My take on a human au! Kaon finding out about the previous Vos being a spy
Vos, or Dominus Ambus as Kaon found out, trembled in the chair he was tied to. It made Kaon sick, seeing someone he once trusted acting so pathetic. Vos was violent. Ruthless. Fearless. But Dominus Ambus? A traitor. A coward. An Autobot.
“I’ll leave this to you, Kaon.” Tarn took his hand off of the communications officer’s shoulder, and turned around to leave. The other DJD members had had their turn with Dominus. It was Kaon’s time to shine. This kill would belong to him.
“Kaon.. Kaon.. you know me.” Dominus looked at Kaon where his eyes should have been. “I’m your friend, your partner-”
“No. No you’re not. You’re no good, you’re no good!” Lightning spewed out of Kaon’s hands as he shook. At first, Dominus thought he was crying. But as Kaon walked closer, he realized he was wrong. Kaon was laughing. At first he was quiet, but soon Kaon was laughing so loud it hurt. Electric sparks lit the room around them in a dim glow.
“You’re- you’re a filthy liar! A fraud! I put my energy into loving you, and caring for you, and all you are is a filthy Autobot liar!” Kaon punched Dominus in the face. His fist let out a burst of electricity as it connected with Dominus’ face. The traitor stifled a yell, but couldn’t stop himself from convulsing with the shock.
“Kaon, I still care about you.” Dominus said once he recovered. “I always will. No matter what you do to me here, I know you’re a good person!” His red eyes grew bright as he spoke, still a spark of hope inside.
“Ha! You think- you really think you’re that special! You think that with enough pleading you can ‘bring me to the good side.’ Don’t make me laugh! I thought you were my partner, and you betrayed me. So it’s different now. You met me as a stranger, and you’ll die a stranger.” There was no warmth in those words. There was none of that love they once had. Instead, there was a forbidding cold. An icy, hateful cold. It chilled Dominus to his core. Kaon couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.
“Now, I think it’s time we got down to business. The new vos will arrive soon, and I’d rather you two never meet.”
(Tw: Tarn being creepy, stalking, obsessive behavior)
He met _ in the city. Very briefly, Tarn had taken his mask off to clean it when he saw them from the alleyway he was lurking in after a mission. It was like his world changed when he saw their wonderful smile. All of a sudden his world was filled with colours he had never seen before, bright and beautiful. That was the beginning of Tarn’s obsession.
At first he had kept it to simply having Kaon track them down. It didn’t take too long for a file to be dropped on Tarn’s desk labelled “_.” In the following days he found himself looking at the file more and more until he realized he needed to keep this little… quirk under control.
It was nothing at first. Slowly but surely, Tarn gathered photos of _’s house from a distance. He was always careful to not be seen. It certainly wouldn’t do him any good to be caught this early on. But as the pictures kept arriving, Tarn started getting bolder. More photos, this time taken by drones gave him a clearer view of the inside of _’s house. There was even an occasion where the drone had gotten a blurry picture of _ as they left for work.
Tarn’s blood boiled when he thought of _ being at work, surrounded by simpletons and philistines. He didn’t exactly know why either. He hated the very thought of them having to go to work to make a living. As much as he didn’t understand why he felt that way however, he wasn’t ready to let this quirk go.
In the next few days, he personally stalked _’s neighborhood at night. Nothing too overt, he would remind himself. He just needed to figure out one big thing. Why? Why did his heart race when he saw pictures of _. Why did his days feel so gloomy without them? And why was it that he felt so awful without them by his side?
Every time he saw them while he was on one of his outings, it was like all his worries went away. The same feeling from the first time he had met them would come back even stronger. Tarn felt alive. It was like the feeling after a good hunt, that same addicting rush of pure adrenaline coursing through him that made him know. It made him know he had to have them. After all, he would tell himself, isn’t it natural to want to be with the one you love?
But Tarn had yet to decide how to gain _’s affections. He hadn’t even talked to them yet, so he had carefully think out his next move. It would make sense to observe them more before I meet them. I do want to make the best possible first impression when I do finally meet them.
