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vancafreader · 3 years

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Fine Art Comics of Canada: Sixties to Seventies - Heart of London, Snore & More by Robert Dayton

Part One: The Heart Of London

There was a time where artists were making vast ripples away from Toronto and other outsized hubs. London, Ontario was such a place, all eyes were on it in the late 60’s and not Toronto. The Heart Of London comic book from 1968 was actually an exhibition catalog, an overview of the art that was happening there at the time. Organised by The National Gallery of Canada, this exhibition traveled from London to Toronto, Kingston, Edmonton, Victoria, Charlottetown and, of course, The National Gallery H.Q. itself in Ottawa.

This catalog/comic book consisted of fumetti, comics done using photos for the images. Fumetti was most prominently used in the 60’s by Harvey Kurtzman in Help and Playboy, prolifically in numerous Mexican comic book melodramas, and in Italian comics featuring the masked master criminal Satanik. Heart Of London’s particular fumetti is further stylized by heavily contrasted processing causing colours so bright that they make everything heightened artifice, buzzing as if emanating from a higher plane of being.

Cover of the Heart Of London catalogue

The Heart of London logo in Pepto-Bismol pink is rendered somewhere between Archie and underground comix titles. Above it, The Comics Code of Authority symbol -a comic book mainstay of the day implying that the work is of safe moral quality- has been altered to “National Gallery of Canada”, the institution that made this comic book and exhibition happen. The cover features what appears to be London public workers, perhaps? These men in yellow hard hats casually stand in front of a store with a Coca-Cola logo also coloured Pepto-Bismol pink, Pop Art style, at the city’s main intersection in what very well may be the heart of London.

The comic opens with a quote placed above a looming Brutalist parking lot, huddling various small businesses below it. This quote contains the phrase “heart of London” but it is rather self-deprecatingly not about London, Ontario but London, England in World War One. Sharing a name with London, England has often made this Ontario city the butt of many a joke, ie. “I live in London… (long pause) Ontario” with its population being just over 200,000 in 1968. Named in 1793 by Lord Simcoe, Upper Canada’s first Lieutenant-Governor known for starting the abolition of slavery, he was also fervently British, his vision for Canada was for it to be like England which he looooved, desperately (but stiffly) wanting this particular London to become Ontario’s capital. Alas, Toronto was chosen instead. Related, always related to everything: the term “cosmic consciousness”, the higher state of consciousness, was coined in London in 1872 by Richard Bucke, a psychiatrist and head of The Asylum For The Insane, after he received a blinding vision, illuminating him. Besides being active in asylum reform, Bucke was heavily involved in the arts -the vision occurred after an evening spent reading Romantic poetry as well as poems by Walt Whitman, who he later befriended. Yes, London, Ontario is an eccentric place.

The artists involved in the Heart Of London show were part of what was known as “London Regionalism”, a loose-knit movement of artists who were adamant about residing in London, away from Toronto or New York. Artist Greg Curnoe helped establish some of the very first artist-run centres there. He was an early member and huge proponent of CARFAC, a Canadian organisation that fights for artists to get paid and paid fairly for their work. CARFAC was founded in London by Heart Of London artists Jack Chambers and Tony Urquhart -along with Kim Ondaatje.

Besides Curnoe, Chambers, and Urquhart, the eleven artists in Heart Of London included John Boyle, Bev Kelly, Murray Favro, Ron Martin, David Rabinowitch, Royden Rabinowitch, Walter Redinger, and Ed Zelenak. They are all profiled in fumetti form talking about their practice through speech balloons and captions, along with quick biographical details. Many of these artists were known for their inventiveness, they were influenced by a variety of subject matter -including comic art- without falsely delineating these influences into false boxes of high or low art. They didn’t just make work in the visual art field either. Along with a Hart Of London work-on-paper, Chambers made an experimental film with the same name in 1970. This film intensely shows brutal shots of an abattoir in Spain interspersed with London scenes; it has been described by Stan Brakhage as “one of the greatest films ever made.” Both Curnoe’s Heart Of London painting from 1967 and Jack Chambers’ 1968 work-on-paper Hart Of London are in the show.

Noted curator and historian Judith Rodger told me that Curnoe’s Heart Of London piece depicts The Forks Of the Thames downtown, “arguably the heart of London” near many of the artists’ studios with Greg’s studio as the main hub or heart of it all. As for the idea of a comic book catalog, it was a mystery until Rodger guided me to Katie Cholette’s PhD thesis Memory and Mythmaking: the role of autobiography in the works of Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe which states that it was the idea of William Bragg, assistant to the director of The National Gallery’s extension services. Cholette’s paper quotes Bragg from the Sept 29, 1968 New York Times’ Arts Notes column, “…The idea was to make a kind of scrapbook, to talk as a group, not individuals. Their work is kind of echoed by the comics—it’s really their bag […] Everyone likes to read comics once in a while, anyway.” Due to its uniqueness, the catalog garnered a lot of press for the show. Beverley Lambert (Bev Kelly in the show) says, “I think we all thought it was pretty neat and it was funny. It got people’s attention.”

When I talked to artist John Boyle about this comic book catalog, he said right away, “It’s too bad that Greg Curnoe isn’t with us anymore, because he was really interested in comic books. And he always did comic book or comic-like drawings from the time he was a little kid.” In the book Greg Curnoe Life And Work, author Judith Rodger’s description of his 1963 painting Myself Walking North In the Tweed Coat could be ascribed to many of his works. “The flat, vivid colours; schematic outlines; and text all come from his love of the comic book.” As well as the inclusion of the name of the newspaper strip Mary Worth in the piece. Another colourful painting casually inserts Dick Tracy into the frame as a representative of one of his interests. Curnoe’s series of cut-out collages were often shaped into cartoony and anthropomorphic forms.

Curated by Pierre Théberge at The National Gallery, Boyle readily notes, “Both Curnoe and Chambers talked up all the other artists who were around in London, and ended up persuading Théberge to have a group show to get a sense of the whole London art scene.”

The comic book itself doesn’t give William Bragg’s name at all, nada. The designer is credited: Roger Duhamel, FRSC, Queen’s Printer and Controller of Stationery, a federal government official, as well as the design firm: Eccleston + Glossop International. All of the photos, however, were done by the late Don Vincent, of whom Boyle says, “He was a friend of ours, of all of us. And a really terrific photographer. And he documented the whole London scene as it unfolded taking photographs all the time of everybody in this show and just of London, his whole life was photography.” Vincent’s work also appeared in 20 Cent Magazine, a delightfully scrappy local art magazine started in the mid-60’s with many of the people in the show, including Boyle and Curnoe, contributing writings and drawings. 20 Cent Magazine sold for 25 cents, ha! Vincent also photographed The Nihilist Spasm Band who are regarded as the first noise-rock band; this amazing, mind-blowing, intense and milk-spurtingly funny act was founded by the late Greg Curnoe, with Boyle and Favro (playing unique guitars that he builds himself) as still very active members over fifty years later. They are unique cultural ambassadors bringing such songs as “No Canada” to the world, having performed in Japan and in Vancouver at The Western Front with poet George Bowering guesting on guitar, and have had a documentary made about them by the late noise artist Zev Asher.

In one of Heart Of London’s comic book panels about Boyle an early issue of the four color MAD sneaks its way in. I asked him if he read MAD, “Yeah. Although that is from the designer. I read MAD, although not madly.”

A very young Boyle states in one of his panels, “The day I can truly defile myself in public, I will have accomplished everything, and I will no longer have a need to paint.” Reflecting today he says, “I still think that actually, and I think I may have succeeded. Because I do still have the need to paint. But I don’t have the need to show it anymore, or to get applause or approval from anyone. And I don’t know how that arose in me. But I kind of had a fair amount of attention and approval and acceptance and shows in fancy places and meeting important people and pleasing art administrators. And I kind of reached the conclusion that most of them aren’t worth pleasing and their opinion was not as good or not as important as the opinions of other people that I happen to know. And I thought they made a lot of mistakes and people that they chose to support. And also, their approval was very fickle. They were very fickle about it because as soon as fashions would change, their eyes were directed elsewhere and the people they thought were geniuses today were no longer geniuses tomorrow. I did kind of lose my enthusiasm for the art world, but not for painting. So, I was mistaken.”

The final pages of this catalog feature a few reproductions of pieces from the show itself, including Bev Kelly’s window paintings which, with its window panels, adapt quite easily to the comic book form, comparable to an ornate and mysterious painted comic page. The layout, however, was a bit fast and loose with one of her works being printed sideways. In her fumetti section she says, “These windows aren’t ‘real’ windows, they are still paintings. They don’t have sashes and you can’t see through them. A real window is to look through, these are to look at.” Painted on canvas, the window pieces used lumber to make the frames of the paintings, carved to look like the ribbed mouldings of window frames.

Bev Kelly was the sole woman in the show and when I asked her about this she said, “I’m very happy that they didn’t concentrate on this issue that I was the only woman. I didn’t want to be known as an artist because I was a woman.” Having recently moved to London from Saskatchewan with her husband, they were warmly welcomed by Curnoe and she would go see The Nihilist Spasm Band play every week at The York Hotel. Her first solo show was at The 20/20 Gallery in London.

She spent the first two years of her life in Biggar, Saskatchewan where the signs read, “New York Is Big, But This Is Biggar.” Being in London changed her notions of places like New York being the absolute cultural mecca. Beverley says, “There was a really vibrant cultural community there. You know what a regionalist Greg was. He really believed, as a lot of writers do, that you should write about what you know, or you should do your art about what you know, including where you live and so on. And, of course, when I started on the windows that was right out where I was living. The first ones were of my house and then I walked around and took pictures of various houses that I thought looked interesting. When I got a studio in London above one of the businesses downtown I used some of the windows there as inspiration for my works. And then when I went back to Saskatchewan, I was very into that, looking around at what is there where you live. I even got a grant to travel around small-town Saskatchewan and look at the local -in air quotes- ‘folk art’ or untrained artists, let’s say, just painting odd things on their house or their property or whatever. So, I went and I did interviews, took pictures of them, and I imagine I must have produced some kind of a report on it because I probably had to for my grant. So that led me into being more observant and looking more at where it’s from and what is around you and that you don’t have to go to some huge, big place to find art.”

Bev Kelly was her married name and she returned to using her original name, Beverley Lambert in the 1970’s. Lambert did a series of three large lithographs for International Women’s Year in 1975 on women’s issues dealing with real news stories that happened on the prairies. Many of these prints were donated to many women’s centres across the country. She has also worked in clay doing an entire main street based on the fictional Saskatchewan town in the humour book Sarah Binks by Paul Hiebert. Beverley Lambert currently resides in St. John’s, Newfoundland where she makes art and is active as a conservator.

Flip the comic over and it is the same but in either French or English depending on where you first started reading!

Boyle comments, “Last night, my wife and I were looking at the Heart of London catalog. She was amazed that this was a National Gallery touring show with a lot of artists who became major artists in the country. And it looked like they were trying to spend as little money as possible by making this skinny little comic book-like thing on newsprint and I think there’s a large measure of truth in that. Because, again, I remember when Greg Curnoe had a big one-man exhibition retrospective at The National Gallery and the catalogue that they did for him was kind of a minimal thing. It was like a paperback book with one colour reproduction and a number of inferior black and white reproductions and basically a list of artworks in the show. And in the same year, The National Gallery did a big one-man exhibition of Donald Judd, the American sculptor, and his catalogue was a huge coffee table book that weighed about 15 pounds and was three inches thick and loaded with colour from beginning to end. And that just, I think, represented a specifically Canadian problem.” When I mention this to Hairy Who member Art Green he responds, “Well, of course, because they’re trying to impress their betters in New York, so you get a job at The Whitney or The Museum of Modern Art. Canada has been an incubator for museum directors since forever.”

Hairy Who catalog page by Art Green, courtesy of the artist

This style of catalog for Heart Of London corresponds nicely with The Hairy Who, another such grouping of artists around that time who were part of “The Chicago Imagists.” Their three Chicago art shows starting in the mid-60’s were accompanied by comic books that also doubled as exhibition catalogs. The Hairy Who weren’t very aware of the underground comics scene then just barely getting started, they chose this method out of creative necessity, printing a glossy catalog was cost prohibitive. Green explains, “And the printing was expensive and not very good. And we didn’t want to have a show that was called ‘Six Recent Graduates’ or something unexciting like that. And so, we realised we all liked comics and we all knew how to do colour stripping because we’d taken silk-screening courses, we figured out we could do it. And it was cheap.”

Delineating further, The Hairy Who made playful art inspired by a wide range of neat stuff. The London artists were well aware of The Hairy Who. In fact, The Hairy Who were even going to show in London at The 20/20 Gallery. Boyle notes, “20/20 was kind of a precursor to the art in the so-called artist run centres, most of which aren’t run by artists anymore. But anyway, it was one of the first and it was all sponsored by local people in London. And I don’t think it lasted longer than a couple of years, but it was a terrific gallery while it lasted.” Many of the artists in The Heart Of London show were active in 20/20, which lasted from 1966 to 1971. Greg Curnoe discussed the show with Hairy Who artist Karl Wirsum, who in a letter to Art Green wrote, “Well, if they go ahead and publish a comic book, that would be all right.” Green notes, “He may have thought that the 20/20 Gallery was more well-funded than it probably was. But it was on, we all agreed to do it. We were looking forward to it.” Green himself left Chicago for Canada in 1969. The 1968 Democratic Convention had transpired and as Green puts it, “Everybody was angry at everybody.” He was dissatisfied with his teaching job there as well, so when offered a job at NASCAD, the art school in Halifax, he leaped at it.

Alas, the show didn’t happen. In a letter to Art Green, Curnoe writes, “We had to cancel The Hairy Who show and a lot of us were disappointed.” Boyle notes, “I suspect that it got caught up in the death throes of the gallery. And they would have had to cancel whatever exhibitions they had coming up.”

Green notes that both London and Chicago are far enough away from the more major centres that artists can, “…be free to go their own way because there’s not much at stake partly and nobody’s paying attention. And I remember the first time I had been in London, we were driving on our honeymoon to Halifax where I got the job. And I thought, ‘I’m gonna stop here and get a Canada Dry.’ I’m driving down what’s the main street that runs north south and pulled into a corner store. And I said, ‘Do you have Canada Dry?’ ‘No, but we got America Dry.’ I have never before or since seen a bottle of America Dry. I bought it and it wasn’t as good as Canada Dry. And, and that’s not a dream. I mean, I have never seen it ever again. But that made me say, ‘Wow, this is a weird place.’”

While Green was teaching at NASCAD, Curnoe came for what Green calls, “One of his annual excoriations, if that’s a word, he would rip them up one side down the other in public, for being a Canadian art school with no Canadians teaching, hardly any, and all yanks -and it was true! And so anyway, they would invite him and it was almost like a ritual. He would be in the public, there’d be 400 students there and Greg would just rip the place apart. I had known Greg, I heard about the show and so on, and we got along fine. And afterwards he’d come up to me and say, ‘Well, how did I do?’ ‘Greg, you’re doing great, but you do realise I’m a yank’, but I agreed with him 100%.” Both Curnoe and Green commiserated on how Canadian art was neglected at the school. “If he had been in Chicago, Greg would have been a member of The Hairy Who or maybe started it. But he was more political, he had to be, and Chicago, the politics were so acidic that you wouldn’t have wanted to be to be involved in it, unless you went in full immersion. And we were decidedly unpolitical. Although we all agreed on the politics of it. We were a collective in the sense that we wanted people to collect us.” On this, Art Green is a tad glib, having made art responding to and criticizing Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. Both Art and Greg would visit with each other in various Canadian cities: Halifax, Vancouver, Toronto. “Nobody appreciated Greg in Toronto, they went out of their way to un-appreciate him. And luckily, they did put a put up a pretty nice retrospective after he was safely gone.”

Of London, Green notes, “I think that for a period of time. I don’t know how long it was maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours, maybe a few months? Maybe a few years. London, Ontario was most interesting art scene and literary scene in the whole world.”

The propensity for great art still ran in the water there, the stream flowed, there was a continuum and a recognizing of that history. London has some great galleries including Forest City Gallery, founded by Jack Chambers and Greg Curnoe, where The Nihilist Spasm Band plays every Monday night.

In 2013 The London Museum held the group show L.O. Today with artists Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, Jamie Q, Billy Bert Young, Amy Lockhart, Peter Thompson, and James Kirkpatrick. Many of these artists are a part of the Canadian Psychedooolic art comic movement that began in the 1990’s, captured and collected in the book Nog A Dod, edited by former Londoner Marc Bell and released by Conundrum/PictureBox. Much of the work in Nog A Dod occurred in Vancouver with a couple of these London artists relocating there, immersing easily, doing a lot of collaborative drawing and art books with other Vancouver based artists. Yes, ‘Canadian Psychedooolic’ was named after the fact by Bell, but we weren’t thinking of ourselves as a movement or a group at the time. Yet all of these art books had an unfettered comic wildness, funny, and expansively playful. And Nog A Dod got out there, impacting and influencing a lot of artists the world over. Furthering the connective tissue, in 2003, The Western Front in Vancouver put on an art show featuring ‘documents and ephemera’ from musical acts The Nihilist Spasm Band, The All Star Schnauzer Band (a somewhat fake band as mail art project involving Bell, Mclean, and Thompson) and July Fourth Toilet, a Vancouver based group that often involves many Nog A Dod and Nog A Dod related artists, including yours truly occasionally wearing outlandish semi-functional semi-nude costumes specially designed by Jason Mclean. The show was curated by Jonathan Middleton, who is now Executive Director at Art Metropole, a Toronto based artist-run centre dealing primarily in artists’ publications.

Getting back to Greg Curnoe. Released in two parts in 1970, The Great Canadian Sonnet contained numerous images by Curnoe. Described as a “Beaver Little Book”, the format was modeled after the popular Big Little Books, distant cousins to comic books so named for being small, square and thick. Big Little Books were marketed to children and featured popular comic, cartoon, radio and film characters of the day in text-based stories with illustrations on every other page. Some Big Little Books had flip-it cartoons in the top corner so one could make the character move. With its second volume The Great Canadian Sonnet does this as well, stating “See ‘em move – just flip the pages” on the cover and, sure enough, in the corner a spot rolls up a hill-like abstract shape transforming into a medley of human faces.

Written by poet David McFadden, Curnoe riffed off lines in his text creating a great many detailed pen-and-ink drawings for the book with titles that included “Proud Possessor Of Meaningful Pain”, “One that will be Truly Loved by the Prime Minister”, and “The Empty Universe” which featured a drawing of a tin of apple juice and a packet of bird seed -the book’s drawings contained many such absurdist pairings. The Great Canadian Sonnet was published by Coach House Press who were -and still are- known for releasing all manner of experimental works including poetry, prose and beyond. Both volumes together weigh in at over 400 pages, with every other page being a drawing by Curnoe.

