#“We survived the last one” no we all didn't

[asahehskafah]

every time I saw this post, I felt strange. It didn't feel like it applied to me, but I couldn't help pausing to stare out of the window for a moment.

It wasn't until last month that I realised it did.

A local transmasc had noticed me simply nodding along and saying 'same' when he was briefly summarising some of his trauma, instead of looking mildly to moderately shocked like everyone else at the meet-up. He pretty much cornered me in my DMs a while later when I was having a bad day and said 'hey do you wanna like. get into any of this?'

By that point I had already kinda figured out the deity identity stuff, but wasn't really that confident in owning it properly, nor had I figured out some of the more specific reasons why I felt it fit. He systematically deconstructed over 26 years worth of parental and societal trauma over a few days and it has made me realise how completely my internal structure is made up of nothing but a lattice barely-working beams that were never meant to be load-bearing, carefully constructed around a space of nothingness.

Lacking a sense of self is horrifying to me. My core is a void around which barely anything exists, except for a handful of preferences (I like specific times of stories, i dislike specific types of food, etc). I hadn't realised that I'd gone through so much of what I did until he literally ripped down the curtain shielding my introspection from going near that part of the room.

So seeing this post again, with the magnitude of mine own folly at last laid bare? It hurts. I am repressed. I've denied myself for nearly three decades. I've avoided doing anything to try to be myself because I've learnt from my past experiences that all it does is gets people hurt, and they hurt me back in the process. I feel like anything I'd do that would result in me taking up space endangers those around me, and thus endangers myself in response.

Making this account was a way for me to figure out what lays beneath the shell. I hesitate to even call it a mask, I don't think it's even vaguely reminiscent of humanity. I know it'll take time for me to find myself, but now that I'm aware of this wound at the centre of the world, it hurts so much to have to live with it.

I want to get through this. I need to live and survive and figure out what's on the other side of this barrier. I need to get out of my landlord(mother)'s house and cut her out of my life, have a space where I can actually figure out who I am and who I'm meant to be. But there's so much waiting involved while the 'affordable' housing company im on the waiting list for (and have been for over 6 months) does their thing, and I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

As I'm writing this, I'm AFK in FF14, listening to one of my favourite melancholy songs and sitting in a field of Elpis flowers, blooms meant to represent hope. The song is about the journey we've already walked, and how we've survived it. 'Unbroken promises we made so long ago. You're still here.' It makes me sob wretchedly to think about how I've survived this far, through the lens of this song. 'Always, night follows day. The sun will shine again. Walk on, never look back.'

I hope I can keep going.

i keep meeting transfems whose personalities are like, gaping wounds. girls who've been stomped on over and over until they start thinking they're uniquely evil and they deserve it. people shouldn't be allowed to treat us like this.

[hydrus101]

One thing that I find incredibly interesting about Arthur Lester as a character is how he deals with interpersonal conflict.

We've known for a great while now that Arthur is a man incredibly prone to violence. If it's something he can fight physically, if violence is an acceptable answer, he is all in. Tooth and nail, snarling, thumbs dug into soft, yielding eye sockets or leaking open wounds. He is vicious and he is angry and he is wholly determined to survive, ready and willing to take the other party down with him if necessary, if object of his wrath is an enemy, something in his way, something he feels he has earned the right to destroy. The Widow, Kellin, Faust, Larson and his sons, Aldrich Ward, Antoine—near the end when secrets and patience came unraveled—and even William, that childhood friend he'd once cared for so much, they all fell prey to that violence. He and the Butcher are the same in that way: vicious snarling animals.

But if it is a situation that does not call for violence, that cannot be solved by burnt bridges and bloody knuckles, he is avoidant. Incredibly so.

His first instinct when fear took hold and told him that he needed to leave Bella, his wife, wasn't to talk to her, to discuss it like adults. His first instinct was to skip town without a word, without a confrontation, without a fight, like a shadow. He couldn't fight her physically, not that he ever would have. She wasn't something he could intimidate away and he didn't want her to come to harm. He didn't want that confrontation. Even in death, he avoids her. He doesn't attend her funeral.

He acts much the same with Daniel. When they arrive at his doorstep, Arthur pauses, hesitates, tries to turn tail and run from a man he cannot fight because he needs something from him, but John holds him steady and he stays. He talks. He comes out better for it. But he wouldn't have done it without John's help. He would have run.

