#pre alpha

[murderedcrow]

Draconia throughout day and night

[swoleisthegoal]

Flexing - not shy!

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

[rexsterss]

For the sketch requests! How are we feeling about a little Cody/Alpha-17?

Send me an ask of your fav ships or blorbos and I’ll sketch em out! (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!)

Love it, Cody would drive Alpha-17 insane

[wh40kartwork]

Omegon

by Kim Chan

(commission for Marc Büsing)

[lets-try-some-writing]

What if it was another Prime who was reincarnated into Orion Pax? Like instead of The Thirteenth who was reborn as Orion Pax and late became Optimus Prime, what if it was Prima? Or Solus Prime? Or Heck! What if it was Megatonus!

How would the plot change? What would their interactions between the Team, Decepticons and Humans be like? What would their reaction to finding Unicron be like?

Thank you!

Ooooooooh this is a REALLY good prompt. I like it a great deal. Also I loved this idea so much that I took it to my friend @spreadwardiard and with his help, planned out several parts for this AU.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Where is Thirteen?!

It had been decided long ago that the Thirteenth Prime would be the one to return, that he or one of his incarnations would lead Cybertron during its darkest hour. The original Primes all knew this, especially those who perished and were returned to Primus's embrace. It was the rule. And so when Thirteen vanished from among them, sent up to be prepared to enter the living realm, they were all eager and waiting to see what would come of it.

But nothing came. Things continued to grow worse in the living realm, and while they couldn't see it, they could FEEL it. Thirteen should have been up and operating by now. He should have been doing something.

Liege Maximo was not generous by any definition of the term, but he was cunning and calculating. He could tell quite easily that something had either gone wrong, or Thirteen had gotten lost somewhere in his mission. Whatever the case, it needed to be rectified. As such he intended to go the Well's edge, to possibly attempt to hitch a ride with some unsuspecting mech so he could look through their optics and get and idea of what was going on. It would be bending the rules, but he knew how to play his cards. The only reason his plans fell apart last time was due to his belief that Solus would not be overpowered by Megatronus. He was wiser now, he would play his games carefully.

He really should have expected Primus to note his desire and do something with it.

'This was wrong, very very wrong. Thirteen couldn't be gone. Thirteen was supposed to be operating this frame, NOT Liege Maximo. The younger Prime was a fool, but he was the one meant for this task, not Liege, never him. The frame he occupied what quite clearly meant for his diplomatic compatriot, the singular member of the original Primes that Liege failed to gain any sway over. He both admired and resented that fact.

Whatever the case, this was wrong. Horribly and unmistakably wrong.'

Something obviously had deviated from the plan. All Liege could do was internally scream when he found himself within the small and still sparkling like frame quite clearly intended for his fellow Prime. The body he occupied had Thirteen's face, it had his structure, and most disgustingly it had absolutely none of the sharp features Liege loved in his old frame. He hated it with every fiber of his being, and momentarily he considered flinging himself and the abominable frame he operated back into the Well. However that idea was banished when Liege came to the conclusion rather quickly that if HE was operating Thirteen's intended frame, then Thirteen was still up here somewhere, lost and quite possibly stuck in some limbo.

This was not his job. He was the most 'evil' of his fellows, he was the most selfish, and he was NOT meant to be the kind and empathetic leader Primus had likely sent Thirteen up to be. Why in the stars was HE here then? As much as he seethed at the question, he soon found himself with an answer as Alpha Trion came to collect him. The elder Prime knew it was Liege immediately, and in return both were let reeling and wondering where their fellow Prime was.

Alpha Trion: You should not be here Liege.

Liege Maximo: I am well aware of that Trion. Where is Thirteen?

Alpha Trion: I do not know. The Covenant offers no wisdom aside from the assurance that he yet lives.

Liege Maximo: He has a duty to fulfill and I have no interest in remaining in his frame.

Alpha Trion: That much is obvious, but there is little we can do at present. Thirteen must be located and put back on task. Until then, you must operate in his stead.

Liege Maximo: What? I am no empathetic fool like Thirteen. I have wishes, desires, things I wish to have.

Alpha Trion: I am well aware of that Liege. But you have always been charismatic. Use that ability and Thirteen's frame to find him and bring him back into the fold.

Liege Maximo: And what do I gain from this arrangement?

Alpha Trion: A chance to obtain power. If you find him, you will have Thirteen's audial. You always wanted a say in the developments of Cybertron did you not?