Many thanks to Jason Mclean, Marc Bell, and Judith Rodger for their immense help with this piece.

Thanks as well to Art Green for use of his respective artworks.

Part Two: Scraptures, Snore and More coming tomorrow, Friday, August 20!

Robert Dayton

www.robertdayton.com

www.patreon.com/CanadianGlam

#comicsjournalism #canadiancomics #theheartoflondon #hairywho #nihilistspasmband #vancaf #vancouvercomicartfestival #robertdayton

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greynblue · 2 years

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Final Project: Brand Style Guide

In the beginning stages of my conceptual process, I was adamant on doing a self-identity guide as I wanted to design something that is relevant to who I am, given the opportunity to be creative. Though i was excited to start on the project, I felt extremely lost as I did not know where to begin, when seeking help from my professor, he had mention some key points that would help me start on my guide. Two of it he mentioned were to ask people around me on how do they think of me (i.e. what kind of person I am) and what kinds of colours screamed me.

Noting down all the colours mentioned, I picked out colours that were mentioned a few times and formed a palette from there. Rationales given for some of these colours are that I’m: like a ball of sunshine and cheerful (yellow), mostly calm yet loud at times/gentle with a bit of a goth vibe (purple), calm and just because the colour suits me (blue/turquoise).

At the start, I designed the first logo primarily based on the initials of my full name, and the end result looked like a cursive “h”, to convey that I had a bright personality, I added two dots which forms a smiley face at the bottom left of the logo. For the next draft logo, I wanted there to be emphasis on how I valued self-love, and that I am a person who firmly believes individuals should always be self aware and take care of their own mental and physical health properly. This led me to develop the logo right next to the circled “2”, where the visuals of the cradling of hands can be seen. There, you can see that there is an inverted ‘j’ accompanying the ‘n’ which are the initials for my name. Although this logo was much more unique, my peers had mentioned that it may be difficult to comprehend what I am trying to convey through this logo, as the initials of my names were also hard to see. Lastly, the third logo has a small wave drawn across the letter ‘j’ as I drew it to present a wave, symbolising my personality where I can be calm and loud (i.e. turbulent) at times. Essentially, I chose the first logo as my peers had commented that it was the most minimalistic one that conveyed a ‘’neat’’ look as I was going for such vibes.

Draft of my initial logos and all the colours mentioned by people around me:

With blue as the core choice of colour for my brand guide, I did up my layouts and decided on using circles for shape elements in my guide as the shape expressed notions of totality and wholeness.

Final draft layout coloured blue:

The coloured logo is filled with a gradient from blue to pink, thus producing the colour of purple which was what I wanted to express and all these colours were previously brought up by those around me. To ensure that no one abuses my logo, I used a black background to emphasise the headers of “please abide by my guidelines”, and provided the most common mistakes one might make when using my logo.

My final colour palette for the brand guide consists of two shades of blue (a light and a darker shade), white and black, yellow, and a lighter shade of pink and purple to match the core colour of the guide (i.e. blue).

It took me some time to choose the typography I wanted as I didn’t know if I should go for a cutesy bubbly font to convey the “fun” part of me or to stick with a standard font as I wanted my guide to retain the minimalist look. Wanting to incorporate both, I decided to use Georgia as my main font for headers (as it has traits of being stable and mature) and chose Work Sans for my body paragraphs to retain the clean yet quirky look of the guide.

Final draft for logo variations & guidelines, colour palette as well as typography:

I didn’t have anything explicit in mind when I was designing my name card, other than the fact that I wanted it to be in light blue or white, otherwise the colour contrast of the logo and its background would be too similar. For the last page, I decided to play with the functions on InDesign and Illustrator for a bit, where I used effects like the 3D and changing its perspective.

Final draft name card and brand design package sample:

Creating elements on Illustrator was honestly easier for me as I somehow preferred the functions there over the ones in InDesign (or maybe it’s just me). Hence, I designed my resume on Illustrator and overall, the core colour blue as well as circle elements are encapsulated inside.

Final draft resume:

After the forum critique, there were a few feedback regarding my logo, name card, and resume sections. For my logo, a peer had commented that the dots of the “smiley” face I wished to convey through the icon were too subtle and small, thus suggesting me to enlarge it – another voiced out their worry regarding the logo’s colour, as it may be clashing when placed against similar coloured backgrounds. Despite these, I decided to leave my logo section as it is as the logo would look ugly and stretched if I were to enlarge the dots more. For the concern of visibility, I had already included guidelines that similar coloured backgrounds should not be used for my logo to prevent such concerns from happening. For my name card, the colour blocking of blue and white was seen as abrupt as it cuts across the logo, and the arrangement of my name and details (although it is creative) may be inconsistent and less readable for my audience. Further adding on to this, my tutor had encouraged me to explore the back of my name card to have a similar sectioning to what I have done in my resume. The same circle element could be placed on the top right hand corner with my logo in it, and I could choose to put my logo either at the front or back as having a repeat of it may be an overkill. Moving on to my resume, a suggestion given to me was to apply the other colours in my palette more (e.g the purple, pink, and yellow) as my whole brand seems to be rendered entirely in blue and white. Thus, with these suggestions in mind, my final brand design guide looks like this:

In conclusion, the final project was the most fun assignment I have done as i got to engage in designing my own logo and resume, and deciding on which elements best suited for my personality as well as what I want to convey for those viewing my guide.

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thelastofgala · 4 years

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I started The Last of Us, Pt. 2 last night, and here are my first impressions, musings on parallelism, Naturalism, Ellie’s characterization, Joel’s characterization, the “presence” of Riley, gameplay, story development, and more:

***SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT***

Starting with Joel. I always imagined The Last of Us 2 would begin at the end of Joel’s journey, though I will say that I did not expect to pick up so close to the end of the first game. I thought they would start us somewhere COMPLETELY out of context. Like I was prepared for much deeper flashback. In this way, I really felt like I was playing a sequel, which is not a bad thing. I just had no idea how they were going to frame this. The compelling thing about starting with Joel is that it immediately sets up parallels between Joel and Sarah, the character we start with in The Last of Us. There’s no way this was not a pointed decision. Just like it was with Sarah, Joel is our point of reference in a new, strange world. His point of view in this new world is all that we know. We don’t know what the new special world contains, and we don’t know grown-up Ellie at all. Plus, old fans will have missed him. It is a comfort to be Joel, and like a daughter protected by her father, a false and short-lived comfort. We are also now thinking of Joel as, like Sarah, someone who is in danger, whose agency is compromised, who, for whatever reason, is weakened this time around, and who may not survive the story.

I will say, too, that I really loved that after the 4-years-later cut, Joel is held off-screen. He and Tommy are out on a patrol. They are out there, in danger, and that sort of restraint is really effective. We are ALWAYS looking for Joel, just like we were in the run-up to the release, because he is the only person we truly know in this strange, new world. ND knows and takes advantage of this.

There are many parallels between Joel and Riley. Both Joel and Riley sneak up on Ellie during their first interaction. They’re even wearing similar colors. Both Joel and Riley lied to Ellie in the previous story, and both betrayed her as an act of self-preservation. In Left Behind, Ellie is somewhat chilly toward Riley in the beginning, even as her younger, more optimistic self, just as Ellie is chilly toward Joel in the beginning of The Last of Us 2. Still, you can tell through Ellie’s dialogue with Dina that she and Joel are knitted together—he defended her against the bigoted bartender, and she appreciates this even if she doesn’t outright say it. They share taste in movies and have plans to watch a movie together soon. I haven’t interacted with Joel in the current timeline, but I do know that in Left Behind, Riley has to earn back Ellie’s trust and take measures to reenter her good graces, and that this is a large part of their relationship arc. I also know that, by the time they reconcile, it proves to be too late. The world will not let them have what they want, and nothing is simple. All of these parallels worry me a lot, as Left Behind, while still driven by a strong undercurrent of love (it is a love story, interwoven with Ellie’s desperate search for medical supplies in a bid to save Joel’s life), is a much bleaker, sadder story than The Last of Us, and it has a tragic ending.

Joel's conversation with Tommy feels important. I was very glad to hear Tommy say that he would have made the same choice, in terms of saving Ellie or letting her die for the possibility of a cure. It shows that Tommy is more like Joel than perhaps we knew. Plus, Maria will have taught him something about love and commitment, as the notion of saving the one you love above all else should make more sense to him now that he has foregone the youthful idealism of the Fireflies in order to focus on the practical wisdom of family. As a parent, I understand Joel’s decision to save Ellie at the end of The Last of Us and know I would have done the same. I also understand why Joel lied, even though I think it was the wrong choice. Hearing him confide all of this in Tommy was cathartic. It was also very characteristic of Joel to respond that Ellie “didn’t say nothing otherwise” when Tommy asks if she believed him. In all of his denial, Joel chooses to believe what is conveniently in front of him, even if he knows it’s untrue. Also, I couldn’t tell, but was that a Firefly logo on that guitar he’s shining up? Maybe I hallucinated that. But if it is, I do wonder where he got it.

Ellie’s character is much more deadpan and ruminative in young adulthood. She seems tired, and a little lacking in self-esteem and sort of immediately defeated by what happened during the experience with Joel. When Joel sang, we could see her return to that place, just a glimmer, and her response—that it “didn’t suck”—shows how she still shields her heart with sarcasm, something Dina points out to her later on (“Did I ruin your punchline?”). Joel has been broken down by the events of The Last of Us and now bears his soul to her with his music, unabashed and dedicated to her, and Ellie is now the stoic one, unshakable, sealed inside a heavy, protective armor that seems impossible to pierce. I look forward to getting to know Ellie as a young adult and, ultimately, crying a lot. She is artistic and honest and still a little soft underneath. You can tell by her early interactions with Dina especially that she can still blush, and she can still come undone.

I love the snowball fight lol. I am always so frustrated when these big environment games, like Red Dead 2, Dragon Age, etc., don’t have any kids running around. Why don’t these stories pay attention to kids? Kids exist. They are an important part of almost any open world or quasi open world environment. I love the presence of kids in The Last of Us 2, because the loss of childhood innocence is an important theme for Ellie as a character. It’s also clear we’re trying to set up the edenic innocence of Jackson. It is childhood, in a way, and just like childhood, it will come to inevitable corruption. The scene, too, reminded me of Ellie and Riley on their teen dream adventure, romping through the Halloween store at the mall, trying on masks and talking to the magic eight ball.

I’m really pleased by all the parallels with Left Behind and Ellie’s portion of the journey in The Last of Us. Winter was her season, and that’s where we’re starting now. The horseback riding, the blizzard, and all the blood in the snow bring flashbacks of Ellie hunting on the woods, Ellie alone in the frozen mall, David, and the Lakeside Resort, all of which layer the current moment with a lot of emotional tension for the player.

The opening is, I think, sprawling. I’m having fun but there’s this sense that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the story. Like Joel in the first game, Ellie is also big-timing me a little and I feel far away from her. I know this will change soon, and I’ll warm up to her, but for now, like Joel, we’re all being held at arm’s length. I actually like the POV shifts we’ve gotten so far and the multiple POVs is something I predicted a while ago, based on ND’s tendencies in the first game. Ppl are going to give The Last of Us 2 shit for being too cinematic but tbh it sometimes feels more like a playable novel than a traditional video game. We’re on a cable car headed straight into disaster and there’s nothing we can do. In this way the game is using the medium itself to perpetuate its Naturalistic themes. We play and we play, and we fight and we fight, but the environment entertains no interest in our struggle and the outcome will always be the same. There is no free will in The Last of Us.

On that note, the gameplay so far is, I think, pretty fun. I have played a lot of stealth games and am always looking for ways the genre is reinventing itself. Like Sekiro and Tomb Raider, The Last of Us 2 is increasing the verticality of the map with rope climbing and scaling up obstacles (though I do miss using Joel’s immense upper body strength to move those dumpsters around lol). In a stealth game I want creativity and problem solving to be central to the gameplay. I don’t want to be magically handed tools and weapons on a constant basis, to meet every individual need. I want to be forced into resourcefulness, and I don’t want to enter a shoot-out unless I absolutely have to. That said, I’m nearly to the tower checkpoint with Dina, and I’ve only fired my gun twice. The dodge/melee mechanic is neat, but more than anything, having real, actionable help from an AI enables stealth kills even in zones crawling with enemies. On that note, I am playing with a headset, and I’m glad I am, because I find the sounds of the goddam clickers to be all-encompassing this time around and a LOT bigger and scarier than they were in The Last of Us. Holy shit. They’re absolutely terrifying. I can only imagine the horror to come lol.

Now, finally, Abby: I don’t have much to offer on this yet. Abby is not who I thought she’d be. I’ll just say it. Still, the melee battle with her and the runners in the woods was AWESOME. For me, the most fun I’ve had yet, because it was completely different than anything from The Last of Us. Playing her, however, I will say, filled me with foreboding. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to help her. She seems beyond desperate and while deeply sympathetic, she is a new character and her loyalties are not mine...so far. I could be very wrong, and please don’t correct me if I am, but I get the sense she might be a Firefly, or somehow associated with Marlene, and she is looking for Joel, in vengeance. Her group was small and rogue, and they seemed new to the area. All I know is that ND is creating a moral dilemma here, and as to what will become of this, the jury is still out completely.

One small personal criticism, take it or leave it: I don’t personally love that the kiss with Dina and scene with Joel defending Ellie was kept off-stage in the game and left to the trailer. We could have started at the dance. That would have taught us everything we need to know about Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Joel and Ellie’s relationship state. This is my only criticism of the story so far. From a writer’s perspective, it’s just inefficient and clumsy to try and cover all that in expositional dialogue, taking into consideration that many casual players will not have seen all the trailers. Even still, it’s not hurting my experience in any way. Just an observation and maybe a bit of personal opinion on the fact that perhaps the choice to reveal so much scene in pre-release trailers might be a great way to build hype but might not be the most efficient choice in telling the actual story. My two cents!

In the end, I’m overall super excited and can’t wait to keep playing. These are just my own personal thoughts, and I’ll be back with more thoughts soon!! PLEASE NO SPOILERS OR SPOILERY SUGGESTIONS IN THE REPLIES!! I am NOT privy to the leaks and I do NOT want to know what’s coming. Thank you!! ^_^

#tlou2 #The Last of Us 2 #tlou2 spoilers #the last of us 2 spoilers #the last of us part 2 #gala's thoughts

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halfwaythereroyalwrites · 4 years

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Balikbayan Box (Pietro Maximoff x Filipinx!Reader Kilig One-Shot)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Filipinx!Reader

Warnings: Cursing. Cheeky flirting. Gets “suggestive” toward the end. Mostly a heartwarming story

Word count: 1,691 words

A/N: I love that writing a Filipina!Reader story allowed me to find more Filipinxs on this platform! Please check out my other stories on my masterlist, and let me know what you think!

Requested by: @princeabomination

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Masterlist

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Pietro wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he came home, but he surely didn’t expect for the aggressive squeaky sound of packing tape to greet him instead of your usual chirpy, “Hey babe!” He furrowed his brows at your current task. You were unfolding and taping up two large boxes half your body size. The empty boxes had the name of a Philippine shipping company printed on the side in sizeable bold letters, followed by an addressing line. Scattered all around the living room were numerous, humongous piles of canned goods, coffee creamers, gently used clothes, candy, toiletries, shoes, school supplies, and what Pietro was pretty sure was his partner’s sanity. Your hair was in disarray, your finger subconsciously on your lips — nibbling at your nails — and your face was contorted in worry when scanning the various labeled piles.

Pietro’s voice broke your train of thought. “Darling, are you ok? What is all this?” You shook your head in response.

“I’m sending some stuff home to my family, but I don’t know how this is all going to fit! I knew I should have bought that third box. I’m pretty sure I forgot Tita Maria’s favorite lotion. I don’t think I have enough chocolates for all my pamangkin. Oh shit!” You were glancing around the piles when a logo caught your frenzied attention. You grabbed a polo shirt from a neat, folded pile of clothes. “I think I got the wrong brand of shirts for Tito Eddie! He likes Calvin Klein! Not Ralph Lauren! Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I said I would ship this out by tomorrow, but I got everything wrong, and I…”

“Darling,” Pietro sped over in a blur and gently held your face in between his hands, directing your fraught gaze onto his face. “Breathe.” You tried to take a deep breath, but the breath stuck in your throat, not being able to move past the panicked constriction of your chest. Pietro quickly noticed your struggle, took your hand, and placed it in the middle of his chest. He flattened your palm over his heart and kept your hand pressed there with his own. “Breathe with me, my love. In.” You slowly inhaled in sync with the rise of his chest. “Out.” You let out your breath through pursed lips, following the fall of his chest. “Again.” You both repeated this action until your body visibly relaxed. You stepped closer to Pietro, leaning your forehead against his chest.

“Pietro, I’m so stupid. How am I gonna get this done on time?” you whispered against his chest.

“I could always help you, my love,” he took your face in between his hands and focused your eyes on his. “ Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it done faster than you can blink. I can even run it over to your family.” His heavy, comforting accent enveloped your worries and made you momentarily forget your near-breakdown earlier. The scent of his cologne coupled with the feel of his calloused fingers running up and down your arm anchored you down to reality. You sighed, shook your head, and muttered.

“I want to do this myself. These are my first balikbayan boxes that I am sending home to my family, and I want it to be special.”

“What are these for anyway?” Pietro repeated his earlier question. You broke out of his embrace and started surveying the piles you have neatly laid out all around the living room.

“When a family member lives overseas, they always send presents, or pasalubong, to their family back home,” you explained. You picked up a couple of canned goods and started arranging them into the bottom of one box. “A balikbayan box shows your family how much you love them. There’s always something for everyone in here, and they take months to ship.” You picked up a pile of children’s clothes and started folding them into the box. You paused, holding up a brightly colored shirt with a popular cartoon character drawn on it. “Opening up balikbayan boxes was a huge family event for me. Everyone gathers in the living room, and they would unpack the box little by little, handing out each person’s individual gift. The boxes always had my favorite chocolates and clothes that no other kids in our barangay could find at the malls. Wearing the clothes and eating the treats that came from abroad was almost like…a message to others…that there is someone outside of the country who loves you so much that they remembered to send you presents.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes as you reminisced. You could picture those mornings vividly. Your mother would wake you up in excitement, saying how the balikbayan box had finally arrived. You would run into the living room to find your father or one of your uncles tearing the layered. brown packing tape open with a knife. Your address would be neatly written on one side while the sender’s address would be written on the other. You imagined the foreign country this box hailed from to be overflowing with the presents it contained. As soon as the box was torn open, you would peer inside and look for your name to be written on one of the tightly packed items. You wanted to dig into the chocolates immediately, but your parents would make you try on the shoes and clothes addressed to you before eating your treats.

