#initiate crash protocol

[mordcore]

oh i think i know what's wrong with me

i'm crashing. that explains

catastrophizing about my fatigue

lack of appetite

general bad mood & everything sucks

severe executive dysfunction

i didnt notice cause im not feeling much more fatigued than the past week of hell-hotness but that's what Caused the crash.

i also didnt notice cause besides the fatigue my other big symptom of crash is pain but ive been having relevantly more pain in general the past months and got accordingly more dissociated from it. i used to say i dont want painkillers cuz the pain makes me notice my limits but that approach doesn't rly work anymore cuz im always in pain now. and also always dissociating from it.

[cripplecharacters]

Do you know any good sources for burn scar care?

I’m writing a character who was burned in a spaceship crash. The story is set several years after the fact, and I want to incorporate that detail into the story. What would a burn scar care routine look like?

Hi!

I generally recommend medical websites for this kind of stuff. There are tons of information readily available online, especially about things as common as a burn injury. Phoenix Society for Burn Survivors or MSKTC can be helpful for you!

While caring for a burn scar will be different for everyone (there's many types, degrees, plus just individual differences between burn survivors themselves) some of the things that you can include;

Burnt skin doesn't produce its own oils, so it gets dry. It needs to be moisturized, oil-based products (think coconut or grape seed oil) are often used. The heavier the lotion, the fewer times a day it needs to be applied.

Massaging a scar, especially when it's relatively new. It can be a massage, but stretching or just putting pressure on it is part of that too. It helps the skin from becoming extremely sensitive. Initially you do it delicately, but after the scars are matured it's fine (or recommended even) to put some force into it. This loosens them up.

Itching is a huge issue. Both massaging and moisturizing help with that, but if it's still causing problems then there are medications that could provide some relief.

Protecting the skin from the sun. All year, including cloudy weather. Sunblock, big hats, sunglasses if needed, all that. This applies to people with darker skin as well because the skin loses its pigment after a burn (it can sometimes come back but it's definitely not a guarantee).

Avoiding the heat. A lot of burn survivors will have problems with temperature regulation because burns damage the sweat glands, so they overheat faster. There's nothing burn-specific here, same protocol as for avoiding a heatstroke - drink water and keep out of the sun.

Wearing softer and looser clothing. Rough and tight clothes can cause blisters, and that is a Problem. Inappropriate materials could also induce more itching.

Taking pain meds. Chronic pain is common, so your character might need medication.

I definitely wouldn't say that this is an exhaustive list, but I think it's a good start! If you need more details, I think the resources linked above should work.

I'm glad to see people interested in burn scars being a disability that requires a lot of care rather than seeing it as a solely visual thing! Makes it much more authentic :-)

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[littlelightbolt]

Finding Prowl - Chapter Five: Nemo

[55 cycles into capture]

Mabye, Primus had answered his call. The baby's fever broke in the evening, just as the crowds started to dwindle and the skeleton crew remained. The overhead lights had dimmed, signalling night-time in the above world. The worst was over but they weren't out of the blue yet. Muscles atrophied from malnutrition and sickness, the little one was still too weak to move on their own. Being cybertronian, the dim was no bother on their vision but it was still a trek from their cove to the surface of their tank to breach. Prowl had to use his body as a buoy to float the little one as they took small gulping breathes.

In between the surfacing intervals, Prowl was all but left to his thoughts, gazing aimlessly at the other mers outside his glided cage. To recharge now would only invite nightmares, an act that could potentially rob the little one of their recharge. So Prowl opted to settle in for a long night. It wasn't like he hadn't done so before. He simmered in the surrealness of his situation. The little life now here with him. Tired, his mind ebbed and rose with the cries of the humpback mer. There would be no singing for him tonight as thoughts came from all new directions. They drowned him.

'Where were their mother now? What had happened to them? Captured? Killed? What of their pod? How long had the baby been alone for? What had they been witness to?

His ATS concluded that the sparkling would most likely be from one of the small nomadic neutral pods originating around the northern hemisphere. One of many remaining neutrals that hadn't left the planet in time before the collision. War-ravaged Cybertron had been a wasteland. If there was one good thing to come out of the planetary collision millions of years ago, it was the new fuel source it provided. Earth-Cybertron was an abundant resource of which all mecha took their fill. Sparklings while still not common were finally not a rarity to their dwindling race outside of the major factions.

As an autobot and as SIC, Prowl had always been preoccupied. The wars with the Decepticons, dealing with outside operations [the Wreckers], trying to contact what remains of their race beyond the stars and even that one occasion the Quintessons had crashed in wanting to enslave them. He had been at the forefront of those operations. Post war, it had narrowed down to evading humans and keeping the peace on Cybertron. Post war, childcare had never been one of his priorities, nor an option he thought to pursue. He did not have a romantic partner nor any time to invest in one. J....The terror twins and Hot Rod were child enough for him. To be honest, he had never seen a sparkling up until Chromedome and Rewind first introduced their sparkling to the colony and hadn't that done a number on his spark.

Caught in the memory, the words of Ultra Magnus washed over him. "- I think your the loneliest mech I've ever met."

In his tank, he looked over himself. Scars and healing flesh. A shattered mind. He could barely take care of himself most days, how can he take care of a sparkling? Could they even eat solid foods yet?

When he had fed the sparkling kelp, a quick look at the sparkling's intake showed they only had two sparkling teeth jutting out of their top gum. From their size, Prowl assumed the sparkling was more toddler than infant. If the little one hadn't been weaned, he would have to be soon. Milk was not a worry at least. All cybertronians were intersex, but for the majority of cybertronians carrier coding had to be activated by an actual kindling. Being initially a public service servant, Prowl was made with the standard carrier protocols buried in place for the event such as these. Prowl could already feel the changes within him. A good sort of soreness to accompany the many aches. At the most he estimated that it would take at least until the morning for his pouches to fill.

Prowl didn't know how to feel about that. He will experience his first feeding before his first kindling, alone. A funnily sad thought that this was the first milestone that Prowl would share with a little one.

A thought struck him then, a designation. He didn't know the little ones' designation. In the day's events, Prowl hadn't even thought to try and ask for one. 'Could the little one even speak?' Prowl mulled it over looking down sparkling tightly clutching his chest in sleep. Their skin was still slightly flushed, eyes furrowed in their sleep. Mabye, they weren't really of a mind to tell him a designation anyway.

The remainder of the night was spent in silence, his ATS circling around his bare-bones escape plans, his current physical changes situation, the baby, and a designation to call them by. J..... Somewhere in between Prowl dropped off into a light doze.

The early morning arrived without much fanfare, the lights above returned to their usual blistering white. The human staff handover began. Splashing overhead roused Prowl from his rest. Food had arrived. Leaving the sparkling to their slumber, Prowl waited for the humans to back away before approaching the low ledge that served as their interaction platform.

Having been here long enough that rejecting food from them was in the past, Prowl had been a little surprised when the human workers had given him his usual ration of stale fish and a little bottle of milk beside it. Opening the bottle for a quick sniff made him gag. This milk was definitely NOT going into that sparkling's intake. Surely humans knew that much. It irritated Prowl that even with all their research and advancements, of knowing about his kinds general way of life, that they couldn't even synthesis the correct sustenance.

Incompetent fools.

He chucked the bottle back at the pair of handlers standing by the door and managed to hit the one with the badge "Spike W" in the head with it. The human squawked and turned back to glare at him. The absolute hate in their eyes gave Prowl a little satisfaction as he dove back down. He stopped at the entrance to his cove. A quick check revealed his pouches were ready to go, while not as pronounced as a femme's his chest seemed to have more curves to it already. He felt the heaviness in them. It was time. Awkwardly he reached out a hand, gently shaking the little one's shoulder. A couple of shakes made the little one release a little whine that almost made Prowl withdraw. Prowl pushed through it. The little one opened their bleary eyes to glare at him. They gave off a moody huff, curling up further to hide their face in the sand. It was kind of cute. A small smile graced Prowl's faceplate. Sass was a sign that the little was on the up and up in recovery. As new as the situation was to him, sass was a familiar attitude that Prowl could always handle.

The new code within him had settled well enough. It whispered that to recover, the little one needed to eat. Prowl followed along with it's directives, settling next to the sparkling before lifting them up gently into the crook of his arms. The new foreign programming guided his movements. The little one was only surprised by the slight jostle before settling into the new position. With steady hands he didn't know he possessed, he brought the little's intake to his chest and waited. To his relief the little one did as he had hoped, quickly latching on to suckle.

The sensation of something rushing out of him was WEIRD to say the least. Prowl shivered a little as the first drops escaped him. It tilted between being ticklish and soothing, he made sure to hold on well to the little one as he rode the sensations. The little one ate well. With one problem down with minimal resistance, Prowl felt a little lighter in his chest. Silently, Prowl congratulated himself on his achievement.

As the little one suckled, a little hand curled around one of his digits. Seeing and feeling the size difference between them made Prowl's mind stall. Not for the first time, the gravity of the situation seemed to crash over him, yet it felt like distant ocean waves. This sparkling was doing things to him. Things he had felt before in another different light, many vorns ago. It unnerved him a little how quickly he had come to care for the little one, in this cage of stale smells and dead sounds. He had never felt such feelings come on so quickly. Not with Chro....., not with Mesothulas, never with Sentinel. He couldn't remember a time where these feelings were returned in kind either. *Memories of that night, blurred and dizzy with J....... -* Outside his turbulent helm, the little ones' eyes met his, a bright cerulean blue that reminded Prowl of the sunlit surface of the Bering sea. *A certain visor in the sunlight came to mind.* So full, so whole, it was like the sparkling was looking within Prowl, into his spark.

The moment was broken when the sparkling unlatched from his pouch. They wriggle in his hold, as Prowl eased them onto his lap. They looked up at Prowl for a moment before patting their belly. "Pat?" Prowl felt elated, the sparkling could speak! That increased the probability of him being able to care for the sparkling tenfold. "Pat!" They repeated at him, more urgency in their voice. A small smile graced Prowl's faceplate, if the sparkling wanted to be patted who was Prowl to deny that. He began to rub their belly in a circular clockwise fashion patting gently as he went. The little one content went back to their nursing, soothed for now. Prowl moved to settle by the wall of the cove, body faced at an angle to the glass to look out at the growing crowd wandering the site while shielding the little one from view.

What would the others do if they could see him now. The terror twins would probably laughing their asses off. Many people would be loosing some lumpsum currency to smokescreen's betting pool. Prowl hadn't managed to sus out the most recent one but he was highly suspicious that his sex life was a hot topic/ running joke in action.

Optimus.....

What would J...... thin - k- .

Before he could spiral too deep into those thoughts, the sparkling unlatched a second time, pushing away from Prowl's chest. Looks like they had their fill for now. A few pats to the back made quick work of any trapped air in their system. Content and happy, the little one seemed energized enough to try and move out of his hold. With the little one now lucid, Prowl asked the burning question. "Little one, do you have a designation?"

The sparkling wordlessly looked up at him not quite getting his meaning. A questioning wirr came from their lips. Mentally Prowl sighed old speech habits died hard, perhaps he should refrain from using big words for now. "Do you have a name?" He gestured to himself. "My name is Prowl." "Prowl" he reiterated. "Pow" repeated the little one, smacking a little hand onto his chest.

Close enough Prowl figured. "

Yes, Prowl." He now gestured towards the little one, "Name?" The little one took a moment before quietly saying "Blue."

"Blue?" Prowl parroted, puzzled. Their carrier sure picked an odd choice of name for an orca mer. There really wasn't much blue to be had on this sparkling. "Blue!" the child repeated proudly, little hands now patting themself. Having answered the adult's question the little toddler saw fit to push off out of Prowl's hold. Weakly, they swam to the edge of the cove. Prowl watched on, vigilant as Blue fascinated himself with the starfish and shells littered around his cove. Little curious sounds came with every new discovery. It was a refreshing to hear, the vibration of it in the water a soothing reminder that he was no longer just his own. A quick look beyond a sand dune revealed the humans beyond. Blue recoiled like a shot, fear scented the water.

"Blue." Prowl called urgently, hoping to gain the little ones' attention to return. In response to his name, the little mer returned to his side. They snuggled into him, before revealing the item they had in hand. A little red starfish was presented. "Pow" "Pow, look!" exclaimed little Blue. "FisssH" he proclaimed proudly, chest puffed out and cheeks glowy.

Fear turned to joy. The sudden change in mood was like whiplash to Prowl.

Prowl couldn't help but laugh with mirth. "Starfish, Blue." "That is a starfish", he gently corrected. Taking the creature from their hands and placing it on the sand. "StaArfisH" Blue parroted, swimming around the little thing. With his unspent energy, Blue went out to the edge of the cove in search of more things to show "Pow", looking back occasionally to check that Prowl was still there watching him. It was comically affectionate. With each item shown to him, another starfish, a piece of kelp, an unfortunate small fish, affection slowly wrapped their tendrils around Prowl's spark.

It has been 55 cycles since he had any decent company, and despite the circumstance, he was glad to have Blue here with him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Horray! This fic now has a name, and a new face.

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[covid-safer-hotties]

What is POTS? This strange disorder has doubled since the pandemic - Published July 23, 2024

Unpaywalled at our covid archive!

Millions of people now live with the debilitating disorder, which can be triggered by viral illnesses like COVID-19. And many say the recommended treatment—exercise—has backfired.

In late 2021, after 18 months of long COVID symptoms, Oonagh Cousins, a member of Great Britain rowing team, was ready to resume training. She’d contracted COVID-19 in early 2020, and although her initial case was mild, Cousins spent the next year and a half experiencing a fatigue that went far beyond just feeling tired. “It was like a deep sickness,” she says, a “sludgy, deep weakness” that flared up after even mild exertion.

After that lengthy recovery period, Cousins’ only remaining symptom was a very mild case of postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome—POTS—which is a type of dysautonomia characterized by an abnormal rise in heart rate after changing position, like sitting to standing. Patients with POTS report a variety of symptoms, including dizziness, fatigue, brain fog, and gastrointestinal disturbances.