Liege was still not pleased with the arrangement, but it was one he had next to no choice in agreeing to. He had no interest in playing messiah for Primus's mortal creations unless he could lord over them, and that was not on the table so long as Thirteen was lurking somewhere. Regardless of his future plans, he still needed to find wherever his fellow Prime had wandered off to, if only to assess the situation. If Thirteen failed to perform, them Liege could begin looking into doing as he wished. Until then, he needed strength and influence, resources he would gain through his search if Thirteen was buried as deep as he predicted.

As such, Liege went with Alpha Trion and contented himself for a time in gathering intelligence as his frame developed. Taking into account the rather docile appearance of his new frame, Liege developed a designation and personality to match. He needed contacts, and his prior personality would simply not cut it, at least so long as he paraded himself so openly. He had been given a set of cards to play, and while not fond of them, he would put them to good use. He chose the designation of Orion Pax, a name he found to be fitting for his purposes. He needed to be seen as intelligent, but kind. He played that role before with Solus. He could do so again. It did not take long for him to be known as the most knowledgeable and kindsparked archivist serving under Alpha Trion. This ended up with the Master Archivist giving Liege, or rather Orion, quite a few side glances, untrusting due to his prior betrayal.

Orion Pax opted to keep his distance from his fellow Prime for both their sakes, but mainly for his plans. Alpha Trion knew him well, he knew that Liege, or Orion, was a master manipulator and speaker. If the Recorder Prime knew all his thoughts, there would be battle between them. As it was, they were only bound by shared duty. Thus while Orion learned under him, he otherwise kept to himself and tried not to be suspicious.

He grew slowly but observed dutifully. He saw the situation on Cybertron and laughed in the face of it. The mortals were so very foolish. They chose their Primes on whims and chained themselves without any subtly. Using reprogramming and castes was so very inefficient. If the mortals really wanted control, they would make their population believe themselves in command through careful usage of propaganda and education, not forced labor. It was too obvious, and there were always mecha willing to look past the veil. How very foolish of them. It was so ridiculous to him that often he spent extraordinary amounts of time digging through files, not for enjoyment, but to dig out the gems amidst the slag. He needed servants like his loyal beasts from so long ago. He needed mecha who would follow him and do his bidding even if they weren't aware of it. And for that, he required competent individuals to serve him.

It was somewhat hard for him to work his way through the archives enough to understand the world in great enough detail to begin his search. It took him millennia, of which he spent patiently working away under Alpha Trion even as he grew in knowledge. He could be patient, especially when he finally found mecha that garnered his interest that were within the realms of his sphere of influence. Orion was of course only a middle caste mech, data caste specifically. There were rules to his station, ones that he found just as foolish as the caste system, but that he was required to adhere to while he blended in and grew in power. With that in mind, there were only two mecha who he could influence who seemed to not be wrapped up in the lies told to them.

Orion Pax: Welcome to the Archives. How may I be of assistance?

Ratchet: I am looking for medical case records from the Rust Plague. I couldn't find them at my local archive. They said the files were transferred here.

Orion Pax: That would be correct. We had those files moved here in response to an influx of medical personnel. I will guide you to the records, please follow me.

Ratchet: Thank you-?

Orion Pax: My designation is Orion Pax. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

It was not hard to throw his weight around as Alpha Trion's student to have files moved. And it was also not at all difficult to purposefully have certain files checked out when Ratchet came, forcing the medical student to return time and time again for more. Orion always made sure to be the one to help him, and to offer nothing but kindness with a hint at a desire to break free of the castes. It was perfect, and before too long, Ratchet came to him without need for manipulation, often speaking on the cruelties of their world. He played his cards well, and in return he gained a loyal ally who was well on his way to climbing up the latter in the medical field.

Jazz was not so easy to take into his circle as the spy was quite simply able to see through his manipulations. Thus Orion instead opted to speak half truths and lure the spy in with promises of a better future. Jazz was rightfully skeptical, but Orion showed his worth by performing a few minor interventions, saving the lives of a few mecha with well placed documents and a few whispers amongst certain circles. Jazz didn't trust him, but he didn't need to. He only needed to serve. In that regard, he was exemplary, doing exactly what Orion needed him to do if Orion could simply convince him it was for the benefit of their endeavors to free the people of Cybertron. Meanwhile behind the scenes, Orion used the influence he garnered to begin his search for his fellow Prime.