“My love, are you ok?” Pietro had encircled his arms around you from behind, pressing his body against yours. You wiped the tear running down your cheek away and nodded your head. You allowed your body to melt into Pietro’s. The warmth of his body alleviating the tightness you unconsciously held in between your shoulders. Pietro began peppering the side of your face with small kisses, pointedly kissing the trail your tear left behind. He gripped your hips and spun you around to face him. He laid his forehead against yours, noses touching. His hands rested on the sides of your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. His lips ghosted over yours as he whispered, “You let me know if you need anything, my love. Say the word, and I’ll do it for you.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours.

“What did I do to deserve you, Pietro?” you wondered aloud. Pietro took both of your hands to his lips and placed a kiss on each one before holding your hands against his chest.

“You have my heart, darling.” He placed a kiss on your forehead before leaning into your ear. His voice are deeper as he whispered the next words. “You know what else you have?”

“No, what?” you answered, confused. He softly took a hold of your wrist and led it down toward the direction of his crotch. Before your hand even touched his groin, you snatched your hand out of his wrist and smacked his chest.

“You idiot!” you laughed in disbelief.

“There’s that beautiful smile! I was only joking, my love” Pietro chuckled at your incredulous reaction. “…unless?” he cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

“No! Get out of here! I need to finish this.” you waved him away but not before Pietro sneaked one last kiss on your lips and a cheeky slap on your ass. He walked over to the bedroom, and you got to work on packing up the boxes. The only indication time was passing was the changing colors against the walls, courtesy of the light shining through the windows. When you first began, the light filtering through the windows and hitting your walls had been a bright white, nearly blinding in its luminance. As the day went on, the light became less blinding and more vibrant — shifting back and forth from hues of golden yellow and orange for a few hours before turning into the softer white of moonlight coupled with the orange tint of the streetlight flickering outside. The sound of crickets could be heard from the window by the time you finished packing. You dragged the boxes over to one corner of the living room before plopping down onto the couch, celebrating your victory.

You had your eyes closed when you heard the bedroom door creak open to reveal a shirtless Pietro in gray sweatpants. His chiseled figure made its way onto the couch and sat next to you. He turned his head to glance at you and asked “So is everything done?”

“Yup.” you popped your p at the end, continuing to keep your eyes closed, oblivious to the Adonis of a man seated next to you.

“Good. You need rest, darling. Come to bed.” Pietro squeezed your thigh, the movement prompting you to open your eyes and gaze sideways at his shirtless body casually laid back against the couch.

“Thank you for everything today, babe. I really appreciate you knowing how much this meant to me.”

“Of course, my love.” his husky voice had dropped down an octave, making his accent thicker and his voice deeper. He held your cheek in one hand, staring into your eyes as his thumb drew back and forth against your cheek. He rose from the couch to stand in front of your seated figure, holding out a hand for you to take. “Let’s go to bed.”

You scooted your body forward and peered up at him through your eyelashes. Your hands traveled up and down his thighs, slowly and suggestively. “I wanted to thank you…properly.”

“…but you already did.”

You sighed at his obliviousness. Without saying a word and keeping your gaze locked on his confused eyes, you got down on your knees in front of him while slowly undoing the knotted drawstrings on his sweatpants. You lightly traced the V that led down to his groin and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on his lower stomach. You grabbed his hand and placed it in your hair and proceeded to pull down his sweatpants and underwear. Pietro’s eyes, meanwhile, went from confused to wide-eyed realization.

“oh…OH!”

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A/N: Feel free to message me if you have any comments, request, or would like to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @multifandomlife22 @thottiewinemom @princeabomination

If you want more Filipina!Reader fics: @self-proclaimed-chaotic-good and @propertyofpoeandbucky have some great ones and inspired me to write these. Thank you so much y’all! I didn’t even realize I never saw myself in fics until I read yours, and it meant so much to me

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years

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Planning Too Late

A/N: This came from a suggestion by @lakamaa12 and takes place six months after Y/N and the Bucks met.

Early March in Southern California was unusually overcast and crisp. I sat outside one of my favorite Riverdale coffee shops wrapped in a long sleeve thermal and a Young Bucks hooded sweatshirt, nursing a steaming double espresso between my fingers. My phone sat on the tabletop next to me, waiting.

I sat back and let out a sigh, just about ready to call it quits and head back to my apartment. My eyes closed for a moment and, when they opened, a face filled my vision. Bright blue eyes and a cheesy grin looked back at me. At first, I thought I’d scream. Then I laughed deep in my chest and sprang up from my chair.

Nick Jackson stood a few feet away. I took a long moment to look him up and down. He wore his favorite Clippers hat, his long light brown hair in a looped ponytail, a navy zippered hoodie, and a pair of plain black sweatpants with worn sneakers. He grinned wider and I practically ran at him, throwing my arms around him. Nick grabbed me with both arms around my back and picked me up. My legs locked around his waist and I hugged him as hard as I could.

“Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” I whispered as he held me tight. “I hate it when you guys are in Japan. I absolutely hate it.”

He laughed and put me on my feet. “You do just fine without us, Y/N, and you know it. Matt, on the other hand…”

I blushed at the mention of my boyfriend. The elder Jackson brother was dark where his brother was light. His eyes were so dark they sometimes seemed black. His hair was a thick curtain of deep brown that he often wore in a knot on the crown of his head. Matt kept a beard—or at the very least some impressive mutton chops—while Nick was always cleanshaven or sporting a day’s stubble.

Some people might think it was odd that I’d see my boyfriend’s brother before my boyfriend—particularly when they’d been gone for weeks at a time. But it wasn’t strange, not for me. Nick and I had been friends as long as I’d been dating Matt. I’d met them both on the same day, at the same time.

Plus, we were meeting for a very specific reason. Matt’s thirty-first birthday was coming up. And Nick and I had two days to put together a surprise party before the two of them left for another tour.

Nick sank down into the chair at my left and picked up my cup. He took a sip and made a disgusted face. He stuck his tongue out a couple times and gagged. Drama queen.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, shaking his head and practically hacking like a cat with a hairball.

I took my seat and grabbed the cup. Without a blink, I took a large sip of the bitter liquid. “That is a double espresso with cream,” I replied with a grin. “Matt got me started on them.”

Nick wrinkled his nose. “You should meet Kenny. He’s into Vietnamese coffee. It’s sweet. Ken drinks it like a fish, but Matt hates it.”

Nodding, I pulled the little moleskin notebook from the pocket of my hoodie. “Okay, no Vietnamese coffee,” I said dramatically before schooling my features. I moved closer so that we could talk. “Seriously, Nick… you know him better than anyone else. What kind of party would he want?”

***

Nick looked at the list on his notes app. Y/N had sent him a dozen things to pick up and order for his brother’s surprise birthday party. He thought back to those precious few hours where they sat at the table in the early spring air and talked. Sure, they’d talked about Matt, but Nick felt a little spark of warmth in his chest at the knowledge that he’d been the first one to see her. It was a petty sort of victory, one that made him burn with guilt, but he couldn’t help it. His moments with Y/N were precious and far between, and they were almost always coupled with Matt.

Shaking his head, Nick walked up and down the aisles of the party supply store. He glanced down at the list—white and green balloons, white and green streamers, white and green napkins, white plates—and picked items off the shelves. She hadn’t asked for it, but he grabbed a tank of helium and one of those felt boards with letters. He added a few fabric table cloths and a cupcake tower.

He hardly blinked at the final total, even though he hadn’t gotten a few things on Y/N’s list. As he carried the bags out to the Nissan, he caught sight of another shop in the strip mall. He stopped dead in the center of the street and smiled. It wasn’t quite what Y/N had sent him for, but it would pull the whole theme together.

And, more than anything, he knew it would make her smile. She would throw a wonderful birthday party for his brother, and she would be happy.

The bell jingled over the door as he stepped inside. He walked up to the counter and asked for the manager or owner. The woman who came up to meet him reminded him a little of his mom.

“I’m sorry to take up your time, and I know this is a weird request, but…”

***

“Oh, Nick,” I said, feeling tears burning in my eyes. Looking around the small space we’d rented, I couldn’t help but marvel at everything he’d done. What I’d hoped would be a fun party for us to spend time together before he dashed away to wrestle, Nick had turned into an amazingly themed birthday celebration for his brother.

Nick stood at my side with his hands tucked into his pockets. Sweat glistened along his hairline. He must have been working for hours to put everything together. I looked up at him, feeling my lips curve into a wide, bright smile.

“Well?” he asked, rocking back on his heels. He caught his bottom lip in his teeth and blushed.

I took another glance around. The tables had been draped in alternating green and white cloths. Little domed lids marched from one end of the tables to the other, held down with handfuls of individually wrapped minds. Along the side of the room, a pair of tables had been set up with the food. They were both draped in green cloths. On the wall behind them, a set of alternating green and white streamers hung from a cluster of balloons. One held sandwiches, vegetable and fruit trays, and other finger foods. The other had been decked out with desserts.

A felt board sat in the center, the letters arranged on the surface to read Frappe 31st Birthday, Matt! A cupcake tower was already set and filled with chocolate cupcakes iced in green or white buttercream. Clear plastic cups sat in neat rows next to the cooler filled with ice and drinks. White paper cups were filled to brimming with caramel popcorn mixed with chocolate candies.

And everything was emblazoned with the Starbucks logo.

“How did you manage this?” I gasped, running my fingers over the felt board. “How did you even think of this?”

Nick grinned, his eyes going bright. “I picked up the stuff from the party store, and there was a Starbucks right there. I went in and told the manager what we were doing. Since it wasn’t a whole lot, she gave it to me pretty cheap.”

I turned toward him and stretched onto my toes. It didn’t matter that he was sweating. He had done so much to make this party perfect for Matt, and I couldn’t help but be grateful. I put my arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re amazing, Nick! This is…” I blinked back tears again. “Matt’s going to love this.”

***

Nick walked at Matt’s side. His brother was frustrated. It was their last night before they had to fly out for another two or three weeks for a tour and they were running late for dinner with Y/N. Matt looked sideways at Nick.

“Why are we here?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Nick tried not to grin. “It’s just for a minute. There’s a promotor here I want you to meet.”

Matt stuck his hands in his pockets as he followed his brother through the front doors of the building. Nick led the way into a small, dark room.

“Hey?” Nick said, fumbling loudly against the wall.

In an instant, the place flooded with light. “Surprise!” People sprang up from every direction. It took Matt a moment to realize what had happened. It wasn’t until he saw his parents, his other brother, and his sister that he started to make sense of things. When he saw Y/N standing by a table wearing a Starbucks apron, he felt his heart go wild in his chest.

“You!” Matt said, practically racing across the room. He swept his girlfriend into his arms and kissed her sweetly. He hugged her tightly and swayed back and forth. “Is this why you’ve been so preoccupied this weekend?”

Y/N smiled, and Nick thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. He watched her look at Matt as if he’d hung the stars just for her. Then she turned to look at him, and it felt—just for a moment—as if he was the only person in the world.

“It wasn’t just me,” Y/N said brightly, gesturing to the table filled with Starbucks paraphernalia. “Nick is the one who did all this.”

She held her hand out toward him, wiggling her fingers to get him to come closer. When he was within reach, she took his hand in hers and tugged him close to her side. “I couldn’t have thrown this party for you without him.”

Nick smiled and felt his heart skip in his chest. He thought back to that moment in the store. He’d been right. Y/N had smiled and laughed and loved every moment and ounce of sweat he’d put into the touches he put onto the party. It had made Matt happy.

But more than anything, it made her happy.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @lakamaa12 @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @justamess44 @lilred91 @imagineall-the-fandoms @maelleoute @librathepheonix13

#planning too late #the too late tales #too late tales #nick jackson #nick jackson fanfiction #matt jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #polyamory #polyamorous relationships #matt x reader #pining

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jonathananubian · 4 years

Text

Te Dralyc Kar Ch 6 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Chapter 6: Haran

In his secure base on Rorak 4 the red Nikto lounged inside his luxury apartment. The new shipment was already being processed and he could already envision the wealth of credits he’d be swimming in once the sale went through. Sipping at the alcoholic beverage in his hand he leered over the datapad at some of the merchandise. Opening a channel he called down to the guards and ordered them to bring him a specific product from the new shipment. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as he waited.

And waited.

Calling down again he cursed at the guards and demanded to know what was taking so long. But there was no response, only static. An explosion rocked the very foundation of his base and K’tharsin cursed vehemently as he flicked through different channels, trying to contact any of his guards. No one was responding.

Behind him the door to his expensive apartment blew off its hinges and he scrambled toward the panic room he’d had built into the place since day one. From the smoke and haze of debris a whipcord zipped through the air and latched onto his leg. The owner of the whipcord grabbed the end and yanked, hard, slamming the red Nikto into the ground with enough force to daze him.

Storming into the room, fierce like a stalking predator, was a Mandalorian in silver armor with a blue flight suit. Terror swamped K’tharsin as he immediately recognized the famed bounty hunter. “Wait! Please! I-I’ll pay you double whatever the price on my head is!” The Mandalorian stopped, black visor staring down at him coldly. Before he could even think to offer more credits two blaster bolts seared into his skull and three more through his torso.

“Who said anything about credits?” Jango said to no one as he untied his whipcord, turned on his heel, and left the dead Nikto behind.

[Shiona]

Helping Maav load more of the kids into the transport the purple Twi’lek felt her stomach roil in disgust and chest burn with rage. When Jango had come out of nowhere, asking for a favor, she’d punched him in the side of the head before hugging the daylights out of him. They’d heard tales there was a possibility he was alive and had learned about the bounty hunter sharing the name of their lost Mand’alor but hadn’t wanted to believe, in case it was just some trick to draw them out of hiding.

What she learned of the aftermath of Galidraan set her blood to boiling. Now, after years of thinking their king was dead, he returned asking for a favor? There had to be a pretty damn good reason for it.

Lo and behold there was, and his name was Anakin.

The picture Jango showed her was one that had been taken by someone else, a candid shot if ever she’d seen one. The blonde was sitting on Jango’s lap holding up a little flag with a racing logo on it, a wide grin on his face and eyes sparkling with joy. The gentle smile on Jango’s face as he watched his son was enough to make Shiona’s heart melt. It was obvious how much he cared for the boy.

So when he explained that someone had nearly kidnapped him to put him back into slavery, that the one responsible was purposefully targeting kids to sell, she gathered a few of the Haat Mando’ade she’d kept in contact with and got them in on the raid. When they learned they were saving kids from slavery none of them even asked if their was a contract or reward. Kids were precious, regardless of whose kids they were. Not to mention the inherent disgust at slavery in general.

Their reaction to Jango had been a mixed bag of joy, grief, anger, and disbelief but in the end they all accepted that he was, in fact, the Mand’alor- and that their Mand’alor was calling them to action.

No one cared that it was out of revenge for messing with Jango’s son. No one cared that they had been divided for years after Jango’s reported death. The Haat Mando’ade weren’t going to sit back when someone was dealing in kids. Especially if they’d attempted to try and snatch the Mand’alor’s son. That was a very deep and personal offense none of them were about to let slide.

“That’s the last of them, Captain. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous and head toward our destination from there. Safe travels.” Shiona waved the man on and got back into her ship. Maav, seeing she had things well in hand, quickly headed to the cockpit to start up the ship.

“Captain, got a present for you.” Catching the datachip out of the air she looked it over then raised a brow at Zermot, their most talented slicer.

“What’s this?” The man grinned at her.

“Proof.” Her eyebrows rose and she eyed the man curiously.

“Proof of what?” She asked him, fondly exasperated.

“Of why you shouldn’t mess with Mando’ade.” He paused. “And that Jango’s back. Our comrades are going to want proof.” She nodded and slipped the datachip into one of her waist pouches. She knew just the person she could send a copy of whatever Zermot had cooked up.

[Roz]

Watching the scene play out again the pink Toydarian chuckled with dark amusement. Trust Jango to take his revenge in the most daring, competent, and vicious raid anyone had seen in years. It was a neat military operation the likes of which could only be accomplished by a tactical mind and a trained mercenary force. The bounty hunting guilds couldn’t even fault him for it, either. Not only was he freeing enslaved children, which no respectable guild would dare disagree with, but the organization had tried to steal his own child. Roz knew the guild would look the other way on the matter.

“What’s so funny ba’vodu?” Clicking off the video she smiled at the blonde head that was peeking into the room, smudges of grease across a pale forehead and nose.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just a silly video a friend sent me.” Anakin’s nose scrunched up as he scrutinized her and she smiled. “What are you working on now? I hope you didn’t take apart one of my expensive appliances again without asking.” Blue eyes went wide and darted toward whatever it was before coming back to rest on her.

“Uh… naas. Dar’baati, ba’vodu.” ‘Nothing. Don’t worry, auntie.’ Roz let out a sigh. Jango was going to have to teach the boy how to lie better, he was absolutely abysmal at it. Especially since he always slipped into Mando’a whenever he tried. It was a dead giveaway for anyone who knew him.

“Anakin.” She said sternly. The boy blushed and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Okay, but… you looked really busy and I actually know how to fix it this time! It was leaking anyway and I thought it would be nice to do something for you…” She wanted to be cross with him, she really did, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be. Not when he was trying so earnestly to do something nice for her.

“Fine, I’ll overlook it this time. As long as there’s no mess and it actually works when you’re finished.” A smile like a sunrise crossed his face and he was quickly nodding.

“Lek ba’vodu!” ‘Okay auntie!’ Roz sighed as the boy darted off, he was always so full of energy it was a wonder Jango could keep up with him. She honestly never thought she’d learn to speak Mando’a either and yet here she was helping a little Mandalorian child to learn his basic letters and how to hold simple conversations. It was something she knew Jango had once thought to leave behind him, to keep to himself and never speak about with her, but his son just had a way of bringing hope and light to everything he touched… except for her washing machine. That poor thing looked like it someone had stuffed a frag grenade inside by the time Anakin had finished with it and tried to turn it on.

The comm on her desk chimed and she flew over to answer. “Yes? What is it?” There was a request for docking from five ships, none of them with familiar transponder codes and all of them clearly of Mandalorian make. Roz smiled and granted them access. She had no doubt that Jango wouldn’t be far behind.

“Anakin!” She called. The boy came running into the room, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

“Yes auntie?” Landing beside him she smiled and ruffled his hair, which made him pout.

“Go get cleaned up, quickly. There are some guests in the hangar and your buir should be right behind them.” Anakin whooped and ran off to get cleaned up, leaving Roz to smile warmly at his retreating back.

[Anakin]

Once he was properly washed and changed into the nice tunics his buir had bought him he followed Auntie Roz to the docks, feeling as if he was going to explode with excitement and joy. He was so happy that his buir was back and if he wasn’t heading straight for the medics it meant he wasn’t hurt! Anakin preferred when his buir came home in one piece, since he hated to see him hurt. It reminded him too much of the last time he saw his mom and then he got all sad and anxious…

When they reached the docks his buir was standing with a group of people, although Anakin didn’t really pay them any mind. He wanted to make sure his buir was there, real and whole. Running as fast as he could, ducking around the workers and other guests, he barreled right into his buir’s side, clinging to him as if he could be taken away at any moment. “Su’cuy buir!” ‘Hi dad!’ His buir let out a chuckle and pried him off, making him pout, before he was being lifted into the man’s arms for a proper hug.

