#+ it really works with both their characters

[ingreibusa]

Ok, I'm reblogging this again because I want to add new things here. Here's the intro of the fic I wrote in Ao3:

You can read it from this link:

I would also like to add that after reading this lil' story of mine, if you like the character Prince Cygnus, you can chat with the chatbot I made of him in c.ai. Here's two examples of how the chatbot communicates:

You can also use this link for the chatbot:

I really hope you enjoy these little fics of mine. I hope I'll come back to them someday after my studies are finished

Also, you would make me really happy if you give the fic a read, use the chatbot or do them both 🩷🤍🩷

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE���S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invites him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and call such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--but when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. But Baur DID do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. If it was anything less than love he felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[realcube]

bnha men as your boss

characters ♡ bakugo, iida & aizawa

tws / tags ♡ NSFW , MINORS DNI. sex, power dynamics, vaginal. specific triggers are before each character.

BAKUGO

tw : vaginal , degradation.

♡ you have to give him credit where credit is due: he is very upfront about his intentions, even before you get hired for the job

♡ he lets you know during the interview process that he is looking a for a personal assistant to not only do menial paperwork and make coffee, but to also attend to his personal needs. and that if you're not up for that, you can find another job.

♡ but you only thought of that as another perk , so you went ahead with it

♡ and like he said, a lot of your duties during the daytime were ordinary and banal: running errands, scheduling appointments and managing his calendar.

♡ but the night is when things would heat up

♡ and perhaps some of the tension and passion from the after-hours affair would still be lingering between you two come the morning, but you tried to brush it off the best you could and act normal so bakugo's co-workers wouldn't get suspicious

♡ although, they were all starting to get a feeling that something was going on between you. and their suspicions were only furthered when you came rushing into a meeting with bakugo's coffee and accidentally spilled it all over him. and instead of yelling at you or cursing you out, he just sighed and left the room to clean himself up.

♡ baring in mind, this is the same man who fired a past PA for stepping on his shoe.

♡ but really, the reason he didn't lash out on you in front of everyone else in the meeting, was because he knew he would get to do it later..

---------------------------

he has you bend over his office desk, ass up and bare while he rams into your leaking pussy. one hand is tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed crudely against the smooth surface, while the other is free to imflict hot smack against your ass. coming down and causing a surge of pain to race through you, as he leaves a searing handprint on your supple skin.

"what the fuck.." he grits through his teeth, his harsh pace unwavering, "was that?"

you groan against the desk, your whole body shakes with each fierce thrust into your tight pussy, creating lewd slapping noises. " 'm sorry.. katsu— ah! " you're cut off as he lands another rough slap against your ass, gripping the flesh in his scolding hand afterwards.

"you're gunna be fuckin' sorry." he groans, entranced by the way your walls grip onto him in reaction to the impact. continuing to plough into you at an absurd rate, his girthy cock splitting you right open, and causing your pussy to leak all over him. "let's see if your still such a clutz after i'm done with this dumb pussy." he spits down at you, rubbing the fluid against your folds for a disgusting mixture of liquids.

"gunna use it til you can't walk." he slaps both cheeks this time consecutively, gaining two identical yelps from you, at which he chuckles lowly between thrusts. " 'ts all your good for anyway."

IIDA

tw : praise

♡ very much a gentleman

♡ despite the fact he feels a certain way about you , he would do his best to suppress his feelings and avoid acting on them as he knows he's your boss and he'd hate to make you uncomfortable

♡ but even though he tries his best to treat you the same as everyone else.. pretty much anyone, including yourself, can pick up on the fact he likes you

♡ it's made obvious by the way he gravitates towards talking to you first thing in the mornings, and how even the most banal conversation between the two of you is enough to put a cheesy grin on his face and start his day off well

♡ or the way he gives you the lightest workload out of all his other sidekicks and employees

♡ or how he praises you for doing even the most minor accomplishments or carrying out the most straight-forward duties. you once did 10 minutes of overtime and the next day he gushed to you about your outstanding work ethic for like half an hour and continued to rave about you to everyone else, as though you were a star worker

♡ and you just can't help but find all of this quite endearing. and if you were being honest, he was quite attractive too. the way he'd flash you a cute smile and you'd get a whiff of his strong, musky cologne whenever he'd walk by you in the hallway was enough to make your head spin — you really couldn't get enough of him.

♡ which is why you said yes when he eventually asked you out to dinner

--------------------------

"such a good girl.." he groans against your skin, peppering soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, while you're stood with your back pressed flush against his foyer wall. the tension between you two was too thick, you couldn't wait until you made it to his bedroom before starting.

his hand delicately traces your curves as his lips make their way down your chest, nibbling at your clothed nipple before halting. casting his crimson red eyes up to meet your own, "now, do you promise not to tell anyone else at work about this, sweetheart?" he mutters, lips inches away from yours, as his hot breath teases you.

"why not?" you squeak as his hand roams under your dress and his strong palm grinds against your needy clit.

he almost chuckles at your innocent question, "it's not very professional what we're doing together." he clarifies, using his fingers to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while the fingers of his other hand continue to explore between your thighs, and gently rub against your heat through your soaking panties. "but i really don't want this to end, do you?"

your lip quivers and you shake your head, "no.." you say breathily, capturing his hand between your legs, "i need you." you whine out for more, as he was giving you just enough to leave you desperate.

"i need you too, angel."

AIZAWA

tw : thigh riding, implied age gap.

♡ very indifferent; king of (pretending to be) nonchalant

♡ they'd likely give him a teaching aid for the betterment of the class' academic performances or something like that, and he'd be really opposed to the idea because he thinks he can run the class just fine on his own, like he has been for years now

♡ but he'd slowly but surely come around on the idea of having a teaching aid, not only because it gives him more time to sleep instead of working, but also because you are his aid and he can't be mad at the fact he gets to spend time with you

♡ the two of you have undeniable chemistry straight off the bat, but you do your best to hide it in front of the students and other teachers

♡ but it's definitely there.. and it doesn't take long for the chemistry to manifest in your after-hours discussions

♡ there is probably a little bit of age gap going on in your relationship , but nothing too drastic. you're just the new, barely experienced aid looking to gain wisdom off aizawa, so you spend the majority of your shift swooning over him, trying to get him to teach you stuff and show him all the resources you've made in an attempt to impress him

♡ meanwhile he's just straight-faced the whole time, pretending to be unamused.. even though, on the inside he is quite charmed by you and thinks you're just the sweetest

♡ maybe, if you're extremely observant, you'll see him crack the tiniest smile inbetween sips of his coffee, while you are enthusing to him about your new lesson plans

