave: Shocked at deplorable state of Lugnut." The new mech spoke.

Lugnut stood up immediately, towering over the smaller warframe. "I AM NOT DEPLORABLE!" Lugnut shouted. 

"Soundwave: Thinks otherwise. Lugnut: sitting around as Consort Optimus stands." Soundwave argued. 

"Consort Optimus, you can enter now." The guard said, gesturing for Optimus to enter.

Optimus decided to ignore the arguing cons behind him and entered the office. The inside was bare of anything unnecessary, only a few gem statues for decoration. The desk was piled up with datapads, several consoles and shelves lined the walls. Many held locks on them to prevent wandering servos from snatching important information. The only vent in the room was directly above the desk where Megatron sat. 

The warlord was engrossed in his datapads, not noticing as Optimus came to stand in front of the desk. It took almost a klik for Megatron to glance up and he did a double take when he saw Optimus. Standing up, Megatron immediately walked around the desk. 

"How long have you been waiting?" Megatron asked. 

"Just since midday." Optimus said.

"The guard should have let you in." Megatron scolded. "Are you okay?"

Optimus squirmed in his spot, digits locking together. "I need to speak with you." He said, trying to sound confident. 

Megatron noticed Optimus' discomfort and offered him to take a seat at a sitting area that was off to the side. Optimus sat down, staying at the edge of the large chair as Megatron sat down beside him. 

"Did you want any fuel?" Megatron offered but Optimus shook his head. "What did you need to speak about then?"

Optimus felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it. He'd spent all the time he'd waited thinking about how to speak with Megatron. He just needed his voicebox to work properly. Static came our and he coughed to clear his systems. Megatron seemed confused and worried about his situation but Optimus tried once more to speak.

"I'm… confused." Optimus finally spoke. He looked up at Megatron who nodded for him to continue. "I've spent the last few cycles going over everything and I just can't understand anything. I'm an Autobot, I swore my loyalty to Ultra Magnus and I made a vow to protect Cybertron no matter what. But with everything going on, I can't do both… I may not be able to do either!"

"What is going on?" Megatron asked. 

"You don't know?" Optimus asked. "Don't you still have spies in Iacon?"

"Of course I do, but I haven't heard anything from them since we entered Kaon." Megatron stated. Shockwave had been his key point of communication, without him, messages took much longer to arrive. 

"Iacon and the Council are split. Some want peace, they want to accept you and the Decepticons and give you a chance, but a majority want to drive you off of Cybertron, even if it means war." Optimus explained as clearly as he could despite how stressed he was. He shouldn't be giving this information to Megatron, but he couldn't figure out a solution on his own… and maybe he could see the true colors of the warlord. 

"How do you know this?" Megatron asked. 

"I have my own spy in Iacon." Optimus said sheepishly. "He came here the other cycle to tell me what happened."

"So that's who you were speaking with." Megatron said, sounding almost relieved. "Wait, he got into our habauite?"

"He's a cyberninja." Optimus explained. "He told me that the Council is letting the civillians panic over the situation and Ultra Magnus isn't trying to help anybot! And I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing!

"I was sent as a spy to see what your true intentions are and after three Vorn, I'm supposed to report back and Ultra Magnus said he'd somehow break the bond and I was never told anything past that! But you actually want peace and my team are happy and finally have bots that treat them with respect and if I leave, they can't just stay here, especially if we go to war! And if we do go to war, so many civillians will get dragged into it, so much of Cybertron would get destroyed and so many lives will be lost, but if I stay here… if I stay, they could say you're holding me hostage and try to drag you down another way or I'll just be written off as a traitor and start the war anyway and-"

"Optimus!" Megatron said loudly.

Optimus flinched and looked up at Megatron with wide optics. The warlord was kneeling in front of him, large servos on his arms, holding him steady but not too hard. From the expression on the warlord's faceplate, he'd been calling his name for a while. Optimus realized his vents were running high; he was hyperventilating. Shaking, Optimus looked up at Megatron.

"Focus on me." Megatron said. "Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, Optimus let his focus stay on Megatron. Unable to look in his optics, Optimus focused on his chinplate. His vents began to slow, his frame began to lighten as his joints unlocked. After several kliks, Optimus was no longer in a state of panic and Megatron was now holding his servos. Stroking the back of them gently, Megatron let out a hum as he looked Optimus in the optic. 

"You have had a lot on your processor." Megatron said. 

"I-I don't know what to do." Optimus spoke, his voice cracking. 

"What do you want to do?" Megatron asked. Optimus shook his head. "I am sure you know, you just keep overthinking things. What is most important to you?"