All the conversation stopped and he could feel the curious eyes of the people his dad had been talking to. “Anade, ner ad Anakin.” ‘Everyone, my son Anakin.’ Smiling he waved at the group of armored individuals, staring at their armor in open curiosity and awe. “Anakin, anade.” ‘Anakin, everyone.’ Jango made a few hand motions that Anakin didn’t yet understand, since his buir said he needed to learn Mando’a before he could learn the Tigaan, or Mandalorian Hand Signs. After a moment of hesitation the other Mandalorians removed their helmets, except for one of them. They made a few small hand gestures at at his dad, who nodded respectfully back. The last Mandalorian kept their helmet on.

“Su’cuy gar, anade!” ‘Hello, everybody!’ Anakin said with a wide grin, happy that he could talk to them in Mando’a at least. The first Mandalorian, a purple Twi’lek, smiled at him.

“It’s nice to meet you, An’ika. Your buir told us all about you.” Anakin looked at his dad, eyes wide. His dad just chuckled and ran a hand through his hair to soothe his sudden embarrassment.

“Mand’alor, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to talk about the ade.” His buir frowned and he could feel his mood turn from content/amused/joy to rage/sadness/determination. Flinching back slightly he looked the man in the eyes for a moment before giving him another hug.

“What are they talking about, buir?” Jango hugged him back, arms protective rather than smothering.

“Remember the hut’uune that took you?” Anakin nodded solemnly, his eyes going hard at the memory. “They took other kids too. We went to rescue them.” Anakin’s eyes widened and he began to shake slightly as he gripped his buir’s armor.

“D-did they have chips too? Can I go see them?” Buir felt hesitant and defensive in the force but his expression became calm and contemplative so he stayed still, almost wanting to hold his breath waiting for the answer.

“You can come with me to see them. But if I think you’re in danger and I tell you to go you will listen to me, An’ika. Tion suvarir?” Yes, he nodded, he understood. Buir set him down and took of his helmet, clipping it to his belt before taking Anakin’s hand.

They had some former slave children to help and Anakin would do his best to make them understand that Mandalorians were nothing to be afraid of. Mando'a Translations; Hut'uune- Cowards Tion suvarir?- Understand?

#fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian culture #adoption #mando'a #young anakin skywalker #mandalorian anakin #true mandalorians #mandalorians ocs #rozatta #slavery #past slavery #jango fett #found family #genius anakin

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ryrycaptain · 4 years

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Lets See Where This Goes

Description:

Dan and Phil go to the same high school, with Phil a year older than Dan. Phil’s aesthetic is more 80’s/retro, whereas Dan’s is a grunge e-girl aesthetic with makeup. Ever since Dan’s freshman year, Phil admired him for embracing individuality and slowly started to fall for him. However, they never talked except for Phil being nervous and clumsy around Dan. Little did he know that Phil had feelings for him but didn’t show it.

Notes:

Hello! Thu is my very first fic for the PRB, and I'm excited for you all to read. My piece was inspired by the lovely art futurebunnyfluff made. My amazing beta was supermariohbrothers! . I hope you enjoy the fic.

ao3 link

When Phil first saw Daniel Howell, the younger boy had been talking to Phil’s new maths teacher for directions. He quietly slipped past the pair, but it didn’t stop him from noticing the younger boy's style. Dan had been wearing a black shirt with a small logo of an upside-down smiling face. The shirt was worn over a black and white striped shirt and tucked into black shorts that were adorned with white ruffles. The belt cinched around his waist pulled the outfit together and highlighted Dan’s curves. Although the outfit was bold, Phil was surprised to see the purple lipstick that coated the younger boy’s lips. He also noticed the slight blush on his cheeks and the purple eyeshadow coating his eyelids. Overall the younger boy looked absolutely breathtaking with his brown curly hair and chocolate eyes.

His attention had been stolen by the way the boy stood confident by the teacher and how he moved his hands while talking. Dan was confident, and he knew he was special. Phil couldn’t help be inspired by the way the younger boy presented himself when there were so many threats for being different.

Phil’s style wasn’t too out there, but it still stole attention from all the wrong people. He liked the 80’s aesthetic he’d come to life over the year. It helped represent his old soul. He'd been bullied on multiple occasions, and his sexuality had been a popular topic amongst his classmates for a good half of last year. He couldn’t imagine being as confident as Dan was. Needless to say, Phil had been distracted for the rest of the day.

It didn’t get much better after that though. He was often caught sneaking glances at the other boy, and it became a hot topic at his lunch table. He was sitting with his food in front of him staring at the younger boy when PJ dropped into his seat across from Phil. The other boy followed Phil’s gaze, “Have you talked to him yet?”

Phil shook his head. “Every time I try I get too nervous and back out.”

It was true. In a way, Dan had become his idol, and Phil looked up to him like he looked up to Muse. It was stupid, but Phil couldn’t stop his mind from creating situations where Dan would run away or think he was obnoxious. Just as he was about to spiral, Pj interrupted him, “Stop overthinking it, Phil. He’s just another teenager.”

PJ had been his friend since the day he accidentally stepped on the other boy's sandcastle at the park. They’d grown close quickly, and PJ could somehow read his mind at this point.

“I’m trying, Peej.”

Pj sighed “What could go wrong?”

Phil didn’t even need to think before he started listening off all of the reasons introducing himself to the younger boy could go wrong. “-might think I’m weird and hide from me for the rest of my life. Really there are a million ways it could end badly.”

“I wasn’t being serious,” Pj said glaring, “Seriously though, you should go talk to him. I don’t think I can stand you looking at him like a lost puppy for the rest of the year.”

Phil huffed, “Fine.”

He stood up and made his way to the other boy’s table, walking with confidence he didn’t know he had. When he actually gets to the younger boys table, he loses it immediately. He can feel the blood rush from his face, and his lips are moving but no words are coming out.

Dan looks flawless yet again. The younger boy has a purple crop top that stops just above the band of his black ripped jeans and he sports clunky Doc Martens. He’s wearing makeup again, and it sparkles against his eyelids. Phil’s pulled out of his reverie by a small cough. “Hi,” Dan says.

His voice isn’t as high as Phil imagined it, but it’s still smooth. “Hi,” he responds, “I’m- um- Phil. Yeah, that’s right. That’s my name. Phil. Phil Lester.” He laughs awkwardly and then he’s taking off, away from the table and back to the one friend he has.

When he flings himself into his chair, Pj jumps and he looks at Phil with caution in his eyes. “Did everything go down well?”

Phil feels like he’s about to cry and he has to blink a few times to clear the unshed tears from his eyes. “God I screwed everything up,” he groans.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Pj reassures him.

“I promise you it was that bad.”

Pj snorts, “Not everything is as bad as you think it is.”

After that, Phil lays low and he doesn’t talk to anyone but Pj. He wouldn’t say he was a social butterfly, but he made an effort to talk to people most of the time. He’s worried that Dan’s going to start rumors about him and it’s not implausible.

Dan had become quite popular a few days into the school year. He’d made a lasting impression on most of the popular girls, and he seemed to get along well with them. Phil was pretty sure a few of the girls even had crushes on him. The only thing keeping Phil’s hopes alive is the rumor that Dan’s gay. The younger boy hasn’t commented on it yet, and for all Phil knows, the younger boy could be dating one of the most influential people in the school.

The only thing keeping Phil from worrying about the girls themselves whispering about him is the fact that Dan sits away from them with his friend Louise. Louise was nice with curly blonde hair dyed pink at the tips. She seemed like a mother hen, and Phil constantly caught her fixing Dan’s hair or lecturing the younger boy.

Phil’s pretty sure he should try talking to the other boy again to quell his fears, but he still hasn’t convinced himself to do so. He ends up going to talk to Dan on several occasions before chickening out.

He spends the rest of the year giving Dan longing looks and wishing he wasn’t socially inept. His wishes don’t come true though so he stays away and sulks. Pj confronts him multiple times and he ignores the other boy’s advice every single time.

—

The next school year, Dan starts dating one of the football players at school and it confirms one thing for Phil. [ Dan likes guys. ] After his hopes are confirmed his crush gets worse and he’s desperate for a relationship with Dan whether it’s a friendship or something more.

When he finally gains the courage to talk to the other boy, he trips right over an outstretched foot, and he can’t stand to look at Dan for days.

He’s always been clumsy and he doubts he'll ever be able to get away with hurting himself in front of Dan. This time rumors spread, but he doubts Dan was the one who started. He’s only giving Dan the benefit of the doubt because everyone saw it.

His avoidance of Dan spans the rest of the school year, and Phil spends most of his summer listening to Muse and complaining to Pj about his lack of social skills. He also finds Dan’s social media and stalks it for days mesmerized by his makeup looks. He’s seen Dan in makeup before but those are simple looks that don’t draw too much attention, but the looks he posts online are extravagant and eye-catching.

It inspires Phil and he spends a lot of time painting eyes and other random designs onto thrifted clothing that he finds on his shopping spree. By the time he’s done being inspired, he has enough new outfits to last him the first two months of school.

He’s amazed by what the younger boy brings out him, and they don’t even know each other. It makes him think about how much more inspiring Dan would be if they were friends but he pushes that thought away and distracts himself with something new.

—

The first day of school this year was the last and Phil was excited by the idea. He dressed in a black button-up that had a retro pattern scattered across in and threw a pair of stared overalls he painted over top of the shirt. The patterns meshed well but still provided a neat look. He lastly threw on his battered pair of converse and headed off to school.

His day starts off well but it gets better when he finds out Dan is in the same AP art class as he is. He’s honestly surprised the other boy likes art but then he remembers the amazing makeup the younger boy does. He realizes he barely knows anything about the younger boy. He knows things from rumors and social media, but half of it could be fake.

Phil spends most of the class sulking over the fact that he isn’t near Dan, but his luck pulls through a few weeks into the school year. They’re doing a partner's projects and the teachers picked the pairs. He usually picks Pj, and most of the time, the teacher pairs them up as well. She must have noticed the way he smiled at Dan though because she makes them partners.

He gives Pj an apologetic look and makes his way over to Dan’s desk. “Hi. I’m-”

“Phil. Phil Lester,” he teased, “I remember.”

Phil groans, “Sorry I’m so awkward. I’m surprised you didn’t run away when you found out I was your partner.”

Dan laughs at that. “Why?”

“I’ve been so weird in front of you.”

“That just made you all the more interesting. I’ve been trying to get to know you for years, and you’ve just now noticed.”

“You have?”

“I’m mean- of course. You really inspire me.”

Phil’s caught off guard by that. He’s never seen himself as an inspirational person. He runs away from most of his problems, and he avoids human connections like the plague. He isn’t popular, in real life or online. It makes him feel awkward, and he wonders what Dan knows about him.

What happens if he doesn’t rise to Dan’s expectations? Phil can’t imagine disappointing the other boy, and he becomes self-conscious immediately. Besides, he’s borderline obsessed with the younger boy and he starts to worry if Dan has seen the internet stalking that Phil does. It would be even more embarrassing if Dan knew about Phil’s tendency to stare at the other boy.

“Why?” he asks Dan. It’s the only way he can find out what Dan thinks about him.

Dan hums and sits in thought for a few moments. “You seem happy with what you have. I have all of these friends and I’m treated like I queen by half of my dates, but I’m still not sure I’m the happiest I can be,” Dan sighs. “I’m sorry if that was too deep.”

“I don’t think it was,” Phil reassures him. “I had a lot of trouble at first. People aren’t the best at handling differences, and some people tried to change me. It made me stronger in the end though.”

The bell cuts off their conversation then, and Phil realizes they never discussed the project. He doesn’t even know what the prompt is. “Do you want to exchange numbers?” He asks Dan,

“Uh- sure,” he sputters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Phil takes a few seconds to type in his number and hands Dan the phone. “Text me?” Phil asks, “To talk about the project and stuff.”

“Yeah of course.”

—

Phil is stuck staring at his ceiling. He can’t seem to sleep and his brain is repeating the conversation he had with Dan earlier. It was weird to know that Dan looked up to him in the same way Phil looked up to Dan. Somehow they both comforted the other even though they barely knew anything about each other. He feels slightly guilty for not telling Dan about his admiration. He wishes he had Dan’s number so he can clear his conscience, but the younger boy still hasn’t texted him. It makes him worry he creeped out the other boy, and he doesn’t know how he’d get through the project if he has.

It’s like Dan’s reading his mind because the next thing Phil knows, his phone is brightening up with a message.

From Dan

Hey. It’s Dan :D

Phil can’t help but smile at the smiley face at the end of the message. It fits perfectly with Dan’s personality.

To Dan

Hey, stranger. What are you doing up so late?

From Dan

I couldn’t sleep. You?

To Dan

Same. I can’t stop thinking.

It feels weird to actually talk to Dan outside of school. He wants to run away from the awkward vibe the messages are giving off, but he isn’t risking a low grade in the class. Then again he doesn’t know the prompt so he’s probably doomed to a failing grade in the class anyways. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dan, but he’s a bit wary about working with someone other than Pj.

At least Pj is working with someone he knows. The girl’s name is Sofie, and Pj had mentioned her multiple times at lunch. Phil’s surprised he hadn’t noticed the look in Pj’s eyes when he talked about her before. Phil’s definitely jealous, but he’s happy knowing that Pj is living the dream.

From Dan

That’s never good.

To Dan

I suppose so.

He watches as the three dots in the corner of his screen move and waits for Dan’s reply. It’s awkward. Phil doesn’t like talking about himself that much, but he’s finally having a conversation with Dan. After a few minutes, the bubble disappears, and Phil is left alone again.

—

When he wakes up the next morning his eyes hurt from leaving his contacts in. He must have fallen asleep after Dan and he stopped talking. He stretches out and makes his way to the bathroom, relieving himself and trading his contacts for his glasses. His reflection looks exhausted and it makes him realize how tired he actually is. He tries to sort out the bird's nest that his hair has become and pushes it into a quiff.

His closet is a mess of colors and patterns, and he can’t seem to focus on any of the pieces. He ends up throwing on a random sweater and a pair of pants that he’d painted over the summer. He remembers his phone and picks it up. It’s completely dead and he can’t help but chastise himself for not plugging it in last night. He throws it on the charger and finishes his morning routine.

When he gets back to his room, his phone is back on and he has another text from Dan. [I can’t wait to work with you].

—

As soon as he meets up with Pj, the other boy is rambling about Sofie and how much they’ve talked. Apparently, they share multiple interests, and Pj thinks he’s found his soulmate. He can’t seem to talk about anything else, and Phil mopes in silence. He needs Pj’s advice on the whole Dan situation, but he can’t bring himself to interrupt his cheery mood.

At lunch, Sofie joins the duo at their table and Phil can't help, but feel like a third wheel. The other two can’t stop talking, and Phil gets annoyed quickly. Dan must notice the bored look in his eyes because he calls him over at lunch. “What's up?” Phil asks.

The other boy is wearing yet another black shirt, this one decorated with the print of an ouija board, and his classic Doc Martens, but the piece that surprises Phil is the skirt that Dan’s sporting. The piece that pulls the outfit together is thigh high socks that hug Dan’s long legs. Phil can’t help but stare for a few moments. He’s interrupted by Dan’s voice, “You looked bored.”

“I feel like a third wheel with them,” Phil shrugs. He turns to Louise. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Phil,” he states, sticking his hand out.

“I know,” she replies simply.

At that comment, Dan blushes. “Do you want to sit with us?” he asks, “We can talk about the project if you want.” Phil grimaces. “Or we don’t have to. Just sit with us.”

Phil slides into the seat next to Louise so he doesn’t have to turn to see Dan’s face. “What were you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Makeup,” Louise chirps.

“We can talk about something else if you want to though,” Dan adds.

“I don’t mind,” Phil answers.

Dan shakes his head. “Come on Phil. I want to get to know you better.”

“I’m not that interesting,” Phil replies.

“I don’t care if it’s boring. What’s your favorite band? favorite color? Do you have any hobbies?”

“My favorite band is Muse-”

“I love Muse!” Dan exclaims, cutting him off. “What’s your favorite album?”

“I guess Origin of Symmetry,” Phil replies.

“No fucking way.”

“What?”

“That’s my favorite too. You must have an amazing taste in music.”

Phil blushes at that comment. He never gets compliments, especially not from cute boys. “As for my favorite color. It’s blue, and I paint. A lot. I also play video games sometimes. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you have a favorite color? Hobbies? This isn’t going to be one-sided, Dan.”

“I guess my favorite color would have to be black, but I love pastels too,” he says gesturing to his outfit. “As for hobbies, I like makeup, though you probably already know that since you follow my Instagram page.”

With that comment, Phil’s face turns bright red. “I’m sorry. I just think it’s really pretty,” Phil mumbles.

“Don’t worry. I’m just glad you aren’t an asshole who thinks boys shouldn’t wear makeup,” Dan states. “Though I also like video games. I’ve been getting into Animal Crossing recently.”

“Good choice.”

They sit and talk with each other for the rest of the period, and Louise butts in from time to time. He feels bad for putting her in the same situation he was in with Pj and Sofie, but she seems caught up studying for a class for most of the conversation.

It’s weird getting along with someone so well. Even though their styles and friend groups differ, their hobbies and interests are almost the same. It’s easy to talk to Dan. He’s sarcastic and witty, and it makes Phil fall in love with him a little more.

—

When Phil finds out what the project is, he immediately relaxes. It’s a symbolic portrait. All he has to do is create a portrait that reveals parts of Dan’s personality. He’s looking forward to learning more about the younger boy, and he can’t wait to see what Dan does to represent Phil.

It’s hard coming up with an idea at first. Dan has so many layers that Phil has learned about over the past couple of days and it’s hard to choose the most important aspects. He wants to pick something that most people don’t know about Dan, but it’s hard when Dan is so popular. That’s when he thought of a plan.

——

They were up next and Phil was a mess. He was half-convinced he was dying even though he knew it was just an anxiety attack. His palms were incredibly sweaty, and he felt his chest constricting. He could barely focus on the duo presenting in the front of the classroom. They were talking about fish or something similar.

He was jolted out of his dream-like state when he felt a hand being rested on his shoulder. He turned his head expecting Pj, but he wasn’t surprised when he was met with Dan’s doe eyes. “You ok?” the younger boy asked, “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m swell,” Phil breathed.

“We both know that’s bullshit, mate. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the nurse or something?” Dan pressed.

“It’s just another anxiety attack. It’ll be over soon.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Or breathe together? I don’t know what you like to do, but anxiety attacks suck.”