---------------------------

he's sat at his desk in his private office after-hours, with papers scattered all over it. in one hand is his red pen which he is using to grade papers, and in the other is your waist. you are straddling his thigh, with your arms draped lazily around his shoulders and your nose buried into the crook of his neck.

feeling the subtle flex of his muslces against your already sopping cunt caused you to groan into his neck. you had worn a dress today with no tights so your clothed pussy was sat directly on the harsh material of his jeans, but you wanted to experience every single ounce of satisfaction. hence, you pulled your panties to the side and pressed your bare cunt against his thigh, whining like a whore into the emptiness of his office.

though he didn't pay you any mind, and was fixated on his papers. which somehow made the situation even hotter. soon, you began to grind against his leg, sliding yourself back and forth, allowing the fricition between your sensitive cunt and the rough denim to coarse through you. pressing your tender clit down against him repeatedly, and moaning his name lewdly like he was the one responsible for your worlds of satisfaction. which he partially was, even though he put no effort into it. he wouldn't even spare you a glance when you were screaming out for him.

it was a while before you were able to make yourself come undone all over his leg, but it was all so worth it. one of the most cathardic climaxes of your life. you were panting heavily and completely out of breath, laying your tired body against his for a few minutes, until he told you to sit upright.

his hand wandered down to your cunt, and even the fleeting brush of his fingers against your heat was enough to make you whine lowly. but really he was trying to established how wet you were, and of course when he pulled his fingers away, they were drenched with your juices. "hm," he grumbles, exmaning his hand, "look at this mess. who is going to clean this up, dear?"

argh sorry this is short i was gonna write another character but idk who......

[bumblingbeezzz]

I think somebody out there wants me to kill myself lmao. I keep seeing things on here that could all potentially ruin my mood, and now I see holes getting shot through one of my lifelines amidst the sinking sands of depression. I knew Goku was never entirely a righteous hero, but in fact got a lot of thrill from fighting, which is why he would sometimes leave a worthy opponent alive so he can fight him again, even if they were an extremely dangerous individual to let roam free. But this says that it's literally all he cares about? Some of the claims OP made are, at the very least, not backed up in the source provided by the other poster. It doesn't say here that he only feels companionship not love, and that he would only care for a second if his family and friends died.***

It's pretty messed up. The same article makes both Goku and Toriyama not look so great all at once. In it, he also admits that his motivation for writing DBZ was nothing more than money, and doesn't say that he learned to love it or have any connection to his fans (in fact, he mentions intentionally messing with them and being contrary to their wishes), just seems to imply that it was an easier job than most. I'm tempted to share this with the person who got me into DBZ but also I don't want to ruin anything for them. Then again, they're the type to say "I prefer the brutal truth" so...

Ah fuck but what about all my followers who like DBZ? Goddammit...I wanted to say my piece but I guess it's selfish of me to ruin it for others. But, well, actually there may be some consolation for those who already saw this, because Toriyama also states that he forgets some of the things he writes. He also says he doesn't take care of his illustrations after he finishes them. Which is really weird and kind of disheartening to hear that he had so little passion for the story he built and shared with so many fans worldwide. But the point is, it seems that many fans are closer to the material than even he is, and as I've said before about the Harry Potter series, you can separate the content from the creator by acknowledging that 1) it is fiction and 2) there is a difference between who the author is, how the author interprets their own work, and what enjoyers make of it. These characters live in our consciousness as we built them too. We put our own heart into it just by immersing ourselves in it. Yeah, sure, Toriyama had a different vision of Goku than maybe a lot of fans did, but that doesn't make those interpretations we acquired and stored less valid. We all used our own imaginations to interact with what we watched or read. The version of the character that you see, and which makes the most sense to you is "real," because it's all unreal anyway.

And honestly? A more complex Goku who loves fighting for the thrill of it AND fighting for his friends makes the most sense anyway. We've seen it, we've seen his genuine care and concern. He's proven himself to be "pure of heart."

***Edit: They do actually include more sources that I didn't initially see which does confirm this, at least the part about seeing his family more as companions, though that doesn't change my final statement.

I just really find the fact that the creator of dragonball has stated that Goku canonically cannot feel any kind of love, just ‘companionship’, to be a extremely interesting fact. Like, if his family died he’d be like ‘No!’ and then he’d get over it fairly quickly as if they were only just acquaintances. Same goes with the rest of his friends.

The series creator apparently doesn’t like the anime’s portrayal of Goku. They always cast Goku as a hero, when in the manga he’s really only ‘saving people’ as a side bonus that comes with fighting a stronger opponent. He doesn’t purposefully go in to save anyone unless there is a fight happening at the scene.

So, If Goku hadn’t hit his head, he would’ve just been another Raditz. And it also explains why he’s rather cruel towards Gohan and neglectful towards Chichi.

Apparently Vegeta is the actual exception to his own species. He actually genuinely loves his family, -a rare trait only Goku’s mother was proven to have- whereas Goku is apparently literally unable to have those feelings. It’s kind of ironic; Vegeta is probably the one that would be the most ashamed and resentful to admit he has those kinds of feelings.

[vidals-harkness]

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ���Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Only one guy on here has two eyes, and even then, they're fake eyes. It's big-tits-McGee, Mr. logic man extraordinaire, Geneva Suggestion Believer himself: Shockwave! Yep, all 12 of him, a reasonable amount of alternates to have, unlike some people... Shockwave Height Chart, everyone, fuckin wee.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Here are links to my Bumblebee Chart, my Optimus Chart, my Megatron Chart, and my Soundwave Chart. Please go gawk at how many Optimus designs there are, sweet fuck, there are so many. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag.

Explanations and Sources below the cut.

Unicron Trilogy Energon - ~14 feet 3 inches (No actual source, and Energon doesn't have any listed heights anywhere. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. This is the design used in Energon (S2) though he only shows up in Energon. I was able to compare him to Optimus, and using Cybertron's listed heights, I got this number. I am in physical pain, it does not get better from here. Hilarious side note, his Japanese name is Laserwave, which contains the missing "wave" of Shockwave in this iteration's name.)