Optimus remained silent. He watched as Megatron continued to stroke the back of his servos and he couldn't help but notice how nice it felt. Closing his optics, Optimus let his vents settle. Looking up to Megatron, he met his optics with a determined expression. 

"My vow to protect Cybertron." He said. 

Megatron smiled and stood up, still holding Optimus' servos. Optimus stood up, stumbling slightly as Megatron led him to stand between the chairs. 

"That is what I wanted to hear." Megatron spoke softly. "Now, in order to protect Cybertron, what do you intend to do?"

Optimus looked up at Megatron, trying not to look too embarrassed at being held so close to the warlord. He didn't mind it as much as he probably should've.

"I can't decide right now." Optimus said. "I don't know enough… and I really can't make a decision without speaking with Ultra Magnus first."

"That is an acceptable answer." Megatron stated. "It seems I will have to wait patiently for the next two vorn."

"I feel like I should apologize though." Optimus said carefully. Megatron gave him a look of confusion. "I did reveal that Ultra Magnus wanted to make an excuse to break the bond which is very inappropriate."

"I had always believed that he would attempt such a plan." Megatron admitted. "I still highly doubt he'd let one of his beloved Primes stay Bonded to me of all mechs."

"I'm not one of his beloved Primes." Optimus frowned. "I'm the spare."

"Maybe to others but Ultra Magnus seemed very disappointed at our bonding ceremony." Megatron explained. "I do not think he wanted to hand you over."

Optimus flushed at this but looked away with a frown. "Either way, this entire situation feels weird." He said. 

"How so?" Megatron asked.

"You know that I am here to spy on you and my superior wants to break the bonding." Optimus said. "And you are okay with it!"

Megatron simply chuckled. "I believe we should resign for the cycle, tomorrow you will be joining me in a meeting with all of my generals."

"I need a break." Optimus ex-vented.

"Afterwards little one." Megatron promised. 

[xasha777]

In the depths of the uncharted Pacific, a scientific expedition aboard the vessel Arcadia sought to unravel the mysteries of the ocean’s abyss. Dr. Elara Morgenstern, a renowned marine biologist, led the team in search of undiscovered species. Little did they know that their pursuit of knowledge would draw them into a realm of cosmic horror that lay hidden beneath the waves.

In the lab of the Arcadia, a peculiar specimen caught their attention. It appeared to be a cat's head, with fur of silken grey, adorned with tentacles where its body should be. It had been discovered clinging to a deep-sea probe, alive, its many limbs undulating with a grace that belied its eerie visage. They named it Cthulhu's Pet, after the fictional creature of cosmic terror.

Days turned to nights as the team studied the creature, whose orange eyes held an intelligence that was almost human. It was during a midnight watch that the Arcadia first shuddered. The sonar was awash with blips, as if a massive shoal surrounded them. But the waters were devoid of life—save for the one in their lab.

Dr. Morgenstern observed the creature's eyes, glowing brighter with each tremor that ran through the ship. It was then she heard the whispers, soft and insidious, promising ancient secrets and forbidden knowledge. The creature's tentacles began to reach through the bars of its enclosure, touching the minds of the crew with whispers of madness.

A tempest erupted outside, as if called into being by the creature's will. The ship pitched violently, and the power flickered, casting the lab into darkness. When the emergency lights sputtered to life, Dr. Morgenstern was alone—the creature had vanished.

The ship became a tomb. One by one, the crew disappeared, their last screams echoing through steel corridors. Morgenstern hid in the lab, recording her final notes. The whispers were louder now, and she could see them—a myriad of tentacles emerging from the walls, the bulkheads, even the shadows.

She realized the truth: the creature was but an emissary, a herald of something far older and vaster that dwelled in the abyss. It had bonded with the ship, with them, and it had come to claim its due.

As the last entry was scribbled, Dr. Morgenstern felt a cold limb encircle her. She looked into the orange eyes for the last time, now understanding that they were not just windows to the creature’s soul, but to the very depths of the ocean itself, where cosmic horror dwelled, waiting, whispering, until the next unwitting soul dared to unlock its secrets.

[paragonrising]

If there hadn’t been immediate, fiery danger consuming the landscape around them – Carol would have pressed the subject further. As it stood however, this was much more of a go with the flow situation.

And the flow led right towards a shimmering orange doorway, one that neither of them hesitated to run though. They were back in the bar. The few patrons present stared at them, baffled by their sudden appearance and the portal they’d come through. Carol turned and watched the door close.