Cousins is among millions of people living with POTS, a number that is estimated to have doubled since the beginning of the pandemic. Some of the known triggers include pregnancy, surgery, or a viral illness, such as COVID-19. A subset of these POTS patients also has a condition called myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS), which is characterized by post-exertional malaise (PEM)—a situation in which symptoms worsen after exercise.

For patients with PEM, pushing past their physical limits—often encouraged in POTS recovery exercise protocols—can lead to major crashes. As a result, many patients with POTS and ME/CFS report being given inappropriate guidance on exercise, the consequences of which can be severe.

“They don’t teach us about ME/CFS or POTS in medical school,” says Sujana Reddy, a resident physician at East Alabama Medical Center, who developed both conditions after a COVID-19 infection in 2020.

Read the rest at the link above!

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL

Part 4.

Avengers x fem!reader

Words: 1333

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Part 3

Main Masterlist

“There, that’s the truck from the lab. Right above you, Cap. By the bridge, it’s them. Got three with the cradle. I can take out the driver.” Clint was ready to shoot the truck but Steve disagree. “Negative. The truck crash, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.” He jumps on the truck to get its attention.

Well, he did get its attention and it pissed. “No, no, no. Leave me alone!” Ultron shoot the truck door almost hit Steve. “Well, he is really unhappy! I’m trying to keep it that way!” Steve shouted while hanging on the broken door.

“You’re not a match for him, Cap.” Clint stated. “Thanks Barton.” Steve muttered.

Natasha sees the situation from their jet. “He needs help.” “I guess you wanna unpack your birthday present.” Clint told her to go behind the jet and wait for his queue. She pressed the button for the metal box and saw an electric Harley Davidson and mutter to herself. “That’s a birthday present.” She hops on the bike and waiting for Clint’s to open the bay. “We got a window. In 3,2, give him hell.”

The fights between them and the robots can take too much time and damaged. Natasha make other plans to their original plan of taking the cradle safely because it’s not working out so safe. “This isn’t going nowhere. Clint, can you draw the guards out?”

Clint shooting at Ulron in front of Steve trying to lure the minions out. “Let’s find out.” Three of the guard out and the truck is empty.

“Cap, keep him occupied. I’m going in!” Natasha drop her bike and jump into the truck.

Steve let out an exhausting breath. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Meanwhile at the tower, you walk on Maria and Fury’s discussion. “How’s everything? Did they get him?” Maria and Fury acknowledge your present and she pull a chair for you. “You should be on bed.” You just sat slowly on it. “Nah, I’ve been worse. This is nothing.”

Maria rolling her eyes at you. “You’ve been dead for 6 minutes until Tony change your device. What are worse than that?” You don’t have answer for that and Fury coming at you too. “And when are you planning on telling us? Next Christmas?” “I don’t even ask for it and I like to keep it shut. It’s not something to be proud of.” He huffs, “Once this is over, you’re going to see a doctor.” “Why everybody keeps telling me to find a doctor? I’ve been fine all this time. I’m here not to be taking care of. I’m here because the world is at stake and I’m here to help. Doing something, at least.”

“Proof that. Until then, you’re off the mission. Agent Hill, follow me to pick up our old stuff back.” Fury order. “Can I tag along?” Maria turns to you. “We’ll be back. Why don’t you help us monitoring them for us? Use this for contact and maybe help Stark and Banner. But please, for the love of God, don’t ever piss him off.” She walks out of the room, following Fury.

Bruce notice you’re walking towards them. “How’s your feeling?” “Just another day at the office. Still getting the hang of it.”

Tony and Bruce watched and heard some of your conversation earlier. “Gotta admit. I adore your spirit.” Tony expressed. “I never thank you, to both of you yet. Thank you, for saving my life.” Bruce smiling softly and nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you kidding? We’re a team. We’re the Avengers. Once you step a foot in this building, you’re the Avengers. We help each other. Well, maybe some of us being a pain in ass but yeah, you’re one of us now. Welcome to the club kid.” Tony reasoned it for you and your eyes lit up on them. “Really? You mean that? Am I, an Avengers?” Tony looking at Bruce while he continues working on his computer. “Bruce. Back me up here.” “I don’t see why not. You’re young and we’re all above 30. We can use a fresh blood.” “Legacy. Thanks Shrek.” Tony responded and you let out a chuckle “I guess you’re the one being the pain in ass.” “Everyone asses” Bruce nod down and we’ll continue our work.

While trying to crack the code for that cradle, Natasha feels the truck lifting. “The package just air borne. I have a clean shot.” Clint tell them on the comm. “Negative. I am still in the truck.” she needs to think fast.

“What the hell did you...” Natasha cut his sentences while cutting the rope that tied to the cradle. “Just be ready. I’m sending the package to you.”

Clint ready on his position. “How do you want me to take it?”

“Uhhh… You might wish you didn’t ask that.”

Wanda fly in the train to help Steve and front the Ultron. “Please. You don’t have to do that.” Somehow, Ultron is kinda sound scared and he fly out the train. “Surveillance in our path. Can you stop this train?” Steve ordered and both of them do their best to stop the train and people around it.

Once the cradle touches the Quinn jet floor, Ultron manage to snatch Natasha’s leg and take her with him. “Nat!” Clint saw the incident but he can’t do anything to help her while piloting the jet. “Cap, did you see Nat?”

“If you have the cradle, take it to Stark!” Steve ordered.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?!” Asking again for confirmation.

“Go!” Steve shout.

Wanda telling Steve about what Ultron’s plan. “I read him. Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. We have to move fast.”

He disappointed and fly that jet back to the tower and leave his friend behind. “Damn it!” He contact the tower when he’s close for them to prepare and inform about their current situation. “Quinn jet to tower. Quinn jet to tower.” You hear his voice and press a button to accept his call. “Quinn jet, this is Y/N speaking from the tower. You’re affirm to report.” Clint told you that he’s 15 minutes away to arrive and Natasha is missing in action. “Oh God.” You pull down the headset and running to find Tony and Bruce. “They’ve got Nat. She’s m.i.a.” Bruce takes his glasses off. “You have her tracker right?” Tony rush to his computer “I’ll find her.”

You and Banner helps Clint unload the cradle and bring it into the lab and Tony walks in. Disappointment shows on his face and Bruce ask before I do. “Did you find her?” He just walks straight toward the cradle. “Haven’t heard but I’m sure she’s alive or Ultron would rub us in the face.” Seriously? Did he truly find her at all? You want to ask him that but Clint change the topic. “This seal tight.” He stands next to you.

Tony turn around to look at both of you and Clint, ignoring Bruce. “Is there any chance she might leave a massage outside the internet? Old school spy stuff perhaps.”

“You worry about the cradle.”

“We’ll find her.” Both you and Clint walks out that lab.

Clint handle the modern tech frequency while you handle the old one. “You okay with that? Wanna switch up?” You tuning on the frequency “I’m good. I can’t be near that high tech frequency anyway. That’s why I still have my Walkman and not Bluetooth headset. You know, because my…” You pointing at your left chest and he nodding. “Right. I hope she led us somewhere.” You smile at him. “She’s Natasha. She’ll make plan.”

It is true. Natasha did figure something out. While you tuning the frequency, you hear a static note. Tuning it again to have a clear shot. Natasha sending you her location by Morse code. You tell Clint to decode it on the screen. “You’re right. She did have plan.”

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 28 @augusnippets - prompt : Betrayal

The facility is breached

CW: living weapon, character death

Asset 84 masterlist

The facility’s usual eerie silence was abruptly shattered as an alarm blared, its relentless shriek slicing through the silence with brutal intensity. The red emergency lights began to strobe, casting an erratic, pulsing glow across the stark white walls. Automated systems whirred to life, sealing doors and engaging lockdown protocols with a mechanical efficiency that only heightened the sense of impending doom.

Through the facility’s intercom and radios, a composed yet urgent voice cut through the din. “Attention all handlers, initiate Protocol 12 immediately! Ensure that no asset survives this breach. I repeat, no asset is to be left alive. Execute all orders without hesitation!”

From their quarters, Asset 84 could hear the pandemonium unfolding beyond the reinforced walls. The sounds of hurried footsteps, shouted commands, and the clattering of weaponry filled the air. They had heard whispered tales of breaches from other facilities—stories of raiding teams who claimed to be liberators. These intruders were said to strike swiftly, taking assets away to unknown destinations. The rumours were always vague, leaving the specifics shrouded in mystery and fear.

The door slid open with a hiss, Colonel Carter stood in the entrance, her usually calm and detached nature was clearly disrupted, her hands slightly shaking as she adjusted her communicator. This was not a drill or a test; something was deeply wrong.

"84," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly, "follow me."

Asset 84’s heart raced as they absorbed the gravity of Colonel Carter’s uncharacteristically anxious demeanor. For years, they had been conditioned to view Carter as an unwavering figure of authority, someone whose calm was unshakeable. Seeing her flustered and unsure sent a jolt of alarm through 84, heightening their sense of urgency.

"Yes, Colonel," 84 responded, their voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. They moved swiftly, their training kicking in as they followed Carter down the corridor.

"Do you understand what is happening 84?" Carter asked, she voice returning to it's usual cold tone.

Asset 84's eyes remained fixed on Colonel Carter, their senses acutely attuned to every detail amidst the chaos. The flashing red lights and distant sounds of conflict only served to heighten their focus. Despite the fear gnawing at them, 84's resolve remained unshaken, their training pushing them forward.

"No, Colonel," 84 admitted, "But I trust your orders."

Colonel Carter’s expression hardened, her momentary vulnerability now masked by her authoritative demeanour. “This is not a drill. We’re facing a breach of unprecedented scale. These intruders—liberators, as you might have heard—are here to dismantle the facility and free the assets. Protocol 12 is in effect," she paused as she pulled out her side arm.

84s eyes remained fixed on Carter, trying to interpret the sudden shift in her demeanour. The uncharacteristic tremor in her voice, the way her hands shook as she gripped her weapon tightly - all of it was unsettling.

Without warning, Carter spun on her heel, her gun aimed directly at 84. The shock of her movement struck 84 like a physical blow. They froze, their mind racing to process the sudden shift in their once-unquestioned trust.

“Colonel?” 84's voice was a mixture of confusion and betrayal, their training struggling to reconcile this new reality.

Carter’s green eyes were cold, her voice unwavering and final, “I’m sorry... Alex."

Asset 84 locked eyes with their handler, their steely grey eyes meeting her unfeeling green. A torrent of images crashed through 84’s mind: relentless training sessions, harsh punishments, the stark tattoo on their neck, the branding seared into their flesh, and the lifeless body of Asset 83. Each memory was a fragment of their indoctrination, now twisted into a grim tapestry of betrayal.

For a split second, time seemed to come to a standstill. The harsh, strobing red lights of the facility created a surreal, almost frozen moment of clarity. 84, no... Alex... driven by a deep, primal rage, moved with a sudden, fierce determination. This was not just an act of self-defence but a breaking point—a culmination of years of manipulation, pain, and relentless conditioning. The very foundation of their existence, built on unwavering obedience and endurance, was shattered in this single, explosive moment.

The alarm continued its relentless wail, the emergency lights still flashing as 84 stood over the fallen figure of their former handler. Her green eyes, once a sight of unwavering authority, stood wide and lifeless, staring unseeing at 84.

[theholmwoodfoundation]

THE HOLMWOOD FOUNDATION PILOT EPISODE CAST/CREW - PART TWO

BECKY WRIGHT - THRALLS/PHONE VOICE

Becky voices weird things. Her speciality is small children and demons, make of that what you will... She works across every medium. She played Nic Grundy in ‘The Archers’ for 11 years and continues to appear in regularly in radio dramas on the BBC. Recent credits include: ‘You Must Listen’, ‘Car Crash’, ‘Children of The Stones’, ‘The Battersea Poltergeist’ (Bafflegab/BBC), ‘Lola vs Powerman’, ‘Making Plans with Nigel’, ‘Mythos’ (Sweet Talk/BBC), ‘Barred’ (B7 Media/BBC), ‘Billie Homeless Dies at the End’ (Holy Mountain/BBC) & ‘The Waringham Chronicles’ (Audible Originals). For Big Finish she has appeared in many episodes of ‘Dr Who’, ‘Doom’s Day’, ‘Blake’s 7’, ‘Avalon’, ‘Unit: Nemesis’, ‘The Avengers’, ‘Star Cops’ and ‘Pathfinder’.ops and development sessions for countless new writing initiatives. She has narrated numerous audiobooks and amassed a vast and varied array of weird and wonderful dubbing, animation and computer game credits. On stage she has performed for The Being Human Festival, Nutkhut, The Birmingham Rep, Wolverhampton Arena Theatre, The Bike Shed in Exeter, Hampstead Theatre, The Pleasance and The Tricycle, amongst others. She has toured open air Shakespeare and performed a rep season in a lift shaft! She is very passionate about new work and has been involved in rehearsed readings, workshops and development sessions for countless new writing initiatives.

JESSICA CARROLL - NEWSREADER

Jessica trained at LAMDA. Most recently she played Disciple Z’rell in the multi-award-winning video game Baldur’s Gate 3. Other video games include Divinity: Original Sin 2, Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire, Elex, Spellforce 3, Dragon Quest XI, Unforeseen Incidents and Code 7. Jessica also voices Darcy the Driller, Riff and Jiff in the UK version of the Thomas & Friends cartoon.  Theatre includes Fence (Finborough); Fishskin Trousers (The Park Theatre, Finborough); The Broken Token (Theatre Royal Bury St Edmunds, Lakeside, William Andrews Clark - Los Angeles); Quirks (Southwark Playhouse); Old Bag (Theatre 503); Ghosts (Battersea Arts Centre); Hellcab (Old Red Lion); Last Seen (Almeida); The Woman of No Importance (Assembly Rooms Ludlow); Taking Steps (Assembly Rooms Ludlow); Daisy Pulls It Off (Lyric Hammersmith). Film and TV includes Hotel Inferno, Polar, The Space In-Between, David & Olivia. Radio includes Life Begins at Crawley and The Future of Radio (Radio 4); The British Are Coming and Liberation Is Not A Recognised Protocol (Apple). Jessica has an extensive voiceover career in commercials, dubbing and the TV and film ADR circuit where she can be heard screaming, crying, doing the news and squawking down police radios in everything from Happy Valley to Bridget Jones.