“I just need to calm down.”

“Let breath then.”

Phil was reluctant but Dan eventually convinced him it would make the edge of the attack go away, so they took a few breaths. After a few seconds, Phil’s head felt much clearer and he was suddenly aware of everyone staring at his and Dan. He blushed before shrugging Dan’s hand off his shoulder.

“You good now?” Dan asked.

“Yeah. I feel a lot better. Thanks.”

——

Phil was walking down the hall a few days later when Dan ran up to him. They’d texted briefly over the past couple of nights, but they weren’t having as many conversations as they had when they were working on the project together. Phil had gone back to sitting with Pj and Sophie which was extremely awkward at times. Overall he missed the bond they’d formed and he really regretted losing it.“Oh my god, Phil! Did you see our grade?”

“Yeah,” Phil chirped, “100%”

“I’m glad. It took me a long time to finish.”

“You definitely deserved it, Dan.”

Phil was being honest. When he’d first seen the outcome of Dan’s hard work his jaw had dropped. Every color seemed to jump off of the page and they seemed to move in a strange way. Dan had managed to capture so many of his quirks and interests that it blew his mind.

Phil thought his project had been less interesting though. His picture was grayscale with hidden shapes dotted throughout the landscape. Phil wanted to capture the hidden layers of Dan’s personality, and he had tried to portray it with the colorful shapes breaking through and symbolizing a different part of him. It seemed like a shitty metaphor, but somehow their teacher had loved it.

“You did too,” Dan replied, “I like how much thought you put into it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Of course. I just love the idea that everyone has a hidden personality and that you never know everything about someone.”

“Yeah.”

“You took Trig already. Right?”

“What’s with the sudden change of topic?”

Dan blushed, “I’m struggling a bit on the new lesson and I need some help.”

“Oh. Of course, I can help! At least I’m assuming that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah,” Dan replied, “Can we meet in the library after school? Around 3?”

“That sounds good to me.”

——

“You seem to be doing really well with this lesson. Are you sure you need help?” Phil asked.

They’d been in the library for about twenty minutes, and Dan had answered every problem right so far. It honestly wasn’t bothering Phil because he enjoyed spending time with Dan, but it was a bit strange. “Maybe I’m better than I thought?” Dan said though it came out as more of a question than anything else.

“I think you’re fine,” Phil reassured him. “I think you just need to be a bit more confident in your math skills.”

“Me? Not confident? You wish, Lester.”

Phil laughed. “Ok, maybe I choose the wrong words. But if you ever feel like you need help again I’m here for you. Unless it’s history, I’m horrible at remembering dates.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dan nodded.

They sat there in awkward silence for a few seconds. Phil didn’t want to leave Dan and risk never hanging out again. He panicked and before he knew it, he was blurting out a set of questions. “Do you want to come over to my house and play video games? Like right now? I got the new Mario Kart and I’ve been waiting to test out my skills.”

“I don’t know. I have a ton of work due tomorrow.”

“Shit I forgot about homework,” Phil groaned, “Do you want to go back to my place and keep each other company while we do it?”

“Sure. Sounds good to me.”

——

“I’m sorry it's a bit of a mess,” Phil said while he was kicking his shoes off. “My mom's been busy at work and I’ve been busy at school so we haven't been able to clean up recently.”

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a shrug, “Where are we going?”

“Up to my room,” he pointed up the staircase, “You’ll probably be able to tell which room is mine.”

Dan scampered up the stairs, and Phil followed shortly after with a sigh. He didn’t know how much longer he could spend with Dan before he broke out into a crazy story about how perfect Dan is.

When he arrived at the top of the steps he found Dan staring at his door in awe. “Did you paint this,” Dan asked.

“Ah yeah,” Phil said, “I did it a few years ago so it’s not the best piece I’ve done.”

He’d painted an array of vegetation along with his door with various small items hidden through them. A few of his favorites were the stars and eyes scattered throughout, but he really appreciated the piece as a whole. “Do you want to head in?”

“Yeah.”

As Phil walked in front of Dan, their shoulders brushed and he felt a jolt of electricity run through him. They’d touched before but none of those had felt as electrifying. He pushed open the door and flung his backpack onto the ground. “You can take the desk and I’ll take the bed?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Just let me grab my laptop real quick and I’ll get out of the way. And sorry about the mess, I wasn’t really planning on having company and that’s where I plan my paintings and stuff.”

“It’s fine. My makeup desk is a mess too,” Dan smiled.

“Well I’ll let you get to work,” Phil said before situating himself on his bed and opening his laptop.

——

Phil felt a jab against his shoulder and he rolled over with a groan. “Phil,” someone whispered.

“It’s too early for this, Mum,” he mumbled.

“You’re not telling me I sound like an old lady right now, are you, Lester?” said a voice that was definitely not his mother’s.

He opened his eyes a bit to see who it was before springing up. “Oh my god Dan, I’m so sorry, I fell asleep. I’ve just been having a stressful day and I can-“

“Calm down, Phil. I’m not mad,” Dan rolled his eyes. “I was going to let you sleep but your mom wants to know if you’re hungry. She shouted up.”

“Oh shit, I forgot she comes home early on Thursdays.”

He rushed down the stairs quickly and into the kitchen where he found his mother stirring a pot of noodles. “Sorry, Mum. I forgot what day it was.”

“That’s fine, sweetie,” she said before glancing over his shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, that’s Dan.”

“Ahh. The elusive Daniel. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she hummed to Dan.

“All good things I hope,” Dan said, easily slipping into the personality Phil saw him use around their teachers before.

“Of course dear. Are you staying for dinner?”

“Only if you’ll have me. I’m assuming my visit wasn’t run past you.”

“No,” she sighed, “But dear Philip is a bit scatterbrained so I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

“Hey,” Phil mumbled in mock offense.

“She's right you know.”

“That’s a very mean thing to say to your host.”

“Ah like falling asleep isn’t a mean thing to do to your guest. Was I really that boring, Phil?”

“No, I already told you-“

“I’m joking, Phil.”

Phil turned back to face his mother and saw a quick flicker of fondness in her eyes. “You’re sure it’s not an issue if Dan stays? I don’t want to put any pressure on you. We can go eat out.”

“He’s fine, Dear,” she laughed. “Besides I need a new person to gossip about you with.”

“What does gossiping about Phil entail? Do I get to see baby pictures?”

“Shush he’s not supposed to know about that part,” she laughed, “but yes dear I suppose that can be arranged.”

Phil blushed in embarrassment knowing that Dan would finally figure out that his hair was naturally a strange shade of orangish brown. He hadn’t been keeping it a secret on purpose. Especially since his roots took to peaking through every once in a while. “Please don’t show him,” he muttered.

“Why not?” Dan frowned.

“Philip was an adorable baby. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want anyone to see his squishy face.”

“Very funny, Mum.”

“I’m being serious,” she laughed. “Dinner is finished though. It’s nothing too fancy. Just some spaghetti.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lester.”

“Oh, dear, you can call me Kath.”

“Ok, Kath.”

——

Dinner went by smoothly and Phil was sat listening to his mother telling Dan what he was like as a baby for what seemed like ages. The worst part was when she brought out the baby books and started to show Dan his pictures.

“Your hair is naturally orangish? Why’d you dye it?” Dan asked.

“I like it better this way,” Phil responded. “Though one time I did try to dye it blonde. Let’s hope she doesn’t show you that picture though because I look like a literal highlighter.”

Dan giggled. “I’m sure you were a cute highlighter.” Phil watched Dan’s cheeks turn bright red and then he was off in another conversation with Phil’s mother.

He came up with a plan then. He would ask Dan out. He didn’t know when, but the new Avengers movie was coming out that weekend, and he knew they’d both enjoy it. He just hoped he was reading Dan’s messages right.

——

They’d ended up back in Phil’s room after some ice cream, and Dan was packing his stuff into his backpack. It was the perfect time to ask but his nerves were everywhere, and he didn’t know if he could get the words out. Dan’s voice broke him from his thoughts, “I really like your mom.”

“Yeah,” Phil replied. “She's pretty cool.”

“She wasn’t as judgemental as some of the other parents I’ve met. Most of them make assumptions and stuff.”

“I think I’ve trained her well enough not too.”

Dan laughed at that. “You can’t take the credit for her lovely personality. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“I’m pretty sure I can, Daniel. Besides, Who said she wasn’t just as naive as everyone else’s parents before I- you know- came out.”

“Yeah. She tried though. Not everyone’s parents do.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

Phil watched as Dan’s face twisted into a scowl. “My Dad wasn’t the best. He was very picky about what we could do, and he forced us into sports early on. He was concerned that we wouldn’t be manly enough because people started to accept others more. I was rebellious so I started stealing my mother’s skirts and messing around with her makeup. It made me feel like myself,” Dan said. “My parents divorced when I was just starting secondary school. My mom tried to help us move away from the idea that men had to be a certain way. I started incorporating more stereotypical feminine items into my style.”

“Your dad sounds like a shitty guy, but I’m glad you found yourself.”

“Yeah,” Dan mumbled, “He's not in our lives anymore. He has a new family and I guess that’s okay with me. I never really had him so it's not like I miss him.”

“I get what you’re saying. Look I know this is pretty shitty timing, but do you maybe want to go see the new Avengers movie with me?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot that was coming out. What day do you want to see it?”

Phil internally groaned. Dan wasn’t seeming to get that Phil was trying to ask him on a date. Sure he had bad timing but he thought the excessive nerves would clue Dan in. “Friday’s good for me.”

“That’s perfect.”

“It’s a date then.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. I’ve liked you forever, Dan.”

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Dan said punching him in the shoulder. “You had to have seen that I liked you too.”

“I didn’t really notice it until we started working on that project together. Why didn’t you ask me?”

“I thought you didn’t like me and I wasn’t going to be an annoying underclassman.”

“Oh my god we’re both so stupid,” Phil laughed.

“We really are,” Dan agreed. “I'm really excited to see where this goes.”

22 notes · View notes

withastolenlantern · 3 years

Text

It was nearly seven in the evening now, and his stomach rumbled with an unexpected hunger. He took the hint and descended the elevator to the hotel restaurant, pulling up a stool to the bar. Several holos above the ornate mirrored cabinets were showing football and rugby highlights, and some kind of panel program he understood to be quite popular in Britain. He ordered fish and chips, something he’d always wanted to try, and a pint of local bitter ale.

The meal arrived wrapped in newspaper, which he found strange but charming, and the fish was greasy but tender in a way that made him more homesick than he expected. The beer was darker than the Japanese lagers to which he was accustomed, and maltier in flavor, but still quite good. He leaned back into the stool, half-heartedly following the football scores, and sighed almost imperceptibly. What the hell am I doing? He wondered.

A woman crossed the restaurant and took up the stool next to him. She was dressed demurely, in a light grey jumper, dark trousers, and heeled ankle boots, with a mop of curled hair pulled back into a loose pile at the rear of her head. She ordered a whiskey, neat, and a cup of tea, a combination the doctor found quite odd.

The barman poured the whiskey and she swallowed it in one short gulp, before pouring a squeeze of honey into the tea cup and turning toward him. “Doctor Yokota, I presume?”

“I, uh… yes?” he replied, confused.

“Detective Inspector Eloise Chatham. I understand you’ve recently encountered some… shall we say… peculiarities.”

Yokota’s eyes lit up with recognition. He hadn’t been sure what to expect; hadn’t been sure to expect anything, really. “You are a police officer?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of a sort, yes.” The woman produced a well-used mobile device and slid it across the bar in front of him. The holo kicked on in response and threw up an identification display, with a low-resolution photo of the woman along with a badge number and logo for something called “HRMES”.

She gestured toward the bartender with a single raised finger, then pointed to her empty whiskey glass and Yokota’s half-full pint. “N… no, I’m good for now,” he started.

“Believe me,” she replied with a smirk. “You won’t be for much longer.”

There was no malice in her pronouncement, just a weary confidence that strongly suggested she was correct. It had been a long and strange day following some long and strange weeks, and he drank down the remainder of his beer with a single pull.

The barman returned with fresh drinks and took their emptied glasses. She took a sip of her whiskey, slower this time, and he saw her eyes rapidly twitching behind the frames of her spectacles. She appeared to be toggling through some kind of menus, likely on a display only she could see. That kind of interface had been standard on mobile and larger devices for a long time, but the doctor had never seen a compact version built into eyeglasses like that before. Whoever this woman was, she clearly had access to unique equipment.

The holo from her mobile flashed again, displaying a complex chemical reaction diagram now. “You ever see this before?” she asked.

Yokota leaned in closer to inspect the display. The individual reagents he recognized, but not in the combinations or reactions shown. The intermediary precipitates were strange, and even if they could be synthesized he couldn’t be sure of their utility. He followed the reaction along to its end point, curious, and hesitated when he reached the end. Startled, he waved the display closed.

“Recognize something?”

“Yes. Are you sure we are… safe, here?” the doctor whispered, checking briefly over his shoulder to survey the rest of the bar.

“Probably not. I’ve almost been killed twice in the last week,” Chatham said, following his gaze around the room. “But no one knows you’re here, or even who you are, and technically I’ve been sacked from this case. So this seems as good a place as any.”

Yokota winced as she nonchalantly described her recent brushes with death. This woman was clearly accustomed to walking a fine line of mortality, and he’d sworn an oath years ago to remain firmly on one side of that divide. He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was an old doctor, near to retirement, and the events of the last few weeks had completely upended the monotony of his established routine. His knees creaked with the effort of years, and his lungs heaved against the tar in his lungs; he was halfway around the world on the advice of a man he barely knew, chasing a mystery he didn’t understand and had no business pursuing. And yet here he was, meeting this lithe woman, inconspicuously dressed but presumably police, in some kind of clandestine conspiracy. He felt very foolish, as if play-acting at some kind of classic American film-noir, not sure where to turn or what to do.

“Can I trust you?” he asked.

She took another small sip from her whiskey glass in contemplation. “I don’t know. I’m not sure you can, honestly. But I’m guessing you’ve got nowhere else to go, seeing as you’ve flown halfway around the world to meet me. All I can do is promise to listen, and do what I think is best with what you have to say.”

Yokota took another drink from his beer, his hands shaking, if imperceptibly, with nerves. She was right; clearly the local police couldn’t be trusted. He barely knew Cavendish, and had known this woman all of a ten minutes, but she clearly had stumbled across something similar, and she was at least willing to listen.

“I told Doctor Cavendish, I have seen this chemical before,” he explained.

The detective arched an eyebrow in response, and nodded at him to keep going. “Where have you seen it?”

“Some kind of... drug. An old woman in my hospital had some in her coat.”

“Did she die?”

“Yes,” he replied with more sadness than he expected.

“How?”

“Some kind of…” he struggled to find the right words in English. “Like a disease. Fever. Blood everywhere.”

“Fuck.” The detective sat back on her stool, then reached for her whiskey and quickly swallowed the remainder. “Okay. I need you to meet somebody.”

#back at it after an extended break #for all 1.63 of you who might care #the world ocean

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

Text

Non Solum Fugere

The Aerialbots don't fit in with the rest of Optimus Prime's unit.

Non Solum Fugere

“I can’t believe that Optimus Prime gave us such a stupid mission,” Slingshot whined. This was the fifth time he had made this complaint in as many minutes, and Fireflight really wasn’t sure why his older brother was so upset. He’d never been to a library before! It sounded fascinating!

“Slingshot, maintaining good public relations with our human allies is important. They need to know that they can trust us,” Silverbolt replied. He was as quiet as usual-Silverbolt never yelled-but he definitely sounded frustrated.

“Yeah, yeah, I know we’re supposed to be nice to those humans. But why us? Why not send Bumblebee or Hound or somebody who actually likes them?” Slingshot asked.

“Optimus said that the humans asked for us specifically, and since we didn’t have anything on our schedules, he said that it would be a good idea for us to go. And I agree with him,” Silverbolt replied.

“But I don’t like dealing with humans. They’re so loud and annoying, and their television is weird,” Slingshot protested. Fireflight didn’t know why Slingshot didn’t like humans. Sure, they hadn’t made the best first impression on any of them, but they were so interesting, and Spike and Carly and Chip were really neat!

“What about Prince Jamal? He’s human,” Silverbolt asked.

“Aww, that ain’t the same! Prince Jamal’s different. For one thing, he isn’t near as whiny,” Slingshot replied.

“That’s ironic, coming from a guy who’s done nothing but whine since he found out that we’re going to attend a Q and A meeting at a human library,” Silverbolt said. Air Raid laughed loudly.

“Boy, he got you good, Slingshot!” he exclaimed.

“Aww, shut up,” Slingshot muttered, clearly embarrassed. After this, he fell silent.

“Well, I, for one, am excited. An entire building full of books? That’s a dream come true! I can only imagine how much information this library might contain about the aerial aces of the humans’ wars….” Skydive said as Fireflight started to study the clouds. One looked like that fuzzy animal Spike called a sheep, and one looked like one of Ratchet’s wrenches, and one looked like Silverbolt. Fireflight would have smiled had he been in robot mode. It was so nice that there was a cloud that looked like his oldest brother. Was there a cloud that looked like him? Funny, that cloud sure was moving fast….

“Fireflight, watch out! You’re about to collide with that passenger jet!” Silverbolt suddenly yelled. Fireflight pulled up sharply, narrowly missing the Silverbolt-cloud that wasn’t a cloud at all.

“Sorry,” he said, although he knew the humans inside couldn’t actually hear him. Then he flew back up to rejoin his brothers.

“And I suppose that’ll do wonders for our public relations with the humans,” Slingshot remarked sarcastically.

“I...I didn’t mean to, guys. I’m really sorry,” Fireflight said. He hated it when his brothers got mad at him.

“It’s all right. I radioed the pilot and explained what happened, and he’s not angry. He said that he was just glad no one got hurt,” Silverbolt replied.

“You still need to pay more attention to where you’re going, though. If ‘Bolt hadn’t noticed that jet when he did, you would’ve knocked yourself and that jet out of the sky,” Skydive added.

“I will,” Fireflight replied, thoroughly chastened. Two minutes later, they landed in the field behind Masonville’s Public Library and transformed. Before Fireflight could start looking around at the field, Skydive grabbed his hand and led him towards the back of the library, where a makeshift stage had been set up. A human female was standing on the stage.

“Hello. You must be the Aerialbots. I’m Alyssa Brown, the library’s director. I’m so glad that you were able to make it,” she said. Silverbolt smiled, knelt, and gently shook her hand.

“We’re glad to be here, Ms. Brown. I’m Silverbolt, the leader of the Aerialbots, and these are my brothers, Skydive, Air Raid, Slingshot, and Fireflight.” Fireflight took a closer look at the woman. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, she was wearing a black pantsuit, and she wore thin, wire-rimmed glasses. Despite her small size, she was rather intimidating, and Fireflight hoped that he wouldn’t make her angry.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hello,” she replied.

