literature

Static in a Hurricane [AT]

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           If only he could say it was over. For ever battle scar from war and strife did not heal the same. In her optics he could still see the struggle still raging on. Those moments, Magnus swore he saw ice in her gaze and not the tranquil waters he came to know as home.

           That look haunted her. Not in moments of chaos but in clarity. It would happen anywhere; the most obscure things setting fire to her pulse. Ghosts lingered in the corners of her Spark and plagued her; gripped cruelly at her throat and strangled her until she was screaming for Primus who would not aid her. Crying for him though he could not wake her; clawing at him with her digits outstretched and face wild and fearful.

           Demons lingered in a dungeon kept quiet in Akila’s mind, and she dared not speak of it. She refused to acknowledge its existence, no matter how much the former Autobot SIC tried to get her to open up. She simply survived the endless battlefield in her thoughts and went on, stepping on invisible porcelain glass.

           At a moment’s notice, the firecrackers in her palms would light up and she would be lost. He tried, desperately, to comfort her. To evaporate the shade of darkness that shadowed her conscious.

           Sitting cautiously on the edge of the berth, Ultra Magnus reached out to place his claw-like right servo upon Akila’s. His pronged digits awkwardly crept between the spaces of her own; cold but reassuring like a compress to blistered wounds.

           “How are you feeling, Akila? You can tell me.”

           She couldn’t even look at him. The electric blue pupils of her royal shaded optics were large but unfocused; staring distantly into the past. The only thing that seemed to register was her audio stacks, which swiveled in Magnus direction so that he could see the mesh barely within her ears moving towards him to listen attentively.

           Pained by her lack of response, the towering navy and vermillion red mech slowly inclined his frame towards Akila. His side rested very lightly against hers and his shadow moved over her like a protective blanket.

           Her breath hitched then; chassis expanding rapidly in and out as a violent shudder came over her like a tsunami wave. Akila bodily shifted herself, moving to the right just enough so that she no longer felt any contact save for the prosthetic appendage upon her own servo. Even so she dragged her right arm against her chassis; clashing amber armor against blue rather roughly as she spasmed.

           Nervously frowning down at his Sparkmate, the large mech swept his cyan optics over her frame as he anxiously whispered, “Would you like for me to hold you, Akila?”

           “I’d rather you not,” she responded in a surprisingly cool tone.

           “Tell me, explain it to me.”

           A small shake of her head was her response. “How can I explain something I hardly understand?”

           Magnus smile pulled up at the corners of his mouth. It was a sad sort of smile; the half-hearted attempt you gave to someone when you were just as lost as they were.

           “You could try,” he offered soothingly, his thin grey trio of pronged digits pressing against hers.

           Akila gave a wayward exhale and glided her optics off to the side. Her pedes gave a nervous jig off the side of the berth; knocking against metal as she tried to steady to fidgeting that radiated in her pulse and swept up fast in her faltering processor.

           “Did you ever think that you could do better than me?” Akila wondered out loud, catching Magnus off guard. “I mean, obviously you could- can I should say.”

           Baffled, Ultra Magnus gave a swift shake of his helm. “No, Akila, I wouldn’t want a different femme. What is this about?”

           Tilting her helm to the side, Akila slowly skimmed her optics upon his faceplate. The former Autobot SIC examined her slowly, and the way that her helm design left eerie shadows of fangs dragging over her faceplate nearly gave him chills as though a bad omen.

           “Have you ever really looked at me? I mean, really looked at me.”

           “I would think so. We’ve slept in the same berth now for years; we dated-“

           “That’s not what I mean,” Akila cut in sharply. “I mean, have you really looked at me? Don’t you see the disfiguration, the marks, and the scars? Don’t they bother you?”

           Ultra Magnus gave a single shake of his head. His mouth opened to inject his own opinion, but Akila continued on.

           “Even if you’re not lying,” she proposed, “Even if you’re telling the truth, and they don’t bother you, doesn’t any of this bother you?”

           Reaching up with her free servo, Akila roughly grasped one of her ears. She gave it a tug as she leaned forward against Magnus, her optics blazing fiercely.

           “Doesn’t this bother you? Or this-“

           She reached up to touch the menacing jackal-like fangs jutting out from the top of her helm.

           “Doesn’t any of this bother you?”

           “Of course not, Akila,” Magnus muttered quietly, squeezing her servo tightly as he lifted it to his lips. “I love you for you; all of you.”

           “Experimented parts and all, you mean?” Akila spat, jerking her helm away.

           “That wasn’t your fault.”

           “It never was,” Akila sarcastically replied, her voice wavering like words were stuck in her throat as she lowered her helm.

           “Akila-“

           Don’t.”

           The small femme snarled, tearing her servo out of Magnus grip roughly and away from his mouth. His appendage sharply bit into her servo; screeching as metal tore into metal. Akila only offered him a quick and poisonous glare, her optics glossy with liquid before she whipped her faceplate away from him.