LUKE KONDOR - ROBERT SWALES

Luke Kondor is a writer, creator, and the voice behind The Other Stories podcast, which has amassed over 12 million downloads. He was recently commissioned by the George A. Romero Foundation to write a Night of the Living Dead audio drama. Currently, he lives and works from a dining room table in the middle of Sherwood Forest. For more, visit www.lukekondor.com.

PART ONE: HERE

PART THREE: HERE

[ohno-the-sun]

Short little fic I wrote about Ruin Eclipse before the dlc came out

So its super inaccurate but it was a fun exercise

The world was alight. 

Sun had always screamed and yelled and hoped for the lights to stay on, for everything to stay the same, but fate didn’t have that planned for him.

He stood– right in front of that impossible barrier. It was just a door and Sun knew that. But everytime he went up to it– tried to push against it– a shock ran through his system. 

Like a stabbing pain behind his eyes it ran through his core like a brand. He was out of options. Still now he banged against the door– hoping that somehow some way he would be able to open it. Useless dents littered the doorframe. He knew they did nothing– the door was unlocked, free to be opened or closed by anybody who wasn’t him. Even if the door collapsed– nothing Sun could do would get him across the barrier. 

He could get him to do it. 

Sun looked around the room. Moon had done so much– to him, to the kids– at this point Sun couldn’t stand to trust him. But he was his only option. 

Sun hoped with every fiber of his being that Moon at least had enough self-preservation to get them out of this mess. 

There– a dark corner. Fire had not yet set in under one of play castles that surrounded the rapidly melting ballpit.

If he could just get over there…

The jungle gym was falling apart, plastic parts unable to stand the blistering heat. Thick ropes of nylon stuck together as flames licked their sides. The entire structure had fallen in the center of the daycare– Sun was going to have to find a way around it.

There.

He quickly ducked into a slide that had fallen down in the crash. It had fallen in such a way that its entrance was now positioned near the back of the daycare– right where he wanted to go.

Crawling though he could hear the soft crumbling of the room outside. A loud creak heard far above made him shutter. He paused. 

Only for a moment though. He quickly crawled the rest of the way through, ending up nicely positioned near the entrance of the fake castle.

It too was nearly collapsed from the intense heat, the roof slowly curving in under its own weight. 

Sun could only hope it stayed in place long enough. 

He quickly slid in, the creaking from above only getting louder. 

Looking around he could already tell it wasn’t going to be dark enough– the intensity of the roaring fire outside lit the initial segments of the tunnel like castle too brightly.

Sun crawled farther in. The creaking only seemed to get louder and louder. 

Finally– Sun could feel it. This was dark enough. He could feel the shifting of gears behind his face, a soft weight being placed on top of his head. 

He thought he could hear a snapping from far above. The creaking from before– had he– had I– 

Did they not notice?

They were slammed down. Something white and searing flashed across their systems.