Earth Spark - ~15 feet (No actual source for ES, but using a barn door to get Bumblebee's height, then Optimus's, then Megatron's height, I was able to make a guess at Shockwave's. Shockwave comes up to about Megatron's chin; I lost the screenshot I used. It's so convoluted, I know, but it's all I have, also, tiny universe, everyone is so small)

TFA Longarm/V1 - 15 feet 2 inches (Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Gen 1 - ~18 feet (TFWiki, uuuuh I've got nothing to add)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 feet (I have no source for this, other than assuming that because this design is identical to Gen 1, they are the same height. That's it, really)

Knight/Capel-Verse - ~18 feet (No source, and he never stands next to anyone I can measure him against, but because the TFOne director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, I am assuming the height I figured out for TFOne applies to this universe as well. Until proven otherwise. Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

One - ~18 feet (No source, I got this number by comparing him to Optimus. Now, I am aware of the TFO heights listed on the wiki, but I reject those numbers on principal. A: Those numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, so I have elected to use the few given heights we have from KCV and worked from there. My Optimus post has slightly more context if you want it)

Cyberverse - 20 feet (This comes from a screenshot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screenshot is iffy.)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC/TFP - 26 feet 2 inches (This number comes from Fandom and I completely believe it, even if they don't list their source, because the entirety of this universe is freakishly tall. Go look at my other charts, all the ALC designs are monstrous compared to the others)

TFA V2 - 29 feet 11 inches (Once again, phoenix-inanis did a fuck ton of work, go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Bayverse - ~30 feet (Ok, so I don't have a source for this one. There used to be one, BV Shockwave used to be listed as 40 feet tall bc of an article done to promote the movie, but that is no longer listed for reasons not known to me, and making some comparisons to Optimus, I have found them to be kinda close in height. It's very hard to actually validate any of this. Shockwave never stands normally next to anything I can use as a ruler at any point in the movie. He's always at a dramatic angle or partially covered by something in the shot. It's so violently frustrating. I am confident he is around this height though, I just can't figure out how much taller than Optimus he is)

And that's it. I didn't have to leave any designs out, all of them are included here (hopefully). It was so nice to work with a character where I wasn't drowning in 20+ designs across every goddamn universe.

[prokopetz]

Trying to make an entry for the jam made me confront a question: how does one inject flavour and evocative writing in an RPG when there is little to no space for flavour text?

I ended up unable to add any writing that wasn't rules without going over the 200 word limit, outside of maybe the naming of some mechanics, but I went in thinking that being able to provoke the imagination would be the difference between an ok entry and a really good one.

How would you do it?

(With reference to this post here.)

The customary answer in the one-page-RPG sphere is graphic design, but here you can't do much of that, so you need to rely on phrasing, rhythm, register, word choice, and yes, game-mechanical jargon. Indie RPGs are often mocked for using their own idiosyncratic terminology rather using the "standard" jargon developed by Dungeons & Dragons and its various direct imitators, but there really is a point: even something as simple as the level of formality of the mechanical text can have a huge impact on how a game comes across.

Let's look at an extreme example – my own recent experiment in fitting a complete game into a single Bluesky post:

CREATURES Need: 3d6 Character * Skills: Hands, Feet, Mouth, Guts; assign 3, 2, 2, 1 * Traits: claws, fangs, fins, horns, shell, slime, tail, tentacles, trunk, wings; pick 2 Conflict * Roll dice=skill * Highest: * 6: Yay * 4–5: Okay * 1–3: Uh-oh Scenario * escape maze * eat wizard * profit!

This one only has three hundred characters to work with, and consists almost entirely of rules text, yet the structure and word choice convey a very clear idea of who the player characters are and what they do!

It can be helpful to bear in mind that the separation of rules text and flavour text is an artificial one, adopted by long-form games where mixing mechanics with microfiction can make the former difficult to when there's three hundred pages of the latter to comb through. You don't really need to worry about that in a very short game, so you're free to have the same text play both roles.

[rin-solo]

THANK YOU!! I adore the connection there and what it says about Odysseus that he tried at all, despite knowing it wouldn't work.

Ngl Odysseus' "Maybe you could learn to forgive?" is my favorite moment from the whole saga just for what it says about Odysseus that he tries this before jumping to... well, repeatedly stabbing Poseidon. This moment of leading from the heart, of "Can't we forgive each other and let it go?" and how we are explicitly shown that it does not work puts what Odysseus does to Poseidon in 600 Strike in a very different light compared to what it would be if he hadn't tried reason and mercy first. Quite simply, it shows us proof of what we might have already inferred from just Poseidon's character and how he acts—that stabbing him repeatedly was really the only way to make him give in and back off. He wouldn't have listened to anything else or learned any other way.

However, I believe that no matter how unhinged Odysseus may have been in 600 Strike, this offer also means that he's no longer using ruthlessness as a first resort the way he did for a while after Monster. I mean, would the Different Beast version of Odysseus have offered mercy and forgiveness to the dude who drowned over 500 of his men just like so? I don't think so.

600 Strike, to me, simply means that Odysseus isn't hesitating or shying away from using ruthlessness and violence when he has no choice, or he's facing someone or something with whom mercy doesn't work... like Poseidon.

There are times for mercy, for leading from the heart, and then there are times when that doesn't work—times for ruthlessness. And finally, finally Odysseus is no longer existential-crisising over one or the other because it's been both all along.

See the thing is, Odysseus still tried to reason with Poseidon. He tried to resolve this with words, with his wit. That didn't work. It would never work with Poseidon. So, he became the monster he needed to be to get home. He turned the lesson Poseidon taught him back on him. He was ruthless. And at the end of it, he got his mercy. He got to go home. But he did try, one last time, to be the man Polites believed him to be. Open arms didn't work. So ruthlessness it was.

[revelboo]

Rambles/ clarification of my nonsense

• I just wanted to go ahead and clarify something before you guys make the connection between the TF One Megatron fic and the latest Thundercracker bit and start asking. First off, I have a fated mate series I write. I do love that trope, but I have an issue with how it’s handled sometimes so I will gently poke fun at it from time to time.

• I don’t like the insta-love eyes meeting across a room and falling hopelessly in love that some novels incorporate. I prefer love/affection to be earned over time through actions. Insta-love always comes across to me as losing a piece of yourself to another person, losing free will. Instant attraction or lust? I can work with that, tie it to a sense of belonging that keeps dragging you into that person’s gravity whether you want to be there or not. Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s perfect or easy. I want the characters to clash, to fight that sense of need and maybe even resent that bond at first. Slowly building up trust and getting to know each other.

• If I write more TF One characters, I’ll probably use fated mates in that universe because I’m a gremlin and I like writing conflict. I wouldn’t mind writing that version of Starscream, B127, or Optimus Prime at some point.

• This blog started as a venting space. I needed to work on manuscripts, but I was so burnt out and my usual tactic of just swapping to a different project wasn’t working. I’d open the documents and just stare at the screen in dread. So, I wrote a silly little Starscream snippet, because I used to write fanfiction on FFN years ago under a different handle. And I missed writing silly, self indulgent nonsense that didn’t have to be perfect. The quick bullet point snippets I do are actually how I quickly get scenes down to expand later.