Vorns were spent going through records, visiting locations, and trying to find anomalies. It was an impossible task, and quickly ended with Orion deciding that moving along and preparing the way for Thirteen was the best course of action. He had already cemented himself as a 'freedom fighter' amongst his allies, so he might as well use that reputation to make greater contacts. Thirteen would naturally be drawn toward things that aligned with his duty, at least, that was the hope. Thirteen was most likely to be involved in organizations and communities that focused around freedom and care for the weak. As such it simply made sense for Orion to seek out a mech with growing influence down in the pits, if not to find Thirteen, then to increase his own sphere of influence via association.

Alpha Trion: You wish to go to Kaon and use archival funds to do so.

Orion Pax: I do. There is a mech there, one who has named himself after our fallen fellow Prime. He speaks of freedom and fights for it.

Alpha Trion: You have never cared for freedom Liege. What is it you really want?

Orion Pax: Now, don't be hasty Trion. I am going to Kaon to look for Thirteen, just as I said I would. He is most likely to be around those fighting for his precious freedom.

Alpha Trion: What do you gain from this Liege? Don't play games with me.

Orion Pax: So untrusting. If you must know, I intend to establish contact with the gladiator Megatronus and extend my sphere of influence. There is much to be gained from eliminating this ridiculous waste of resources you call the caste system.

Alpha Trion: Such as potential for you to manipulate the order of this world?

Orion Pax: Why I never insinuated anything of the kind Prime. I merely wish to see the people of this world free to act as they will-

Alpha Trion: Preferably for your benefit.

It was quite the affair to convince Alpha Trion to find his expedition, but once it was done, Orion Pax studied Megatronus and prepared the perfect personality and arguments to use. He needed the gladiator to find him useful if nothing else, and due to his position, he brought much to the table. There was no way Megatronus would turn him away, and with the gladiator's help, Orion could ride his way straight into a position of power able to manipulate Cybertron. Finding Thirteen would be a bonus since he could throw his sibling Prime into the position of poster mech and control things from the sidelines. It was a perfect plan, one with little room for egregious error.

Only as soon as he finally secured a meeting with the gladiator, he suddenly found himself vividly remembering the chaos that was his first attempt to control the flow of things during the first age as one mech stuck out like an energon crystal in the rust sea. He came expecting to meet Megatronus, and possibly even locate Thirteen hiding away somewhere as a small domestic worker or even settled with a family. He was not at all ready to meet Megatronus and find himself being stared down by a masked mech who looked nearly nothing like his brother Prime, but was quite clearly the one and only Thirteen.

Orion Pax: Greetings, it is a pleasure to meet you-?

???: Greeting accepted: Orion Pax aknowledged.

Orion Pax: You know my designation? How-?

Megatronus: The moment you reached out to me, I had my associate here look into you. I do not like acting without the input of my second.

Orion Pax straining to keep smiling: Oh? I was unaware you had someone with such capabilities on your side, much less a second in command.

Megatronus: Why yes, Soundwave is a highly capable friend and compatriot. I would have never gotten this far without his aid in planning and management. He is a true ally and the only who I believe could best me in the arena.

Orion Pax struggling to not break character: I see. In that case, shall we begin discussion? As I stated in my message, I wish to hear more of your ideals and operations.

It was against all the odds, yet somehow Thirteen happened to be the mysterious spymaster and second in command of Megatronus of Kaon of all mecha. The Thirteen Orion, or rather Liege Maximo recalled was soft spoken, a diplomate of few words but endless empathy and consideration. This mech... he had to be Thirteen, his spark signature and everything about his told Orion as such, but he was different, wiser, and no longer the naïve Prime from so long ago. He had not been idle during his time in the living realm, and yet no matter how hard Orion looked into "Soundwave" he could barely find anything. All information on the mech was hidden behind Prime and council level security. If he went to Alpha Trion asking for the information, the recorder Prime was likely to become outright hostile.

He couldn't risk it. He would just need to work on his own. Now that he knew who Thirteen was, he just needed to move him into a position where Orion could manipulate him. But that quickly proved to be a challenge as the moment he tried to use his persona on Soundwave, his brother Prime noted him immediately and cornered him.

Orion Pax: Soundwave! I would be in your debt if you would look over these speeches I have composed for Megatronus-!

Soundwave: Liege Maximo's games are waste of time. Megatronus: No fool. Tolerates you because of usefulness. Hard to win trust.

Liege Maximo: Why Thirteen, I do not wish to harm him or anyone for that matter. I merely wish for this world to be made into the best version of itself. Does that not start with removing the caste system?