           Agony sketched its way on Ultra Magnus’ face. He could never understand how she changed so quickly. In the blink of an optic or the phase of day and night, she’d swap between being friendly and compassionate to suddenly angry, hurt, and fearful. He’d seen a thousand soldiers with PTSD and low self-esteem in his life; self-conscious and afraid, but fleeting glimpses and meetings never gave him such an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

           With his falsified implant servo shaking timidly, the blue and crimson mech reached out to brush at the back of Akila’s helm.

           She flinched beneath such a faint caress. It was not the appendage that caused her to startle however; but the fissures and lacerations on the back of her helm as he touched him. Even a light touch; tender and affection, seemed to stir her up as the fractures were traced.

           “I just wish I could be normal again,” Akila stated in a cracked voice.

           Magnus retracted his digits from Akila. A pit formed in his throbbing Spark at those words. They were like a memory in his helm; looping over and over again. At a time, he had thought, and said, the very exact same thing about his servo after being crushed by the Predacon dragon. He felt hollow and useless; empty of reason, unable to cope with this new part of himself that was not him.

           Thinking back on it now however, the feeling was foggy. It had been gone from him for so long. Certainly he still found himself insecure of it from time to time; or weary to touch Akila when they were getting intimate, not wanting to hurt her. But to say that it still corrupted his processor and ate away at his sanity was just plain nonsense. He recovered; his mental and emotional health in check and a servo that wasn’t quite as shapely and easy to maneuver but all the same, useful.

           Comparing that to what Akila had been through was like comparing hot to cold. She survived a trauma that even to this day he could not understand or relate to. Her episodes came unpredictably; without sense. Some things he had come to recognize as triggers, but even those sometimes didn’t send her down a spiraling black hole all the time.

           Swallowing nervously, Magnus reached out to gingerly wrap his arms around Akila’s waist. Although she was rigid; not conforming to his body or easing into his grasp as she usually did, she allowed for herself to be dragged into his lap.

           “I’m here for you,” he stated simply, holding her to his chassis. “You may feel alone, but I’m right here.”

           Akila trembled all over, biting into her lip as she hoarsely replied, “You’re only static in a hurricane, Magnus. How do you expect to help me?”

           He didn’t have an answer for that.

           Instead of trying to create a false answer of hope that Akila would instantly recognize as scrap anyway, he tightened one arm around her waist. His left servo reached up to her faceplate and stroked along the gentle slope of her cheeks to wipe away the tears that had sprang up and spilled over from her chin and upon his arm.

           Sucking in a shaky gust of air, Akila quivered from the tips of her ears to her pendulous pedes as she crooned softly, “I wake up screaming in the night, only to punch you when you try to hold me. I cry myself hoarse and you can only stand there and plead for me to open my eyes and look at you.”

           Magnus gave a gruff sound deep in his throat in response. A sort of knowing but unsavory growl. He didn’t want to be reminded of the nights seen watching her writhe like a tornado. The times her fist would connect with his chest or faceplate and she would scream and scream until there was nothing coming from her but a weak and dead rasp.

           Primus, or the drunken night years ago when she told him in a tearful voice how badly she wished she had the courage to put a gun to her mouth and pull the trigger. They never discussed that night; never brought it up again, but he was sober enough to remember. He could never forget it.

           “I don’t want to live like this anymore,” Akila hiccupped. “I don’t want to be broken, I don’t want to be some kind of weight on you making your life any harder than it has to be-“

           “Shhh,” Magnus muttered faintly, pressing his cheek against the top of Akila’s helm.

           It seemed to silence her, for now at least. A sob raked through her and she lowered her helm with shame; burying it against his arm and her chassis. Her legs pulled in until she was nothing but a ball in his lap. Curled up into herself, she was more like a frightened turtle than a hardened war veteran.

           “I’m not letting you go, Akila,” Magnus mutely breathed. “I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go.”

           Sniveling quietly, the small femme nuzzled her face in response against Ultra Magnus’ protective arm. He squeezed her against his chassis a little tighter and began to rock her slowly, left and right to and fro, as a deep hum echoed in his chest to ease her tears.

           “You cry all you need to. I’m right here,” he rumbled, wiping at her tears. “I’m right here for you, always.”

Art Trade for :icondeceptib0t:



When my children (or adopted children, I should say) hurt, I hurt too.
This was painful to write I'm done take your hellspawn bs now Mags.

© Transformers - Hasbro
© Akila - Deceptib0t
© RoyalBlackheart
Comments2
Deceptib0t's avatar
Here i am a month later since I wanted to finish my half before commenting orz

But OUCH my heart Akila my child Magnus will help you please let him. Why u so cruel to your adopted children. God I love the little drunken night detail, I don't remember if I've posted that before on the one blog but it has been absolutely canon for the longest time aaa

Angst is good for the soul and I love this thank you so much Tiff !!
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