• I only meant to make a few characters and scenarios and then go back and start fleshing them out like a properly formatted story. Then you guys started asking questions, asking about different characters. So I just kept going, because I honestly missed writing for fun, for myself. Nothing serious, just telling a story to amuse myself. I needed an outlet for the stress and this is it.

• So, thank you guys so much. I’ll keep these going as long as folks want to read them, because I really did miss the Transformers community. There’s a sense that when you swap to professionally writing, you’re not supposed to keep doing the fanfiction stuff. You’re supposed to grow up and just write novels, nothing else. And that’s why I stopped ten years ago, but this makes me happy. I can do both and it’s not like I follow normal writing rules anyway. I’ve been told my writing can be too visceral, too much like a stream of consciousness instead of a literary work. That used to bother me, but that ship’s not only sailed, it caught on fire and sank with no survivors. Never been great at following rules anyway.

• And maybe someone else needs to hear that. You don’t have to stop what you enjoy because it’s ’unprofessional.’ Keep it separate, but keep doing it if it makes you happy. It shouldn’t be a trade off.

[romaritimeharbor]

SUFFERING. — In which Yaoshi's child is wounded.

— trigger & content warnings. mildly graphic depictions of wounds, mild blood, mentions of fainting, both yaoshi and the reader operate on questionable morality at best.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. yaoshi & emanator of abundance!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). when yaoshi cries, it has a direct effect on those who have come into contact with the power of abundance, including xianzhou natives. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. pov lan and yaoshi are divorced parents and their children are fighting. i am very normal about yaoshi i promise 🫶 i made shit up for this fic fr, i am working with CRUMBS you guys 😔🙏 ik from experience that the yaoshi nation is starving so i offer this to my fellow aeon of abundance enjoyers <3 side note, writing two characters with they/them pronouns is so hard LMAO??!??!?!

       Stars dance behind their eyelids every time they dare to let them drift shut.

       The universe is an ever-expanding blur of stars and planets that seem to dance and spin the longer one gazes at them—that, of course, is a natural given.

       ...The stars behind their eyelids are, however, not a given; those are most certainly not meant to be there.

       Their chest heaves, lungs aching and burning as if lit on fire when they painfully expand to take in as much air as possible, lightning striking across their chest and side when they breathe just the slightest bit too forcefully.

       Blood drips from their side—slowly, thankfully, but they've lost so much at this point that it really could not have mattered less if the flow was slow or rapid. The amount lost would have remained the same, nevertheless, because their body vehemently refused to heal the wound that should have been gone within seconds. Minutes, at the absolute most.

       Whatever the Xianzhou Alliance had done to them was terribly effective, delaying their inhuman capacity to heal instantaneously and causing their body to convulse fiercely whenever they tried to force the healing to proceed. It was... less than ideal, but they'd try not to hold it against their siblings.

       (The Xianzhou Alliance just does not see it, does not see anything, the way they do, unenlightened and led astray by the Aeon Lan. That's fine. Perhaps one day they will all come to their senses, snap out of the misguidance, and recognize Yaoshi's benevolence.)

       The ground sways beneath their feet.

       A gasp is torn from their throat as they trip over themselves, ankles snapping inwards, unable to support the weight of their body any longer. Trembling, bloody hands shoot out in a weak attempt to catch themselves, and—

       "Beloved child..."

       —and they're fine, situated on the floor without ever having to fall to get there. The growing cold knawing at their flesh is chased away. Soothing warmth takes its place, and their wounds don't seem to throb as excruciatingly as they did before.

       They're certain that they are no longer where they were before—not hopelessly, blindly stumbling along a familiar planet in hopes of reaching one of its civilizations before the blood loss got to be too much for their body to handle, before they fell unconscious and helpless to the whims of the universe surrounding them.

       (Of course, it wouldn't have killed them. The fainting alone was fairly harmless. However, doing so out in the middle of nowhere while bleeding and wounded was not an ideal fate for any creature to experience. Maybe the blood loss would not have killed them, but if something else of equal or greater strength to them discovered their unconscious body when they were that vulnerable...)

       They're... elsewhere, now, though they haven't the slightest clue where. Truthfully, it mattered not. All they were concerned with was whose side they were at; they were earnestly grateful that their parent had sensed their suffering and seen it fit to bring them somewhere safer.

       Tones soft and saccharine yet richly smooth and vaguely rumbling with the power of something ancient danced across their skin; the sound alone was enough to send a shiver up their spine and to raise goosebumps on their fragile, bleeding body. Undertones of pity and sorrow overwhelm the voice—if it had belonged to a human, perhaps they might say it sounded more akin to horror and shock.

       Actually, now that they thought about it, the chills may have very well been the blood loss... it was hard—if not downright impossible—to tell at this point.

       ...Not that it mattered, of course. Now that they were here, any suffering their child had unfairly endured would be undone and amended.

       "What have they done to you?"

       An unsteady hand dares to reach out to them, and the deity's face twists, displeased, in a way their child cannot quite describe. The flash of displeasure makes them worry through the dazed fog of blood loss that they gesture was unwelcome. Their gaze is quick to move elsewhere—looking so bodly at Yaoshi's face has always felt rude, anyways, so they're quick to look away at even the most minor allusion to disapproval, even though something at the back of their mind reassures them that their actions are hardly the cause of the Aeon's unrest.

       As fast as the concern arises, it dissloves into nothing.

       They did not even have the chance to shift, to pull their arm back, before Yaoshi takes their hand stained wine red, and bestows a tender kiss upon their aching knuckles. The pain is washed away in an instant; there was no trace of it ever having been there in the first place. No lingering ache, no soreness, just relief.

       Sanctus Medicus' touch alone—let alone their kiss—causes their body to have a reaction. The most concerning wound of all has begun closing, skin stitching itself together anew, even without the Aeon extending any of their power to do so. Simply existing in the deity's presence has already guaranteed the preservation of their life. A concern of death did not exist any longer.

       It was only really a halfhearted concern, anyway. Truly killing something like them would have taken an insurmountable showing of strength and wit. The Alliance only injured them; putting a complete end to their life was something their estranged siblings horribly failed to do.

       "G— Guardian, I—"

       A wave of coughs that they cannot suppress no matter how hard they try wracks their body, and they wince, abdomen sharply crying out in protest of the forceful motions. The healing process has not yet concluded, and any excess force or strain put on their body still causes them great discomfort.

       "Speak not," the Lord of Longevity murmurs, chiding, as their many hands gently guide their little one ever closer to their body until their child is strewn across their lap. Blood soaks into the the Aeon's robes, though they pay it no mind and instead opt to focus on the source of it. "Poor, sweet child... how much suffering have your siblings wrought upon you? How much cruelty have they extended? Limitless child, struck down by your limited siblings..."

