#<- low bar but like i get it

[qualityrain]

throwing up thinking abt neku being like joshua and yet changed for the better in three weeks when joshua couldnt for years and years and years and years to the point he thought himself unchangeable

[theorist-fox]

I'm here sharing my deepest, darkest sexual fantasies for the world to see, feeling devious because hehe I write porn 😈😈 and then I read through my stuff once sober and realize my biggest sexual turn-ons are devoted men taking care of me

[wildbasil]

seven whole years after my adhd diagnosis, where the specialist told me that i couldn't possibly be autistic too because i'm ✨capable of empathy✨, i've finally been referred for an autism assessment 🥹

[therainbowwillow]

I love Epic The Musical very dearly but I do wish just a little bit that we’d gotten to watch Telemachus’s antics in Pylos. His gay awakening(?) over Pesistratus? Athena disguised as an old man?? Nestor and Menelaus?! HELEN! He really has a bewildering time away from Ithaca lol

[rustedleopard]

I know that it's common fanon belief to see Starlo as the younger sibling between him and Orion, but I actually like the idea of Starlo being the older brother and what it means for his family dynamic. Generally, the older sibling is expected to be the more responsible and mature sibling in the family. There's this expectation that the older sibling sets an example for the younger sibling(s) and that they'll look after the family/business once the parents get too old to do so themselves. So, what does it mean when the older sibling sorta betrays those familial expectations by behaving immaturely and ditching the family to do their own thing?

I'm trying to figure out how to put this into words in a clear and concise way, but I feel like if it's a case of Starlo being the younger brother, then there's this sorta "Ah, that's just the younger brother acting like a kid, y'know how it is. He'll grow out of it" dynamic, whereas if Starlo is the older brother, then it's more of a "Okay, he should've grown out of this by now, why's he still acting like this? Even Orion is more mature than him; what is going on?" sorta deal. (This frustration would be especially felt by Orion, who has to pick up Starlo's slack in his stead because his older brother isn't mature enough to work like he's supposed to!!!)

These are just personal musings, don't take my word as gospel! You can still do tons of interesting things with the Sunnyside family while having Starlo be the younger brother and Orion the older one. I just find myself gravitating more towards seeing Starlo as the older sibling.

[acesammy]

what constitutes being a monster in spn is so deeply interesting bc so much of the show is used to argue that monstrosity is not about what you are but what you do. And that you can always be a better person, your monstrous traits aren’t necessarily actually monstrous.

but as the show goes on we learn that this is only true if dean deems you human. So sams monstrous traits must be buried deep and thrown out in order for him to be good. Sams monstrous friends are inherently evil bc dean says so. Deans monstrous friends are fine though, of course.

I’m just eternally wishing for a version of this show where sams abilities are so deeply ingrained in him that he can’t ever get rid of them. And he’s allowed to be a hero regardless. Give me a season 5 where sams eyes randomly go yellow. Or he has to deal with demon traps or he needs to control his emotions bc anger from him can be literally explosive, but regardless of all of this he still shows dean more compassion than dean ever leant to him in season 4. And regardless of all this he still beats the devil.

[mamawasatesttube]

i do firmly believe tbh that kesel & co intended kon to be a fully kryptonian clone of superman from the start, and only brought the "metahuman clone of paul westfield with a metagene to mimic superman's powers" thing in because of editorial and the last son mandate. kon introduces himself as a clone of superman, is recharged later in his solo by exposure to concentrated sunlight, and, crucially, in superboy/robin: world's finest three, is vulnerable to kryptonite. also, notably, during "the harvest" arc in superman comics a little later, he's vulnerable to red sun energy. this is before anything remotely to do with geoff's stupidass luthor retcon - kon's pretty much just written as fully kryptonian as soon as editorial isn't scrutinizing him after his debut. it's interesting to ponder...

[demonzoro]

thinking abt that anon who posted a hate comment 0.3 seconds after i posted a fic ....... genuinely you inspire me to write more

[pinkgrapefloyd]

hello everybody and welcome to yet another round of miscommunication eleganza extravaganza! it's silly! it's vulnerable! it's literary and highly self-indulgent!

your truth or mine?

by pinkgrapefloyd

In which Bashir and Garak both are and aren’t dating – because the truth is rarely ever that simple. As with most things in life, it depends entirely on whom you ask.

relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak

length: multichapter (probably around 10-ish?)

rating: E

additional tags: Accidental Relationship, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Julian Bashir and Elim Garak's Book Club, Cultural Differences, Alien Cultural Differences, Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Depending on who you ask, Idiots in Love, Pining, Schrödinger‘s Relationship

[murdockmeta]

thinking about moon knight having marc call steven the best superpower he's ever had during a really emotional moment and how that show handled DID better than just about any piece of media I've ever seen and. I'm sobbing actually. they equated his neurodivergence with being the greatest part of him after marc had spent so long trying to hide his DID out of shame. and maybe that sounds like bordering on glorification but it really wasn't. because they made it so obvious that what marc meant was that steven kept him ALIVE and that's the most he could ever ask for and anyway. whatever whatever it's fine

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Sasha is like Catra is she was well written

[robinmage]

i know its sooo incredibly easy to clown on axel but i think he deserves at least a little bit of recognition for being one of the only adults who thought "hm, maybe it isnt fair to subject these teenagers to intense psychological torture and use them as sacrificial martyrs". truly inconceivable take.

[dollypopup]

genuinely wild that early 2000s rom coms have somehow managed to be better written and more giggle kick feet twirl hair in an hour and a half than bton has managed in 8 one hour long episodes

[bucksdaffy]

the way the entire bucktommy nation has set their hopes so low now after missing out on tommy in the opening disaster 😭

[fictionadventurer]

The worst part about reading in a genre where you have low expectations (in this case, Christian historical fiction) is that when a book impresses you, you have no idea if it's actually good or if you're just overly impressed because it was a fraction of a degree better than the usual garbage.

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