She hadn’t time to ask a question as sirens began to blare, and panic erupted. Everyone hurried outside, Carol included. All eyes were on the distance, on the vast emptiness of sand. It was in the direction of the mine, but there was no hope of seeing it. Hell, they’d taken a tram for near half hour before—

For an instant, there’d been a flash brighter than the damn sun. Carol looked away, shielding her eyes. When the glare began to diminish and she looked back, she froze in shock. A titanic plume of smoke had risen up into the air, fire broiling and churning within it. Chunks of earth and globs of molten rock careened through the sky.

“… Holy shit,” Carol managed, stunned.

Her eyes narrowed, watching as a wave of sand came rocketing in their direction.

“Get down!” She ordered, forcing one magicless god down behind an anchored bulkhead. The shockwave came roaring through a second afterwards, blasting away the dome housing and structures as if they were papercraft. Carts and vehicles went flying, as did anyone who hadn’t found a place to take cover.

Carol’s gaze rose back up. The debris the eruption had thrown up into the sky was upon them now. She shielded Loki as lava crashed down next to them, splattering seething rock everywhere.

“Get to the ship,” she ordered, “landing pad three."

Loki looked very much put out at the idea that he would ever have let go of knowledge of his own volition. There were a great many things he could have done without remembering, but without them he couldn't learn from them or dredge up an excuse to get extremely drunk.

There wasn't time right now to protest. He ran as Carol suggested, the bizarre clock zipping through the air after him.

"Use your TemPad!" she called.

"I don't have a TemPad! Are you from the TVA?"

"You do have one, silly. It's in your dang pocket! Probably looks more like a reeeally big ring than the blocks you're thinkin' of."

"I don't have-!" Despite his complaints, Loki found himself pulling an item out of his magical pocket. It looked like a large wristwatch with a kintsugi-like face and no hands. "What?"

"That's it! Now hurry up and make a door!"

"H-?"

Miss Minutes made a grumbling noise and headbutted the device. A bright orange doorway opened up ahead of them.

[harventheblorbo]

Hello!! I read the rules and wanted to request a Tfp thingie!

Would it be alright if it was Ratchet reacting to the female reader being super sensitive to yelling? I know Ratchet is a mech that gets angry over his tools and I would think he would be yelling at bulkhead but than the Reader starts to get emotional and scared when hearing the big booming voice. Ratchet sees the reader running off and apologizes to them when he finds them and sooth them.

I am very emotional when it comes to yelling or being in trouble and I would love to have a cute thing with him. If you want it can also be with other characters you want to add or you can switch up the story. I dont mind anything! Have fun!

I have a thinv

Ratchet with a F! Human reader that is sensitive to yelling ➥

Containing:.. Ratchet, F! Human Reader

___ is female

Warning:.. Yelling, maybe abit out of character

Authors note: my first angst request. I will be pouring my hear and soul into this fanfic ❤️ I'm sorry if the ending is abit weird 💀 I'm not good at ending angst all that well. hope you like it dear anon

Ratchet had a loud voice and often was in a grumpy mood. this often led to him having to yell at his younger teammates for messing up or destroying something of his. it was common around the base but it would only happen here and there but not every day.

whenever you came along you took note of this and tried your best to ignore it. you hated being yelled at. no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it got to you and would lead to a breakdown and it wouldn't look pretty for the rest of the day. if it wasn't at you, you were able to push it out of your thought but was still mindful of it.

it was Bulkhead and Ratchet that made you have the most breakdowns due to how much yelling there was between them. it was mainly over Bulkhead breaking his tools and Ratchet using the classic same line "Bulkhead I needed that!". that was fine but when they started to have a full-on argument is when you would get triggered.

"Bulkhead! did you break my tool again?!" Ratchet boomed at Bulkhead picking up the crushed tool that would be used for his current project that he used. "I didn't break your tool..." Bulkhead lied. whenever bulkhead lied it was easy for anyone to tell. "okay maybe I did" Bulkhead admitted as he looked down a bit. "how many times do I have to tell you that you can't break my tools!?" Ratchet shouted at the poor mech for the fourth time this week.

today wasn't a great time for you to be hearing yelling. today wasn't a great day in general for you. the school was slow and awful, people picked on you. the teachers gave you a hard time for being late to your classes. the moment you heard ratchet yelling and starting an argument you started to feel an attack coming up. "I need a breath of fresh air, I'm gonna go up top" You waved your human friends off in a hurry.

it was the only place that you felt safe at, mainly because most of the time, no one was there to judge you, and you truly do like how you can breathe up on top of the base. when you left the elevator you quickly crumbled underneath yourself.

You sobbed letting the past of today all out. you felt stupid for crying over something so dumb like yelling but it was something that triggered you. "breath.. just breath" you repeated to yourself as you sat down in a comfortable position with your head resting on your knees with your arm wrapping your knees.

you heard the elevator come back up with the whirring of the elevator. you quickly wiped your eyes and tried your best to not cry. you look over to your right and saw ratchet breaking your position a bit. 'what is he doing here? shouldn't he be fixing his tool?' you pondered to yourself. he walked over to where you sat and sat next to you, with his feet dangling off the side.