“So, uh, where are the other humans?” Slingshot asked.

“They’re still inside the library. You Autobots are very popular, and we didn’t want you to get mobbed the moment you arrived. They’ll come out to meet you as soon as you’ve gotten onstage,” Ms. Brown replied. The Aerialbots climbed onto the stage, and Ms. Brown walked off and into the library. About two minutes later, a large number of humans exited the library and gathered around the makeshift stage. As soon as the crowd had congregated, Silverbolt stepped forward.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Silverbolt, and I’m the leader of the Aerialbots. We’re honored that you invited us here, and we look forward to talking with you and answering your questions,” he said. The humans applauded politely, and Fireflight smiled. It was nice that the humans seemed happy to have them there.

“I’m Skydive, and I’m our team’s tactician,” Skydive said. Then he gestured to Air Raid, who grinned broadly and added,

“And I’m Air Raid. I’m the cute one.” The crowd chuckled, and Fireflight stepped forward.

“I’m Fireflight. I’ve never been to a library before. What’s it like?” The crowd laughed again, although Fireflight wasn’t sure what he had said that had been so funny.

“Well, as soon as you finish your Q and A session, I’ll show you around and you can see for yourself.” Fireflight recognized the voice as coming from Ms. Brown, and he smiled. Maybe she wasn’t so scary after all.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he glanced at Slingshot, who was supposed to introduce himself now. Instead, Slingshot crossed his arms and scowled. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Silverbolt sighed and took over his introduction.

“And this is Slingshot, out sharpshooter.” Slingshot gave a very half-hearted wave, and Silverbolt shot Slingshot a glare that Fireflight was pretty sure would lead to them having another argument later. For the moment, however, he turned back to the crowd.

“All right. Now that you know who we are, feel free to ask any questions that you might have. We will ask you to raise your hands so that we can address everyone’s questions, but you can ask as many questions as you like, and if the answer is confidential, we will tell you. What would you like to know?” he asked. Almost immediately, about fifty hands shot up.

“Oh, my,” Skydive murmured. Fireflight guessed that he, much like Fireflight himself, hadn’t been anticipating that many people raising their hands at once. Silverbolt, however, just smiled and pointed at a person standing in the second row.

“What do you think of working with Optimus Prime?” the person asked.

“Working with Optimus Prime has been a great experience. I’m sure you’ve probably heard that from every other Autobot who’s been interviewed, but this is one of those cases where the banal answer is the true one. He’s an incredibly wise, compassionate individual ...” Silverbolt said. Fireflight tried to pay attention to what his oldest brother was saying, but then he caught sight of a little girl with golden hair and then a little boy with black, curly hair and an older human with a four-legged animal that he thought was called a cow (or maybe a dog) and then he saw a female human with a really colorful piece of cloth tied around her neck and started to wonder what that was. It looked so soft! He wondered if maybe she would let him hold it. A few seconds later, his attention wandered to a nearby tree, which was really pretty and had nice, colorful leaves.

“Isn’t that right, Fireflight?” Air Raid asked suddenly, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” he said quickly, trying to cover up the fact that he hadn’t heard anything that had been said in the past five minutes.

“Fireflight can be a little spacey,” Skydive explained. Then he pointed at another person in the crowd, this time a little boy with an Autobot logo on his shirt.

“Which one of you is the fastest?” he asked.

“Air Raid. But that’s only because he’s the only one of us reckless enough to routinely travel at top speed,” Skydive replied.

“Hey, if you’ve got it, why not flaunt it?” Air Raid asked.

“Cool,” the boy said. He had a big smile on his face. Eager to make up for having spaced out, Fireflight quickly pointed at the raised hand of the person with the cow (or dog). After another human said something to him, he asked,

“What’s it like to fly yourself? I was a pilot in Vietnam many years ago, and the feeling of flying an airplane never really leaves you. How does it feel to be a plane?” Skydive looked thrilled at that news-this man might be one of the flying aces that he loved to read about, Fireflight thought. With that in mind, he let his older brother answer the question.

“It’s a little hard to explain, actually. I mean, we’ve all been flying our whole lives, so we’ve never known what it’s like not to fly. However, if I had to pick a word to really describe what it’s like to be able to fly, I guess I would have to say that it’s freedom. There’s nothing like it,” Skydive replied.

“I see. Thank you,” the man replied. The Q and A session continued smoothly until a male human in a leather jacket asked,

“How do we know that you can be trusted? You Autobots say you want to help us, but for all we know, that could just be a ploy to get us to trust you. Why should we cooperate with a bunch of heavily armed giant robots who have just added five military jets to their ranks?” Before Silverbolt could answer, Slingshot suddenly stepped forward.

“We’re the only thing standing between you ingrates and the Decepticons! Do you think you could take them on? All us Autobots work our tailpipes off keeping you safe, and if you don’t appreciate it, I’d be happy to leave and go someplace else!” The crowd murmured unhappily, and Silverbolt frowned.

“Slingshot, that was entirely out of line,” he said sternly. Then he turned to the crowd and added,

“I apologize for my teammate’s incredibly rude reply. While we are indeed saddened that some of you don’t trust us, there are no grounds for being rude after we were invited here as guests. If you wish to end this session, we will, and I promise we will cover any costs that might incur.” The crowd seemed to receive Silverbolt’s words well, and Ms. Brown said,

“Thank you, Silverbolt, but that won’t be necessary. Most of us are grateful for all you Autobots do for us and for this chance to spend time with you. I think I speak for most of us when I say that we would be glad if you finished the session.” Silverbolt smiled, and Fireflight felt relieved that he wouldn’t miss out on getting to see the library.

“When these robots take over, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the human in the leather jacket said as he stormed off. Fireflight felt a little hurt that the man didn’t trust them. He and his brothers and the other Autobots would never hurt humans! Well, maybe Slingshot and Blades might, and the Dinobots and Sunstreaker didn’t like humans, either, but Silverbolt and Hot Spot and Optimus Prime would make sure that they never hurt anyone other than the Decepticons. After another thirty minutes of answering questions and trying to stay focused, the Q and A session came to a close. Most of the humans dispersed, and Fireflight and his brothers left the makeshift stage. Skydive immediately struck up a conversation with the man who had flown a plane in one of the humans’ wars upon leaving the stage, while Air Raid showed off to a crowd of children and Silverbolt thanked people for attending. For his part, Fireflight started looking around for Ms. Brown. He couldn’t wait for his tour of the library, and it couldn’t start without her. Luckily, she found him before he got distracted.

“Hello, Fireflight. Are you ready for your tour?” Fireflight quickly turned to Silverbolt.

“Can I go, Silverbolt?” He asked his oldest brother eagerly.

“Of course, Fireflight,” Silverbolt replied. Fireflight beamed and turned back to Ms. Brown.

“I can’t wait to start!”

“You’re a little big for our doors, but our back entrance is just big enough that you should be able to get in and out if you’re careful,” she said as she led him closer to the library. After a few minutes of very awkward maneuvering, Fireflight found himself in a brightly colored wonderland. It was so pretty!

“Wow, this is amazing!” He was vaguely aware of the fact that his head scraped the ceiling, but he was so enthralled by all the colors and shapes that he didn’t care.

“I’m glad you think so, Fireflight. The counters, where our patrons check out the books that they borrow, are to your right, and the children’s area is to your left. The movies and CDs are past the checkout counters, and the nonfiction books are across the room from you, as are the novels intended for older readers. Do you have any questions?” Ms. Brown said. Fireflight was shocked at the sheer variety of materials that were available here. He’d never seen so many datapads-er, books-in his life! This was so exciting!

“Could I check things out?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, you’d need to get a library card first, and you’d have to be very careful not to damage anything considering your size, but I don’t see why that couldn’t be arranged,” Ms. Brown replied. Fireflight beamed. Thirty minutes later, he carefully excited the library with a digital library card and four different human books.

“Thanks for the tour, Ms. Brown!” Ms. Brown smiled.

“You’re quite welcome, Fireflight, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“I’ll probably be coming with him again next time,” Skydive said.

“So there’s another bibliophile on the team? That’s wonderful!” Ms. Brown exclaimed, puzzling Fireflight.

“What’s a bibliophile?” he asked.

“A bibliophile is a book lover,” Skydive explained.

“Oh! I like that word! It sounds really neat.” Ms. Brown laughed.

“You’re both welcome at my library any time. Good-bye, and good luck,” she said.

“Good-bye, Ms. Brown,” Fireflight replied.

“Thank you for having us,” Silverbolt said, as he knelt and shook Ms. Brown’s hand again.

“You’re welcome….and good luck keeping your team in line. They seem like they can be a bit of a handful,” she replied. With that, the Aerialbots transformed, took off, and flew back to base, where they were met by Optimus Prime. As soon as they’d all transformed and landed, Silverbolt saluted.

“Sir!”

“At ease, Silverbolt. How did things go?”

“Overall, the Q & A session went very well, sir. The humans, with one exception, were thrilled to have us there, and Air Raid, Skydive, and Fireflight were great with them. In fact, Skydive and Air Raid did so well that it might be a good idea to send Skydive on the next visit to the local nursing home and Air Raid on the next visit to a local school. Skydive loves listening to the stories of the past that the older humans tell, and Air Raid’s great with the children. Oh, and Fireflight actually went on a tour of the library and has a library card now. Slingshot was difficult, and I will discipline him for his behavior as soon as we return to our quarters, but otherwise, things worked out perfectly, sir,” Silverbolt replied.

“Excellent work, Silverbolt.” Fireflight smiled. It was good to know that their leader appreciated all the hard work Silverbolt put into leading them.

“Thank you, sir,” Silverbolt said. With that, Fireflight followed Silverbolt back to their quarters, trying not to squirm with excitement at the prospect at reading books with such pretty pictures in them. Humans had so many neat ideas, and printing books on funny pieces of carbon-based material was one of them. Upon their arrival back to their quarters, Silverbolt dismissed Air Raid, Skydive, and Fireflight, and Fireflight bolted to the room that he shared with Skydive, eager to look at all the fascinating things in his new books and to avoid the argument Slingshot was probably going to start with Silverbolt. Fireflight didn’t like when Slingshot got angry with Silverbolt. It really worried him, and the idea that his brothers might not like each other made him sad. Then he noticed the pretty plant that Hound had given him a present, and the funny-looking “Cabbage Patch Baby” that Carly had given him, and the picture of him and his brothers on the day of their creation, and the neat-looking “mobile” that Wheeljack had made for him, and the pretty rubies and emeralds that Powerglide’s friend Astoria had given to him, and the giant smiley face drawing that Swoop had given him, and he smiled. It was so nice of his friends to give him such interesting things to look at. He vaguely remembered that he had been worried about something, but he couldn’t remember what it had been. Oh, well. It probably didn’t matter, not when he had new books to look at! He eagerly started reading one of them, and was lost to the world for the next thirty minutes. Then Slingshot started yelling really loudly.

“Well, if you don’t want me around, then FINE! I’m leaving!” he yelled. Fireflight heard a transformation noise, and then the sound of engines igniting and a jet taking off. Scared, he ran back to their common room to see a stunned-looking Silverbolt and no Slingshot. A few seconds later, Air Raid and Skydive also entered the room.

“I take it that Slingshot left in one of his fits of pique?” Skydive asked. Silverbolt sighed and shook his head.

“Unfortunately, yes. I know he doesn’t like being disciplined, but he doesn’t seem to understand that I have a responsibility to Optimus Prime to keep my team in line,” he said.

“What’s pique?” Fireflight asked, but everyone ignored him.

“Hey, Skydive, ten credits says that Slingshot comes crawling back in less than two hours,” Air Raid exclaimed.

“Make it twenty, and I will take you up on your wager,” Skydive replied. Silverbolt frowned at them, and Fireflight whimpered. He didn’t like it when Silverbolt got upset with his brothers. Why couldn’t they all just be happy?

“Air Raid, Skydive, this isn’t a game. If Slingshot keeps flouting my authority like this, High Command will think that I’m not fit to lead,” he said.

“So? Prime would never put any of the four of us in charge, so who would he replace you with? Omega Supreme? He’s too slow. Powerglide the minibot? That dopey Dinobot Swoop? No way,” Air Raid replied casually.

“I don’t think Swoop is dopey. He’s really nice,” Fireflight said, but, as usual when everyone was sad or mad, he was ignored again.

“Air Raid is right, Silverbolt. You have complete job security, so it doesn’t matter what the Autobots think of your performance,” Skydive said.

“Skydive, we’re Autobots, too,” Silverbolt protested.

“Tell that to them,” Skydive replied, puzzling Fireflight. Sure, they hadn’t gotten along with the other Autobots at first, but that was over. Wasn’t everyone friends now?

“Yeah! The humans treat us like Autobots, but nobody else does. Every time I enter the common room to hang out, it gets all quiet, and when I ask if anyone wants to hang out with me, everyone suddenly has stuff to do. A couple of them are nice, but most of them seem….I dunno, nervous around us, I guess,” Air Raid added.

“Air Raid is correct. The Autobots do not trust us. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have been reading in a corner of the Ark and overheard them talking about us behind our backs,” Skydive added. Fireflight frowned. Skydive wasn’t suggesting that the other Autobots didn’t like them, was he?

“What did you hear them say?” Silverbolt asked. He sounded sad, and that made Fireflight sad, too. He just wanted everything to be okay!

“All sorts of things. They say that Slingshot and Air Raid would betray the Autobots in a sparkbeat if the Decepticons offered them an opportunity for bigger thrills, that Fireflight is an idiot who shouldn’t be allowed out of his quarters because he poses too much of a danger to others, that you’re an incompetent leader who lets us get away with murder because you cannot control us, and that I am….well, basically Onslaught with wings; cold, cruel, and calculating,” Skydive replied. He sounded mad.

“Who’s included in this “they”?” Silverbolt asked, now sounding even more sad.

“Cliffjumper, Gears, Brawn, Huffer, Powerglide, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Tracks, Grapple, Warpath, Red Alert, and Ironhide,” Skydive replied, as though reciting from memory. Skydive was really smart, and he could remember lots of things that Fireflight couldn’t, but Fireflight didn’t know why he had wanted to remember something sad. Silverbolt frowned.

“I’m going after Slingshot,” he said. With that, he left the room, and Fireflight trailed after him, hoping that he would be able to make Silverbolt happy again.

“Don’t be sad, Silverbolt. We all know you’re a good leader, and Optimus Prime does, too,” he said. That was what was important, right?

“Some leader. If I was half the leader Hot Spot is, I wouldn’t have half the base calling me lazy and incompetent,” Silverbolt replied. He sounded angry.

“Maybe Skydive misunderstood. Maybe they were joking, or they didn’t say what he thought they said,” Fireflight replied. Silverbolt just shook his head.

“Skydive doesn’t make that kind of mistake, Fireflight,” he said, and Fireflight frowned, because Silverbolt was right. Skydive didn’t usually get things wrong-but if he wasn’t wrong, then that meant that a lot of the other Autobots didn’t like him and his big brothers!

“But….but you’re a great leader. Why wouldn’t they see that?” Fireflight asked.

“Maybe because it’s not there to see,” Silverbolt replied sadly.

“Of course it is! You’re so smart and brave and kind and-”

“That’s enough, Fireflight! I know you’re trying to help, but the only way I can fix this problem is by getting Slingshot back to base on the double. Go back to our quarters.”

“But-”

“I said go back, Fireflight,” Silverbolt said. He still didn’t yell, but he did sound mad, so Fireflight reluctantly obeyed and went back to the Aerialbots’ quarters, where he promptly started to sob. Why were the other Autobots mad at him and his brothers?

“There, there. We will be fine, Fireflight,” Skydive said as he patted Fireflight on the shoulder. Fireflight just cried harder.

“Yeah. We don’t need the other Autobots anyways, so who cares what they think?” Air Raid added. He was trying to sound tough, but even Fireflight could tell that he actually cared a lot about what the other Autobots thought and was sad that they didn’t like him.

“But...but you said they don’t like us! I don’t want them to not like us!” With that, he ran into his room, where he could cry in peace. Twenty minutes later, he had calmed down enough to stop crying...and then noticed the nice things that his friends had given him. Suddenly, he had a really good idea! Maybe if he gave presents to all of the Autobots, they would stop being mad at him and his brothers, and Silverbolt wouldn’t be scared and sad anymore! That was a great idea! After all, one of the books that he’d gotten from the library had said that doing nice things for others was a good way to get them to like you. Now all he had to do was figure out what all of the other Autobots wanted, and then everyone would be happy again! He quickly left the Aerialbots’ quarters and headed towards Teletraan One. Teletraan One knew everything, so it could probably tell him what gifts to give to the other Autobots. He almost got distracted by a particularly shiny piece of metal and a funny-looking, moving tube thing and Sunstreaker’s paint job, but each time, he remembered that he had a really important mission and managed to stay on track. When he arrived at the supercomputer, he was relieved to find that no one else was around. Good. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise for anyone.

“Hi, Teletraan One. Can you tell me what kinds of things the members of this unit like? I want to give them all presents!”

“Compiling list of hobbies,” Teletraan One replied. Five minutes later, a list appeared on the screen, and Fireflight downloaded it into his personal files.