       The sulking lasts for quite some time, but they feel no compulsion to complain about it. It doesn't even cross their mind once. If anything, Yaoshi's love for them is communicated perfectly through their distraught musings, and the attention makes their little one feel quite embarrassed, if anything at all.

       Embarrassed for not being able to defend themselves? Perhaps, though they would attribute it more to simply being overcome by the ever-abundant love the Aeon carried for them.

       Merciful nails stroke the hair from their face, and the Aeon's tens of thousands of eyes flick across their body, thoughtful and contemplative yet riddled with monumentally expansive layers of all-consuming pity and sympathy. To some, it may have been deeply unsettling to be stared at by something so unfathomably powerful, but they have long since grown used to being gazed at so intently. Yaoshi's affections are not subtle in any way, so having the Aeon's complete and undivided attention on them was an overwhelming feeling that they have learned to welcome with open arms.

       (Well...

       More or less 'complete and undivided'; they're fairly certain that Sanctus Medicus is still keenly aware of everything going on outside of this little oasis, still hearing prayers sent to them, still feeling the pains of death and sorrow that they'll undoubtedly seek out and quell to the best of their abilities in as many societies as possible once they've handled the nasty wound left on their favored child. An Aeon's attention is always divided at least somewhat, but it was not their place to complain about something so inevitable. Divided attention was only natural for cosmic beings, no?)

       It is warm. Peaceful.

       ...But only for a moment.

       Something—disappointment, sadness, perhaps even what could be described as fury—rolls off of the Aeon's being in suffocating waves undoubtedly capable of drowning entire civilizations. It is hard to breathe, somehow even harder than it was when their ribs were collapsed inwards and poking agonizingly at their viscera.

       This is worse.

       In an instant, something deep inside of them shatters, and their chest is seized by the grief and agony of millions and millions of beings. A wheeze is drawn from their chest as any clarity they had slowly gained back is snatched away in a mere second, replaced with terror and pain and screaming, so much screaming—

       Their head spins.

       If not for the Aeon of Abundance's presence, soft hushes and careful nails dragging soothingly over and across their skin on as many areas as they can reach at once, they're certain that these conditions would have made their mara flare. It doesn't, thankfully.

       Something about being held by the very deity who had given them their immortality in the first place soothes that side of them into submission, like a dog kneeling at its master's feet. If they listen closely, beyond the screaming and wailing and pleading for the agony to cease, they can hear adoring yet vague and indistinguishable whispers in the corners of their mind.

       Their mara is sated for the time being, but the storm of despair rages on.

       When the tears begin to fall, it is far beyond their control, impossible to stop no matter how much effort they put into doing so.

       It is immensely difficult for them to see through the hazy blur of their uncontrollable weeping, but their gaze still instinctively shifts up towards Yaoshi's face, the terror and nervousness swirling in their chest growing to be too much. In that moment, they were hardly any different than a child seeking reassurance from their parent; of course, the Aeon was all too happy to provide that to them.

       However...

       To their absolute dismay, though the Aeon's expression remains detached, soft, and thoughtful as ever, they are crying.

       Whatever cracking bits of their will that were still somehow clinging together were shattered beyond repair in a quick instant, and they sobbed harder, pressing close to their God in a feeble and weak attempt at taking some of the agony that their parent endured away.

       Between the sorrow, Yaoshi's tears ignited rage, boiling just beneath the surface of their skin and threatening to consume those who stood in its way. It is one thing to take up arms against them, but to make the Aeon of Abundance cry? It is nothing short of a crime, unforgivable and worthy of only the greatest punishment. If not for said deity's gentle kneading of their skin, easily making the rage dissolve into dazed serenity, they may have very well cut down entire armies, wounds be damned.

       ...But that is blatantly against Yaoshi's will at the moment (and more than likely in general, for such destruction is not in the nature of the path which they emanate), so they allowed the anger to be soothed.

       Concern—what could possibly have made something as incomprehensible as Yaoshi cry? Was it truly what the Xianzhou Alliance had done? And moreover, what can they do to stop it? To amend it without being disobedient?—was there, but they were moreso overwhelmed by absolute horror.

       ...

       Aeons are far above mortality, so far beyond humans and their concepts of everything. Nothing that applied to mortals applied the same to Aeons. They were concepts personified. Living ideologies.

       Seeing a being they had come to recognize as infallible, as the purest form of existence above all other creatures, a being of love and light crying?

       Oh, it sent endless ripples of fear and uncertainty blazing across their skin.

       If their will—the will of someone with a deep and intimate connection to the Aeon, someone who had been spared a beautiful fraction of their strength—was so effortlessly shattered by the Abundance's tears, what were other beings connected to them feeling in this moment?

       ...Far worse things, no doubt, but maybe some of them deserved it.

       (The distant screams, a cacophany of confusion and horror, of their siblings rang in their head. Sick satisfaction brewed in their chest at the sound. If any of the Alliance's fleets were mid-battle, there is not a single doubt in their mind that the entire fight will now be lost and in vain. It is only a small fraction of the pain that they were put through by those people, but it is more than enough.)

       One of Yaoshi's hands pets over their head fondly, and they hum through the tears and pain, eyelids fluttering closed as they press ever closer against the Aeon's collarbone.

       "The actions of your siblings will not go unpunished, precious one," they murmur, leaning down and pressing tender kisses to the battered flesh of their shoulder. Any bruises or scratches in that area disappear miraculously. "The suffering you have endured is unjust."

       "I trust in your judgement, Guardian."

       They could feel Yaoshi's smile against their skin, a stark contrast from the Aeon's tears, burning and stinging their skin yet somehow perpetuating their healing process.

       "Good."

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags. tags: @aviiarie @corpsesticks

[deeppenguinstudent]

I don't care. I will ALWAYS defend Thea muldani. You guys talk about the age range between Kevin and Thea, which is so dumb because Kevin was 18 and Thea was 21. That is basically Jerejean's age range (22 and 19), which is 3 YEARS. And I don't see anyone talking about Jeanne's age range? (19 and 24).

To the people saying that got mad that she said, "Are you sure ur not up to ur old tricks again?" literally just what? Please, please read her wiki because the reason she said that was because she thought tetsuji was the one who beat him up, NOT riko.

She was the ONLY one so far that even questioned riko's authority and acknowledged he was a bastard (somewhat). She's not fucking blinded by the Nest. She's JUST Exy obsessed like Kevin!!

Also let's talk about this?

The rumours had gotten so bad that both the master and Kevin also believed Riko's words? How the hell was Thea supposed to know anything? She was a victim as well and it just annoys me so much when people use this to just completely stain her character and make her a huge bitch. She's literally a dark skinned woman. Even tetsuji told her that she has to work twice as hard because people wouldn't take her seriously. If she even had an inkling of an idea knowing what they did to him, she would fuck them up

Also the reason why no one batted their eyes was because the Ravens fucking eachother is completely normal. It's some sort of screwed up thing that's been going on for generations, even before Riko and Kevin had joined Evermore.