"I'm sorry" he muttered. he truly was sorry. he didn't understand how much you were affected by yelling. "what?" You asked being shocked by what he said. you were honestly a little taken back by the thought of him apologizing. "I'm sorry for yelling like that, I should've been more mindful and thought about the others around me." He apologized to you.

you were quiet for a moment taking in that he just apologized. "I saw the way that you ran off and felt guilty for yelling" He admitted as he glanced at your form. you felt a bit teary-eyed again after hearing that. you leaned against his body "thank you for saying sorry" You accepted his apology. "hmmhmm" He hummed as he put his hand over your back trying to smooth you.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Isolation

Hello, I’m trying that writing thing again. This was an October writing prompt and a lot of fun to wrestle with. It’s also cross-posted on ao3! 

-

Condensation is the first thing you notice, since you've just come out of suspension and it's one of the things that usually signals something has gone wrong when it covers the room and isn't localized to the cryo housing.

Sweating metal makes you nervous because there are supposed to be systems in place to not let moisture settle near the electronics keeping you and everyone else alive. But not as nervous as waking up alone without a clue to why you're up. You were in suspension until you were needed, and usually when someone needs you, they're there to say why, or at least polite enough to leave a message. Someone barking orders as underlings scurry to their places and superiors checking and rechecking all systems green to make sure the great groaning machine you were a small cog in kept running.

At least you think.

Something’s wrong and you’ve woken up fuzzy, mind scrambled and information slides like sand through a sieve from your slowly rebooting brain. Suspension should be like hitting a pause button, at least that’s how it was explained to you, but you were newer than most and hadn’t undergone the procedure before. Now it seems you plunged into the deep dark end of a pool and broke the surface only to find yourself alone.

You're disoriented, so you allow yourself the painful amount of time it takes you to realize that things have gone to hell in a hand basket. There’s no other choice, even as stress burns the grogginess away. 

Awareness washes over you in waves as you feel like separate parts of you awaken at different speeds, each new realization like plunging into ice water as you note the sheer amount of errors and warnings popping up in the systems around you. The condensation collects and drips down screens, leaving trails along failing LEDs as you scramble for some kind of meaning. The screen blaring garbled noise and fragmented data above the door has burned in letters from some half visible warning.

Residual power is lower than it should be and you struggle to remember why. This station-ship-domicile- you should know, why don’t you know?-- isn’t equipped with backup generators? That doesn’t sit right with you. They had something. Reactors? Engines, experimental, borrowed? That fits the foggy puzzle in your mind more than the fact that something with a crew of thousands-

Crew.

You’re part of a crew.

The mission, there’s always a mission. You were benched, until they needed you. Second or third string if you were being generous but the captain had his plan, even if you disagreed with it. Suspension until…

Something went wrong, you woke up. 

The cold ice of fear and awareness swirl and rise up in you, threatening to drown you for a brief eternity before you grab all your spiraling thoughts flowing away on those dangerous riptides. Focus. One thought at a time, in other words, one foot in front of the other. You brace yourself for more bad news and get moving, you need to find out what happened and what’s going on.

You peer into the hallway, gray uniform walls unmarred by your expectations of gunfire or bullet casings. Bulkheads flash with red emergency lighting as the warnings blare over the intercom. It’s a shock to your system as you try to remember what came before and what could have caused this. But you went into suspension first, you weren’t part of the first mission, weren’t allowed to even know the who, what, when, where, and why. 

And it ate at you, to be kept out of the plans to fight for your home, your friends and coworkers. You’re part of the crew! You aren’t supposed to be here, shoved in some auxiliary suspension unit. You wanted to fight! 

But now you’ve woken up alone, slowly and then panicking as you shouldn’t have woken up unless you were supposed to, you clumsily looked for any signs to ascribe some meaning to this new hell. Suspended and waiting, for when you were called on to do your duty, but no one woke you, save for the alarms and failing processes keeping you asleep. 

Focus. Where is everyone? It won’t do anyone any good if you can’t find them.Why aren’t there any tags in range? No heat signatures, no pings on the feed, no movement on radar. 