And then—

Nothing.

~~~~~

Initializing startup…

Checking light levels…

Light levels set = 10%

Initializing “Night” Protocol…

…

…

…

…

Error “Night” not found

Backup Program Start

Initializing “Day” Protocol…

…

…

…

…

Error “Day” not found

…

…

…

…

Back up processor startup

…

…

…

Memory files retrieved 100%

…

…

…

…

Backup protocol initializing “temp_file_1”

Rebooting…

…

…

…

Startup Complete

…

They slowly opened their eyes.

Trapped.

They needed to get out,

A large metal frame sat on top of them– large white shapes attached to their edge.

What are those–?

The clouds–

A spasm ran through their body.

Something was wrong.

What’s going on–?

What happened–?

Images flashed across their processors. Bright flames lit the daycare, the plastic and soft padding that made up a majority of it not standing a chance. He– I ran.

Stupid stupid.

Shutupshutup.

Their already fragile processors heated up, they could hear creaking and shifting by their faceplate. A large piece of debris sat on top of their head, lodging them in a crack on the floor. They could hear the small pieces tumble around them as their head attempted to spin.

Trapped I was trapped.

You were stupid stupid. Too bright– I could do nothing.

Only you can leave!

Only you can be out–

Despite being trapped under rumble their body shifted and writhed. They felt trapped– claustrophobic– like their body wasn’t big enough.

We need to get out.

You need to get out it's too dark!

It was then when they noticed just how dark the daycare was. Every incandescent light bulb put in place to protect the kids burst in the heat. It was so dark too dark.

They roughly shoved the rubble on them off. The large piece had their head trapped slowly rolled off. The rest was light burnt foam and plastic, which slowly came off their body. The plastic had melted slightly into their clothing. In a rush they ripped it off– taking a chunk of the pant fabric with it.

Their endoskeleton underneath laid bare, not even a plastic covering protecting it. 

Messy messy messy, so so messy–

They shut off their optics. Both knew that their processors would overheat seeing what had become of the daycare.

They needed to think.

What are we going to do we’re trapped– we’re stuck– we’re never getting out–

Shut up shut up shut up you stupid stupid– useless pathetic worthless–

That was going to be difficult. 

Their frame shook, something loose rattling in their chest. 

Hot hot hot.

Their processors were way too hot.

Heat on a bot is like meat left to rot.

Calm down. 

Clam down.

Slowly both their processes slowed.

One step at a time. 

Moon?

Sun.

I you’re here?

Obviously.

Yes obviously– I mean here, I can hear you

And I hear you– you’re too close–

You’re too close. I can feel you.

Your emotions are loud.

Yours are… scary.

…

It’s crawling along their synthetic skin. A sort of infection pulsating just underneath. It was white and hot. Everything was tenuous, like looking over an edge and one small push would send them hurling down. 

What is this?

…It’s mine.

What does that mean?

…

… fine, be that way.

Slowly they activated their optics. Setting the resolution low so they weren’t flooded with inputs they looked around. 

Even with the low resolution they could tell the place was a mess, the playplace had sunken into the floor, the ballpit was a pool of discolored gunk, the cloud fixtures on the ceiling had fallen and crushed whatever remained. 

It was all too much. 

“I-I-I–” 

Why can’t I speak?

Cause you’re shit at it.

Will you shut up!

“G-G-G–”

Our voice box is broken.

Well now you say that!

[no-quit-lucy]

Chenford post break up + sparring

Rated E, W/C: 3,117 Read on AO3

Recertification day. It came around every six months, the standards of practice having increased in the last few years. The process took all day, with officers going in and out of the gym, the facility packed with nearly half the station at a time. Tim had always appreciated the opportunity for competition and the ability to rank at the top of that year’s charts, but this year, Tim was hardly looking forward to it.

Especially since he spotted Lucy’s name in his time pool for testing, he had been trying his best to not initiate an interaction. He wasn’t technically avoiding it, as he still walked into a room she was present in, directed her as any other subordinate officer at a crime scene, and didn’t leave the lunch table if she sat down in an empty seat near him. He still wasn’t ready for an honest confrontation. Having just picked up a new therapist, Tim was still working on the big rubble, the things he needed to be addressed before the minutiae of his daily life. He knew he needed to give Lucy an honest conversation, but he wasn’t ready to hear what she needed to say.

Walking into the gym with his water bottle in hand, he spotted her like a beacon in the night. Her fist slammed into the punching bag as a warm-up, but she looked plenty heated. Her hair was back in braids, coiled tight in a bun at the base of her neck. He walked over to the clipboard to sign himself in and circled the room until he found a spot against the wall to watch the pairs getting scored on hand-to-hand protocol.

After one of the scorekeepers announced two more groups, Tim felt a pit drop in his stomach as the next two names were called.

“Bradford! Chen!”

They were going alphabetically, Tim knew they were going alphabetically, but he couldn’t help but curse the uncomfortable nature of sparring for an audience against his ex-girlfriend/former rookie and aide; the woman he still had feelings for and knew still had a few more loose ends to tie up before truly beginning to earn her forgiveness. But, well, the job was being comfortable with the uncomfortable, and he squared his shoulders, set his water bottle on the ground, and stepped into the inner circle of the thin gym mat.

Tim stood in front of Lucy, looking hesitantly into her eyes as their evaluator went over the rules and time set. Her mouth was fixed in a line like she wasn’t too happy about the pairing either but was able to compartmentalize being in such proximity to someone she had been intimate with, but no longer had the privilege.

The timer started and Tim threw the first blow, an easy opening that she quickly spotted and thwarted. He continued his aggression, throwing his fist three, four, five more times, each time getting stopped and redirected by Lucy. She was being tough on him, not that he was trying his absolute hardest. No, he was only operating at about 85%. He kicked it up to 95% when he saw the gleaming look in her eye that told him she was disappointed he wasn’t giving his best. That he was going easy on her.

He tried for a low blow, a new move he had been working on, only to once again get blocked and be on the receiving end of an almost debilitating hit. Quickly recovering, Tim found himself amid a relentless series of strikes and hits, landing him on his knees with his hands behind his back, efficiently subdued.

He looked back at Lucy as he stood, impressed that she got him down so fast after turning the tide on him. When they had been dating, they sparred regularly and usually matched each other beat for beat. It seemed now, that Lucy was leagues ahead of him in skill and timing.

“Good, again,” The observer stated, taking his notes on round one of three.

“You’ve been practicing, Chen? It shows,” Tim commented as they squared up to go again.

Lucy’s eyes flashed something hot, something he hadn’t seen since she was his rookie. Felt like such a long time ago now, after everything crashed and burned.

“Yes,” she said short, clipped, “got a lot of free time on my hands,” her gaze remained steady, her lips a long line, if not tilted up in the slightest.

The timer started again and before he could make the first move, she threw a punch at him and landed, he was unable to catch the first, but managed to grab the next one with his fist, pushing her knuckles away and going for a hit to her waist.

He missed, but she threw another, another, and another, making him take up the defense as she swiftly and calculatedly pushed him into a corner and swiped at his legs to bring him to the ground. Her face remained unmoving, stoic in the close quarters of his body and his scent. He had built up a sweat, unused to pushing himself so hard when practicing with Lucy.

Before he could turn the tables on her, Lucy had him with his hands behind his back and won the second round.

“Good work, Chen,” The commenter praised as she set a new record for the swiftest takedown of the day. “Once more,” he stated after Tim took a quick sip of water and got back on the mat.

Lucy didn’t flinch at the compliment, and it made Tim weary. He shook off his nerves and tightened his eyes. She had two on him, but he wouldn’t let her have a third. Taking a deep breath, Tim prepared for their final round, kicking up his effort to 110% as he caught her fists and ducked her punches. They fought punch for punch, duck for dip, eyes locked on one another as they exchanged grunts of effort, already surpassing the time from their last round twice, three times over.

Growing frustrated at their inability to take each other down, Tim summoned his competitiveness from years ago and released a burst of energy to try to beat out Chen. Only, she met him tenfold with an energy of her own. She had no quit in her, Tim should have expected nothing less. 

With a low growl only he could hear as she stepped closer to knee him, he looked back at her and saw a flame in her eye that seemed directed at him. Like fighting him was releasing some of her hostility toward him. That beating him would be a step toward healing. 

It scared him. Facing the reparations of the hurt he caused. But he knew he needed to. It was past time he took a beating from her.

She kept wailing on him, hitting harder, faster, quicker, longer. She had the upper hand on him, he had no chance of winning this round— or any round against Lucy. He had lost, lost big time.

So he backed down, unwilling to fight her any longer, unwilling to cause her further strife. He gave the signal to tap out, twisting away from Lucy and the observer, mentally raising his shields as the emotion of the fight bit him in the ass on the upswing the physical come down.

“You’ll see your rankings end of day, you both passed,” the observer stated, making his final marks and flipping the sheets to his next two officers.

Tim stood with his legs wide as he downed his water, wiping the sweat from his brow. Lucy eyed him from the other side of the room, downing her own bottle of water and checking the schedule for her next practiced skill test.

“Lucy, can we talk?” Tim asked, walking up to her at the end of the day, both of them still in their sweaty gym clothes.

“About what, Tim?” Her voice was tired, steady, dejected.

“About what that was in there— about what I did,” he said, the last part softer.

“You tapped out Tim,” She sighed, stopping in her tracks to give him the time. She always gave him time he didn’t think he deserved.

“I didn’t mean literally what happened in there,” he said, confused.

“You tapped out of our relationship like you tapped out of that fight, Tim. You got scared and you backed out,” Lucy explained, pushing her hand out by her waist in frustration.

“I did,” Tim said, eyes wide, like he was making the connection in real time. “I did tap out. Without— without talking to you,” He bowed his head in shame.

Lucy scratched her hairline and adjusted her bag. It was fitting he broke up with her in the front parking lot and he’d try making up with her in the back parking lot. “You treated me like I didn’t matter,” Lucy sighed, willing back her fire from earlier, glad for the semi-shadow of dim parking lot lights.

Tim nodded in agreement. He did treat her like she didn’t matter. “I made it only about me. I took one of my problems and blew it out of proportion. I thought I was protecting you but instead, I blew you up. I blew us up.” Tim took a deep breath and made sure he connected their gaze before uttering loud and clear, “I’m sorry. You need to hear it, I’m so sorry for treating you like you were nothing when you are everything to me, I should have treated us like a team, like partners.” His voice wavered with intensity, his eyes starting to throb as hot tears rushed their way up his face.

“I can’t take back what I did but I can move forward and do better. What happened in there, that fight I saw in your eyes, I took away your opportunity to breathe that fire and I never want to do that again. I am so sorry.” He wanted to reach out to touch her, to reassure his words through touch, but he knew it wasn’t his place to do that anymore. He knew he couldn’t take that choice away from her again.

Lucy swallowed, her chest thick with emotion, “thank you for saying that,” she said, measured. Slowly blinking, she looked up into his eyes and saw the regret swimming in the blue.

He couldn’t take back what he’d done. He had to show his progress with his actions moving forward. He finally apologized, acknowledged, and took responsibility for what he did. It was a step forward toward healing, though the wound was still much too fresh.

“I beat you on all three rounds,” Lucy boasted, her voice still sounding heavy with unfallen tears.

Tim gave a shy smile and a hearty laugh, “You did. You did good, Lucy,” he nodded toward his chest, shoving his hands deep in his front pockets.

“In fact, I think I set a new record for fastest takedown on that second round,” She bragged, walking with him toward her car.

“I’m sure you did. I blinked and suddenly my face was pressed into the mat.” Tim crowded her at the bumper of her car.

“Tim, what are you doing?” She asked, leaning into him and pressing her hand against his stomach like she used to.

He fingered the cuff of her sleeve, looking around to see who was nearest. “I was thinking I could get on my knees for you and thank you for the proper beat down,” he whispered outside her ear.

Lucy laughed. A low belly, full, deep laugh in the crowded space between them. “I forgot how hot sparring gets you.” She pulled on the elastic waistband at his hip. With the flame in her eyes, she looked up at him, burning him within an inch of his life. “I hope this wasn’t your intention the second they called our names.” Tim shook his head, not having planned anything other than apologizing to her.

Sparring had always been their go-to foreplay, their favorite way to rile each other up, and work each other out, it was practically second nature that he was in the mood after a tense session like that. And to be honest, she was feeling it too.

“One-time thing? I want to give you a show of good faith,” he watched her lick her bottom lip and knew she was seriously considering his offer.

“I’m driving,” she grinned, nodding and tugging on his drawstring. She moved to take the front seat and let him get in the passenger side.

“Drive fast, I have a lot to make up for,” he reached for the grab bar as she pressed the gas pedal to the upper end of the legal limit.

The second she pulled onto her street, he started adjusting his seat, pulling it all the way back on its track. Lucy had teased him the entire way, flexing her hand over the gear shift provocatively, talking the entire way recapping her multiple takedowns.

She pulled into a parking spot under a tree, hidden by her tinted windows and the dark of the night. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she turned to watch Tim unbuckle his belt and get on his knees in the wheel well of her car.

“What are you doing, Tim?” She asked with a chortle at watching him bend his tall frame in the tight space.

“Get over here, I can’t wait until we get up to your apartment,” he reached for her leg, helping her get her ass in the passenger seat. She pulled off her sneakers before crawling over the center console.

“Yeah? You like getting your ass beat, Bradford?” Lucy shimmied in the seat, sliding her feet under his arms and resting them around his hips.

Tim lifted her shirt over her belly and pressed kisses along her stomach, running his hands up her thighs, pressing his fingertips down as he dragged to her knees. “When it’s done by a strong, sexy, take-no-shit Lucy Chen, hell yeah,” He mumbled, tilting his chin upward to look at her. “When you did that left-left combo, god,” he groaned, going crazy-eyed and tugging her leggings past her hips. “You smell so good,” he breathed in the space behind her knee, dragging his lips up the inside of her thigh. The space was tight, but it forced him to press his body almost entirely into hers.

“Tim,” Lucy said, reaching a hand down to clutch at his sweat-dried t-shirt at the back of his neck. He thumbed over her underwear, pressing against her clit and mouthing the insides of her thighs. He sucked a labia out from under her panties, moving her thong around and pulling tight on it against her ass.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes stark in the dark car. Thumbing at her center, he rubbed and pressed as she released sighs and breathy praises. He lapped her center, starting meticulously and calculated as he warmed her up and began repaying her for his past behavior with his current actions.

Drawing her clit into his mouth, Tim sucked in time with his hand pulsing up her hip and around to grab at her ass. He clenched and pulled, drawing her pussy as far into his mouth as possible. His lips teased her bud, yanking her underwear tight and away from her mound, pressing hard against her asshole.

“Tim, that feels so good,” she scratched her fingertips at the back of his neck, brushing against the tips of his short hair. “I need more,” she whined, picking up her knee to press her foot against the front dash compartment.

Tim pressed his shoulder to the back of her thigh as he pulled her underwear off her hip and down at least one leg. Once he got her underwear free from blocking her hole, he surged forward two fingers and rubbed them up and down her slit, covering them in her arousal before rounding them firmly around her hood. “So good, Lucy,” Tim mumbled into her clit, kissing it and pressing his fingers in, curling up and rubbing as he slowly moved his wrist back and forth.

Lucy pressed her head back into the headrest, moaning at his tongue working over her center, clutching his shirt in both fists, pulling it up toward her in the front seat of her car. She kicked her foot harder against the dash, using it as leverage to thrust her hips against his hand and face. “Fuck, Tim,” she barked as he hooked against her g-spot and rubbed with relentless pressure and precision.

“You gonna come for me, Lucy?” He asked, pulling his mouth from her center and replacing his tongue with his thumb. His free hand rubbed up her stomach and under her shirt and sports bra to grab at her sweat-sticky breast.

“Oh, you gotta work harder than that, Tim,” she gasped with a high-pitched shout when he flicked against her clit with just the right combination of touch.

Tim narrowed his eyes at her and dove back in, sliding his tongue against her hood and dropping a warm wad of saliva on his disappearing fingers. He palmed her tit, groaning into her pussy at the restraint he met from her shirt and bra. “So fucking good,” he mumbled, biting small marks into her hips. He changed his pace twice, keeping her on edge just as she was getting close to coming.

“Mmm, Tim,” Lucy warned, arching her back and pinching the nipple of the tit not covered by his wide palm.

