But also I can't stop thinking what if Prowl gets sick while they on a mission/adventure/earth. And they have no access to Cybertronian medicine and Jazz has literally no idea what to do.
Also, depending on the timeline...Jazz could or could not have his own mech with him so. Idk I was just thinking that if Jazz has no access to his mech he wouldn't be able to even move Prowl.
The. The mental image of Jazz just asking Prowl to please please PLEASE get up we need to run we need to hide we need to find some shelter I know it's hard but you have to try please Prowler come on do it for me okay
If it happens on Earth then they can find Ratchet and Deadlock and it'll be okay. Deadlock would skoff and scrunch a lot but than Ratchet would squint at him with a sandal in one hand and Deadlock would be like yep okay no Imma explain what to do sure
((Huron drabble (or rp starter for @red-dead-muses), it's angst, sorry folks lol))
[he was never used to family, used to living, he hadn't expected himself to get this far...he walked out of his house, a cabin that he built, and he walked towards the woods, he walked and walked until he couldn't, he looked up, the trees forming a canopy above him, not that it matters because it's near midnight anyway, but it was a nice comfort, when he had none]
[out of the corner of his eye he saw a man rounding a tree, tugging on his cufflink]
"you and I...are not so different, you know?"
"you're not real"
"maybe not, but you know I'm right, how we both have those troublesome brothers of ours"
"you. Aren't. Real. It's all in my head, you aren't really there!"
"but isn't that troubling to you? Seeing things you aren't meant to see, hearing things you aren't meant to hear? You don't belong here"
"..."
"your brother and mine aren't so different either, they both hate us"
[Huron felt his eyes water, a disgusting laughter filled his head]
"are you crying?! That's hilarious! Over a fact you already knew?"
[Z'oiseau, or at least this faux-version in Huron's head conjured up laughs some more before resting a hand on Huron's shoulder, something that brings a chill up the others spine]
"he hates this place, you can see it in his eyes, oh, but he stays because his big brother would be sad without him!... you're pathetic, you know that? Throwing the world's biggest pity party because oh boohoo, I'm in pain, I'm going to die, wah wah, blah blah, get over yourself"
"I don't know why he stays, nor you, this place is a dump"
"..."
"you do know you're pathetic, yes?"
"I know"
"and that your brother is gonna end up hating your guts, if he doesn't already?"
"...I know"
"good, glad we had this talk, old friend"
[an old wound, a bullet wound near his knee, ached, pained, he felt liquid slowly roll down, of course he'd be a problem]
I just realized a fun detail. Having Simon and Grace investigate the lung means they discover Simon's missing arm. It's such a good opportunity for some angst, which I always enjoy.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/8
Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake and Rebirth (Video Games 2020-2024), Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lucrecia Crescent/Vincent Valentine
Characters: Vincent Valentine, Lucrecia Crescent, Nibelheim townsfolk
Additional Tags: Vincent Valentine Week 2025, Angst, Vincent's always had mental health issues, Lucrecia has complicated feelings, And an excessive flight response, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Summary:
I'm going all in for Vincent Valentine Week 2025 and making each prompt related to a different birthday celebration in Vincent's long life. I will update the relationships, characters, and tags as chapters come into being.
Harry may love his boyfriend, but he was also the first to admit that Tom Riddle was a stubborn prick.
They had been dating for seven months - fighting for longer - and, naturally, Yule was no different. They spent the majority of the day schmoozing at Black manor, Harry having allowed Tom to use his political position as both the Potter and Black heir to score an invite. It was a dreadfully boring and headache inducing affair, especially because Tom abandoned him several times to whisper his plans for World Domination into the ears of enthralled purebloods.
And now that they were back home, Tom was refusing to honor his end of the deal.
“We’re both exhausted, Harry,” he sighed, replacing a stiff dress shirt with soft cotton. “Another time.”
Harry doubted that. Plus, it was important to watch today. When Harry was young and Lily alive, every Yule had been spent on this very couch, bundled under blankets with a mug of hot chocolate and Christmas specials playing.
“We just spent most of the day playing politics because you wanted to, Tom, something I only agreed to because you promised we would do this tonight.”
“We left early because you said you were exhausted,” Tom rebutted. “Which means you need sleep, not to watch muggle Telly programs.”
“Fine,” Harry snapped, pulling Mrs. Weasley’s annual sweater over his head to conceal his hurt expression until he could get it under control. “Do what you want, but I’m watching this.”
Tom didn’t have family traditions. He didn’t have family. So it was understandable that he didn’t know how important this was to Harry.
But Harry had watched these with Remus once his mother died, and doing it alone, now that they were both gone, felt wrong.
Not that he had ever truly explained the importance of this to Tom. His lover probably thought of it as a silly whim, a favor. Perhaps he just detested muggles too much to care how his turnabout would affect Harry, and had never been planning to watch at all. It did rather sound like him.
Harry curled into a ball at the edge of the sofa and twisted his wand. Pillows zoomed from every room of the house, blankets floating behind them, and Harry heard a grunt as Tom -- presumably -- dodged one as they piled around him, building a fort that made him feel more cozy and less alone.
“Harry,” Tom hissed, in that all-too-familiar tone of frustration.
“What?” Harry snapped, turning on the Christmas special. His chest felt tight and he could feel his eyes welling with stupid, traitorous tears he refused to let fall. There was a pause, and then a blanket was pushed aside, allowing Tom to peer into his fort.
He was frowning, but it was more concerned than annoyed, and Harry looked away quickly. Not quickly enough, it seemed, because Tom sighed heavily and stepped into the fort, gently grasping his cheek.
“What is it, darling?”
Harry shrugged, pulling out of Tom’s grasp.
“Nothing,” he said through a dry throat. “I don’t like it when you make me promises you have no intention of keeping.”
Tom tensed, but didn’t deny his claim. “You’re typically not so upset.”
Harry turned to face him, anger only making the tears stronger. “Just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it,” he snapped. “As much as you hate liars, it’s interesting what you’ve become, isn’t it?”
But Tom did not snap back, or fly into a pique as he was wont to do when Harry criticized him. Instead, he crouched down before him with a frown, hesitantly touching his knees. “I’ve truly upset you,” he noted, then offered, “I’ll stay. We can watch the program together.”
Harry grimaced, pulling away from the tentative touch. “I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here,” he said, heart panging. “Why don’t you go back to Malfoy’s? I know he was talking about the after-party half the night.”
But Tom only frowned at him. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “You’re upset with me.”
Harry’s chest tightened. “When has that ever stopped you from leaving in the past?”
“Well, if you would just tell me instead of expecting me to know!” Tom snapped. “I’m trying here, Harry!”
“Maybe I need time,” Harry returned, just as fiercely though his own voice was quiet. “I don’t have to tell you everything, Tom, and I’ll tell you nothing before I’m ready to. I had your word that you would do this with me. Excuse me for believing that would be enough.”
From the fleeting expression on Tom’s face, a punch might’ve landed gentler. Neither of them trusted easily. Tom, because he’d never had reason to trust. Harry, because his faith had been broken so many times in the past.