And again with Oscar, and his proffered purpose. Arthur rejects it, with everything he is and has and believes, but he needs Oscar still. He cannot push him away, because of the stone that still sits in his pocket like a lead weight and threatens to pull him under. (Further still, he will avoid the letter Oscar writes to him, and will not read it until he is certain he is about to die, knowing then that there is no after, and there is no where else to run. And even then, he has waited too long.)

And later still, when John's fears bubble over, when Arthur acknowledges, fully, that John is lying to him, that avoidance drives him. "I don't want to...because of what you may say." He did not want that confrontation with John. He did not want that fight. Why this, out of every other argument they've had, of every other harshly spoken word, why was this the one that Arthur shied from? Why was this the fight that scared him? He's not afraid of conflict with John, we know this, they've done it a thousand times before.

Arthur's shell is thick and armored, steeled against innumerable physical dangers and threats, pain that he can shake off and bounce back from time and time again, but it is the emotions that wound him deepest. Internal lacerations caused not by blades, but words. It is the revelation of knowledge that he cannot fight or run from, of learning that the piece of driftwood he clings to isn't really there at all, or that its truly a cinder-block tied to his ankle, weighing him down. In terms of people he cares about, of people he loves, he would rather torture himself with a thousand possibilities of things

And we learn, from Parker, in the last of the words that he ever spoke, that Arthur always does this. Always pushes the ball down the road. Always avoids what can be confronted today. Always flees when maybe, the better thing to do is to stay.

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── AEROPHOBIA ✈︎

✈︎ pairing: ceo!rafe x housewife!reader

✈︎ summary: rafe has an idea for how he can distract you from your fear of flying.

✈︎ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, pet names, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected piv, breeding kink, praise, rafe being a wife guy but also dumb <3, prescribed medication, MDNI! WC: 3K

✈︎ author's note: this is the longest smut i've written,, NEE-NAW NEE-NAW WARNING! freakrina is defrosting for hot girl summer. hide your mans, hide your minge and hide your gals. don’t say i didn’t warn ya!! for the person who wanted airplane sex with rafe <3

HOUSEWIFE MASTERLIST ♥︎ RAFE MASTERLIST

you'd never been good when it came to flying; every time you knew you'd be faced with the displeasure of having to step on a plane, popping a xanax you'd been prescribed with an hour before you'd fly, the pill being the only thing that had a somewhat calming effect on you. you really didn't know what caused the terrible pit in your stomach whenever you felt the plane start to ascend, lasting all throughout the flight and even a few hours after it had landed.

but rafe knew you weren't used to flying, knew it stressed you out so much you couldn't sleep for the night before you were supposed to get on a plane. your sweet, utterly clueless husband had thought he was doing you a favor by surprising you with a nice getaway. with a ten-hour flight.

but the moment your driver had pulled up to the airstrip where rafe's company's private jet stood, you burst into laughter. he had to be joking? turns out that he wasn't. and after thirty minutes of you arguing about how much you didn't want to do it, and your husband arguing that you'll be fine, that he'd be right there with you, you reluctantly agreed.

"this freaks me the hell out." you whispered sharply, buckling your seatbelt and gripping onto it, already feeling your stomach starting to churn. one would think that flying private would actually make an aerophobe feel more relieved, but it had the opposite effect. private jets are 30x more likely to crash than commercial plane. you'd looked it up when rafe had mentioned going away for a business trip on the jet you were currently on board of.

besides, if you were to crash in the wilderness, regular airplanes would have multiple people on board. strength in numbers. however, this jet had five people in it, including you and rafe.

it would drive anyone insane to have to spend an extended amount of time with five people, but to have to do that after having to endure something as traumatic as a plane crash, and if there was no food except whatever food the plane has on board, everyone would slowly start to starve to death. and with the statistics on how many men leave their wives when they discover they have a terminal illness, how far-fetched is it to say that if it comes to a man's survival over his own wife's- no.

you took in a deep breath. you felt rafe gently peel your hand away from the seatbelt that had started digging into the skin of your palm. you looked at him with doe-eyes, your husband looking back at you with a kind smile as he uncurled your fist, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there and intertwining your fingers together.