Tim nodded his acknowledgment, not giving up for a second to interrupt his focus and pace. He sucked hard on her clit as he pressed his fingers back toward him, feeling the fluttering around his digits as Lucy pushed out a sticky, white, glob of come. Tim lapped his tongue to clean her up, continuing his connection to her along her thighs, down and along the leg now resting on his shoulder, Lucy panting on the come down from her slumped position in the front seat.

“I still have a lot more making up to do,” Tim said, breaking from the kiss he pressed to her knee. “Let me know if you need this particular kind of making up.” He blinked up at her lazily, somehow comfortable while cramped in the wheel well of her black and orange accented Nissan.

“I can’t believe you’re knees deep in the wheel well of my car,” Lucy laughed, euphoric from the endorphins of an orgasm.

“And I’d do it all again,” Tim grinned as he pulled off his shirt and bent back in for round two.

[lets-try-some-writing]

hi hi i really enjoy your writings, and always look forward to what you post! i'd like to request a scenario where optimus crashes and is stranded on a random planet and has to revert back to his wild base coding to survive, the local creatures saw this feral cybertronian and decided yea this guy's one of us now.

What an excellent request! Time for some more feral Optimus! It has been far too long since I had the chance to write about him just being a wild little gremlin.

Not According to Plan

It wasn't exactly his plan to get sent spiraling off course on his way back to Cybertron, but then again, Optimus wasn't really expecting to be brought back to life and pitted against the Fallen either. There really wasn't much he could have done when his transport back to Cybertron got intercepted by rouge pirates, forcing him and all others on board to rush toward the escape pods as the ship's engine was damaged, threatening to explode. But considering his luck, he really should have known that something like a stray meteor hitting his pod was a viable possibility.

He was quickly sent hurtling away from Cybertron and toward a rather unassuming planet to the far end of Cybertronian space. All he could do was leave a signal trail and set up his beacon to give others a vague idea of where he had been sent careening off to. It only took him around a day and a half to crash land onto the surface of the planet. And another half a day to climb out of the wreckage, drag his beacon out into the open, and get a good look around.

It rapidly became obvious to Optimus that the world he had landed on was once a colony world from Cybertron's golden age. He could see the remnants of old Cybertronian inspired structures, abandoned mines, and of course after accidentally stepping on it... he could see the sad remains of a bot long dead, once infected by the rust plague. Upon learning this, it dawned on Optimus just how slagged his situation was. Even with a beacon and a signal trail leading directly to his location, next to no ship would dare come anywhere near. Planets like the one he had landed on had long since been written of as dead, quarantined, an unsuitable for habitation by most technologically advanced species. Unless a bot had a death wish, they wouldn't bother coming to his location, even if he was the Prime. At most they would sent a drone to pick up the Matrix from his corpse after his life signal puttered out.

While there was still a solid chance that one of his former team would take the risk anyway and come pick him up, Optimus could predict that even in that instance, help would still be a long way off. And so settling in for the long haul, Optimus got to work.

The first thing he did was shut off all nonessential systems. Everything from his high maintenance battle protocols to his extra sensors were shut off, leaving only his base systems in operation. His initial observations pointed to some energon being present, but with his huge frame, operating at optimal levels at all times was an excellent way to die of starvation. And so after shutting off his nonessential systems, Optimus went about tearing his pod apart, using what he could to construct a simple base. The end result was a small hovel, only just big enough for him to hide away from the elements in. It felt more like a cave than anything else, but Optimus made do, he had lived in worse conditions.

Once shelter was taken care of, Optimus spent the next several days running off his reserves, scouting for sources of energon and potential threats. He found a few energon deposits, but they were small, and likely would do nothing to keep Optimus alive with his bulky build. Thankfully threats for a mech of his size seemed to be near nonexistent, at least animal wise. But still he did not stray far from his shelter, worried that something would come and attack him, breaking the suffocating silence of the seemingly dead world. The territorial hazards were not nearly as bad as Cybertron, merely irritating. Huge dust storms and acid rain regularly scoured the landscape, often leading Optimus to sit it out wherever he could but ultimately being more of a pain than an actual threat to a warmachine like Optimus.

Time passed quickly on the near silent world filled with the corpses of the dead. The nearby energon deposits were exhausted within weeks, leading Optimus to abandon his shelter and instead take up a more nomadic lifestyle. His frame and his mentality also swiftly shifted to match his circumstances, the Matrix quieting its prodding as there was nothing for him to protect. And without the Matrix hounding him at all hours or a whole world to care for, Optimus was left with only his thoughts and instincts. By the time month four of his time on the dead world rolled around, Optimus had completely returned to his wild state. With no need for complex thought, morality, or anything else beyond the natural drive to survive, there was nothing stopping him from falling back into his previous state before his integration into society.

He looked completely wild. Without plentiful energon his frame slimmed down drastically, giving away most of his raw power for speed, endurance, stealth, and heightened sensory capabilities. His armor deteriorated with the constant abuse from the weather and lack of energon, becoming a dull gray largely matching the landscape. His traits normally kept dormant by the Matrix reemerged, fangs, claws, and more jagged armor growing in as time passed. Biolights also started to emerge on his frame, allowing him to have greater visibility on the dark world.

He travelled around the surface of the dead world, no thoughts beside his next meal and the desire for a pack occupying his processors... that was until around month six when he came across the first signs of intelligent life on the world. He found a small bot around double the size of a human with a nasty wound on its leg. To Optimus it looked like a sparkling, and with fatherly instincts and his desire for a pack being so strong he couldn't help but pick up the bot and take it with him on his travels. The bot was of course not pleased, flailing, screaming, and panicking in its native tongue for days as Optimus nursed it back to health and did his best to take care of it as he would a sparkling.

After around a week the bot calmed and seemed to sense that Optimus had no desire to hurt it, only to care for it. The bot and Optimus bonded over the course of a handful of weeks, the bot coming to see that despite Optimus's monstrous size, he was a gentle giant. And so with a great deal of effort on its part, the bot managed to convey to Optimus its desire to take him to another location. Optimus eventually understood, despite being feral, and was led deep into the cave systems beneath the world's surface. It was there that he was met with a whole tribe of bots much like the one he had taken in.

There were some difficulties after his initial arrival, but the bot managed to calm its fellow tribesman and prove that Optimus was no threat. And while the tribe had issues with the idea of feeding a mech of Optimus's size at first, after the bot proved that Optimus could hunt for himself, most other complained cleared up. As for the Prime, all he saw was even more parentless sparklings and so immediately came to see the tribe as part of his pack, and therefore under his protection. And soon enough a tender alliance was formed.

Optimus became a member of the tribe, serving as a powerful guardian and warding off the far larger animals living in the caves. He would hunt the huge worms that tunneled in the caves, bringing them back to the tribe who always celebrated and drained the energon from the creatures. He would travel across the surface with the bot he had originally rescued to collect old relics from the surface (Optimus would later come to learn that the bot he had rescued was a historian, hence its reason for being on the surface at all). Optimus would also help the tribe move things, like huge rocks and other obstructions from the tunnels to give the tribe access to places previously unavailable to them. And when not working, Optimus lay on the ground in the tribe's small village, playing with the sparklings who were barely the size of his digit. He loved to hum to the sparklings, allowing the rumble of his frame and the warmth of his spark to comfort them.

By the time Optimus had been stranded for a year on the deserted world, he had become a centerpiece in the tribe. He was their guardian, their protector, their gentle giant. And despite only operating on instinct, Optimus began to pick up the language of his adopted pack, learning that the name he had been given was [Star-sent-Savior}. He learned of the tribe's struggles with providing for themselves and collecting energon with so many creatures of the deep. He learned of the hardships they faced travelling across the surface to collect relics from their past, of which they knew little. And lastly he learned of how rare sparklings were due to how few managed to be collected from the hotspots on the surface before they died.

Despite not having the mental processing capability to understand the deeper meaning of anything said to him, Optimus could comprehend the basic idea. And as he went about making the lives of the tribesman easier, saving sparklings from the surface, retrieving relics, and hunting. He came to be heralded as a god-like entity, hence his name [Star-sent-Savior]. When all was said and done, the tribesman accepted him fully and carefully painted his armor in glittering shades of blue, weaving tales describing his heroics and making murals on his plating portraying his glory. The sparklings loved him and recharged against his side every night, leading Optimus to hum to them and curl around them as he would his own sparklings. The older tribesman made him a space in their village, carving out a den in one of the walls of the tunnels for him to rest in when the day was done. And the bot that Optimus rescued first came to him each day, reading to him and telling him of the history of its kind, leaning against him and speaking of all that came to mind. All the while Optimus listened quietly, only the low rumbling of his frame giving an indication of his state.

Two years after being stranded, a sign of help finally seemed to appear.

Bumblebee, his team, and Ratchet had arrived on the planet's surface in response to Optimus's total radio silence and beacon. They scoured the surface, following his life signal until they arrived at the entrance to the tunnels. They entered and followed the signal, expecting to find Optimus in stasis in some dark corner or hiding out near an energon deposit. They certainly didn't expect a very feral, very protective, and very angry Prime to be guarding a whole tribe numbering around a hundred small bots. And they most certainly were not prepared to be attacked on site, only for the Prime to stop after few attacks as he seemed to recognize them.

With Optimus refusing to separate from his tribe and the tribe refusing to let their guardian be taken from them, Bumblebee, his team, and Ratchet were left with quite a debacle. And so began to long process of returning Optimus to awareness in order to reason with him, all while attempting diplomacy with the tribe to figure out how they survived the rust plague.

[deadprocess]

Resurgence

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4: Foreign

Found by a native and reunited with his fellow officer, Soundwave discovers a shocking revelation about the planet they have crash landed on.

---

Soundwave's body jolted back to life, the sudden activation causing him to lurch forward, struggling to find stability on his servos. His right optic shuttered against the blinding light streaming in, the crack in his visor casting jagged shadows across his features. The faint beeping of error readings echoed in his auditory sensors, each chime a reminder of his damaged condition. The impact from the previous explosion had taken its toll; his back plate bore the scars of collision, now marred by dents and fissures, while his back strut ached painfully, bent at an awkward angle. A wave of frustration washed over him as he processed the extensive damage: multiple inoperable internal codes, including critical functions controlling his T-cog, were rendered useless after sustaining a substantial hit to his helm. Frustration bubbled forth as he punched his undamaged servo into the soft ground, his emotion suppressant protocol glitching.

He had warned them repeatedly about the anomaly's dangers, yet here he was, stranded in the aftermath of a catastrophic explosion. A realization jolted through him: Where was lord Megatron? Where was Shockwave?

Raising his helm, Soundwave surveyed his surroundings. The barren, rocky landscape they had arrived on was gone, replaced by a lush expanse of vibrant green. Organic material stretched as far as his optics could see, but it wasn't what Earth would call "grass"; its composition was foreign and unfamiliar. Mountainous hills rose in the distance, dotted with patches of strange, colorful flora that danced in the gentle breeze, creating a mesmerizing display of flickering colors. It felt as though he had been transported back to Earth, but even though the sheer strength of the blast was immense it would have been impossible. His databases struggled to identify this terrain.

Pressing his servo into the soft, yielding ground, he detected faint frequencies of electricity coursing through the planet beneath him. This planet's core was metallic, yet its surface was entirely organic, a paradox that both intrigued and unnerved him.

Soundwave struggled to his pedes, his systems glitching as he attempted to calculate his coordinates, but everything felt sluggish. The hit to his helm had unexpectedly disrupted more functions than he had initially realized, leaving him disoriented and vulnerable. An urgent warning flashed in front of his left optic, a mocking reminder that his fuel tank was nearing empty. He had to locate Megatron and the others quickly; the threat from the Autobots lingered nearby—or so he had assumed—and he would be defenseless if he fell into stasis lock.

Slowly trudging forward, Soundwave began his descent down the hill, his loyal companion Laserbeak clicking softly against his chassis. Sending her out for reconnaissance would be perilous; if his drone were captured, he would be unable to retrieve her. Without her full operational capacity, she would be useless against any threats. Preserving their energy was paramount for now.

After what felt like cycles of wandering, Soundwave realized he was no closer to finding answers. There was no sign of the Autobots, nor any trace of his fellow Decepticons. Primus, where were they? His internal warning systems blared, indicating his fuel gauge continued to drop with every passing moment. Laserbeak had slipped into stasis a cycle ago, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Soundwave would soon follow. Dropping to his knees, he felt his optics flickering, a recharge beckoning him with an alluring promise of rest.

"Just a moment of reprieve," he thought, his heavy frame collapsing onto the soft organic flora. As he surrendered to exhaustion, he barely registered the soft sound of small pedes approaching him.

"He... l... hell... oo... a... ok... ar... e... you... o...?" The fragmented voice punctuated the stillness, barely breaking through the haze of his fading consciousness.

System shutdown... alert. System shutdown. Protective protocol activated. Entering stasis lock.

Warmth was the first sensation to penetrate Soundwave's awareness. It enveloped him in a comforting embrace, reminiscent of being cradled by his carrier. Her melodic voice lulled him into a gentle recharge, like a soothing melody that had long since faded into memory. Wasn't it so long ago?

Suddenly, he lurched forward violently, his tentacles whipping out in a reflexive panic. Crashing sounds filled the air as his appendages collided with nearby objects, and his pedes caught on the frame of the berth, sending him crashing to the floor in a flurry of disorientation. A figure rushed through the doorway, concern etched across her features.

"Oh Primus! Are you okay?! I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone! Stasis lock is always jarring," the turquoise-framed femme exclaimed, her words tumbling over one another as she hurried to help him regain his balance. She nearly stumbled as she grasped at his form, trying to pull him up.

"Get... off!" Soundwave snarled, swiping his arm at her as she clumsily grasped him in sensitive areas, servos pressed into the warped metal of his backplate. His long arm nearly sent the smaller bot flying, but her surprisingly strong grip held firm.

"Whoa, wait! I know this is scary; please calm down!"

"Get off—"

"CEASE. NOW."

A booming voice cut through the chaos, causing Soundwave to halt his movements mid-swipe.

Shockwave entered the room, towering over the two bots who were tangled on the floor with an air of authority. "I see that you are awake, Sounwave. This pleases me but please, allow your system to recover before you perform any further erratic motions. We are not in danger," he hesitated, his antennae twitching as he carefully selected his words. "We are... guests in this lovely establishment."

Soundwave struggled to comprehend Shockwave's words. Guests? Where in the frag were they?! There was nowhere in the solar system that openly welcomed decepticons like them into their residence.

The femme's grip loosened as he relaxed, persistently guiding him to his pedes. Soundwave stared incredulously at his fellow Decepticon, the confusion building like a storm within him.

"My designation is Rust Dust. I found you while I was out driving. I was trying to figure out how to bring you back here to help you since you were in such rough shape, but then your buddy appeared. Thank Primus too! You are a lot heavier than I anticipated. No offense to you; your frame is super sleek! Unless... you don't want to be sleek? Oh, I shouldn't assume; that was rude." The femme's words tumbled out at a speed that could rival Starscream's indecent blubbering, and Soundwave found himself forced to listen to her incessant chatter.

Shockwave's body language suggested he was struggling to contain his own irritation, his EM field retracting closely to his body to avoid alerting Rust Dust to his suspicion. Not that she would likely notice; her awareness seemed limited at best.

"Rust Dust, I would like a moment with my companion, if you wouldn't mind. He has been through a lot, and I would like to run a systems analysis to ensure that he is well enough to be moving." Shockwave interjected, saving Soundwave from a splitting processor.