To the people who say Thea does not care about Jean I will literally chew your lungs BECAUSE HAVE WE BEEN READING THE SAME BOOK.

Do you guys not realise how close Jean and Thea truly were? Thea and Kevin were the only two that Jean actually had a good relationship with in the Nest. Just look at the text!! Thea is one of Jean's weaknesses because he trusts her so much, and we know that Jean always blurts out shit he's not supposed to when he's beside people he really trusts (Neil, Jeremy, Kevin)

Her little parisian duckling! He literally followed her everywhere 🙁🙁 Gosh they mean so much to me. (Also, the reference to Elodie's duck dress and Thea's way of calling him?)

Last bit. I just find their relationship is just watered down SOOOO much because people hate Thea for unconventional reasons. You can dislike her character for sure, but I feel like a lot of people have so many misconceptions about her so I just wanted to clear it up!!

Please Nora give us more Thea and Jean in TSC2 😔😔😔

Edit: Sexual grooming is the action or behavior used to establish an emotional connection with a minor under the age of consent and sometimes the child's family to lower the child's inhibitions with the objective of sexual abuse. This is the definition of grooming btw and it's confirmed that Thea dated two other people when Kevin was a minor and didn't think of him like that until he was a freshman in college ie 18 years old?? It's completely different because she wasn't even pursuing him at all??

[luminixx]

People really need to hear this, outside of D&D classifications too. There is this common problem that if someone makes up a world that is not supposed to be connected with any existing media, people will try to barge in and correct them on their OWN fantasy elements, the way they're categorized etc. because "ugh, the leading work of fiction in this entirely fictional field did it differently!" There is this belief that if something is considered a classic/leader, the rules of its lore and worldbuilding automatically gain authority over anything similar. It's all made up! People tend to forget that such things aren't some divine gift - all of it was someone's original work too. And the whole point of fantasy worlds is that they can have their own rules.

It's similar to how I've noticed many people can't be introduced to *any* OCs without comparing them to hundreds of various different things - not necessarily in a positive way either. It was done here, and there, and that character is just like this one... the things that are then referenced were also nothing more than someone's OCs at one point. Just because something is well-known doesn't mean it's the blueprint, and just because two things share a trope, or both involve magic, or mythical creatures - does not mean one is copying the other and it should follow the same rules.

People who treat D&D's classes as like being in any way representative of fiction outside of D&D are my nemesis, I just saw a post that was like "remember the difference between a Sorcerer a Warlock and a Wizard is this" and treating like those words as if their very D&D specific meanings were like universally accepted I'm going to start taking hostages

[bisnes-socks]

okay let's go bananas 🍌

what jumps out at me about bananas is how fruity it is. in many ways lmao.

first of all, i want to talk about his skill once again. because these lyrics are skilled.

so in rap music there are rhyme schemes and there are thematical schemes. a rhyme scheme is about rhyming words and how you alternate between different rhyme types. a thematical scheme is about what you're talking about and how you bake one lyrical theme into different meanings through metaphor. most rap songs will have multiple thematical schemes through the song, and holding on to one thematical scheme for several bars let alone verses takes skill.

well. bananas holds on to one thematical scheme through the whole entire song. and that theme is, basically, fruit and vegetable.  there are ten different fruits and vegetables mentioned in the song and multiple of them are not only there to help a rhyme scheme but because they have metaphorical or innuendo meanings that fit the lyrical content, the subject of the song. they further the plot, so to speak.

on top of that, i'd say at least three of them also work to multiply the fruit theme and lift it into a different level, but i'll talk about that more a bit later.

he is really skilled at using this fruit and veg scheme to "further the plot" and paint a picture. so let's look at some of the bars.

"pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" meaning "the bouncer has mandarins under his armpits". if you understand the line, it's not only hilarious but informative. if you don't, let me explain. this line refers to a finnish slang term mandariinikana, mandarin chicken. mandariinikana is someone who pretends and acts like their biceps are bigger than they actually are. mandariinikana will hold their arms a bit further away from their torso, to make it look like their muscles are so big their arms simply cannot just rest at their sides and touch their body - but in reality, there is no muscle there. in fact, what is actually between their "biceps" and their torso is just air, empty space. so much space you could fit mandarins in their armpits. hence -> "pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" is not only a clever bar in the fruit scheme, it also tells us so much about what kind of character this bouncer is. a very smart line!

"en ole greippi, en ole lime, olen makea ja onnelline" meaning "i'm not a greip fruit, i'm not a lime, i'm sweet and happy" excellent use of the fruit scheme! what does this bar tell us? greip fruits and limes are sour. he denounces being sour, and underlines that he is sweet. which, by the way! in finnish makea works the same way as cool in english. if someone is makea (or makee) that means they are cool. i think he uses makea here to mean both sweet and cool at the same time.

second verse "aamulla kurkut silmillä ja mun otsaan on kasvanut tatti" again, such a cool and informative way to use the thematical scheme. "aamulla kurkut silmillä" meaning "cucumbers on my eyelids in the morning" paints a vivid picture and gives us so much information about where we are in the story. "otsaan on kasvanut tatti" now we're once again deep in finnish territory but i'll try. tatti otsassa (bolete mushroom on the forehead) is a cleaner version of kyrpä otsassa (cock on the forehead) and, do not ask me where this comes from, but kyrpä otsassa means you're very annoyed and put out. so again, using the thematical scheme in a clever way, he has informed us of the mood in the story now.

and so we get to the eggplant. now. eggplant, peach and banana (and the way he's been using bananas in his live shows..) are what i meant before, when i said some of these fruits are opening up another level to this fruity thematical scheme.

because like.

this song is pretty gay. and i don't think that's an accident.

it's not just that the bouncer is checking him out, it's that he notices. giving the bouncer the good old look back, hm? and his DM's are full of eggplants, dick pics. is this a gay club, where everyone is "going bananas"? because hear me out.

jere would have grown up at a time where fruittari was a term used to describe certain type of men. and yes the word fruittari comes from the english word fruit. fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, they were just sort of.. male fashionistas? at a time where it was, i guess, so unusual for men to care about their looks that it needed a term lmao.

now like i said, fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, but then that word isn't really used anymore, not in that way. and i would argue that to refer to any man as any type of fruit, in today's finland, would come across as calling them gay.

so for him to build an entire fruit scheme to describe both himself and other (male) charcters in the song? yeah that's kinda fruity in the gay way lmao.

