Bumblebee X Smokescreen Novels & Stories

he grumbled, clearly unimpressed by our festive spirit. But before I could respond, a strong smell of burning smoke suddenly hit my nostrils. The air became thick with it, making me cough instinctively. As my senses sharpened, I heard the distant cries of people in danger, their panicked voices piercing through the chaos of the shop. Without a second thought, I dashed out of the shop, leaving Sandy shouting after me, desperately asking where I was going. "There's something wrong! I can smell smoke," I yelled back as I raced towards the source of the odor. My heart pounded in my chest, fear gripping me as I approached the scene.

A mockery or two wouldn't hurt. A tornado of smoke burst in from the ceiling. The smoke was orange with a hue of black and the current of the tornado had no force. The smoke broke apart, spreading out all over the room and enveloping us in a cloud of orange smoke. The smoke smelt like orange blossom and apricot. It was somewhat pleasant. The smoke made Kira and Jerry cough, but it positively affected me.

“Sane left the building the second the first pollen cloud hit. Every inch of me screams for more. Those little vines earlier were just teasing. Look at that monster in the middle. It's practically calling us.” Becky flashes a filthy grin, scooting even closer so her swollen breasts drag across my chest. “We already road-tested the pollen and the starter vines. They know exactly what they're doing. Scott kept talking about round two. With five of us, this turns into proper, beautiful chaos.”

Just when I was about to think we would have to give up, something suddenly rolled across the ground. A smoke bomb. Blue smoke immediately erupted from it, spreading through the area and making it harder for both us and the zombies to see.

The most beautiful smell of honey and peaches invading all of my senses. Gripping me in every way Mate! Mate! Get mate! I felt my eyes shifting darker, I could smell her, and when I looked further up the staircase I could see her. My little mate. Blossom's POV "Come on we'll be late!" Quinn practically screamed at me "Why do you even care? You already have a mate... what are you getting out of tonight?" I asked as I pinned my hair up in the mirror. She was sat on the bed, putting her blue heels on, her white dress flowing over the edge of the covers.

Bima nodded. He raised his flare gun, aiming at the disgusting swarm of Sucrose Zombies, and prepared to give them a final feast that would melt every fiber of sugar in their rotting bodies, and open the way to Kevin's control center, who was already prepared to screamed in desperation as Bima’s flare shell hissed through the humid air, piercing straight into the mouth of the lead Sucrose Zombie.

She could talk to animals, plants, and insects. She could understand them as if she could hear their voices. The butterfly flew from her finger and landed on her left shoulder as she heard skittering from the field. The flowers moved because of the fast movement on the ground. The movement continued until it reached the end of the field where she was. Three squirrels came out, dragging a pack of pink donuts wrapped in thick plastics.

Beki raised her head and made a questioning sound in the back of her throat. “Do you remember that time we went hunting with Dad, and we upset a nest of fire ants?” She shuddered. The wretched creatures had overwhelmed our tent and tried to burn through its fabric. “I’m making a smoke bomb.” Beki tilted her head to the side. “Just in case the demons don’t give up on us.” I placed a few bullets into the gourd, poured a good measure of alcohol I’d found in a first aid kit, added some bandage scraps to create a wick.

She made a kiss face before shutting off the camera. I exhaled, looking up at Zac. "We're going to be good at this, right?" "That's just it," Zac grinned at me. "You're the love of my life, Bloom." - The End

I could not have known it from anywhere shorter. That the thirty-fifth Begur Christmas, with the full circle present, is the most complete I have felt in this life. Not the best Christmas — it is not in competition with the others. But the most complete. The whole arc visible from that table. Everything chosen, in the same room, at the same time. She puts the pen down. Looks at the apartment. The ceiling, smooth. The bowls on the shelf. The notebooks in the cabinet — twenty-four full, the twenty-fifth open. The photograph of the Bunkers. The framed Sete Cidades lakes. The smooth ceiling.