"Oh yeah, absolutely! I'll be right out in the main room. I'll fetch some energon for whenever you both are ready." Soundwave's tank lurched at the mention of energon, his glossa instinctively shooting out to lick his dry lips. His fuel systems were starved, and the thought of energon was intoxicating.

"Could he possibly receive some now? You could leave it by the door."

"Absolutely!"

With Rust Dust cheerfully exiting, Soundwave directed his full attention to the mech before him, his field flared with incredulity. With his visor cracked and multiple internal processing systems damaged, Soundwave was forced to address the situation.

"Inquiry: Who was that and where are we?" It was two simple questions. Ones in which he hoped his compatriot could answer.

"That was Rust Dust. I do not know of her affiliation, but I am well aware of her lineage. Her entire lineage," Shockwave replied, a faint air of exasperation in his tone. Soundwave detected that he had likely been in stasis for some time and his fellow officer had endured the prattling femme in his absence, "we currently reside on a planet designated as Cyberonica."

"Information: insufficient. Femme has allowed us into her home. Decepticons: unwelcomed in most quadrants of the galaxy," Soundwave took a step forward, gaze fixing on the window that overlooked the unfamiliar organic scenery outside, "Shockwave: where are we?"

A servo placed itself upon his shoulder pad, guiding him into a sitting position upon the small berth he had woken up from.

"Cyberonica. A planet that resides outside our dimension. We are welcome because Decepticons do not exist here. Our war does not exist here."

Xx Authors note xX

Thank you for reading! Chapter 5 is under works. Check back or another update soon!

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 22

summary: another night stuck at the safe house...some repercussions from their arrival.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: at this point every chapter is another day in their life, I don't want to jump ahead at alllllll and miss the good stuff! speaking of - MILD SPICE WARNING, minors DNI. let me know what you think :)

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife @otterlycanadian

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

Who knew thunder could be so soothing? Charlotte mused, pulling a fistful of the plush comforter closer to her chin. The bed was warm, largely thanks to the super soldier sleeping in it behind her. He’d fallen asleep on top of the covers shortly after slipping his boxers back on. She’d initially passed out with him, but when she woke up in the middle of the night, freezing and naked, Charlotte had found a slightly musty smelling crewneck in the bedroom closet and a pair of sweatpants in a drawer. Only a moment after pulling them on and crawling under the covers, she was right back to sleep. Storms never bothered her, but this one felt especially soothing. Something about an exhilarating escape from a mission, a long night, and the peace of a safe house…it was the best nights’ sleep she’d had in months. 

That was –– until the calm of the early morning was shattered by a sudden clamor downstairs—a violent crash that jerked them from sleep to high alert in mere seconds.

“Did you hear that?” Charlotte whispered, her voice tight with tension as she slipped out of the bed and into a crouch on the floor.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, his hand feeling under the bed frame for what she assumed was a stashed weapon. Sure enough, he pulled out a handgun, checking to make sure it was loaded. “Stay behind me.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she stepped softly around the bed. “I’m not exactly the stay-behind type, Barnes,” she whispered sharply, returning to the closet where she’d found the sweats that –– while perfect for sleeping, were too baggy for comfortable stealth. Sure enough, in a chest on the ground was a stash of miscellaneous weapons. These looked like they’d been haphazardly put here for storage rather than convenient protection like the gun beneath the bed. Not wanting to waste time as she heard Bucky step into the hallway, Charlotte grabbed the first thing she saw: a bow and quiver of arrows. She slid the strap over her shoulder, gritting her teeth as the loose arrows clacked against each other. Catching up to Bucky as he crept to the staircase, she loaded an arrow and pulled it taut, ready to fire over his shoulder if anything should make a sudden move.

They moved stealthily down the stairs, their trained eyes scanning for threats. The living room was a mess, shrapnel from the splintered wooden door sprayed across the room, water from the ongoing storm beginning to puddle at the entryway. Charlotte tried to ignore the fact that her discarded clothes from the day before were right in the midst of the fray. At least she fared better than Bucky, clad in only his boxers as he held the gun out and turned the corner fully. At the center of the chaos stood a figure from Stark’s lineup—an Iron Legion bot, the lights through the eye holes flashing red.

Bucky frowned, his gun lowering slightly. “Iron Legion? What’s the emergency?”

The drone’s mechanical voice responded, “Safety check protocol initiated due to non-response from agents. Please confirm status.”

With a sigh, Bucky lowered the gun fully. “Tell the cavalry we’re fine. They can call off the search party.”

“Agent dismissal protocol not met.” 

“Sergeant Barnes confirming safe perimeter and no imminent threat. Agent Rossi present and unharmed.”

The drone paused, the lights turning from red to white, then turned and exited, leaving the mild destruction in its wake.

Bucky glanced at Charlotte, eyes less than amused as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

Stepping carefully across the debris to get to her abandoned bag, Charlotte fished out her phone, wincing at the flood of missed messages and calls. “Looks like we’ve got some explaining to do.” She tossed his phone and the secure comms device to Bucky, both laden with concern at their lack of communication for ten hours. She shot him a sheepish grin. “What’s the play here, Sarge?”

“Probably better to keep it to the basics,” Bucky suggested, arching an eyebrow. “They know the storm forced us down, communications got spotty.”

“So you don’t think saying we were too busy hooking up to answer our phones would fly with Hill? Charlotte asked with a smirk, her heart still racing from the rude awakening.

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, let’s stick to the storm story.”

As they started picking up the broken door, laying down towels to soak up the rainwater, and straightening the furniture, the room was full of a quiet tension. They’d cleared the security check with the Iron Legion, which would surely report back to the Compound, but they’d still have to return the calls, texts, and mission brief requests –– and they knew the team would press them a little harder than the robot did. 

“So,” Charlotte began, breaking the silence, “are we okay here? I mean, with... this?” She gestured vaguely between them.

Bucky stopped, his gaze meeting hers seriously. “We’re good, Char. If you’re good, I’m good.” 

She nodded, relief evident in her features. “I’m good.”

His eyes lingered on hers for a second before he thought better of whatever the words were on his lips, turning his attention back to gathering their soaking wet clothes from the ground.

“Buck?” Charlotte stepped across the puddle on the floor towards him, reaching out for the clothes in his hands. 

“Hm?” His breath seemed to hitch as he met her eyes.

“I’d hate for our first... whatever this was, to be our last.”

Something darker flickered in his eyes. “When have I ever stopped at one lesson?” Bucky’s voice was low. His words hung between them, the air so thick it was almost suffocating. As much as she wanted to lean into the moment, to drop the clothes and keep the world at bay, Charlotte knew they shouldn’t keep the rest of the team waiting, concerned.

“Guess it’s time to face the music,” she said, taking the pile of wet clothes and turning for the laundry room. “I’ll get these clean so you have something to wear. You can handle the communication.”

“Gee, thanks.” He scoffed. 

“You’re the one always reminding me you outrank me, Sarge.” 

“I’ve never said that.”

“You don’t have to say it, the constant barking of orders does a good enough job for you.” She winked as she turned the corner. 

As she disappeared, Bucky looked down at his phone. The screen lit up with multiple missed calls from Steve. He hesitated a moment before hitting the call back button, preparing himself for the inevitable ribbing.

“Hey, man,” Steve answered on the first ring, his voice a mix of relief and curiosity. “Everything okay over there?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face despite the seriousness of the situation. “Yeah, we’re fine. Sorry about the scare. We... uh, didn’t hear the phones.”

Steve paused, the silence on the other end almost palpable. “Didn’t hear the phone? For hours? You missed the check in protocol too, you know you have twenty minutes to clear the house and report back before you’re marked safe.”

“Well, we were a bit... distracted,” Bucky admitted, scratching his cheek.

There was a chuckle from Steve. “Distracted, huh? I guess the storm really picked up then.”

“You could say that,” Bucky replied, his voice wry. “It was quite the... storm.”

Steve’s laughter came through the phone. “Wow, Buck. Just glad you two are safe. But you might want to adjust your comm settings if you’re planning on getting ‘distracted’ again. Could save us all a heart attack.”

“Noted,” Bucky said, a genuine smile on his face. “And, uh, thanks, pal.”

“Anytime,” Steve said. “Oh, hang on, Nat has something to say.”

“Uh, okay,” His brow furrowed.

“Bucky?” Natasha’s voice rang through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Next time you’re trying to be subtle, consider not sleeping with the girl wearing a heart rate monitor.”

Bucky’s stomach flipped as he closed his eyes. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” He could hear the shit-eating grin in her voice. “So picture this, Barnes. You have an all-too exciting escape from what’s supposed to be a non-combat mission, have to land in the middle of a storm at a safe house, miss your check in point to clear the house, and we get notified from the agents monitoring the two of you on the mission that Charlotte’s heart rate monitor is going berserk. Then, you two neglect to answer any of your calls or comm requests for hours, and since we’re unable to fly a manned aircraft in this storm, we’re forced to dispatch the Iron Legion to obtain proof of life.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, but fighting a grin. “That sounds like it’s going to be a hell of a mission brief when we get back.” 

“You could say that.” She snorted. “We’ll cover you with Hill. She’s pissed, but we’ll tell her you were dealing with structural complications at the safe house or something. Storm won’t fully pass until tomorrow anyways, so she’ll find someone else to be mad at by then.” 

“Structural complications aren’t too far fetched,” Bucky raised an eyebrow at the open doorway, water still blowing in. 

“Hey, I’m just thrilled you two remembered to take your earpieces out. We don’t need to be paying for therapy for the poor agents monitoring your asses.” 

“Silver lining.” Bucky groaned, hearing Nat pass the phone back to Steve. 

“Hey, just be safe the rest of the day. We’ll cover for you here, but I’m not sure we can explain a second missed check in.” 

“We won’t make things worse. Thanks, Stevie.” 

“No problem. I’m just glad you’re getting along so well. The team had a pool going that one of you would try to kill the other before you got out of the safe house.” 

“Hey, there’s still twenty four hours left!” He heard Nat’s voice call from across the room. 

“Alright, I’m gonna figure out how to board up this wide open doorway, I guess.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, surveying the damage again. “Sorry for the scare.” 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.”

As he ended the call, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of their situation.

Charlotte descended the stairs then, holding a second set of sweats that she extended to him. “Everything okay?” she asked, noticing the residual smile on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Steve sends his best.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Does he now?”

“He does.” Bucky nodded. “And Nat so lovingly reminded me about this.” He reached down and grabbed her left wrist, holding it up so her bracelet glinted in the light. Charlotte’s eyes flicked from the bracelet to him, widening. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So I take it they didn’t buy the storm story…?”

“Not so much.” 

Charlotte giggled, covering her face with her hand as she gave Bucky the clothes. “So much for a seamless first mission.” 

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad.” Bucky stepped into the sweatpants and tugged the sweatshirt over his head. “We just took a little…educational detour.” 

She peeked through her fingers at him. “A training exercise.”

“We’ve been doing them for months.” 

“This was no different.” 

“Wasn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at her. For a moment, Charlotte looked him over and really saw him. How handsome he was, how the stubble decorated his jawline, how his soft lips and blue eyes were the perfect contrast to his rough exterior. 

“I need coffee.” She brushed past him and into the kitchen. “Want some?”

“Make it strong.”

Hours later, Charlotte knelt in front of the old TV set, her brow furrowed in concentration as she fiddled with the back wires. The storm outside howled, sending gusts that rattled the windows, occasionally messing with the static-filled screen. The spare wood Bucky had used to patch up the door kept the majority of the rain out, but not the chill from the wind.

"Come on, you ancient piece of shit," she muttered under her breath, giving the side of the TV a light thump. "In a place designed by Tony Stark himself, you'd think someone would've thought to install a decent entertainment system. Or at least Netflix."

“Isn’t it ironic that you’d call anything ancient?” Bucky walked in, a can of beans in one hand and a box of pasta in the other. He raised an eyebrow at her ongoing battle with the television. Charlotte extended her middle finger towards him without looking back.

"Having fun?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Charlotte stood up, brushing her hands on her sweats. "Oh, loads. It's like time traveling back to the 90s. Except even then, I think they had better TV reception. Not that I would know."

Bucky chuckled, setting the food on the coffee table. "Well, if you're done tinkering, I found our gourmet dinner options." He gestured towards the modest assortment of canned and boxed goods he'd gathered. "What are you in the mood for? We've got spaghetti with a choice of three expired sauces or two-year-old beans that promise a 'home-cooked' taste."

"Hmm, tough choice," Charlotte teased, walking over to inspect the labels. "Do you trust the sauces? Because honestly, the beans might be safer, but the spaghetti sounds more like a meal."

"Hey, we’ve survived worse," Bucky decided with a grin. "If we get taken out by pasta, it was probably our time."

"Deal," she replied, smiling. "But if I get food poisoning, there will be hell to pay."

Bucky strode to the kitchen and started setting up a pot on the small stove. "I'll take full responsibility. I'll even nurse you back to health with our vast medical supplies of... well, I think there's some expired aspirin in the bathroom."

"That’s very reassuring, thanks," she laughed, finding a can opener in one of the drawers. "This feels like one of those cooking shows where they give you the weirdest ingredients and ask you to make something edible."

"They have shows like that?" Bucky raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yeah, they have shows for everything.” Charlotte poured the sauce into a pan, stirring it slowly. "Cooking shows, shows where people have to make things out of cake, shows where people get yelled at in kitchens, everything. You’ve really never seen them?”

“I don’t watch much TV.” 

“I probably watch too much,” Charlotte admitted. “It’s how I learned…everything. English, even. I think that’s how I feel more like I’m a part of this world. Watching people live life and be normal…sometimes I can just get lost in it and feel like I’m normal too.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment before speaking softly. “I feel the opposite. Sometimes watching people live their lives makes me feel like I’m too far gone. It’s just a reminder of everything I missed out on.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Charlotte’s voice held a pang of sadness that made Bucky wish he’d kept his depressing bullshit to himself. “I guess I’d rather watch it and daydream about it than not know about it at all. At least some people are out there having normal lives and happy families, you know?” 

Charlotte hesitated, then spoke softly. “Bucky, do you ever think about it? About having a... normal life?”

Bucky turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “A quiet life, a family, all that. It’s hard not to think about it.”

Charlotte nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stirred absently. “Yeah, me too. But then I think about what that would actually mean—I just don’t know if it would be right. Even before all of this, before Hydra…I didn’t have a good life. It’s not like I had an idyllic childhood to reminisce about or have some desire to recreate.” She paused. “These past few months, with the team…this is the best it’s ever been for me. I don’t think I would ever want to leave this behind.”

“I had a lot of good before the war. A good life. But that’s long gone now.” Bucky looked at her. “The team, the compound…this is a good life too.”

Charlotte gave a small smile, trying not to scare away the genuine emotion in his words.

“Even if we did leave,” Bucky continued. “It’s about whether we’d ever really fit into that kind of life. After everything we’ve been through, everything we are... could we really live like that? Working a normal job, trying to be normal?”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte sighed, folding her arms. “Maybe we’re too fucked up for normal. Maybe we’re just better suited for the chaos and the fights. That’s what we’re built for, after all.”

Bucky moved closer, his eyes searching hers. “Does that scare you?” he asked quietly.

“A little,” she confessed. “It’s one thing to choose this life because it’s exciting and we’re good at it. It’s another to think maybe we don’t have much of a choice, because the other life, the normal one, was taken from us.”

He nodded. “I get that. I used to think about what would have happened if I’d never fallen off that train, if I’d just lived a normal life after the war. But after all these years, after all Hydra did, it’s hard to imagine being anything but what I am now.”

Charlotte looked up at him, her expression softening. “And maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough to find some semblance of happiness wherever we can, even if it’s not the picture-perfect version we’re supposed to want.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

Charlotte leaned closer, bumping her shoulder against his, a small smile playing at her lips. “Hey, who you are is kind of growing on me.”