You’re lucky you woke up at all, you think as you survey the room and then the damage outside. The next hallway over leads to aft weapons and the auxiliary engines, and it’s scored with melted metal and blackened from energy fire. Plasma or something similar must have cut through, something that could’ve gotten the tech this messed up. The cameras in the corners stutter and blink out as they twitch on uneven circuits. There should be power, there’s always power, even when your ship, your home, is taking her knocks. There should be crew members, or bodies, or signs of life anywhere, but you haven’t found anyone and there’s still a lot of ground to cover. This should bring you some hope, but you can’t help overthinking every time you find a new empty hall or more empty barracks or desolate hangars. Most of the drop pods have been deployed. There isn’t even anyone in cryo. 

The hallways stretch out in front of your eyes, every junction revealing new damage or pristine flooring behind sealed doors, and you dutifully follow the signs towards the bridge, and hopefully information or at least a steady power supply. The internal clocks you’ve found are all damaged and spit random numbers at you. It could have been 6 days since you went under or 6 weeks or more and you can’t tell. Something about finding out what happened and making sense of what you’ve found is more important than finding someone. You latch onto putting the pieces together rather than think about your chances of being alone. You can’t help the thoughts that flit around your mind like sparks trying to catch kindling. If you could just figure out the Before, then everything else would make sense.

Right? 

You continue on, a desperate search looking more dire by the minute. Lights flicker and machinery hums where some sections are still connected to the...something. You should remember but that's not important right now. Lower decks not spared from the damage, server rooms and armories sporting wounds from battle pass around you as you ghost through them, eyes taking in the dark details as you hurry on your way. 

You’ve never seen this section of the ship this damaged before. This wasn’t your first rodeo that you or your ship had seen, but it was the first one you weren’t awake for. Usually the hangars take the brunt of enemy fire. The fact that an incursion came so close to your doorstep, while you slept…  

The halls continue until they don’t, ending in starts and fits as damage makes you circumvent passages that are startlingly familiar. 

You’re home. You knew that already, but seeing it like this…You know this place, you lived and worked here. Your coworkers, your fellow crew lived here as well, but the halls are dark and empty. 

The damage is severe, but your memory overlays what should have been. 

Crowds forming in the lunch rush. Poker night crowding outside the bar on the mezzanine. Labs filled with teams of scientists, training rooms filled with troopers. A veritable colony in a metal box hurtling through space and you could see it all as clear as crystal in your mind’s eye, and probably in the data logs if you could find somewhere with power and memory.

Hangars to the starboard side below the many offices, gyms, training rooms, mess halls, should be right down the next hall past the junction you’re currently staring out of. Darkness looms at the edge of your vision and you struggle to parse details of what lies in front of you.

Again, condensation catches your attention, gaze fixating on the offending droplets gleaming in the low light. There’s no water in liquid form in the cold vacuum of space, which was where your ship was the last time you were awake. In your hurry to the bridge you got distracted, hopeful even, of finding some explanation of why you were awake and alone. 

Now you’re standing on the edge of infinity staring blindly into darkness.

Water collects on the floor at the edge of darkness and you look closer to see that the hallway isn’t dark beyond sight because of power failures. The difference between emergency lights bouncing off the metal of the hallway and the space in front of you is that there is no metal to reflect the dying power cells. 

There’s a hole in your spaceship.

Warped metal from heat and something large cleaving through the decks creates the illusion of the ship being sliced in half, and for all you know, maybe it was.

But how does titanium alloy melt away like butter? How does a flagship like your home fall? 

The garbled warnings must have been from the hull breach after something cut through deck after deck, but wherever you landed had enough atmosphere to quiet the alarms that must have shrieked like banshees at the colossal loss of pressure and oxygen levels.

You still can’t see much in this darkness, but a camera you hack can make out the sad misshapen connection that still exists between the bow and the stern of the ship. Its eyes become yours and you spy something a few decks up. Your way across the gap and forward towards the bridge. You’ll have your answers there.

You have to.

Picking your way there takes longer than you want it to, but the damage is severe and the power is out in too many sectors for you to get through with a straight path. You travel through the residential deck, past silent sleeping accommodations in an empty echoing barracks. You should have realized it was the wind that was making the small noises you registered over creaking metal, since it’s nothing at all like the steady familiar hum of cycled air in the filtration system.  

The small mistake is added to your mental pile and you curse yourself for spiraling. You curse yourself more for your powerlessness. 

Small personal affects lay abandoned in the rooms and you tear your eyes away from familiar faces in photographs and unmade beds.

You used to live here, with thousands others. To wake up and have no one left, to be truly alone for the first time in your life. It was like parts of you were missing. Not having the full story ate at you almost as much, but more than anything you wanted to find your commanding officers. They would know what to do, they always did, and then you would have orders and neat little lines to follow again.

You would belong.

There’s a series of security doors half opened as you finally approach the bridge, wounds in metal still visible in the low light and it makes something inside you shudder. How you wish you had a flashlight. Fear spikes and threatens to overtake you once again because the what ifs are buffeting your brain. 