now, i'm not saying this is a coming out song. i'm saying he's clever to recognise the implications of the fruit and veg scheme and to lean into it, rather than trying to no-homo the scheme. i don't think he cares what people make of his sexuality. i mean hell, it could be a coming out song! or it could just be him being gay for 3 minutes for the thematical scheme of it all. who knows! either way it fucking slaps.

my unpopular(?) opinion is that bananas doesn't have a deep secret meaning behind it, i think it's about what it says on the tin: partying. but of course, when you look at the placement of the song on the album, you can make conclusions if partying also works as a metaphor of some sort in the album narrative. or it could very well be the sort of partying that ultimately has had to end, part of the toxic lifestyle that snuck into his life after the whirldwind of 2023.

however. this song sounds kinda old school to me, for multiple reasons. the sound itself fits this new käärijä era, but thematically and lyrically this also has the ghost of like välikuolema or even like puuta heinää or something. this sounds like the bratty yapper käärijä.

and towards the end of the song you hear these synth hits that remind me of early 2000's, idk like in da club by 50cent etc. so even more old school.

and there's one detail that kind of dates this song. at the very end he says "paita auki Copacabanas". i don't think he means the actual real copacabana in brasil, i think he means a club in helsinki that had a famous dance floor that could fit like hundreds of people. and the club was known for letting absolutely no-one skip the queue, because you could not reserve tables on the restaurant side of the establishment after nine - and in the beginning of the song he is queuing.

well, copacabana hasn't existed in years. i don't remember exactly when it closed, but a new club opened to where is used to be in 2016, so it's been at least 8-9 years. 

so maybe it's a nostalgic song? or maybe it's about slipping into old habits? i don't know.

what i do know it's damn clever either way.

this post is dedicated to anon, who asked me about bananas, got me thinking about it, and so i wrote like the entire thematical scheme bit at 1:30 am

[bellisima-writes]

Some Rebellious GO Fanfic Recs

Hey there fandom fam,

It’s been an absolute wretched couple of days. I had expected many different outcomes to Tuesday, but the decisiveness with which my country elected a convicted criminal to its highest office left me shocked and numb.

And I know we all don’t come here for politics and real life. We come here to escape. But if you’re like me, and you have this itching need to fight, to organize, to lift up the vulnerable and protect those most at risk, then it’s hard to be here and escape right now.

And that sucks.

But this is and will remain a fanwork blog, and so I offer you some solace - here are some GO fanfics that focus on fighting. On breaking a broken system and protecting humanity, no matter the cost. Because, as much as we love Aziraphale and Crowley, that’s what the original work was about. Love and connection and humanity as an act of rebellion, and we sure do need those themes right now.

So if you’re angry and in the mood for some more plot/action based fics, with a flaming sword and maybe a dash of BAMF Aziraphale, I got you.

I am going to start with my own here, because I've not found one as outrightly rebellious as this yet in my own reading.

The Last Angel by me - (E, 162K) A canon-divergent AU where Crowley and Aziraphale are never assigned to Earth, Hell wins Armageddon and Angels are all but extinct. The story follows Crowley, the Grand Inquisitor of Hell, and Aziraphale, the last Angel alive, as he is captured and brought to Hell to face his execution. But, Hell hath no fury like an Aziraphale scorned...

So, was he really captured, or does Aziraphale have a plan to seek revenge on the beings responsible for destroying everyone he ever knew? And how will the way the Grand Inquisitor makes him feel affect his plans?

Tether by @gingiekittycat - (E, 45K) - a post Season 2 story in which Aziraphale is summoned back to Earth by Crowley for reasons he doesn't understand. This one has all of the sexy goodness you come to expect from a gingikittykat work, with a heartwarming take down of Heaven's Second Coming plans.

What are you doing here by @alphacentaurinebula - (E, 68K) sexy and popular season 3 speculation fic that encompasses both the humor of the source material shockingly well while also providing a rebellious and on brand end to the conflict between Heaven and Hell. Because sides don't matter, working together matters, and this story delivers that theme beautifully.

The Beginning of the End (Again) by @addledmongoose - (M, 79K) a post Season 2 story where Crowley and Aziraphale work to convince Jesus to not go forth with the final judgment. This one stands out for its take on Aziraphale as a guardian angel, fierce, protective, and an ending where he shows his true colors and fights for everything he loves. BAMF Aziraphale in the best way.

Echo by @snae-b - (E, 52K) a story of waking up to find an invisible hand controlling your life, and fighting back to break it and create a new world for everyone.

And a current WIP that's not complete, but the last chapter left me with chills and I am SO excited to see how it will end - And I Did by @di-42 - a Season 3 speculation fic that has Aziraphale as Supreme Archangel in Heaven and Crowley as Grand Duke of Hell. The story is rich and complex, and the cast of characters (both favorites from the show and book as well as new additions) are wonderful. There are two chapters left and I can't wait to see how it all turns out!

Please add on to this list with your own works and favorite rebellious fics!

[fratttymatty]

Straight To The Top

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Holden had always felt like he was stuck. At 28, his life felt like a loop, always the same. He had a decent job in a dull office, a small apartment, and a routine that left him unfulfilled. His world revolved around responsibilities—work, bills, gym visits, and the occasional bar hangout with friends who seemed to be moving forward with their lives, while he stayed in the same place.

Ryan wasn’t unhappy, exactly, but there was a deep-seated dissatisfaction that had been gnawing at him for years. His love life was a mess, and his struggles with his sexuality had always left him feeling isolated. Though he had always identified as gay, he never really felt connected to the gay community. His past relationships had been brief and unsatisfying, leaving him wondering if something was wrong with him. He’d tried to embrace his sexuality, but the truth was, he didn’t fit the stereotypical mold of a "gay guy." His lack of connection with others, both in and out of the queer world, led to endless frustration.

Ryan often thought about starting over. What if he could erase everything and become someone else entirely? Someone confident, successful, and—dare he dream—normal?

It started with a strange email one afternoon. It wasn’t spam. It wasn’t a phishing attempt. It was an offer from a company he’d never heard of: The Rebirth Corporation.

The subject line was simple: "A Chance for a Fresh Start"

The email spoke of a revolutionary service, one that promised to completely transform a person’s life—body, mind, and even sexuality. The process was expensive, but Ryan felt a strange pull. What if this was the chance he had been waiting for? A new life. A new identity. He clicked the link and skimmed through the website. The before-and-after photos were dramatic—people looking younger, healthier, and more confident. Most of the testimonials mentioned how they had completely reinvented themselves, and many even stated they had experienced a shift in their sexual orientation.