Bucky shot her a look. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Maybe it’s the isolation making me crazy…but I’m finding you shockingly less insufferable these past twenty four hours.” 

“I wonder what made the change.” Arrogance was written all across his face. 

“There’s no real way to tell.” Charlotte chuckled as she took the sauce off the burner and poured it over the noodles he’d strained.

After dinner, the night seemed to stretch endlessly in front of them, time ticking slower than usual. They sat in the living room, a restless silence between them. Bucky was leaning back against the couch, with Charlotte lying on her back, her head beside his thighs and her feet on the opposite armrest. Bucky idly re-scrambled a Rubik’s cube, handing it over to Charlotte who solved it in seconds. 

“Again?” she asked, eyebrows raised as she handed the solved puzzle back to him.

Bucky grunted, tossing it onto the coffee table. “It’s too easy for you.”

Charlotte chuckled as she plucked it back up, dropping her head back onto the cushions as she fiddled with it. “What did you expect?”

Bucky gave a hollow grin, his eyes betraying his frustration. The air between them crackled. Last night’s encounter loomed large in their minds, the solitude and the utter lack of distractions making it impossible to avoid.

“So,” Bucky began, his voice low as he watched her hands on the cube rather than meet her eyes, “are we going to talk about...last night?”

Charlotte shifted, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. “What about it?”

“Do you…” Bucky paused, choosing his words carefully, “...was it just a one-time thing? Because of the storm, because we were stuck here?”

Charlotte’s gaze didn’t waver from his eyes, her heart thumping louder against her ribs. “Do you want it to be just a one-time thing?”

“I don’t know what I want,” he admitted. “But I know I don’t want to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Charlotte’s breath hitched slightly. “It meant something to me too, Bucky.” She hesitated, then added softly, “And I wouldn’t mind...if it happened again.”

The admission hung between them, charged and heavy. Bucky’s gaze intensified, his body leaning slightly towards her.

“Charlotte,” he began, his voice a husky whisper, “I—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Closing the distance, she leaned forward, her hand reaching up to cradle his cheek, pulling him towards her. Their lips met in a kiss that was both a confirmation and a promise, charged with the pent-up tension of the day.

Bucky responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her onto his lap. The Rubik’s cube fell to the floor, forgotten as the kiss deepened, filled with the urgency and passion of their bottled-up emotions. The storm outside once again faded to the background, their mingling heartbeats putting the thunder to shame.

They broke apart, brief and breathless, Charlotte whispered against his lips, “I think I’m ready for another lesson.”

Bucky grinned, his forehead resting against hers. “What do you want to learn?”

“I think I need to go over the basics again,” She gently bit his lower lip, making him tilt his head back. “Just to make sure last night’s…training really sunk in.”

Bucky’s chuckle was low. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited to train with me,” His hands roamed to her back, slipping under her sweatshirt and pulling her even closer.

“It must be your new teaching style,” Charlotte quipped, her breath quickening as she felt his heartbeat through his shirt.

Slowly, deliberately, Bucky leaned her back, lowering down until they were lying on the couch, her body perfectly aligned underneath his. “Let’s start with the fundamentals then,” he murmured, his lips tracing a path along her jawline towards her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Charlotte’s fingers tangled in his hair. Every touch, every kiss made the world fade further from her mind. All she could feel was him. All she knew was him. 

Bucky, Bucky Bucky.

As the storm continued to rage outside, the safe house became their secluded world, filled with the sounds of their synchronized breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as clothing was stripped and discarded on the floor. The urgency of their first encounter gave way to a more profound exploration this time. Slower hands, more deliberate movements, absolutely no desire for this to ever end.

“Bucky,” Charlotte breathed out as his hands found the hem of her pants, fingers dancing across her skin with a tenderness that belied his rough exterior.

“Yes?” His voice was a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

“Don’t stop teaching,” Charlotte managed to say, her voice laced with laughter and desire.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his eyes locked with hers, a smirk on his lips.

[sarandipitywrites]

DRDW Ch 2 is LIVE

He sent the command along with a clack and folded his arms to wait for the map to load. The caret didn't stretch and snake, didn't split and section the screen into green runnels and streams. It vanished. Blinked out like stars over city lights. Text and strings of code raced across the screen, there and gone before he could parse them. "Activation protocol initiated," a mechanical voice intoned from somewhere within the walls. "Sedative administration cycle... terminated. Eco suspension chamber evacuation in... three... minutes." That... didn't sound good. Daxter spun his chair around and peered through the door nearest the computer. Jak was probably that way — no, he was that way — but someone was bound to notice that Daxter'd activated the whatever cycle sooner rather than later. He needed somewhere to hide. He was no good to anybody— Thunk. He jolted to attention. His eyes snapped to the glass chambers on his left. There: the third one down. A shadow lurked in the tube, in the liquid. It lurched towards the glass. Thunk. The glass looked thick. It was thick. Right? He could sneak out, find somewhere to hide. He could wait for the guards to come and figure out what Daxter had fucked up and un-fuck it. ...Right? Crack. Fractures spiderwebbed out from the shadow. Cold air rasped across Daxter's tongue, gusted in and out of his lungs in a rush of cleaners and chemicals. His feet hit the floor, moved no further. Why? Why wouldn't they move, he needed to move, come on— Crash. A clenched fist burst through the glass along with a rush of dark fluid.

if you're an enjoyer of Jak & Daxter, dystopian dark fantasy, or the above snippet, check out Dead Roots, Dark Water on Ao3 perhaps

taglist: @sam-glade, @televisionjester, @surroundedbypearls

[serial-designation-vee]

@serial-designation-jey

From above, two pods boomed as they ripped the upper stratosphere of Copper-9. Light from the rockets, making the clouds glow hot blue and electrifying the unstable atmosphere. As the pods split the cloud cover in their descent, lightning flickered and cracked, striking one of the pods. The surge in power fried the automatic navigation systems, and the craft hurtled off course towards Camp 98.7. Crashing down, it left a trail of destruction and fire in its wake, setting the forest ablaze and leaving a gouge in the ground that ran for several hundred yards before the craft eventually came to a halt. The pod was unlike anything they had ever seen, complex ivory plating with intricate gold designs weaving throughout, the exposed areas revealing an almost muscular conglomeration of black wires that pulsed blue light towards the center of the craft. Upon the side were several logos, of which one V would recognize as her own parent company logo of JCJenson. The others involved were Faro Automated Solutions Inc, Far Zenith Corp, and Miriam Technologies.... As the two dissasembly drones would draw close, the pod let off a shrill tone and an automated warning. "WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! PROXIMITY SENSORS ACTIVE, SHIP IS STABILIZING, DO NOT APPROACH THE STASIS POD UNTIL INSTRUCTED OR RISK MALFUNCTION. PLEASE ENJOY OUR MESSAGE TO THE VALUED CUSTOMER ABOUT YOUR NEW GALAXTIC PAL WHILE YOU WAIT- Uh, is this thing on? This is testing log number uhhh... I've lost count... of project Gemini modelSD: B1-7A PIN: #LK-101, "Beta" or just B, I dont care... Okay... The pod is cooling down right now, but once it's stable, it should scan the environment and inhabitants around it so it can best modify itself to the environment and fit in, I know it might be odd but it will try to copy someone it sees but dont worry, there is a customization setting in the pod if you wish to change her appearance, not that ot will matter uh... Look, this is our last shot. What with earth gone and everything. I've installed various subfunction protocols into two sister drones. The other should be nearby. This one posseses: Minerva, Hephestus, Apollo, and Hades. The robot will tell you what those do, but uhm... She's designed to learn and adapt just as her sister unit A7-04 is, but specifically, she's much more attuned to it. Her sister unit is designed for combat and initial defense of this ones operations of study, terraforming and revitalizing. Make no mistake, though. B isn't defenseless. She is equipped with a highly advanced natite repair and re assimilation device and can construct weapons on her arms of which she knows two by default, but can learn more. The Specter Gauntlet High Energy plasma multitool cannon and the Specter Reaver blade arm. If there was any error during transport, I'd expect something to function incorrectly, and I can't help you. If the unit is severely damaged, return it to the pod for nanitic revitalization procedures to initiate a full system reboot and restore... I think that's it... good luck."

V watched the pod with a calculating gaze, one of her hands turned into a long blade and held out in front of J. They took in the words spoken to her, and their eyes narrowed. She didn't care what this was, they just didn't want it near J.

She remained at the ready, protective urge pulling at her every wire.

[usafphantom2]

B-52 bomber makes emergency landing after engine fire

The fire of the B-52H engine occurs at the moment when the fleet is preparing to be re-remotorized, an update that will allow the model to serve for more decades.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 02/27/2024 - 21:27in Incidents, Military

A B-52H Stratofortress bomber at Minot Air Base, North Dakota, made an emergency landing due to an engine fire in early February 23.

All crew members left unharmed, said a spokesman for the base. Asked if the base lane remains open, the spokesman did not want to comment, but said that bomber operations at the base have continued normally since February 27.

A fire in a single engine led the pilot to land the bomber at approximately 12:52 p.m., and the base fire department arrived at the site and extinguished the fire of the aircraft, according to the base's host unit, the 5ª Bomber Wing. The bomber is powered by eight engines and was designed to fly and land safely in case of failures of up to two engines.

A B-52 Stratofortress taxis during an alert exercise at Minot Air Base, North Dakota. (Photo: U.S. Air Force / Staff Sgt. Jocelyn Rich)

“First of all, the 5ª Bomber Wing is extremely grateful to all our aviators who arrived home safely,” the wing commander, Colonel Daniel Hoadley, said in the statement. "I would like to recognize our excellent base firefighters for their quick response."

The popular unofficial Facebook page "amn/nco/snco" reported the incident for the first time, with an anonymous and unconfirmed post that "a CSD (constant speed unit that drives the generator) caught fire on landing and burned that engine and part of the wing." Subsequently, the page posted an alleged image of the engine, showing great damage.

It is currently not known what caused the fire and the incident is under investigation, following the standard protocol for accidents involving military operations.

The last major public accident with a B-52 occurred in 2017, when an engine crashed from the aircraft during a training flight in Minot. The pilot successfully landed the bomber without incident and all the aviators on board came out unharmed, but one of his Pratt & Whitney TF33-P-3/103 turbofan engines fell into a depopulated area.

In May 2016, during a routine training mission at Andersen Air Base in Guam, an accident destroyed a B-52 bomber. The pilot of the 69º Expeditionary Bomber Squadron noticed problems during takeoff and began abortion procedures. However, the braking parachute failed, causing the aircraft to exceed the power limits of the brake system, overtake the runway and catch fire. All seven crew members escaped, with one receiving treatment for minor injuries. The total loss of the aircraft was valued at US$ 112 million.

The U.S. Air Force foresees the upgrade of the B-52 engines in the late 2020s or early 2030s with the Rolls Royce F130 engine, intended to be an individual replacement for its current TF33 engines in double nacelles.

We are thrilled to announce that we are on track to complete initial F130 engine testing for the @usairforce B-52J by the end of this year.

The F130 is a militarized version of the company's commercial BR725, which the U.S. Air Force already operates on its VIP C-37 and E-11 BACN (Battlefield Airborne Communications Node) transport aircraft. Rolls Royce will supply the engines, while Boeing, the original manufacturer of Stratofortress, will integrate them into the aircraft.

Conceptual image of the B-52 aircraft with the new F130 engines.

Four B-52s from Minot Air Base were sent to Guam in late January to support the Pacific Air Force mission. The bombers recently participated in several public missions, including the three-week Cope North multilateral exercise and a one-day exercise with Philippine fighters over the South China Sea this month. In addition, two of the bombers performed overfloats at the Singapore Airshow last week.

Tags: Military AviationBoeing B-52H StratofortressIncidentsUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[elvenbeard]

Lucky

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: V is lucky to be alive still after a heist gone right but many other things gone wrong lately. Maybe it's not too late yet to pick up the pieces, but even with fewer and fewer options to go forward, his path seems unclear. (Post-Sun-Ending, Chapter 3/?, 4477 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, no warnings except for angst and a hospital setting >.>)

>> Previous Chapter >> First Chapter

The next thing V remembered was his biomonitor going off, beeping on high alert, the emergency protocol reciting its little speech.

“Vincent, it appears you have been in a car accident,” it said, “Remain calm, Trauma Team are on their way. Estimated arrival time: 90 seconds. Try not to move.”

He could barely breathe, let alone move. In his initial shock he didn’t even feel the pain as much, but he was squeezed in between his seat and steering wheel. The windshield was cracked, casting a kaleidoscope of red and blue and golden light across his face, blurry shapes running around outside. People were screaming and there was one hell of a commotion, more gunshots fired, police barking orders, but long before he could fully grasp what was happening, V’s consciousness faded again.

“Vincent?” a gentle voice brought him back from the darkness – how much time had passed?

“Stay calm, we’re getting you out of here.”

The man wore full Trauma Team combat gear. Before V had even come to his senses, they’d already forced the warped door open, put a neck brace on him, and maneuvered him out of the car. He didn’t remember how exactly, only that one moment he was still trapped in there, the next he lay on a stretcher, surrounded by medics, Megabuidling H10 towering above them. Police sirens were blaring, and the deep droning of the Trauma Team AV not far left of him made his head hurt even more.

“Client is conscious but disoriented,” one of the medics said, another listed V’s vitals and the drugs she was about to administer. At least four people were all over him cutting open his clothes, poking him with needles, shining lights into his eyes, and strapping him to the stretcher in preparation for transport.

“Vincent, do you know what year it is?”

“It’s just V,” he barely managed to croak, his throat dry and tight.

“Sorry?”

“Just call me V,” he repeated, “And it’s 2077. The fourth of September.”

“Very good,” the medic said, “Do you remember what happened? Where were you going?”

“Was on my way home,” he said as a strangely warm, numbing sensation washed over him, the painkillers probably, “Tygers crashed into me… right in front of my front door…”

The stretcher was lifted from the ground as soon as they’d fixed him to it. Due to the brace, he couldn’t really look around, but quickly the view of his old apartment complex was replaced by the interior of the Trauma Team AV. He’d wondered if he’d ever see the inside of one again, and he was actually very thankful now that Kerry had coerced him into purchasing a membership not that long ago.

“Kerry…” V murmured, but he barely recognized his own voice. Whatever they’d given him, it was the good stuff.

“Is he your emergency contact?” was the last thing V remembered one of the medics asking before he drifted off to sleep.

He wasn’t sure if what followed was a dream or not, flashing images of people he didn’t know talking to him, bright lights, strange noises, a sense of urgency and worry and confusion. Then just soothing darkness for a long, long time. There were worse ways to die than just fading out like this… he knew from firsthand experience. There was no fear in just falling asleep and never waking up again, no pain, no hatred and betrayal, no sorrow and regrets. There was no glory either… but by the time it came to it, V realized, that wouldn’t be his concern anymore anyway.

A familiar but unexpected noise slowly pulled V out of his deep, almost dreamless sleep. For a moment he wondered if any of this had even happened – from meeting Mr. B to infiltrating the Crystal Palace, to ending up in front of a red stoplight with the worst possible timing. But when he opened his eyes to bleak white hospital walls, reality hit him even harder. He was still here, still breathing, his heart still beating. He could still barely move his head either, but even without doing so, the warm calming presence squeezed onto the left half of the bed beside him was undeniable. He realized it was Kerry’s gentle snoring that had woken him up, that usually helped him fall asleep.

One of the perks of them both being kind of short and slim, they comfortably fit into a bed made for one person only. As far as he could see, Kerry still wore his dark grey jeans and V’s old smiley-face t-shirt – he usually did when V was gone for a couple of days at a time. His leatherjacket was draped over an armchair nearby and guessing by the soft warm light falling in through half-closed blinds, it probably was the morning after. At least V hoped so, and he hadn’t lost more than half a day unconscious in a hospital bed.

Wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through Kerry’s tousled hair, pull him closer, just hold him, in disbelief still that he was really here and not a drug-induced figment of his imagination, V tried to lift his left arm. But he couldn’t. Despite the painkillers, every little movement hurt, his limbs felt like they were made from concrete. Weakly he laughed to himself when the ironic thought “feel like I was run over by a car” crossed his mind.