Soundwave: Liege Maximo: Betrayed us. Had Megatronus kill Solus. Was punished by Megatronus. Liege Maximo: Does not remember last attempt at manipulation?

Liege Maximo: I am well aware of my faults Thirteen. But that is why I need your aid. You were meant to inhabit this frame, not me. If I had my way I would never have come to the living realm as I am. You are far better suited to lead this people. Can I not help you get there?

Soundwave: Manipulations: Useless. Liege Maximo: Will refer to Soundwave by designation. Not Thirteen anymore. Soundwave: Has no interest in ruling. Megatronus: Better suited.

Liege Maximo: Then why don't we put aside our differences for the time being to help him? He wants to fix things doesn't he? If I prove untrustworthy by the time he gets to speak to the council, then we can discuss this further. How does that sound?

Soundwave: .... Parameters: Acceptable. Liege Maximo: Will be killed if Megatronus is harmed.

Liege Maximo: Of course brother. I would never touch your Champion, at least not without cause.

Soundwave: Final warning: Do. Not. Touch. Megatronus.

Orion or rather Liege Maximo finally found Thirteen, but it seemed that his fellow Prime was not at all trusting. It was an agitating turn of events, but manageable. Now with Thirteen at least within his realm of influence, Orion could finally begin working to accomplish his own aims.

[mitski-leaked]

cant wait for this parallel to show up in s3 when the whole of whickber street checks in on crowley

still cant decide if the "im the reason you wont come home" line should be put on crowley regarding aziraphale not coming back to earth or not fleeing to alpha centauri because azi wants to change heaven for him

or crowley thinking his demonicness (read: inherent evilness) is why aziraphale would do anything to restore his angelic status (EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. ITS BECAUSE AZIRAPHALE KNOWS CROWLEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN CAST OUT. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE NEIL GAIMAN TOLD ME IN A DREAM.)

[acrosstobear]

FRANZ TOST, team principal at Alpha Tauri, speaks to MICK SCHUMACHER, reserve driver at Mercedes, in the paddock in Bahrain on Day 1 of Pre Season Testing (by Hoch Zwei)

[f1incorrectquotess]

Pierre, *handing flowers to Yuki*: For you

Yuki: It's so sweet! But aren't you allergic to flowers?

Pierre: Yeah, but don't worry about me. Men have done crazier things to get laid.

[cablebug]

quick pre alpha clive doodles since he’s surprisingly easy to draw

[yandellamafl]

NICK & JORGE (VANDAL)

(Au where Nicky befriends a vandal that helps him break into Peterson's house)

[werewolfsteveharrington]

steve wakes up in the woods after his presentation heat with eddie ‘the freak’ munson passed out half on top of him, neither of them wearing clothes, and both of them with mating bites that look particularly enthusiastic

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

TW Human trafficking discussions of injury

The front door is locked.

Eddie is almost winded, hobbling all this way on his sore feet. There’s a neat little screen on the wall that, briefly, woke up and flickered an angry red when Eddie had tried the door handle. Like that wasn’t hugely unsettling.

He found he just didn’t have it in him to try it again. Where would he go, anyway? Just getting to the gate would take him hours, and he doesn’t have any fucking shoes; he’s still wearing the white nightdress and nothing else.

Eddie eyes the curve of the sweeping staircase. No. No way. He’d have to go up it backward and on his butt to even make it, one slow step at a time. Steve said he’d got Eddie a room ready but...no.

No.

There’s probably fifty fucking rooms up there anyway, what with the size of the place; Eddie wouldn’t stand a chance, and he definitely doesn’t feel right snooping around like that. The back of his neck prickles at just the thought of doing something like that.

He needs the bathroom though. Too much bread, too much dairy. The milkshake, the creamy pasta. Eddie’s not one hundred percent sure if he’s going to vomit or just straight up shit himself, but there’s something uncomfortable happening. The stabbing, trapped wind type feelings occasionally taking Eddie’s breath away, they’re so sharp.

Okay. Logically this place is so fancy, there has to be a downstairs bathroom; which there is, Eddie finds it on the second try, after fully ten minutes of slow, painful shuffling.

It turns out to be a horrendously explosive shit, which Eddie is kind of glad about because being sick is the worst, and he feels much better after a traumatic twenty minutes in one of the fanciest bathrooms he’s ever seen.