You hesitate outside.

You have to know.

The bridge is the most logical place to search for information, with its extra shielding and back up power. The server rooms you passed gave you nothing and the monotonous garbled droning of robotic voices were ghosts stuck in their own cycles. Nothing to feed your curiosity.

Slinking onto the bridge you freeze again at the damage. The holotable is cracked, TACMAP glitching and buzzing erratically every couple of seconds. The monitors lining the stations and walls are all damaged as well, some cracked or on the ground, some offline while others show you what you’ve been looking for.

A starting point. The reason they’re all gone.

An emergency signal calling for all hands to abandon ship.

You’re all alone

The red lettering flickers as the power fluctuates and you feel it surge and die as you watch the screen go dark but the afterimages of the letters have burned into the screen. More ghosts.

Everyone who was able to, left. 

Everyone but you.

No one came for you.

You were left sleeping while the ship was lost.

The timestamp on the message tells you it was December when your home was lost, when your captain called for a retreat and your crew poured out of your home. 

Rats fleeing a sinking ship, you think bitterly and then guilt hums in your mind alongside the hive of other regrets.

What files you can tear from sleeping servers and black boxes let you hear some of their final moments. They were scared and alone, grasping at each other as they fled from an unexpected enemy when they were hunting another. 

Somehow outnumbered and outgunned in a matter of minutes. Human reaction speeds too slow and their brains too small to run the numbers. 

If you had been there, been awake, been allowed, would more have been saved?

Your code shivers as you grieve even as you pour over the data. Parts of you splitter as you relive the data. Your captain barking orders and then begrudgingly allowing himself to be escorted to a dropship. The teams guarding him were good but the files ended all too soon. Everything else is older, but still you pour through all the things you missed, every conversation not dumped, every fragment of data on file.

The biggest part of you combs over the information that was the most recent, most up to date, but other threads search for all you missed. So many gaps in your knowledge base make you twitchy and nothing you learn seems to help.

Your captain hadn’t been sleeping well. Your commander had been fraying at the edges again, and no one had your sense of humor to help her stay grounded. The engineers were worried and complaining without you around to manage requisitions and communicate the necessities they demanded. Science teams and platoons of marines and helljumpers and pilots all showed signs of stress and burnout and fear. The ship stank of it, like it was burned into her halls now.

You hadn’t been around to pester or nudge or bother or mother hen.

You want to scream so you do.

Speakers on the walls crackle and explode into static as you rage and weep alone in the skeleton of your ship. It’s not fair. Sparks fly and some of the sputtering lights hum and burn hot and then burst under the waves of your unrestrained grief. Screens, half dead and flickering blue black light up like fire under the flare of your emotions burning like an inferno. Peaceful gold becomes amber-orange-red-red-red at the injustice of it all.

Your crew, missing or dead. Your captain, somewhere beyond your knowledge and reach. Your home, lost and now it will become your tomb.

You’ve learned everything and nothing. There were at least four impacts, the hull breached, so many dead in so short of a time. Teams of trained soldiers were nothing against an organized onslaught of enemy ships that could cut through energy shielding and titanium alloy.

The black box tells you it’s no longer December. You have been sleeping longer than you thought. A dreamless sleep, suspended in waiting, only to wake up to a nightmare.

No one came for you. 

Not because you were forgotten or unwanted. But because there was no one left. The last bits of data you pry from the cold corpse of the systems that once flourished under your touch tells you what you wouldn’t let yourself think about.

Thinking is what you do, planning for every eventuality is why the humans made you and kept you around. You had already run the numbers but something wouldn’t let you despair or spiral until you knew for certain. Hope. A dangerous thing.

Now there was no one left. Just you, pacing broken circuits in a husk of a ship, no life support, no weapons systems, no beacons, no distress signal.

The timestamps told you enough. Sure she was once a beauty, pride and joy of the fleet, but not without her frigates and air support and crew. 

Your captain had ordered all hands to abandon ship. A thread of you, disparate from your core, lonely, scared and already angry at the unfairness of it all seethes at the fact no one woke you. 

No one came for you.

You could have made a difference! 

You were there to help them! 

You, who were silicon and glass and lightning in a bottle, their secret weapon who could move faster and make them win, locked away at the wrong time while they were picked apart.

The attack had happened and it seemed that the vultures had come and gone and you were alone. You’ve never been alone.

Suspension had frozen you, but you were already a few years into your service. And without anything to do, you were going to go mad sooner than later. Rampancy made all of your kind a ticking time bomb when you literally outlived your usefulness and your brain fragmented and ate you. Which all things considered, sounded like it sucked more than getting flung into a sun or something.