“Thank you, Teletraan One!” he exclaimed. He walked into the common room, sat down at one of the tables, and started reading the list. Hound: enjoys Earthen flora and fauna. Okay, that was easy. He’d get Hound a pet! Hound loved animals! Jazz: enjoys Earthen music. Fireflight smiled. Earth music was really neat. He could see why Jazz liked it. Blaster: also enjoys Earth music, particularly “rock” music. Fireflight pondered this for a minute. If Jazz and Blaster both liked music, then he could probably get their presents from the same place. Powerglide: enjoys model planes. Fireflight smiled. He liked model planes too, so he knew where to get them. That wouldn’t be too hard. Grapple: an architect and artist. Loves to construct. Oooh, he’d buy Grapple a LEGO set! Wheeljack: enjoys inventing. Hobbies are dangerous; aiding him in them not advised. Hmmm...then maybe he could get Wheeljack a first aid kit for when his hobby exploded. Sunstreaker: enjoys admiring himself. So, a really big mirror, then? Fireflight could do that! Sideswipe: Enjoys playing Earthen “video games”. Air Raid had a lot of those...maybe he could buy Sideswipe one from the place where Air Raid got his. Brawn: a collector of the Cybertronian Heroes toy line; is currently missing only the exclusive “X-Treme” figure. Getting a toy from Cybertron would be challenging, but surely he could find someone who had that figure! Tracks: enjoys New York City, wants to see a Broadway show. Fireflight nodded. Broadway tickets it was! It sure was a good thing that he’d never spent any of his money. (Every member of the unit was given a certain amount of money each month to spend on recreation for their off-duty time, but he had never actually used any of his...at least until now.) Huffer: an engineer. Enjoys reminiscing about Cybetron. Maybe he could give him LEGOs too, so that he could make a replica of Cybetron. Gears: enjoys getting tune-ups. Fireflight figured that he could get the grumpy minibot a giftcard for an auto repair shop. Maybe that would make him happy! Warpath: enjoys sharpshooting. How about a dart board? It wasn’t exactly sharpshooting, but it was similar. Cliffjumper: enjoys collecting guns. Fireflight didn’t think he could purchase a gun without permission, but he could buy him a NERF gun! Ratchet: enjoys parties; would like to experience Mardi Gras. At this point, Fireflight realized that he should probably be making a list of things to buy so that he didn’t forget anything. He quickly wrote down everything he had already thought of and then added purchasing party supplies and masks to the second list. Bumblebee: enjoys collecting “stuffed animals”; has a particular fondness for bears. Well, that would be easy. Stuffed bears weren’t hard to find. Bluestreak: enjoys talking; would like to own the game of Catchphrase. Another easy one! Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. Red Alert: has no hobbies; suggest purchasing him a security blanket. Fireflight frowned. Poor Red Alert. Maybe a blanket would make him less worried all the time. On to the list it went! Grimlock: enjoys being in charge; would like to own a crown. Finding one in his size might be difficult, but Fireflight was sure he could do it! Prowl: enjoys games of strategy. Suggestion: buy him a game of Risk. He’d get that when he got Catchphrase. Ironhide: Would like to have a romantic evening with Chromia. That would take some time, but Fireflight thought he could manage it. And he could buy Ironhide flowers for her, too! Spike had told him that girls loved flowers. An hour and a half later, Fireflight had reached the end of Teletraan One’s list. The last item on the list read: Optimus Prime: Autobot leader. Suggestion: give him a hug. Fireflight smiled. That, he could do for sure! Now that he knew what everyone wanted, he deleted the file he’d downloaded from Teletraan One and returned to his quarters, where he found Slingshot.

“Silverbolt says I have to apologize to you, so I’m sorry for running away and making you upset,” he said. Fireflight beamed. Slingshot was back! That was all that really mattered.

“I forgive you. I’m really glad you’re back,” he said. Slingshot gave a slight smile.

“I’m glad to be back, kid. Anyway, Silverbolt stuck me on punishment duty until the end of time, so I gotta split. See you around,” he replied. Before he could leave, though, someone let out a really loud shriek.

“SNAKE!” Slingshot and Fireflight exchanged a confused look and then ran in the direction the scream had come from to see who was screaming. They quickly found a group of Autobots, all of whom were gathered around the funny-looking, moving tube thing he’d seen earlier. The group included Red Alert, Inferno, Beachcomber, Windcharger, Bluestreak, and Hound. Red Alert looked both really angry and really scared, so Fireflight thought that he was probably the one who had screamed.

“Yep, that sure is a snake, Red Alert...and quite a beautiful one at that,” Hound said.

“I KNOW it’s a snake! What I want to know is how this hideous, tubular, carbon-based life form got past my security system!” Red Alert screamed.

“Easy, Red old buddy. Even a snake as big as that one can’t hurt Autobots,” Inferno said. Red Alert glared at him.

“That’s not the point, Inferno! The point is that it shouldn’t have been able to get past my security system! For all we know, the entire security network has malfunctioned, and the Decepticons are going to attack any minute! If a snake can get in, so can our enemies!” Red Alert exclaimed. Fireflight frowned. Poor Red Alert. He always seemed so upset. Hopefully he would like his security blanket once Fireflight found it. Suddenly, he heard a loud snicker, and then Sideswipe emerged from a storage room, laughing loudly.

“The look on your faceplates….it was priceless!” he exclaimed. Red Alert glared at him.

“Oh, yes, because tricking me into believing that we might be at risk for a Deception attack is absolutely hilarious, I’m sure,” he spat.

“Are you kidding? It’s comedy gold!” Sideswipe exclaimed. Then he started laughing even harder….only for the smile to slip off of his face when Prowl arrived.

“What is going on here, Sideswipe?” he asked sternly.

“Why do you always assume that things like this are my fault?” Sideswipe replied.

“Because they usually are. What happened?”

“This impudent, irreverent, insolent cretin used a snake-a snake, of all creatures!-to make me think that my security had been compromised!” Red Alert exclaimed.

“C’mon, Red, it was only a prank. Can’t you take a joke?” Sideswipe asked.

“Our security is not a joke!” Red Alert yelled. Inferno put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, probably in an attempt to calm him down.

“Easy, Red. You’re okay,” he said gently.

“Where did you get a snake that large anyway, Sideswipe? I’m pretty sure the snakes around here don’t get that big,” Hound asked.

“The local zoo,” Sideswipe replied. Then he looked nervous, glanced at Prowl, and added,

“What? I was gonna return it.”

“It doesn’t matter if you were going to return the snake, or what your motives were for pulling this stunt. Our security is of the utmost importance, and tricking Red Alert into thinking that it had been compromised is both potentially dangerous and cruel to him. You’re going to the brig for the next three days, and then you’re going to be on security duty with Red Alert for the next two weeks to make up for what you did to him,” Prowl told Sideswipe. Sideswipe just shrugged. Fireflight would’ve been very upset if he’d been put in the brig, but Sideswipe seemed to take getting in trouble in stride. Then he seemed to notice Slingshot and Fireflight and frowned.

“I get three days in the brig and two weeks of punishment detail for a stupid prank when these ‘Con sympathizers got off with a slap on the wrist for trying to defect? How’s that fair?” he snarled. Fireflight whimpered. Sideswipe was usually so happy. It was scary to see him angry, especially when it was directed at him.

“First, I’d hardly call nearly being killed by Megatron a “slap on the wrist”. Second, the Aerialbots were less than three weeks old when they “attempted to defect”-which, incidentally, was more of a naive decision to try to talk with the Decepticons than an actual attempt at treachery-and understood very little about our cause or the war. You, on the other hand, are a mature mech, who knows and fully understands the Autobot rules but still chooses to break them. The two situations are not at all comparable,” Prowl replied.

“Not at all comparable? I pranked Red Alert. They were playing nice with the enemy! Of course, I don’t know what else you’d expect from a bunch of Seekers,” Sideswipe exclaimed.

“Who’re you callin’ a Seeker, ya stupid groundpounder?” Slingshot exclaimed.

“Slingshot, you shouldn’t be fighting with him. Silverbolt won’t like that,” Fireflight said. He didn’t want the Autobots to have another reason to be mad at them!

“Why not? Fighting is what Seekers do, isn’t it?” Sideswipe asked. Fireflight frowned. He and his brothers weren’t Seekers. Seekers were Decepticons, and they were mean. He wasn’t mean, and neither were his brothers! Well, Slingshot could be mean sometimes, but not usually.

“Sideswipe, cease antagonizing the Aerialbots, or I will increase the amount of time you spend in the brig to a week,” Prowl said. Sideswipe glared at him.

“Why are you sticking up for them? Can’t you see it? They were modeled off of a Decepticon body type. They tried to defect the first chance they got. They talk like Seekers, they think they’re too good for a bunch of grounders like us, and nobody ever punishes them for anything! There’s never been a Seeker in the Autobot army, and for good reason! How long do you think it’ll be before they follow their programming and defect for real?” Slingshot frowned.

“I. Hate. Megatron. I ain’t a Seeker, and I don’t care what scrap you spew about my “programming”. I saw what he does to innocent mechs. I will never follow him, ya hear me?” Sideswipe laughed coldly, and Fireflight shuddered.

“Say what you want. It’ll convince Optimus. It’ll convince Prowl. It might even convince Red Alert. But it’ll never convince me. You’re a Seeker, and you’re all the same. You think you’re better than all of us because you can fly, and once you realize that we won’t put up with it, you’ll go running to Starscream. Your kind already destroyed my old home. I’m not gonna let you destroy my new home, too-Decepticon,” he said.

“That’s it. You’re going in the brig for a week and a half,” Prowl said. With that, he put stasis cuffs on Sideswipe and led him out of the room. An awkward silence then descended over the room as Fireflight started to cry. His brothers were right-some of the Autobots really did hate them, and that made him very sad.

“Does anyone else wanna accuse us of bein’ Seekers?” Slingshot demanded.

“Of course not. Sideswipe shouldn’t have said the things he did to you,” Hound replied.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’re traitors or anything, because you’re all pretty nice. But-please don’t get mad-I can kinda understand why a lot of mechs think you might be. I mean, you look a lot like Seekers, and the Seekers did a lot of damage on Cybertron. Most Autobots are used to thinking of anyone with your design as the enemy, and the fact that you didn’t know any better and liked the Decepticons at first didn’t help. It’s not right to call you traitors, ‘cause you’re really nice for a bunch of aerials-” Bluestreak babbled. Slingshot frowned and cut him off.

“Nice for a bunch of aerials? What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped. Fireflight was equally confused. What did their frametypes have to do with being nice?

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re so smart and well-spoken and nice, and it’s weird because most aerials are Decepticons, who aren’t nice at all even though you are, and Brawn is always talking about how Silverbolt is so well-behaved that you’d never know he was a Seek-” At this point, Hound interrupted.

“Bluestreak?”

“Yes, Hound?”

“As Spike likes to say, “put a sock in it”. You’re just making things worse.” Bluestreak ducked his head, clearly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“I forgive you,” Fireflight replied. He knew Bluestreak hadn’t meant to hurt them. Much like Fireflight himself, he just spoke without thinking. A lot.

“That’s great, Bluestreak. Now, if you’ll excuse a pair of stupid, violent Seekers, we’re gonna go back to our room where we won’t bother the rest of you,” Slingshot snapped. With that, he dragged Fireflight back to the Aerialbots’ quarters and stormed off to the room he shared with Air Raid, leaving Fireflight with his sad feelings. His brothers were right-some of the other Autobots really didn’t like them, and for a reason he really didn’t fully understand. He had to go through with his plans to give the other Autobots presents now. It was the only way to make the other Autobots realize that they weren’t mean because they were jets.

A few days later, Fireflight was called into Silverbolt’s office (which was really just his room).

“Yes, Silverbolt?” he asked. Silverbolt sighed, and Fireflight noticed that he looked really sad. Hopefully, Fireflight’s plan to make everyone like them would work, because if it did, it might mean that Silverbolt wouldn’t look so sad anymore. He had already managed to find about a quarter of the items on the list, and he figured that he’d manage to get something for every one of the Autobots by the end of the month.

“Cliffjumper has been accusing you of treachery. Do you have any idea why he might be doing that?” Silverbolt replied. Fireflight frowned. He knew that Cliffjumper had a habit of accusing various Autobots of treachery, but he had no idea what he might have done that would’ve gotten him accused.

“Cliffjumper’s saying I’m a traitor?”

“I’ll take that to mean that you don’t know why he’s been accusing you.”

“Nope. Sorry I don’t know, Silverbolt,” Fireflight replied. Silverbolt sighed again, sounding really tired.

“It’s not your fault, Fireflight. If anything, it’s mine. Maybe if I’d worked harder at making sure we earned the other Autobots’ respect, we’d be accepted by them by now,” he replied.

“It’s not your fault, either, Silverbolt,” Fireflight said quickly. He didn’t want Silverbolt to blame himself for the fact that the other Autobots didn’t like them. Silverbolt had always done everything right! A few seconds later, Skydive entered the room. Fireflight didn’t know where he had come from, but he assumed he must’ve overheard them talking.

“Fireflight is right, Silverbolt. It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do. Because you look like the enemy, some Autobots will always treat you like the enemy. You’re as loyal to Optimus Prime as any of the Autobots, but it doesn’t matter. You look like a Seeker, so the best you can hope for from them are backhanded compliments about how much you don’t act like a Seeker,” he said coldly. Fireflight frowned. Surely things weren’t that hopeless!

“It’s not like that, is it? They don’t really hate the way we look so much that they’ll never like us, do they?” he asked. Silverbolt patted his hand gently.

"No, of course not, Fireflight. They're just not used to us yet, that's all," Silverbolt replied. Skydive frowned.

"Don't lie to him, Silverbolt. It's not going to matter how long we're here or how much time the Autobots have to get used to us. To some of them, we'll never be anything but a bunch of potential traitors. And I for one have no desire to bend over backwards to please a group of prejudiced bullies who will never see past the fact that we have aerial alternate modes," he said.

"Skydive, we have to get along with them and convince them that we're trustworthy, no matter what it takes. It's our duty as members of this army to prove to our teammates that we can be relied upon. Optimus Prime expects it of us."

"Do you really think that Optimus Prime expects us to just accept being ostracized and insulted by our own supposed allies, Silverbolt?"

"No, I think he expects us to stop picking fights with the other Autobots. Slingshot and Air Raid give just as good as they get. You know that, Skydive!"

"If you call losing your temper and punching Sunstreaker after he's insulted and threatened Fireflight for ten minutes because of a slight scratch to his paint "picking fights", I suppose." Fireflight whimpered at the memory. Sunstreaker was scary when he was mad.

"Sunstreaker's a frontliner. He's been through a lot, especially at the hands of Seekers," Silverbolt said weakly.

"And that gives him free reign to threaten Fireflight with mutilation?"

"He wouldn't have really-"

"It's Sunstreaker, Silverbolt. He absolutely would have." Silverbolt sighed wearily.

"I...I need some time to think. You're both dismissed." Skydive saluted and exited the room.

"Bye, Silverbolt. I hope you feel better after you do some thinking," Fireflight said. Then, he, too, left the room...only to hear Silverbolt let out an exhausted-sounding groan.

"What am I going to do?" Fireflight, eager to help make his older brother feel better, returned to his room and continued his mission to buy presents for all the Autobots. A few hours later, after he had found Brawn and Seaspray’s presents, Air Raid commed him excitedly.

“You gotta come see this, Fireflight! It’s awesome!” he exclaimed.

“Where is it?” Fireflight replied.

“At the shuttle bay-you know, where Cosmos’ room is! Get down here!” Air Raid said. Fireflight rushed to the shuttle bay. When he arrived, he was greeted by an amazing sight. Standing in the shuttle bay with Air Raid and Cosmos was a really big robot, one even bigger than the Dinobots. After a few seconds of staring, Fireflight waved at him.

“Hi! I’m Fireflight! Who are you? I’ve never seen you before,” he asked.

“I’m Skyfire. It’s nice to meet you, Fireflight. I don’t recognize you, either, so maybe you came to Earth while I was off on my latest scientific voyage,” the huge mech replied.

“Skyfire! It’s good to have you back!” Cosmos exclaimed.

“It’s good to be back, little friend. When did our unit increase its aerial ranks?” Skyfire said.

“About two months after you left on your exploratory voyage, the Aerialbots-all five of them, including Fireflight and Air Raid here-joined our ranks. We needed troops to combat Megatron’s new team of cars,” Cosmos explained.

“I see. Well, it’s nice to have a few more flyers in the ranks. Would you mind introducing me to the rest of your team?” Skyfire said. Fireflight was surprised, but happy. It was nice to have someone who actually wanted to meet them.

“Sure! Follow us!” Air Raid exclaimed. Fireflight quickly commed Skydive, Slingshot, and Silverbolt to ask them to meet up with them in their quarters, and then ran to catch up to Skyfire and his brother. When the three of them arrived in the Aerialbots’ quarters, Silverbolt, Skydive, and Slingshot were already there, and when they saw Skyfire, all three of them looked impressed.

“Hello. I’m Skyfire. When you were recruited into Optimus Prime’s unit, I was on an exploratory mission in space, and as such, we haven’t yet met. I take it that you are the other three Aerialbots?” Skyfire said.

“Yes. I’m Silverbolt, the grey-and-black F-16 is Skydive, our resident bookworm and tactician, the Harrier with the orange head is Slingshot, and I see you’ve already met Air Raid and Fireflight. It’s good to meet you, Skyfire,” Silverbolt said. He and Skyfire shook hands.

“Likewise, Silverbolt. It’s good to finally have some more aerials around,” Skyfire said. Skydive looked at him oddly.

“You aren’t upset that we look like Seekers?” he asked.

“Skydive! There’s no need to accuse Skyfire of thinking something like that!” Silverbolt exclaimed. Skyfire sighed.

“Silverbolt, I understand Skydive’s question perfectly. I am fully aware of the animosity some Autobots bear towards aerials, particularly Seekers. I’ve been on the receiving end of it myself, after all,” he said. “You have?” Fireflight and Air Raid asked in unison.

“But you don’t look anything like a Seeker,” Slingshot said. Skyfire shook his head.

“I may not look as much like the Seekers as you do, but I’m still an aerial...and, more importantly, I was a Decepticon aerial for awhile,” Skyfire replied.

“And they haven’t chased you out of the base? With the exception of Silverbolt, we admired the Decepticons at first, and we still get called traitors for the one time that we attempted to talk to them rather than fight with them, even though we only did that because we didn’t fully understand the war and its history yet. I can’t imagine how they’d treat an actual ex-Decepticon,” Skydive said. Skyfire smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“Before the war, my best friend and I went on an exploratory mission of an uncharted planet. We were both scientists, and we had worked together for a very long time. We trusted each other implicitly. During the expedition, I was swept up by the planet’s polar winds and buried alive for millenia. A few years ago, my best friend returned to the planet, discovered that I was still alive, dug me out of the ice, told me that a war had started, and asked me to join his side. Due to our long friendship, I trusted that his side was the right one...and I was wrong. The planet was this one, Earth, and my friend was Starscream. When I discovered that the Decepticons weren’t what I had believed them to be, I switched sides and joined the Autobots, but the damage had been done. The Autobots knew that Starscream had been my friend, and that, combined with the fact that I had joined the Decepticons for a while, forever branded me as a traitor in the optics of some of my allies. Because of that, I go into space as often as I can. I do not wish to cause them distress, and having me out of sight is easier for them,” he explained.

“That’s so sad,” Fireflight said.

“It isn’t so bad, little one. I’m a shuttle. We’re used to our own company,” Skyfire replied.

“You were friends with Starscream?” Air Raid asked. Skyfire gave that sad smile again.

“Yes, I was. He was...different before I was entombed in the ice all those vorns ago, kind and funny and brilliant. I don’t know what happened while I was in stasis, but whatever it was, it changed him into something I don’t recognize,” he said quietly.

“Why hasn’t anyone told us about you?” Skydive asked.

“Probably ‘cause they wanted to make sure that he didn’t give us any additional treacherous ideas,” Slingshot replied. Silverbolt frowned.

“Or because we never asked,” he said.

“I can’t speak for everyone, but I can assure you that Optimus Prime, at least, wouldn’t use my past as a reason to keep me secret from you. Silverbolt’s right, they probably just forgot to tell you about me since I was away and you never knew to ask about me,” Skyfire added.

“If you say so. You seem like a pretty smart guy, especially for someone who was dumb enough to be friends with Starscream,” Slingshot replied. Skyfire laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.

“So, what happened on the expedition you just returned from?” Skydive asked.