Tarn decided to put a camera in _’s house, one he could check on them remotely. He also had Kaon track their internet history and plant bugs in their house. Some might call it overkill, but it really was the only way for him. Failure was not an option when it came to _. The very idea that he might fail this life or death mission made Tarn’s heart grow heavy. But _ would always be there to lighten his mood.
All it would take was a single smile or laugh for Tarn to be up on cloud 9. It was a high he could get nowhere else, but he didn’t realize how effective it was until Nickel commented on how much more relaxed he had been lately. Clearly it was time to make the first move.
A room was prepared for _. It was once one of the guest suites, but a few modifications had been made to ensure their safety. A few finishing touches, and it was perfect. They would never have a reason to leave.
Tarn promised they would be back by now. But still Nickel was left to wait by the gangway with a medical kit in hand. And Nickel hated waiting. She wasn’t all that much of a worrier most of the time, but any accomplished medic knows how dangerous the work of a soldier is. Especially if the soldiers are as elite as the Decepticon Justice Division.
The DJD cleaned up the slag of the universe, and dealt with the toughest of the tough on a day to day basis so it was only natural for her to fear for their safety on the battlefield. But they’re capable, They’re strong. They would come home and she would scold them for being reckless and it would all be okay in the end.
But the memories of her home planet twisted and churned in her spark, making Nickel remember things she’d rather forget as much as possible. Somedays it was like she’d failed her friends back from home. “You did the best you could,” Tarn would say. “It’s not your fault and it never was.” It was hard to believe sometimes. How could it not be her fault? No matter how hard she had tried to save her colony they all perished at the hands of the Black Block Consortia.
“Nickel. It’s not your fault.” For someone with no eyes, Kaon was oddly perceptive. On days Nickel felt like giving up, she would suddenly be surrounded by the warm coat of his beloved pet turbo fox. It was like he could read her mind.
Helex and Tess would also be there for her. On the worst days she could always curl up in Helex’s smelter and have him run it on low or hang out in Tess’ shredder and take a nap.
More than anything, Nickel didn’t want to be alone. The times spent waiting were the worst, but as the silhouettes of her found family appeared on the horizon she knew she wasn’t alone for now.
Hi all - you’re going to notice there’s no new chapter of Coup de Foudre this week.
I’ve been recovering from my illness and haven’t had time between the fatigue and the real life work job to write enough to get a chapter out. I was a few chapters ahead when I decided to release the fic but it’s been a real struggle with life things to stay ahead.
I’m hoping with the bank holiday to get a couple of chapters in the bag and I’m so sorry for skipping a week! ❤️
Tags / Warnings (these will be added to with chapters: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Stucky - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Omega Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, But by themselves, Sort Of, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Courting Rituals, Weddings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Pretty Much Covers It, Declarations Of Love, After a while, Amazing outfits, Bottom Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, 19th century slow burn, Brock Rumlow is an idiot, Illustrations, NSFW Art, mpreg exists in this universe
Summary
Dear Readers,
Today is the day. The day that all Debutantes dream and fear in equal measure, in which they meet the Queen and are Judged ready or not for their presentation into Society. The Presentation Room is always awash with Scents, with those unmated forbidden from any sort of Scent Deception—as is only right.
This year, we have many a scion of Old and Noble Houses attaining their majority. I am sure that, like me, all will be watching with breath that is bated…
::
When Steve Rogers is presented at Court as a desirable Male Omega to the world, he has no idea what to expect. But after meeting the sought-after Duke of Buchanan through a chance encounter, his life is forever turned upside down.
Tags / Warnings (these will be added to with chapters: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Stucky - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Omega Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, But by themselves, Sort Of, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Courting Rituals, Weddings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Pretty Much Covers It, Declarations Of Love, After a while, Amazing outfits, Bottom Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, 19th century slow burn, Brock Rumlow is an idiot, Illustrations, NSFW Art, mpreg exists in this universe
Summary
Dear Readers,
Today is the day. The day that all Debutantes dream and fear in equal measure, in which they meet the Queen and are Judged ready or not for their presentation into Society. The Presentation Room is always awash with Scents, with those unmated forbidden from any sort of Scent Deception—as is only right.