For someone like Ryan, who had always felt like an outsider, this seemed like the perfect solution. He could finally break free from his old, unsatisfying life and become the person he had always dreamed of being—someone who could fit in with the popular crowd, maybe even date a hot girl. He’d been tired of his awkward, disconnected self for so long. What did he have to lose?

Ryan booked a consultation. The days that followed were filled with medical screenings, psychological evaluations, and the overwhelming realization that he was about to undergo something radical. The procedure promised to not only reshape his body, but also alter his personality and sexual orientation. It was exactly what he needed, he told himself. No more confusion. No more loneliness. He just wanted to be someone people would look up to—someone who could confidently walk through life and leave his old self behind.

The procedure was intense.

He was led into a sterile, high-tech facility, where the doctors explained that he would be unconscious for several hours as the transformation took place. His body would be reshaped, his mind reprogrammed, and his personality restructured. It wasn’t just about changing his physical appearance—it was about making him into the person he should have been.

As the anesthesia took hold, Ryan’s last thought was that he couldn’t wait to wake up as someone else, someone better.

When Ryan woke up, everything felt... different.

He opened his eyes to a new world, a world where the reflection in the mirror no longer showed him, but someone else entirely. Gone was the scruffy, awkward 28-year-old man. In his place was an 18-year-old high school student with a sleek, athletic build and sharp features. His hair was tousled in a trendy way, his skin clear and glowing. He was taller, fitter, and far more attractive than he had ever been. As he touched his face, his fingers traced the sharp jawline, the chiseled cheekbones. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

His clothes had changed too—no more outdated shirts and jeans. He wore a simple Nike shirt, the logo boldly emblazoned on his chest. His grey sweatpants shorts clung to his newly defined legs, showcasing his athletic build, while his trainers—expensive, sleek, and effortlessly stylish—tied it all together. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was the kind of casual, athletic look that screamed confidence. His outfit screamed that he was a guy who knew how to take care of himself—and had the physique to back it up. It was the kind of outfit that would make any high schooler want to be him, or at least envy him.

But it wasn’t just his body that was different. The transformation went deeper.

Ryan—or whoever he was now—felt something snap inside him. His mind was clearer, sharper, more confident. Gone was the self-doubt that had plagued him for years. He stood straighter, feeling an almost overpowering sense of entitlement.

He wasn’t just physically changed; he was a completely different person now. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Ryan had been a loser—a weak, confused guy who couldn’t even accept his sexuality. The new Ethan was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and demand attention. He was no longer shy or unsure. Now, he was confident. He was in control. He was better than the old Ryan.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in years, he felt like he had the world at his feet.

And then there was something else. His attraction to men—something that had been a constant part of his identity as Ryan—was gone. He didn’t even think about it. In fact, as he started to interact with people in his new life, he realized that he didn’t want to think about men at all. His thoughts were entirely focused on women.

He felt a strange, almost superior sense of self now. The idea of being attracted to men disgusted him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be gay anymore; he felt like it was something beneath him. He wanted to be normal, to be the guy every woman wanted and every guy envied.

In fact, the idea of hanging out with his old friends—many of whom were gay—began to seem distasteful. He wasn’t one of them anymore. Why would he want to be associated with a group that always seemed so… needy? He was done with all that. Ethan Brooks was better than that. He was a straight guy, a guy who could take what he wanted in life.

At school, Ethan quickly became a presence. He was no longer the shy, introverted Ryan who kept to himself. He was a jock, a natural leader with a sharp tongue and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was the guy everyone noticed, the guy who could walk into a room and turn heads without even trying. And he loved it.

He started flirting with girls like it was second nature. He was charming, but with an edge—a kind of cocky arrogance that made him seem untouchable. His confidence wasn’t just alluring; it was commanding.

One girl in particular caught his attention: Amber. She was the epitome of a popular valley girl—blonde, bubbly, and effortlessly beautiful. A cheerleader and a member of the school’s social elite, Amber was used to guys falling all over her. But there was something about Ethan. His confidence, his athletic build, and that aura of cockiness made him irresistible. Amber didn’t waste time on guys who weren’t "top-tier," and Ethan was definitely top-tier now.

Amber, for her part, wasn’t one to waste time with anything "weird." She’d always thought gay people were... well, gross. She didn’t exactly know why, but she just couldn’t understand why guys would ever want to be with other guys. She much preferred the handsome, strong, straight athletes—guys like Ethan, who were popular and secure in their masculinity.

And so, when Ethan began showing interest in her, Amber didn’t hesitate. The fact that he seemed so different—more confident, more arrogant, and a little bit dangerous—was exactly what she loved. She wasn’t shy about flirting with him either.

She sidled up to him one afternoon in the hallway, giving him a big smile. “So, like, you’re totally new around here, huh?” she giggled. “I’m Amber, in case you didn’t know. I’m pretty much the cheerleader around here.”

Ethan flashed her a smirk. “I figured. You’ve got that ‘I’m important’ vibe,” he teased, leaning in close. “But I’m guessing you’re not one to just hang out with anyone, huh?”

Amber raised an eyebrow, tossing her hair. “Nope. You have to be seriously hot and totally straight to make my list.”

Ethan smirked again, his eyes scanning her body briefly. “Good thing I tick all the boxes then.”

Amber grinned, feeling herself blush just a little. She liked his attitude—it was the kind of cocky self-assurance she craved. There was something thrilling about being with a guy who didn’t just want her, but knew he could have her.

As the days went on, Ethan and Amber became inseparable. Amber was drawn to his confidence, and the way he commanded attention without even trying. They started dating, and while Amber enjoyed the idea of being with such a dominant guy, Ethan seemed to grow more and more dismissive of anything or anyone who didn’t fit into his new world.

The more Amber got to know him, the more she noticed his dismissive attitude toward anyone who seemed “weird,” or “different.” He constantly made offhand remarks about how people should just act “normal,” especially when it came to sexuality.

“Like, I seriously don’t get why anyone would want to be gay,” he said one day while the two of them hung out by his locker. “It’s just... ugh, you know? Like, why would any guy want to be with another guy? I’m just not into that at all.”

Amber nodded in agreement, her mind wandering. “Yeah, totally. It’s just so... gross. I mean, guys are supposed to like girls. That’s normal.”

Ethan laughed, glad to know Amber was on the same page. He liked the idea of being with someone who didn’t question him. Amber was everything he’d ever wanted—straight, pretty, and totally normal.

Ethan and Amber's relationship grew stronger. Ethan’s cocky attitude, combined with his irresistible confidence, made him the center of attention. And Amber, while enjoying his dominance, couldn’t help but feel a little proud. She knew she could change him, shape him into the perfect guy—a straight, athletic guy who was everything she had always dreamed of.

For Ethan, it was simple: He was on top now. He was in control. He had won.