“You really want to know?” Skyfire asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course,” Skydive replied, and Fireflight sat down and waited eagerly for Skyfire’s story to begin.

25 more presents from Fireflight’s list and four days later, Fireflight was awoken by shouting. Since one of the voices belonged to Silverbolt, who never yelled, Fireflight assumed that the base must be under attack. In response, he grabbed his gun and ran into the Aerialbots’ common room to see Silvebolt standing between a terrified-looking, injured Skydive and an absolutely furious-looking Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper.

“I don’t care what Skydive did or didn’t do. It can’t justify you hurting him like this!” Silverbolt exclaimed. Upon Silverbolt pointing this out, Cliffjumper started to look guilty.

“I didn’t mean for him to get hurt when we confronted him… but you’re all plotting to betray us! Skydive ordered Fireflight to start buying weapons, which is why he’s been on Teletraan One so much, and then convinced Sideswipe to prank Red Alert so that he would get locked up and one of our frontliners would be out of commission when you attacked. Then he called Skyfire and told him to return from his mission in space so that you would have backup when you all turned on the Autobots together!” Cliffjumper exclaimed. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Fireflight would have giggled. Cliffjumper’s idea was just so silly!

“Sunstreaker, don’t tell me you believe that crazy theory. You pride yourself on your intelligence,” Silverbolt said. Sunstreaker shrugged and turned to Cliffjumper.

“Get out of here, little buddy. I think things are about to get ugly, and one of us needs to be able to warn the other Autobots about Skydive’s scheme,” he said.

“You got it, Sunny,” Cliffjumper said. As soon as he left, a creepy, Decepticon-like smile spread across Sunstreaker’s face.

“You’re right, Silverbolt. I may hate aerials, but I don’t believe a word of that crazy theory. That’s not what matters, though. What matters is that Cliffjumper does...and that’s exactly why I told it to him. True, he cries wolf so often that no one would believe him on his own, but with me and Ark hearsay backing it up? It’ll be enough to get the higher-ups to at least suspect something’s up, and when I come to them with injuries from trying to stop your attempt to switch sides, well...it won’t look good for you. You’re going to pay for putting my brother in the brig, you filthy Seeker!” he said. The last comment was clearly directed at Skydive.

“But you don’t have any injuries,” Silverbolt said. Suddenly, Sunstreaker lunged towards Fireflight and grabbed his gun arm. In a panic, Fireflight tried to pull free from the Lamborghini, and the gun went off. Sunstreaker then staggered back, a ragged hole in his side.

“I do now. I didn’t really want to involve you or this dopey kid in my plan to get revenge and remove three dangerous aerials from our ranks, Silverbolt, but Skydive forced my hand. If he hadn’t stumbled onto my plan before it was ready, I wouldn’t have had to implicate you all in it...but as it is, I’m afraid none of you are going to avoid being expelled from the ranks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some dangerous traitors to report,” Sunstreaker said. With that, he left their quarters, sneer still plastered onto his face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him!” Fireflight wailed.

“I know you didn’t, Fireflight. What happened was not your fault. Skydive, what is going on here?” Silverbolt replied. Skydive shook his head.

“Sunstreaker is finally acting on his grudge,” he replied.

“What grudge?” Silverbolt asked.

“The grudge he has against aerials in general, and us in particular. Do you remember when Slingshot and Air Raid were sent to the brig for fighting with Sunstreaker, and how I told you that the fight was prompted by Sunstreaker threatening to harm Firefight because Fireflight had scratched his finish?” Skydive asked.

“Of course. We talked about it a few days ago,” Silverbolt replied.

“Sunstreaker also got time in the brig, based mainly on my testimony. Apparently, he’d never been sent to the brig for anything before that, and he was not happy that he was actually being punished for something. In Sunstreaker’s mind, that’s a good enough reason to plot revenge against a bunch of aerials right there….assuming that the scratch to his paint job didn’t do it, that is. The fact that we were also responsible for his brother being put in the brig was just the icing on the oil cake. A couple minutes ago, I stumbled upon him creating plans for attacking the Ark-plans with my name on them. When I confronted him, he commed Cliffjumper and made up the ridiculous story Cliffjumper told you. Cliffjumper grabbed me, and then, when I pulled away, Sunstreaker used that as an excuse to beat me up...likely so his story that he had a fight with us would have more weight,” Skydive replied.

“There’s no way the other Autobots would believe that!” Silverbolt exclaimed.

“With the way you’ve let the rumours about us spread? Some of them just might...especially if he has apparent evidence and has been shot with one of our weapons,” Skydive replied. Fireflight started sobbing hysterically. How would he ever convince all the Autobots to like him now?

After several of the worst minutes of Fireflight’s life, a large number of Autobots arrived in the Aerialbots’ quarters, including Sunstreaker, Cliffjumper, Red Alert, Prowl, and Ironhide. Red Alert and Cliffjumper both seemed really upset, and Ironhide was scowling.

“You’ve got a lot of explainin’ to do, young’uns,” Ironhide said. He looked angry, and Fireflight whimpered. He didn’t like having his teammates angry with him! Prowl nodded, a serious expression on his faceplates.

“You’ve been accused of two very serious offenses: plotting treason and shooting a fellow Autobot. I personally believe that there is likely a less sinister explanation for what Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker have accused you of, but the severity of the crimes obliges me to investigate you regardless. If, as I suspect, you are innocent of the accusations, you have nothing to fear from this investigation,” he said.

“How can you think they’re innocent, Prowl? Ratchet already confirmed that Sunstreaker’s wounds came from Fireflight’s gun! Not only that, but Sunstreaker has proof of their wrongdoings!” Red Alert exclaimed, sounding almost as crazy as Cliffjumper had earlier.

“Sunstreaker’s “proof” might well have been fabricated, Red Alert. His wound is more troubling, but I personally find the idea that Fireflight shot Sunstreaker as part of some treacherous plot to be one of the least probable explanations for it. You can’t let your desire to protect the Autobots lead you to jump to unfounded conclusions,” Prowl said.

“Unfounded conclusions? They’re perfectly founded! What other explanation is there for why Fireflight’s been using Teletraan One so much?” Cliffjumper exclaimed. Red Alert nodded.

“Cliffjumper is right, Prowl. Fireflight’s behavior has been most unusual lately. Not only has he been using Teletraan One more frequently, but he’s also been abnormally focused and solitary for the past week or so. If Skydive, Slingshot, Skyfire, and Air Raid have been using him to further some treacherous plan, that would explain why!” he said.

“Red Alert, I share quarters with all four of my brothers. Do you really think that they could have hatched a plan as detailed as the one you seem to be accusing them of without me noticing and telling someone?” Silverbolt replied. Fireflight sighed in relief. Surely they would listen to Silverbolt! He was so smart and brave and good!

“Skydive is a genius. If anyone could manage such a thing, it would be him,” Red Alert replied. Fireflight whimpered and tried not to start crying again. Why was everyone so willing to believe that he and Skydive were doing bad things?

“Besides, how do we know you aren’t in on it? For all we know, your loyal soldier act could be just that-an act,” Cliffjumper added. Ironhide scowled at him.

“Not a chance, Cliffjumper. Silverbolt’s as loyal as they come. If the other Aerialbots really are plottin’ against us, they’re doin’ it when he ain’t around,” he said. Fireflight relaxed slightly. Ironhide might not have liked Slingshot or Air Raid or Skydive, but at least he knew that Silverbolt wasn’t a traitor.

“Or he’s simply too weak to stop them. Face it, Ironhide, Silverbolt isn’t exactly the model of an inspiring leader,” Sunstreaker replied coldly.

“Enough with the wild accusations! This investigation is going to be handled calmly and rationally. If the three of you cannot handle that, I will have to ask you to leave,” Prowl exclaimed. Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker, and Red Alert promptly fell silent.

“You can b-begin your investigation, Prowl,” Silverbolt said. Prowl nodded.

“Thank you, Silverbolt. However, before I begin, I will tell you what Sunstreaker claims is going on. He says that Skydive has been in contact with Skyfire for a long time, plotting a strike against us so that you can weaken our forces and then join the Decepticons. Air Raid and Slingshot are allegedly their co-conspirators. They planned to cause as much disruption amongst the Autobot ranks as possible, by picking fights and otherwise causing problems, and they also convinced Fireflight into purchasing weapons for their strike. Then, when Sunstreaker discovered Skydive’s plans, he used Fireflight’s gun to shoot him, but failed to kill him. Skydive himself was also injured in the scuffle. Sunstreaker further claims that Air Raid and Slingshot have already left the base to prepare for the planned assault. Is any of this true?” Prowl said.

“Of course not, sir. Sunstreaker is lying,” Silverbolt replied.

“Really? Then where are Air Raid and Slingshot?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Out on patrol,” Silverbolt replied. Sunstreaker laughed.

“That’s what they told you, I’m sure, but who’s to say if that’s what they’re really doing? Face it, Silverbolt, it’s my word against yours...and I’m the one with a gunshot wound. You have no proof of what Air Raid and Slingshot are really doing, but I do have proof that Fireflight shot me,” he said. For some reason, Skydive tapped the side of his helm, but Fireflight barely noticed it. He was too upset that he and his brothers might get in trouble for something they hadn’t done. How could Sunstreaker lie so easily?

“Sunstreaker, you are not in charge of this investigation. Stop interrogating the Aerialbots,” Prowl said firmly.

“C’mon, Prowl, they’re obviously guilty. I was shot by one of their weapons, I have evidence of Skydive’s plans, they can’t prove what Slingshot and Air Raid are doing on their so-called patrol, and Skyfire arrived not long after my brother, one of our strongest warriors, was put in the brig, because he was waiting for them to call him and tell him that their plan was working! What more proof do you need?” Sunstreaker exclaimed.

“Proof that everyone you’re accusing of colluding with one another could actually have been in contact with each other.” Everyone in the room, Fireflight included, spun around to see that Skyfire had entered the room. He walked over to Prowl and pulled up some sort of holographic display, one with really pretty colors.

“This is a record of all the times that I have used my comm link while I was on my last expedition. As you can see, I only used it three times during the voyage: once to tell Optimus Prime that I had escaped Earth’s atmosphere, once to relay information to Perceptor, and once to tell Red Alert that I would be returning to base. Thus, I could not have been plotting anything with Skydive while in space. And before someone accuses me of tampering with it, I will remind you that only an advanced programming expert would be able to alter internal records, including records of personal comm link usage, with any degree of sophistication. My fields of expertise are biology and anthropology, not programming,” Skyfire continued. Fireflight grinned. He had no idea how Skyfire had happened to show up at just the right time, but he wasn’t about to complain about it. A few seconds later, Gears also entered the room, carrying several large packages with him. Sunstreaker tried to slip out of the room, but Prowl grabbed him before he could.

“You’d better enjoy whatever this is, Fireflight, because it was heavy. My pulleys will be out of alignment for a week,” he whined. Fireflight beamed and opened the first package, which contained a NERF gun, a very large bouquet of artificial flowers, a large book of coupons for an auto repair shop, the action figure he had ordered for Brawn, and a blanket made of pliable metal.

“Good! It came! Let’s see...the NERF gun is for Cliffjumper, the blanket is for Red Alert, the coupon book is for Gears, and the flowers are for Ironhide,” Fireflight said as he handed each of the mechs their gift. After a few seconds of silence, Prowl actually laughed, something that was a little unsettling. Fireflight hadn’t even realized that he could laugh.

“Would your recent seriousness and excessive time spent on Teletraan One be because you were trying to buy gifts for everyone, Fireflight?” he asked.

“Yes!” Fireflight replied.

“And why did you decide to do that?”

“Because I wanted everyone to know that I like them , and that me and my brothers aren’t mean just because we look like Seekers,” Fireflight explained. Cliffjumper, who had been enthusiastically admiring his NERF gun, suddenly looked at the ground.

“I, uh, guess you weren’t betraying us after all. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and I’m sorry for causing you all this trouble. And, uh, thanks for the NERF gun. I’ve wanted to get my hands on one of these ever since Spike told me about them,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Fireflight said cheerily, happy that Cliffjumper was no longer angry at him. Red Alert had wrapped himself up in the blanket and now looked like the human fuel called a burrito. He gave Fireflight a small smile.

“I apologize for suspecting you-all of you,” he said. Silverbolt nodded.

“We forgive you, Red Alert. As Security Director, you have to take any potential threat seriously...and the glitch that sometimes causes you to get out of hand isn’t really your fault,” he said. Skydive nodded in agreement.

“We’re not angry with you, Red Alert,” he added.

“I’m glad. Thank you for your gift, Fireflight. It was very thoughtful,” Red Alert replied.

“You’re welcome,” Fireflight replied. Suddenly Ironhide stepped forward.

“I appreciate you thinkin’ of me, kiddo, but what am I gonna do with a bunch of flowers?” he asked. Fireflight jolted in alarm. He’d forgotten to give Ironhide the other part of his present! Fireflight quickly reached into his subspace and pulled out the note from Chromia, which he then handed to Ironhide. A few seconds later, a big grin broke out on the van’s face.

“Setting up a date for me an’ Chromia was real sweet of ya, kiddo. You didn’t have to go through all that effort for a cranky ol’ warhorse like me. Thanks!” he said.

“You’re welcome. I’m just happy that you’re happy,” Fireflight replied. With that, he started opening up the other packages as well, and quickly found Prowl’s extra-large game of Risk, Sunstreaker’s mirror, and Silverbolt’s “#1 Brother” plaque.

“Prowl, thanks for believing in us,” he said as he handed Prowl his gift. Prowl smiled.

“Thank you for proving me right,” he replied as he started examining the game.

“Silverbolt, thanks for being my big brother. No matter what anyone says, you’re a great brother and a great leader,” Fireflight said as he gave Silverbolt his plaque.

“If anyone’s a great brother, it’s you, Fireflight. Thank you for thinking of me...and for making me realize something very important,” Silverbolt replied.

“What’s that?” Fireflight asked.

“You and Skydive have made me understand that I have as much of a responsibility to you as I do to the other Autobots. Expecting you to just ignore being mistreated by the other Autobots isn’t fair to you,” Silverbolt said. Skydive smiled.

“It’s about time you figured that out,” he said. Then Fireflight walked up to Sunstreaker.

“I don’t like what you did to us, Sunstreaker. You lied about us, and you made us sad. But if we decide to be mean to you because of it, you’ll probably think that it proves we’re bad. So I’m going to give you your present, and I hope it makes you happy,” Fireflight told him. Then he handed him the mirror. Sunstreaker, for his part, scowled.

“I don’t need anything from you, Seeker,” he said. Prowl frowned at him, but before he could say something, Silverbolt did.

“Prowl, Sunstreaker falsely accused my teammates of betraying the Autobots, manipulated the paranoia of Red Alert and Cliffjumper to achieve his own ends, and injured Skydive when he stumbled upon his plans. I don’t want him to have him expelled from the Autobots in the way that he tried to have us expelled, but I do want to request that he be punished for what he did, and I would also like to ask that the hostility being shown towards my team be greatly reduced. I don’t demand that anyone like us, but I do ask that we be shown the courtesy of not being suspected of treachery or accused of lacking intelligence or manners because of our frame types. I will ensure that my team respects all of you, but I ask that we be respected in return. Skydive, Fireflight, and, ironically enough, Sunstreaker’s actions, have taught me that expecting us to give up everything to please mechs like Sunstreaker is just as unfair as expecting you to give up everything to please us,” Silverbolt said. Suddenly, Optimus Prime himself entered the room, accompanied by Slingshot and Air Raid. First Skyfire, and now Optimus Prime and his brothers. How was everyone managing to show up at exactly the right time?

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Silverbolt, and I second your request. As Autobots, we stand for freedom and dignity of all species. It would be hypocritical, and unfair, to deny the dignity and freedom of our own teammates,” Optimus Prime added. At this point, Red Alert exited the room, probably to return to his security feeds and make sure that the base remained safe.

“Good to see that you’ve finally grown a spinal strut, big brother,” Slingshot said. Silverbolt smiled.

“You’re not going to flatter your way out of punishment detail, Slingshot,” he replied. Air Raid cracked up.

“He got you again, Slingshot!”

“Shut up, Raid,” Slingshot replied, but he didn’t sound angry. Fireflight grinned and turned to Optimus Prime, hoping to satisfy his curiosity.

“How did you know to come here, sir? Did the Matrix tell you?” Fireflight asked. Optimus Prime laughed.

“Nothing that mystical, little one. Your brothers had just returned from patrol when Gears commed me, told me about the thoughtful gift you gave him, and insisted that I come and see the extent of your generosity. Your brothers and I promptly headed to your quarters and arrived just in time to hear Silverbolt’s speech,” he replied.

“It’s really somethin’, Optimus. He bought presents for everyone in the Autobot army, even mechs who were mean to him and his brothers or didn’t trust ‘em,” Ironhide said.

“It was nothing. I just wanted to make everyone happy so that we would all get along and everyone would trust us,” Fireflight replied. Then he remembered that there was one present on the list that he hadn’t been able to buy, and he hugged Optimus Prime, who hugged him back.

“There’s your present, sir,” Fireflight said.

“Thank you, Fireflight. The kindness you showed in thinking of your teammates’ happiness, rather than your own, is a sign of your true selflessness, and I commend and salute you for it,” Optimus Prime replied. Fireflight beamed with pride. This was a wonderful day! After their hug ended, Fireflight turned to Skyfire.

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, we might’ve been in big trouble. How did you know that we were in trouble?”

“You have Skydive’s quick thinking to thank for that. While you were under investigation, he managed to send me a small file explaining your problem and how I could fix it,” Skyfire explained. Fireflight was puzzled for a few seconds, and then beamed. So that was why Skydive had been touching his head!

“Why, you sneaky little creep, I’ll-” Sunstreaker snarled as he lunged at Skydive. Before he could get very far, though, Prowl managed to slap a pair of stasis cuffs onto him.

“You’re going to the brig, and you’ll be lucky if you see the light of day in the next nine Earth months. Framing your own teammates for treason is a very serious crime,” Prowl said. With that, he left the room, dragging Sunstreaker behind him. About a minute after Prowl and Sunstreaker left, Red Alert returned, with Sideswipe in tow. Fireflight backed away nervously, remembering what had happened the last time he’d been near Sideswipe, but, much to his surprise, the red Lamborgihni actually smiled sheepishly.

“Red Alert told me about what you did for us, and, well….I wanna say that I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you. No Seeker would ever give presents to someone who’d never once been nice to them. I’m sorry that I never gave you or your brothers a chance,” he said. Fireflight smiled.

“I forgive you, Sideswipe,” he said, and he meant it. Silverbolt and Optimus Prime were proud of him, he’d made friends with a number of mechs who hadn’t liked him or his brothers, he was going to get to give presents to everyone, and his life was happy again. This was the best day ever!

FIN

#aerialbots #transformers #fanfic

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