"i didn't even get to take anything..." you mumbled quietly, your lips turned down in a frown. your husband let out a breathy chuckle, making your pout even more pronounced in confusion. he pressed his thumb onto button on the side, and soon, a woman's voice sounded out in the speakers above you, making your eyes widen slightly, "yes, mr. cameron?" "could we get a glass of the macallan, 25, as well as a glass of château d’yquem?" "right away, mr. cameron." rafe let go of the button, turning back to face your confused gaze.

soon, a flight attendant brought over a tray of drinks. "here you go, mr. and mrs. cameron." she said with a kind smile, handing rafe a glass of whiskey and handing you a glass of wine, and you thanked her sheepishly, the woman going leaving you two alone again. you looked at the golden-yellow liquid with suspicion, "this is one of those fancy wines again, isn't it?" you narrowed your eyes at him, "i've told you i don't like it when you spend money on something as frivolous as wine for me-" "just try it."

you stuck your tongue out at rafe playfully for a moment before taking a tentative sip of the drink, your eyes widening in surprise at the taste, your husband taking a sip of his own whiskey with a slight grin, "don't get cocky." you nudged him softly.

"stop stroking my ego so much." rafe brought his hand to your jaw, and you automatically followed his touch as he brought your face closer to his, your lips connecting, the sweetness of your wine mingling with the smokiness of his whiskey as rafe's tongue pushed into your mouth. the pit in your stomach feeling lighter and warmer, the entire world muting around you, the only thing you could hear being your own heartbeat and the sounds of your lips joining.

rafe's hand tangled into your hair, and you let out a muffled moan into your husband's mouth, your hand going to rest on his cheek, feeling the warmth in your stomach starting to slowly turn into a flame as he kissed you like he was starving and you were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, only for your husband to pull away from the kiss, leaving you breathless with your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, some of the lipstick having gotten onto his lips, "why'd-" "i knew i could find a way to distract you." rafe smiled softly, making you furrow your brows.

and only then did you notice that the engine was humming, and that you were actually in the air. "did you just... oh, you play dirty." you shake your head, feigning offense. your husband simply grins, before pulling something out of his pocket. rafe takes hold of your hand, placing a small tin box onto the palm of your hand, "what's this?" "you think i don't know my own wife?"

you opened the lid of the small tin box, seeing two xanax bars inside, and you turn to look at him with an appreciative smile. "you remembered." "yeah, i remembered. i also remember the time you forgot to take one and had a panic attack in mid air." rafe tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. you rolled your eyes at him affectionately, popping the pill into your mouth and washing it down with the wine rafe had gotten you earlier.

"the thing is, though..." you purse your lips, "it takes around an hour to take effect..." you brought your manicured finger to the base of his jaw, glancing down at rafe's lips, hearing the slow intake of breath as you slowly trailed you finger down his jaw, looking back up at his eyes, "we should come up with something to distract me." you stuck out your bottom lip in a sultry pout, leaning into him as your finger arrived at his chin, your thumb taking hold of it, "i mean, what if i get anxious?"

rafe didn't need to be told twice.

your husband's head was between your legs, your shirt long gone, your nipples straining against the white lace of your bra, your skirt bunched up over your hips, matching lacy panties in the back pocket of rafe's back pocket. one of rafe's muscular arms was wrapped around your thigh as they rested on his shoulders, his button-up shirt unbuttoned, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows in a way that showed of the slightly bulging veins, "oh, fuck!" you moan, your hand tugging on his hair, bringing his face closer and closer to your bare sex.

he'd been on his knees in front of you for what felt like forever, and every time you'd felt like you'd been close, rafe would pull his fingers out of you and pull his face away from between your legs and look up at you, his lips coated in your arousal as he grinned up at you, enjoying the desperate whines you were letting out, "thought you wanted to be distracted, sweetheart."

but now you felt his middle finger and ring finger curling inside of you, the coldness of his wedding ring inside your tight, warm walls a contrast that caused shivers to run up your spine, his tongue switching between teasing your clit by rolling the throbbing bud in his mouth and sucking it in a way that made you gasp each time,

"please don't stop..." you pleaded, your eyes squeezed close, rafe letting out a hum of a laughter against your clit that made you shiver. you felt his fingers starting to scissor inside of you, stretching you out in a way his cock always did, your manicured nails tugging on his hair harder.

rafe's lips attached them onto your clit now, making you arch into his mouth, his mouth responding to your hard tugs by sucking on the poor bud harder, his long digits curling inside of you, hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside of you each time, unashamed moans leaving your lips.

