#reckless behaviour

There’s a kind of strange excitement in chasing down your own death and I don’t mean in the form of suicide but in one’s own reckless endangerment To stop caring about the risks and with no thought for consequence Every breath becomes the best one you’ll ever have

It’s more than the drug addiction it’s the addiction to really feeling alive And playing dead and bruised and broken becomes something to do when your bored and completely out of cash and Greg won’t front me anymore unless I’m willing to be his delivery boy

Find myself with a backpack full of death on more than one occasion

Adding new scars to old flesh Just for the sake of the adrenaline that comes in crisscross patterns on the skin Tiny little pinholes soon turn to bruise and veins collapse under the weight of the pressure And my heartbeat is struggling to keep up

Take a nap behind a dumpster in the alley on Cass street I don’t ever want to go home It feels the worst when I’m there

I want something to stop my thinking learned every public bathroom in this city Waiting to get jumped so the beating will finally get the excuse Life’s too long to endure and I get tired pretty easily

Bumblebee was looking forward to catching up with Breakdown at the race track. It was to coincide with his birthday (not that Cybertronians usually celebrate) and he had a few rough plans about how they could enjoy themselves after the race.

Unfortunately, birthdays seem to be unlucky for Bumblebee.

Written for Sicktember: 4. "Great. I got a cold for my birthday."

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Transformers: Earthspark (Cartoon); Transformers - All Media Types

Relationship: Breakdown/Bumblebee (Transformers)

Characters: Bumblebee (Transformers); Breakdown (Transformers)

Additional Tags: Common Cold; Racing; reckless behaviour; Sick Character; Sick Bumblebee; Birthday; Sick on own Birthday; Hurt/Comfort; Sicktember 2024; early sicktember

Language: English

Published: 2024-08-04

Words: 2,139

The others think they know. Untouchable Darrow who lets no one near him, more likely to snarl like a wounded wolf and chase them away when he needs them the most; sensitive David who has no one who reaches out with gentle, soothing touch because it doesn’t fit in with their ideals of masculinity, never noticing what that deprivation costs him; Rosie - little more than a child to crawl into a parents’ hold for comfort and cosseting, and yet blossoming enough into woman hood that to hold her in such a way makes her predominantly male crew worry that their intent will be misconstrued. 

They think they know. 

But for Nico and Casey, the lack of touch is a branding iron, a deliberate slow torture, a sickness that never goes away. 

Humans find the tactile aspect of them repugnant. They are told that they feel soft, squashy, but in the way of partly decomposed meat or large larvae instead of in a way that could be construed as comforting. And yet, unknown to their crew, that yielding flesh holds more than triple the sensory receptors of humans. Their species communicates almost fifty percent of the time by touch alone, an array of nuances in caressing tendrils. 

They hold themselves, running fronds over their back and neck and nodes. It keeps them warm even if it doesn’t offer what they need. 

“We can do it.”

Jay looks doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“You are the superior pilot and should remain aboard. Ensure we are able to leave after ramming the station. Our limbs,” they wave them demonstratively, “are not suited to weaponry. We will require Rosie as cover. But we can manipulate the electronics and find Jemma and we can do it quickly.”

It’s true. Logical. Necessary.

ran into this npc kid yesterday and holy crap did it trigger Li'daen's mama-anxiety

I can just imagine someone calling the Exarch over, saying his guest is causing a stir.

He gets there and all he hears is "Where in the TWELVE are your PARENTS!?"