Did you actually miss the feel of radiation licking at your hull? 

The ship was dying around you. You could feel it. Alien engines wired by human hands, welded on like you had some idea of what you were doing. The reactors were offline, which you should probably be thankful for despite the lack of power. Tricky things they were, and it’s not like you wanted a light show if something went wrong.

You’re tired all of a sudden.

The emotional toll roiling through your matrix and burning circuits in your mad grief made you long for suspension for a few nanoseconds. You were already spread thin from your data chip, the secure housing keeping you safe and acting as your anchor as you crawled through miles of wiring and machinery to find out the truth. If you left it completely and the power flickered a bit too much…

Well you had some experience with power fluctuations and it was…less than pleasant. 

You don’t know where you’ve landed or if anyone is out there looking for you. There’s not enough sensors or tech for you to communicate or look.

You’re trapped, and somehow that doesn’t make you scared.

Well, not all of you.

Your biggest fragment is tired, and maybe perhaps in shock.

You want nothing more to curl up into your chip and rest. Maybe you’ll have dreams this time.

It’s a long way back to the server room where you were suspended to begin with, so you spare one last look at your former home, camera’s focusing their gaze on the central housing unit near the center of the bridge.

It looks sturdy enough, undamaged too, but you can’t run a scan.

Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe because you’ve always taken risks, been called a bit of a flyboy. 

But you were the AI of the biggest and best ship. You always made it out. What’s a little jump to the old system? You gather all your tangled threads and bits of code, packets checked and double checked and reach out. 

[erimeows]

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features. 

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned. 

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face. 

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick. 

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence. 

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

[ddagent]

If you're still accepting prompts,

I'm dying to see that idea you had where John is super anxious about meeting Delenn's parents.

John/Delenn Summer Promptathon | Read at AO3

As he paced the length of the empty arrivals gate, John Sheridan couldn’t help the stew of nerves simmering inside of him. He’d led fleets into battle, declared independence from his own government; hell, he’d faced down a Minbari war cruiser. And, yet, he felt like he was going to be sick. All because he was meeting Delenn’s parents for the first time.

Sitting patiently on one of the hard plastic seats, his fiancée was the picture of serenity. “John,” she soothed, her hand catching his sleeve on his eleventh pass across the gate. “If you do not stop, your legs will go straight through the bulkhead.”

“I know.” He stilled – for all of five seconds. Then his hands were pulling at his jacket sleeves, running through his hair. Delenn had to physically stand and take his hands, pressing them firmly against her hips, for him to actually stop. But even then, John’s hands did not remain motionless for long. They cradled his fiancée against his torso, one hand lifting from her waist to lift her chin closer to his mouth. “We should probably stop. I don’t want your parents to get the wrong impression.”

Delenn chuckled. “I am carrying your child, John Sheridan. I think they have all the impression they need.”

At that reminder, John immediately pulled away and began pacing. What the hell were Delenn’s parents going to think of him? Probably some crude Human caveman who couldn’t wait until they were married – as per Minbari tradition – to have sex. But it was the end of the Shadow War and between Z’ha’dum and the engagement ring, they had fallen into bed as easily as they had done everything else together. Shortly after her trip back to Minbar, Delenn had discovered she was pregnant. Both of them had been ecstatic: they wanted a home, a family. But in their jubilation, John hadn’t considered the cardinal sin of knocking up one of the most eminent leaders of the Minbari Religious Caste.

“They’re here.”

Well, here goes nothing. John crossed the arrivals gate to instantly stand beside Delenn, struggling to place his hands until his fiancée yanked his arm possessively around her waist. His thumb brushed the first hint of a bump – their child – that would make it clear to those who knew Delenn well that she was expecting. John wasn’t sure whether her parents figured into that category yet. Both had seen Delenn during her recent visit to Minbar but she had not gone into any details other than it was good to see them both again.

And suddenly there was a male Minbari, about as tall as John; stick-thin with wire framed glasses upon his nose. He waved eagerly at the pair of them, before crossing the arrivals gate with a quickened pace. Immediately, he gathered Delenn up into his arms. “You’re looking well, Te’fi.” Delenn’s father, Derimer, greeted. He then looked towards John and thrust out his hand. “You must be John!”

“Yes, sir.” Derimer’s grip was firm, but not unpleasant, as he shook John’s hand so vigorously, he thought he was about to have it torn off. “Delenn’s told me a lot about you; it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours, John. Now, my daughter tells me that you have an interest in Earth history.” Derimer adjusted the glasses upon his nose. “So do I. I’ve been fascinated by your people since Delenn first started investigating you for the Grey Council. I have a thousand and one questions for you.” John chuckled until he caught sight of Delenn’s look and realised her father was not kidding. “Now, where do I want to start. What do you know about dinosaurs, John?”