This year, we have many a scion of Old and Noble Houses attaining their majority. I am sure that, like me, all will be watching with breath that is bated…
::
When Steve Rogers is presented at Court as a desirable Male Omega to the world, he has no idea what to expect. But after meeting the sought-after Duke of Buchanan through a chance encounter, his life is forever turned upside down.
Tags / Warnings (these will be added to with chapters: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Stucky - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Omega Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, But by themselves, Sort Of, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Courting Rituals, Weddings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Pretty Much Covers It, Declarations Of Love, After a while, Amazing outfits, Bottom Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Slow Burn, 19th century slow burn, Brock Rumlow is an idiot, Illustrations, NSFW Art, mpreg exists in this universe
Summary
Dear Readers,
Today is the day. The day that all Debutantes dream and fear in equal measure, in which they meet the Queen and are Judged ready or not for their presentation into Society. The Presentation Room is always awash with Scents, with those unmated forbidden from any sort of Scent Deception—as is only right.
This year, we have many a scion of Old and Noble Houses attaining their majority. I am sure that, like me, all will be watching with breath that is bated…
::
When Steve Rogers is presented at Court as a desirable Male Omega to the world, he has no idea what to expect. But after meeting the sought-after Duke of Buchanan through a chance encounter, his life is forever turned upside down.
Imagine, just imagine someone that is so in love with you is scared to lose you. Scared to lose what you have just as much as you. That desire, the fondness, the love that brings you back together. The type of love where you say, “let’s fix it together”, “I’ve got you like you got you” or “take my hand, let’s do this together”. The love where the eyes meet and you can’t stop gazing at one another even from across the room. To be so in love that you do not know anything else. The world disappears, becoming silent as your heartbeat syncs in with theirs. Just imagine, imagine a positive love filled with happiness, laughter and joy. I simply can not wait, just imagine
The setting of the novel I’m currently working on: Abaron Hall. Set during the last few days of September in 1899, Ophelia Allred and eleven others are invited by the enigmatic recluse, Lord Alvin Fane to his home for a special competition. But with strange visions, ruthless co-contenders, and rumors of spirits walking the halls at night, it’s clear that there is something far more sinister at hand
A rough design of a potential cover for the novel I’m working on (at least it has the vibes i’m trying to capture).
I want to start talking about it more regularly on here, hopefully start generating some hype. If you like mystery, ghosts, historical fiction, gothic or academia vibes, and lgbtqia rep, then follow along with the writing and editing process!
At sixteen I decided, I will be happy when I am in college, when I am in my own space, when I find a community that does not judge and a family that I chose myself. At nineteen, in college, loved and accepted, I decided, I will be happy when I find a job that utilizes my skills and passions both, rather than one alone, a job that I choose free of external pressures. At twenty-one, working in an industry that valued my intelligence and creativity and adaptability and efficiency, I decided, I will be happy when I find my own apartment, when I can display my own books and listen to music without headphones, suffering no one else’s messes but my own.
In this decade, wantinghas become habit. Strivinghas become habit. Ambition, hunger, knowing I’m better than this - all, habit.
At twenty-four, sitting at my desk with fandom prints adorning the walls and crafting supplies strewn across the coffee table and a vase of flowers wilting slowly, it is tempting to fall prey to habit. To decide, happiness will come with professional recognition; with marriage; with higher education; with international travel.
But happiness, too, is a habit, practiced each time I stop and light a candle, or play video games with my friends, or read a book, or vacuum so I can enjoy walking on crumb-free hardwood. With time, this, too, will become a well-worn path in the garden of my contentment, provided I take care to walk it on occasion.