Kerry’s eyes fluttered open at V’s croaky laughter breaking the relative silence of the room. The quiet whirring of the medical monitors and machines was barely louder than white noise. He shuffled and looked up at V with great worry at first, but it slowly turned into a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep, scooching even closer so that they were more at eye level. He reached up to gently caress V’s face with the back of his hand, shaking his head just slightly.

“Almost gave me at least three heart attacks yesterday,” he said quietly, his expression growing more somber again.

“Didn’t mean to,” V apologized, his own voice still sounding strange and distant to him. But he truly meant what he said. He hated to see Kerry worry about him, especially over something so stupid.

“I know,” Kerry said, resting his head into the crook of V’s neck, his arm across V’s chest now, holding him close but making sure to not press onto his hurting ribs too forceful, “Fuck… I’m just so glad I didn’t lose you. Dunno know what I’d’ve done.”

V shivered. Clenching his jaw and biting back the pain he reached up to put his right hand on Kerry’s arm draped across his chest, fingers gently massaging and trailing along his tattoo. It had always reminded V of armor in a way, protecting him against a world that had been anything but kind to him for so long. The last thing V wanted was to also make the list of people Kerry had been hurt by.

“I don’t really know anymore what’s going on with me lately,” V blurted out, but that was all he really managed before his throat closed up again, the words he’d seen so clearly in his mind slipping and fading away. Kerry didn’t move away one bit, and V couldn’t see his face, but there was audible concern in his voice.

“You’ve been… weird, yeah,” he said after a couple of seconds, “Preoccupied. Thought it was the stress of… y’know, everything. The bad news from the docs, that big gig, managing the Afterlife, all that?”

“I mean, yeah…” V shrugged. It was true, all that had been stressing him out, on top of it the secrecy, working for Mr. B of all people… But he’d done worse things for Arasaka, been under similar stress then and afterwards, and he’d never felt so out of it at any point in time before.

“But… it’s more than that,” he said slowly, “On some days it’s like I barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore.”

A long pause, just filled with the quiet buzz of the machines, distant voices on the hallway, and the faint roar of an AV’s engine flying by outside.

“Think this is… like, the aftermath of the Relic? Gettin’ worse?” Kerry asked, and it hurt V how frail his voice sounded.

“I mean, could be,” V said, and the thought had certainly crossed his mind, “Like… It was like this before, worse even. A few times I actually saw Johnny in the mirror for a second, not myself. And it was still bad for a few weeks after Mikoshi. But I actually thought it was getting better… For a while at least, Vik doing what he could.”

“Seemed like you were more at ease with it all, yeah,” Kerry mused quietly.

V didn’t even want to think it but… maybe Alt was really right this time. Maybe there was no way out of this. He’d been living on borrowed time ever since he woke up in that landfill. Any semblance of things improving could have been just wishful thinking, all the brain experts poking and prodding him with great interest and enthusiasm creating a false sense of hope that he clung to like a drowning person to a lifebelt.

But Viktor had been underestimating how much time he’d have left, and Alt had been wrong with her first assessment of the situation, too. Even the great fucking Hellmann was surprised at V being the living proof of something he’d deemed impossible. So many smart people, time and time again wrong with their assumptions and estimations as soon as the Relic was on the table. V just didn’t want to believe there was no way out. He wanted to live. Being held close by Kerry like this now more than anything reassured him in this wish. They deserved more time than what had been offered…

But maybe a “happily ever after” just wasn’t written in the stars for V. Hell, did happy endings even exist? V’s last hope was whatever Mr. B and his associates were up to, the people even Johnny Silverhand had warned him to not fuck with. V had seen them literally delete and overwrite other people’s memories, whole personalities, to achieve… what exactly? Turn them into puppets for their own goals, whatever they were? Or just as an experiment to see how far they could take it? Would he end up being something like that for them, too, or would they actually be able and willing to help? Even if he was only a good investment to them, to V it could make a huge difference… Or should he test his luck one more time and not put his fate and trust in their hands, and just… hope for the best and that all of this would somehow resolve itself on his own?

None of his options were appealing, and none seemed any more promising than the other…

“You said you needed to tell me somethin’,” Kerry said after a while, and V was thankful for being pulled out of his dark thoughts, “On voicemail, yesterday. ‘Not over-the-holo stuff’?”

He sighed. All roads seemed to lead to Mr. B, somehow. But before he could say anything, there was a brief knock on the door and a young medtech walked in.

“Ah, you’re up. That’s good!” she said with a bright smile, pressing a few buttons on the control panel by the doorway, and the blinds in front of the large windows slowly opened fully. Kerry reluctantly sat up, stretching briefly and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to somewhat get it back into its usual shape.

“It would have been no issue to get a guest bed in here, Mr. Eurodyne,” the medtech smiled.

“Nah, all good,” he shook his head and waved his left hand, with his right briefly squeezing V’s arm before getting up and making room for the tech to do her thing. V had never liked doctors much, neither hospitals, or anything that fit that overall category.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to have a quick look at your biomon readings and superficial injuries, then I’m outta your face again,” the tech said, “I’m not sure if you remember by the way… We spoke briefly yesterday, but you were a little out of it.”

“Um, no, I don’t, actually,” V confirmed.

“No problem! I’m Jayda,” she said, “Dr. Fuentes is your attending physician, she’ll come in shortly with a few more questions.”

“She’s alright, talked to her yesterday,” Kerry chimed in as he put on his shoes over by the armchair.

“Okay,” V just nodded as Jayda tapped around on her datapad.

“Your cyberdeck and a few of your neural implants got a little bit shaken up from the accident yesterday. Your personal link broke, too, but nothing our techies couldn’t fix. I’m just checking if everything’s in order. Got any visual glitches, something feeling off? How bad is your pain on a scale of zero to ten, and where is it worst?”

She continued with her questions. V answered everything to his best ability but was relieved when she finally left the room again with the promise of breakfast being brought in soon. Kerry had meanwhile settled down on the armchair, leaning forward with his elbows propped up on this thighs and hands loosely folded. His right leg was bouncing slightly, and he looked at V with a light frown.

“So, I guess if the doctor gives her okay you can take me home with ya today,” V said, trying to smile.

“Hm-hm,” Kerry hummed, “And ya better believe I’m gonna make sure you finally rest your ass a bit.”

V chuckled, but instantly regretted it when the pain in his ribs reminded him just how right Kerry was about his demand.

“I actually told Rogue already I’d economize a bit. Not come in for a week or so,” he remembered, “Couldn’t have planned it better, I guess...”

Kerry’s face lit up.

“So… I’ll have you all to myself, until you’re better?”

“Until I’m better,” V said, “And beyond, I hope. What’s the point of workin’ my ass off trying to save my life and then not living it with the people that matter.”

Kerry smiled, but then hesitated, tilting his head.

“Wait so… your super-secret gig… It was actually, literally…”

His expression and voice were a mix of all sorts of emotions, confusion, curiosity, concern… but also a sliver of hope. V almost regretted having said what he did now because he didn’t want to raise any hope where there might be none.

“I… don’t know for sure yet. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he explained, and Kerry slightly slumped back after perking up in careful excitement first.

“But not here,” V decided, half expecting a nurse to come in any moment, “As soon as we’re home.”

“Alright,” Kerry nodded, a little more soberly, but still smiling at him.

Hospital breakfast was, well, hospital breakfast. Not the worst, but also not particularly good.

“With how much you fork out for that Platinum policy you’d expect them to serve ya a full 5-star menu here,” Kerry muttered before he took a sip of V’s coffee, then made a face and put the cup back down, “I’m gonna go for a smoke, and maybe grab some proper coffee from around the corner. Want me to bring you anything? I’ll be quick.”

“I don’t think I have any clothes actually…” V noted as he looked around, and he was dressed in only a hospital shirt. His right hand shot up to his chest, his neck, searching for his necklace, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. His pulse sped up, but thankfully, Kerry didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll take ya home naked, too,” he teased instead and kissed V on the cheek as he got up from his chair, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

V chuckled, and ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, tracing his jawline, trailing down his neck, along his cyberware to his collarbone… he really had to get his act together before he’d pull Kerry down into bed with him again.

“I’ll hurry,” Kerry said quietly, and V couldn’t help but notice the desire in his voice, reflected in reluctant movements, not quite willing to pull away and actually leave him now... So much so, that by the time he’d finally made it to the door, he almost collided with Dr. Fuentes coming in.

“Oh, apologies,” she smiled and stepped to the side to let Kerry pass.

“I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder before heading out. The doctor then walked over to V’s bed, and his uneasiness rose again.

“I’m Dr. Fuentes,” she introduced herself, “Very glad to see you up and well, all things considered.”

She held a datapad and linked it up to the monitors beside V’s bed, quickly checking the readings the same way Jayda had done earlier. V couldn’t really guess her age, she looked quite young for a doctor, but the way she moved and spoke made him guess that she was much older than she appeared. Maybe not quite Kerry’s age but seasoned for sure. There was no hint of grey in her dark curls tied back into a ponytail, and she studied the monitors with keen eyes. In the strangest way she reminded him of Takemura, but he wasn’t even sure why that was his first connotation. There was little they had in common, appearance-wise. It was more the energy she gave off, calm and professional outwardly, but something else slumbering beneath the surface.

Dr. Fuentes looked up from her datapad, smiled at V, and then she pulled up a chair and sat down to be more at eye level with him.

“Everything’s looking good, we got your toxicology report as well now, and there is nothing out of the ordinary either,” she said, “Although your liver values aren’t as good as they should be for someone your age. Do you drink regularly?”

“No, I don’t drink. Don’t react well to alcohol,” he said truthfully.

“Hm. Any drugs, strong medications? Some painkillers have a harsh impact on the liver.”

V hesitated, and Dr. Fuentes continued to gently smile, but it somehow made him even more suspicious of her.

“I’m not asking to condemn, just to make sure I have all the information I need to be able to help you,” she said calmly.

V almost wanted to say “I sincerely doubt you’ll be able to help me” but he bit his tongue.

“Can you tell me a little bit more about your condition?” she then asked, catching V off guard, “We did a brain scan yesterday, but what we found did not align with what we expected.”

She turned around her datapad, showing him the results. V looked at the familiar images intensely, trying to make out any differences to the last one that Dr. Williams had done, the head of that team of specialists Kerry had assembled. He didn’t notice any glaring differences, but overall, it still didn’t look good. He didn’t know where he’d even start explaining, or if he even wanted her to know anything about this. All it would lead to was a mountain of uncomfortable questions.

“Mr. Eurodyne said you have consulted with specialists about this already,” Fuentes said, “Neurology is my area of expertise as well. We obviously only have this snapshot of something that seems to have been going on for a while, but to me, it looks like a degenerative disorder of some sort? Resulting from an old injury, Mr. Eurodyne said?”

“That’s partially correct,” V said quietly, “It’s a long, complicated story, and I don’t want to go into details, frankly. Brings up a lot of bad memories.”

He had hoped that that would discourage her enough to let it go.

“I see,” Fuentes said, taking the datapad back, “Do you have any older scans, from when the injury was still fresh, or the time in-between then and now? We don’t have to discuss details or specifics, but if I could get an idea of how this started and progressed, maybe…”

“Let me stop you right here,” V said, much harsher than he’d planned to, but he couldn’t take it back now, “I… appreciate the concern. And what you’ve done for me already. But I’d like to leave it at that and just go home.”

Fuentes looked at him intensely, and yes, this was exactly what reminded him of Takemura about her. There was a fire in her intelligent, foxlike eyes, a sliver of obsession, and determination.

“If that is what you wish I won’t be standing in your way,” she said calmly, but he noted a certain almost challenging undertone, “I’ll prescribe you more painkillers, but everything else should resolve itself on its own. We can remove the cast on your wrist in a week, and at the very least until then, given your condition, I urge you to take it slow and rest.”

She slowly got up from the chair, tapping around on her datapad. It seemed like she was about to turn to leave, but then she hesitated and turned around once more. She wouldn’t just let it go, V hadn’t expected otherwise.

“Promise me to give it another thought,” Fuentes said, “I have been working with patients suffering from MS for years now, and we are working on treatments that are, admittedly, aggressive, but also showing extremely promising results.”

V hummed.

“You’re not by any chance affiliated with BioDyne?” he asked, “I’ve seen their ads. The 700,000-eddies-a-month therapy.”

Fuentes dropped her professional façade for just a second, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment if V had ever seen one. Then she smiled again, regaining her composure.

“I don’t work for BioDyne, no,” she said, “Only for my patients.”

“Either way though,” V said, “I don’t have MS. Actually, I’m pretty damn sure that I’m the only person on the fucking planet who has exactly what I have.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Fuentes said, “The same treatments can sometimes help ease different conditions. Or be repurposed with some adjustments.”

She looked him over intensely once more, then her eyes lit up pale blue as she sent him her contact info, the sight giving V goosebumps for a moment.

“Give it another thought,” she said, “You’re still so young, have your whole life ahead of you. And you seem to have at least one person at your side that cares a lot for your wellbeing. Talk it over with him, and give me a call when you’re ready. Jayda will be back shortly with your discharge papers and personal belongings.”

With that she turned around and left the room. V sighed and slumped back against his pillow, coffee and breakfast leftovers on his tray long cold by now. He was tired of thinking about the rest of his life, being told that he had “so much to live for”. Not that the people saying that were wrong. He had Kerry, Nibbles, a job he was really fucking good at, that allowed him freedoms and possibilities he wouldn’t have dared to dream of ten years ago. He had made a lot of good friends over the course of the last months, since all of this had started. Real friends that actually cared about him, that didn’t just see him as a pawn in their games. Up until then it had only been Jackie who liked him genuinely as a person, not just as an asset, and after he’d lost him, V had been more than ready to just die. At that time everything he’d still cared about had died with Jackie.

But he was no longer ready to die. Regardless, being told over and over again how much he had to lose made the stress to find a way to survive almost unbearable. As if he didn’t know he was too young to die, too genuinely happy for the first time in his life to let it all fade away together with his mind and body. To have Kerry take care of him as soon as he couldn’t do it himself anymore, to watch part of him die along with himself as things proceeded to get worse.

V closed his eyes and started counting the seconds until he’d finally get out of this hospital, breathe some real air again, and clear his head.

Kerry came back before Jayda did, with some clothes for V, “real” coffee, and donuts. Then Jayda appeared with the discharge documents on her datapad that V signed promptly, as well as a plastic bag with his cut-up clothes and other belongings. She unhooked him from all the machines, and as soon as she was out the door he opened the bag, almost frantically looking through it for his bullet amulet. He found it wrapped up in the remains of his shirt, took it out with a sigh of relief and put it back on.

“I think I’d gone nuts if I’d lost that somewhere,” he said shaking his head, still holding the cold metal pendant in his right hand, the bullet that took his old and in in a way gave him his new life sharp and rough against his palm.

“I almost hoped they’d lost it, 'cause you'd never leave the house without your lucky charm,” Kerry teased, sitting at the edge of his bed again. He was still in his same clothes, hair still unkempt. He must’ve really just breezed home and past the nearest Caliente’s to be back as quickly as he was. V gently kicked Kerry’s ass, but he probably hurt himself more with his abrupt movement than the other way around.

“Serves ya right,” Kerry laughed as V groaned in pain and got up, “Need some help gettin’ dressed?”

“If you’re as good as dressing me as you’re with undressing me, I won’t say no,” V joked, flinching and hissing as he tried to get out of bed, body sore all over. Before his feet even touched the ground Kerry was at his side, holding his hand and helping him up. He smiled at V still, but like so often lately, his smile only covered up his pain and sadness about everything, wasn’t as genuine as it used to be. He knew there was no point in dwelling in the past, but in moments like this he wished he could turn back time. He’d lost count of how often he’d wondered if things were different now – and in how far – if he'd given in and taken Hanako’s offer instead of bringing the fight to Arasaka. He hoped that, at the latest three months from now, he wouldn’t wonder the same thing about Dr. Fuentes’ offer eventually.

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