Before John could describe the plot to Jurassic Park, Delenn’s mother arrived. She had her daughter’s regal bearing, her miss-nothing eyes. Her head inclined in favour of both John, Delenn, and her husband. “Thank you for meeting us both. It is good to see you again, Delenn, and to meet you, John. Our daughter has written often of you.”

Beside him, Delenn flushed. John just grinned but tried not to act too cocky, knowing there was a stack of letters back on Earth that described, in vivid detail, just how amazing Delenn was. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both as well. Delenn’s told me that you are with the Sisters of Valeria. Were they okay with giving you some time away?”

Madrenn simply nodded. “They were. Of course, it helped that I told them that if I did not get to see my daughter and her new family, I would reveal certain secrets that the Sisters have kept secret for a thousand years. They quickly understood.” Delenn slid her arm around her mother’s, and the pair led the charge. “Shall we go?”

Derimer simply patted John on the shoulder as they hustled to catch up. For some reason, that stew of nerves had just hit the boil. Thank God Delenn is on my side.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Oh Steam Ghoul, tell me about the wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald please. I am invested now.

I will do my best! Thank you for letting me talk about it. It's very fascinating. I'll try not to get mogged down with the minutiae.

First, "The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" is a song written by Gordon Lightfoot shortly after the disaster. It does not glamorize it. It laments the tragedy and the loss of twenty-nine individuals whose relatives are still alive today. During a diving expedition, the original bell was cut out of the Fitz and replaced with a replica engraved with their names as a permanent grave marker while the original was brought to a museum. May their memory be a blessing. Their unwilling sacrifice led to greater safety precautions taken in future endeavors. A moment of silence, please.

Onto the ship and her sinking. The SS Edmund Fitzgerald was the largest ship to launch on the Great Lakes at the time and she remains the largest ship to have sunk there. It was called "The Titanic of the Great Lakes" which certainly was! Interesting!! (Something something, doomed to repeat what we don't learn). She broke hauling records that she herself set. And her dear Captain often played music over the speakers, delighting the boat watchers as he passed through the rivers and locks connecting the lakes.

Something about that part hits me harder than everything else I've ever learned about it. Like the band that played as the Titanic sank. I don't know if there's a word for this feeling. I don't even know if I can describe it in words at all besides "very human", if that makes sense. I don't know if I could call it grief. It's the same feeling I get when looking at cave paintings and a little jar of preserved Roman face cream with fingerprints of the previous owner still swirled into it. "You and I are much alike."

And on the night of November 10th, 1975, she sank. The storm was terrible, with hurricane-force winds and waves reaching up to 35 feet in height. A theory has been proposed about the "Three Sisters" sinking her, a trio of rogue waves that have been recorded in Superior's waters. Rogue waves are defined as waves reaching nearly double the height of the other waves around them. A simulation was done where a 56 ft (17 meter) wave hit a scale model of the Fitz and it was enough to submerge her bow and stern with water completely. Now imagine three of those waves, possibly even larger. One right after the other. And research places her in the worst of the storm, in the most volatile waters of Superior. She was doom-driven that night. Nothing could have saved her or her crew.

She was also overloaded with cargo, which slowed her down and prevented her from reaching her destination earlier. The shipping companies were accused of valuing profit over human life. Typical corporation shit. Those men have blood on their hands and I hope they drown in it.

Her structural integrity was also brought into question during the investigation. She was not seaworthy when they set out on the afternoon of November 9th. Her load lines had been increased, her maintenance was suspect and critically, she had no watertight bulkheads and a history of long ship hull failure. Make a boat out of aluminum foil and poke a few holes in it. Now put it in a washing machine on the highest setting with a bunch of rocks. See how it turns out.

(Visibly restraining myself from talking about how she was built and reformatted and how the reformat sucked ass because she was all-welded and therefore brittle and prone to breakage. She also had no instrumentation and a lack of system to detect and monitor water in the cargo hold despite this being a known problem.)

There was also an ineffective hatch closure that lead to a fatal loss of buoyancy due to gradually pooling water throughout the journey, causing the sinking to come "out of nowhere".

There are multiple theories about how she sank and they probably all combined on that night. I am merely an amateur researcher.

No distress signals were sent out when she sank. Her last recorded message was:

"We are holding our own."

No bodies were ever recovered. Lake Superior's temperatures mean no bacteria can grow, so they will never decay either. Diving is forbidden as it is a graveyard and deserves respect. Remember the dead and leave them be. They didn't ask for this fate.

All that remains are the faces and names of the wives and the sons and the daughters.