In my bullet journal I keep a mood tracker, a grid of empty squares systematically flooded with one of six colors corresponding to one of six states of well-being. This is a new concept to me—tracking my mood. Keeping a record; the luxury of remembrance.
Who cares to remember a childhood dripping red? Red ink tallying the days I managed to move from future to past; red-hot rage shoving my shame and desperation into the pit of my belly; red on my mother’s lips as she cut me to size; red palms hidden in clenched fists as I waged silent wars against the tide.
I used to dream of blue: skies, flowers, painted walls. Of purple and pink: candles, wine, flowers in vases, oversized sweaters. Green: hiking through forests, ink on my skin. Of goldenrod and magenta and lilac and silver; a life without red: prismatic. Happy. Healed.
Today the sky was swollen with rain clouds and and my flower vase sat empty and disappointment burned fiery in my veins. When I sit down to assign today a color, I will pluck a red pen from the pack. Life is not so easy; wounds do not disappear without a trace.
But today was also pink (wine poured into glasses adorned with hand-painted roses) and green (my favorite shirt layered over a cute bra I bought last week) and purple (melted candle wax solidifying in a repurposed jar on the table) and orange (fresh fruit piled haphazardly on my kitchen countertop), a rainbow enhanced, not marred, by the red within it. Today was a kaleidoscope. A reminder that scar tissue is not a testament to an injury you failed to avoid; it is a record, bold and red and marked, screaming I survived, and I built myself up, and I’m all the stronger for it.
since I was 7, kneeling palms-together before the shrine, repeating words in a language I spoke but didn’t know
under my mother’s watchful gaze I pressed first sindoor then haldi then a single grain of uncooked rice to a golden forehead hardly bigger than my fingertip, and when my mother closed her eyes I
kept mine open and searched minuscule bronze pupils for some hint of otherworldly presence, transcendent benediction
asked: are you there; are you watching; can you tell me if I’m good enough; can you tell me how to atone;
and god said: why should I distill my essence into 100 grams of silver rather than the gradual carving of aquifers into bedrock or the ebullience of frolicking through air currents with the eagles; why should I have eyes only when you provide them; why should your sins weigh heavier upon me than those of the raging ocean or the mountains that will not bow their heads
and god said: you will not find me by making me in your image
and god promised: seek the slivers of me dispersed among the infinite entities under my care and lay them one atop the other and in the amalgam you will discover the shape of me
two decades later my search has barely started and I will still be looking when I’m on my deathbed and if I am granted another life to continue paying penance my search will go with me
Must it be a breakdown always, a tsunami making shrapnel of even the most deeply rooted foundations, to confront a corner of your psyche? Let me put away the bulldozer and turn instead to a trowel, fistful after fistful of dirt brushed away until the skyscraper tilts and topples. Let me turn my inherencies into sand castles moistened by the ocean spray, until the parapets crumble softly into the keep, ready to be molded anew.
dreamless sleep. my hand without the weight of his in it. black coffee and dreary mornings, the relentless insistence that i was okay okay okay
for years i walked with an arm curled around my stomach, protecting the softest parts of me, wearing paperclip chainmail and hoping no one would get close enough to tell the difference. and then he shone a light right through me, exposed all the holes i didn’t know i had and got to work patching them up.
it is easy to explain away the holes if you don’t know you have them. there is less of you than there should be because it’s what you deserve. because you would buckle under the weight of more. because if you are smaller then others more deserving can be bigger. and if your shadow is fragmented, if the wind whistles as it flows through your body, then maybe it’s just your own kind of magic.
but once the holes have been identified, the papier mache excuses peel away and you’re left only with the exposed wounds, and the throbbing of your skin when he brushes his fingers across them. here, i wish this coffee tasted better (and why can’t it?). here, hold me hold me let me shake apart in a way where i can be put together again (go ahead dear, i’ve got you).
where do we go from here? the patching up hurts, even done by hands as gentle as his. but the whistling wind hurt, too, before. perhaps it would be easier to pick up my own needle and thread and join him instead of pulling at the sutures. perhaps it would be easier to let myself emerge.