Eddie tries his best to hunt around the lounge, but the TV and sound system are so sleek and stylish, Eddie can’t see an obvious way to control either. He’s frightened to touch the books in case they’re like, collectors items, or something. He sighs wistfully at them anyway; he hasn't been allowed to read a book in years. Well behaved Omega most certainly don't read. They might start...having aspirations and thinking for themselves and stuff like that, so it was absolutely not permitted at the ranch.

His feet are throbbing, but he didn’t think to ask for painkillers. There’s nothing for him to do but sit on the couch and feel sorry for himself.

He tells himself this is better than the ranch. It’s better. He’s safe here. He’s going to see Wayne again. Hagan’s probably been arrested already; everyone else has been rescued too. Well at least, Eddie hopes so. All of that being a lie at this point...why would Steve go to so much effort to fabricate a lie like that?

It’s a slippery slope, that thought, so Eddie tries not to entertain it. He’s spoken to Hopper himself; seen his FBI card. It has to be true, surely? Everyone is okay, Eddie tells himself on repeat.

Everyone has been rescued.

Eddie just has to...endure. He can do that.

He’s been doing it for years.

The couch is too soft to sleep on. The beds in the dorm had mattresses so thin they might as well have been a folded over blanket, so Eddie has gotten used to the creaky noises and sleeping on something almost completely solid, no give at all in the wooden slats of the bed frames.

It’s quiet here. No movement, no breathing, no whispered conversations between Omega or the footsteps of guards on patrol. Nothing.

It’s been dark for a while when Eddie realizes he’s getting cold; the thermostat, or however this place works, must have turned over to it’s night time setting.

Eddie finds blankets in the big fancy Ottoman. The room feels...too big. Too big and empty. All that fancy glass reflecting the room and making it look twice as big. He feels defenseless, open. It’s not a nice feeling.

The silence is oppressive.

Eddie shifts the Ottoman, it takes a huge effort to push, the thing is heavy, but he manages to butt it right up into the corner of the ‘L’ shaped couch. Eddie lays one blanket out on the rug, snugged right up in the small space he’s made for himself between the Ottoman and the couch, Eddie nests in the protected little triangle of space. One blanket to lie on, the warmer one pulled over top of him. He does take one cushion off the couch, for his head.

He’s warmer, and feels safer, here. It still takes him hours to fall into an unsettled and fitful sleep.

Eddie didn’t reach any kind of deep sleep; he knows he didn’t. He knows because he’s blinking, alert and awake from the noises he can hear. The front door, keys being put down, footsteps.

Foot steps on the stairs.

And Eddie didn’t experience any of the confusion that comes with being woken from decent sleep. No. He’s awake, fully alert, and he knows exactly where he is and what’s happening.

He hears those same footsteps come back down the stairs, “Eddie?”

“Here,” Eddie forces himself up, bracing his arms on the couch, knees both clicking after being curled up tight for so long.

Steve looks like shit. He definitely hasn’t slept. But then, neither has Eddie, not really, and considering Eddie’s now eaten two meals and slept a night wearing a practically see through white nightdress, there’s no way he looks any better himself; he’s got to be grubby.

Steve also looks aghast, “Eddie, I’m so sorry. I got...distracted. That’s not an excuse for just...leaving. Did you sleep there the whole night?”

Eddie nods, there doesn’t really need to be an explanation.

“Shit. Shit, okay. Okay, lets...you hungry? I’m starving. I know we ordered you clothes, but I should have given you something better than-” Steve sighs, a sharp sound, before rubbing at his forehead for a second. “Right, breakfast first? Anything you want? Pretty sure I have the stuff for cheese omelettes? And I know I’ve got sausage and bacon.”

Eddie can’t help but wince at the thought of yesterdays fecal catastrophe. It must show, Steve frowning at him from under his floppy preppy hair, “all the rich food it, uhm, gave me a tummy ache? So...just some scrambled eggs would be really, really great.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment, probably rethinking yesterday, “yeah, yeah okay, scrambled eggs,” and he heads off into the kitchen, Eddie forcing himself to limp weakly along behind.

Steve does make a mean plate of scrambled eggs, and it really does hit the spot. Eddie dodges the coffee, having a glass of OJ instead. “Okay, so lets...lets figure what to priorities here. Shower, you can borrow some of my clothes, and I’ll check your feet, does that sound okay?”

“Yeah...but you, you look real tired Steve, I mean it can wait-”

“No, no it’s fine. I won’t be able to rest if I don’t know you’re okay, plus...you look kind of tired there yourself...which isn’t surprising considering I abandoned you and forced you to spend the night on the floor-”

“Steve.”

“I...sorry. Again. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve ripped pretty much everything Hagan owned right out from under him. Or at least I will have, by lunch time today.”

And yeah...to be fair. Eddie does feel better. It’s cold comfort, but Eddie can be small and spiteful and bitter with the best of them so...yeah. Imagining Hagan sat in a cell somewhere, knowing his empire is being dismantled brick by brick. Yeah. Why not? Eddie can enjoy that for a minute. “Yeah, that’s...really good to hear.”

“Good.” They smile at each other for a long few seconds. And then Eddie yawns. And Steve yawns. And it sets off a horrible cycle of them yawning at each other across the table.

“Okay, lets get you sorted out.”

Eddie braces himself for the limp to the stairs, which he manages, shuffling gamely along with Steve hovering. For the split second Eddie allows himself to stop concentrating and actually look up at Steve...he sees Steve watching his move very intently, but also guilty as fuck.

The stairs are another matter. Having all of his weight on one foot while he lifts the other is...horrible. Stepping up is even worse, so much so that Eddie flinches from it the first time and nearly falls off the first step.

Steve steadies him.

On the second wobble, along with a pained hiss, Eddie finds himself just being...scooped up. Just straight up lifted, and he flails for a second before what’s just happened catches up to him, and his flailing ends with his arms locked around Steve’s neck.

Eddie will forever deny the panicked ‘yip’ noise that had come out of him.

Steve heard it though, and Steve’s grinning from inches away as he, very effortlessly, carries Eddie up the stairs.

Which, first of all, what a bastard, and second of all Eddie will not think about how fucking hot it is that Steve can throw him around if he wants to.

Steve has laid out a bunch of towels ready, and a change of clothes; just sleep pants and a tee shirt, a pair of boxers, but it looks like absolute heaven to Eddie. So does the whole of the bathroom, if he’s being honest. Even though this is a guest room and guest bath– which blows Eddie’s mind all on it’s own, he’s pretty sure that with a bit of inventive interior design, a family of four could live comfortably in this space.

So yeah, Eddie is able to sit safe and sound on a ledge in the bath and hose himself down. It’s not a proper shower, but Eddie doesn’t want to stand for that really, especially not with how it would soak his scabs, so this is perfect for now.

He finally feels clean after, which is a huge improvement.

Once he’s dressed, resting on a thick and fluffy towel Steve had considerately left on the toilet seat, he waits. Steve had been for his own shower real quick, once Eddie was settled safely, and he comes back toting a first aid kit in a green bag with a white cross on the side.

Steve takes a towel to cushion his knees, again not seeming worried about kneeling in front of an Omega, which is a nice change of pace.

“Oh,” Eddie says, at the same second Steve freezes in place, “the thing I could smell…” Steve has showered, and he couldn’t have reapplied blockers. Steve’s scent is only vague in the house downstairs, just a nice background scent; Alpha and comfort and home and safe...but now it’s hitting Eddie full in the face. Eddie sways forward mindlessly, trying to get closer to the source, Steve reaching out to steady him by the shoulder.

Eddie almost feels like he’s blinking awake, and Steve is right there. Like, two inches away, licking his lips and looking at Eddie with eyes so blown they’re almost back, “yeah,” Steve swallows thickly, and then visibly jumps when his phone rings. He looks startled by the noise, “sorry. Sorry I should- yeah, what is it, Henderson?”

And Steve leaves the room. Eddie feels kind of foggy, but also all kind of wonderful. Steve’s scent is...it’s good. It’s real nice. It’s...probably perfect. Smells like home and safe and mate and all that good shit Eddie had secretly dreamed about in the darkness of the dorm room at the ranch, trying to keep himself sane.

Eddie can hear Steve talking, “yeah, multiple accounts. Yeah, I know, but there wasn’t enough in there so I cleared out...no, no, you think Eddie only cost a quarter mil?” Steve laughs, “yeah, it was quite a bit more, yeah.” Steve sighs, “shut up, Henderson. Oh my god, no I did not get a receipt.”

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[swoleisthegoal]

WHEN THE SUPPS' HIT!

[nashvillethotchicken]

I wish there were more black people who were into iwtv so I can talk about how Louis's class and race interests intersected

[wh40kartwork]

Exodus 

by Aleksey Bashlay