"please, don't stop, please..." you begged, "please, 'm so close..." you cried out, practically grinding your pussy against his face, your walls slowly starting to clench around his fingers, your husband only picking up his pace, heavy breaths and moans escaped you as you were starting to feel it, the heat in your abdomen threatening to break the dam building inside of you, and the flick of rafe's tongue against your clit was the breaking point.

you cried out your husband's name as you started clenching more rapidly around his fingers, rafe's affections slowing down as he helped you get down from your orgasm, the high slowly turning into relaxation, rafe pulling his fingers out of you with a squelch, his head becoming back into visibility as he pulled back and grinned at you, both fingers and mouth covered in your slick, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"baby..." rafe chuckled, pulling his fingers apart yet they still were connected by your arousal. "you're like a fucking faucet. i think we're really gonna have to get these seats reupholstered." you felt your face grow hot at his words, only for your husband to bring his fingers to your mouth, "clean these up for me, won't you?"

you obeyed, pulling your lips apart, rafe slowly pushing his fingers into your mouth, and you automatically sucked on them, tasting yourself on his fingers. "that's a good little wife..." he cooed, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

rafe rose to his feet, and you watched with hunger as he grinned down at you, casually shrugging his shirt off and showing off his muscular chest, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. you watched as his ringed hands started working on his belt buckle, a visible bulge in the front of his pants, until they were in his ankles, the bulge even now more visible through his black calvin kleins.

you squealed when rafe picked you up by your thighs, your arms automatically locking around his neck. he then sat down on the seat you'd just thoroughly soaked, making you straddle him, "i think it's fair that you do all the job. since i spent, what," rafe's eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist, making him let out a grumbled chuckle, "forty minutes between your pretty little legs."

"i think that's only fair." you said, grinding down your soaked pussy against the bulge in his boxers, making rafe throw his head back slightly. "and i also think," he brought his hand to your pebbled nipple, pinching them through the flimsy lace of your bra, "this should come off."

with one hand, rafe unclasped your bra, and you let it slide off onto the ground, rafe letting out a groan, his hips bucking up into you, the friction of his hard-on against your pussy making you shiver, "you see how hard you get me?" he mumbled, his hands attaching onto your breasts, kneading the soft flesh while his thumbs pressed against your nipples, worshipping your tits as if this was his first time seeing them.

after a moment, he let go of your tits, moving them to your back as he pulled your body to him, twirling his tongue around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, the sharp nip he gave to the gorgeous thing causing you to let out an equally sharp gasp as you threw your head back, rafe relieving the slight sting with his tongue.

"please, rafe..." you whined, your hands in the back of his head, "don't... don't tease me... i need you..." at your words, rafe let go of your nipple with a pop! the man shuffling slightly underneath you as he took his cock out of his boxers, holding onto the shaft with a grin on his lips, precum leaking from the pink head of his cock.

"yeah?" he chuckled breathily, "you need me?" rafe slowly rubbed the head of his cock against your obscenely wet slit, making you whine with desperation, "how much, gorgeous?"

"so much..." you mumbled out a gasp when you felt rafe slot the tip of his cock against your painfully needy clit, circling it slightly, "please, rafe." you tugged the back of his hair. he let out a chuckle, guiding his cock over your slit again until it got to your entrance, your walls clenching around nothing, "damn, so that's how much you want it, huh? well, i guess i gotta give my good little wife what she deserves..."

rafe's hands went to your hips, guiding you down so the head of his cock slid into your warm pussy, a gasp of relief leaving your lips at the contact. he let out a grunt as he felt you sinking down some of his length slowly, your walls accommodating yet squeezing him in a way that made him certain you and your pretty pussy were made for just for him.

you couldn't help it, you finally let yourself sink down on him fully, a mix of a gasp and a moan leaving your lips while a grunt left rafe's. "fuck, sweetie..." he groaned, "you feel so fucking good..." he began to move you up and down on his cock, every inch of him stretching you out as he thrust his hips into you, hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. but his pace was too slow.

you took control, starting to move yourself at a quicker pace. "harder..." you whimpered, rafe's lips on your neck as he started meeting your movement with his own thrusts into you, "you want harder, hm? i'll give you harder." he sucked on your neck slightly, biting down on the soft skin as he thrust into you in harder, faster strokes.

one of rafe's hands trailed down to your pussy, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, making you gasp as he started drawing delicious circles over it. "rafe..." you moaned, tugging on his hair while your other hand dug into the flesh on his shoulder. "fuck!" he hissed out out, his hips thrusting into you even harder.

it was like he knew everything your body needed, everything it craved, everything you wanted, the passenger area of the jet filled with the slap of your skin against his along with the heavy breaths, grunts, and moans that left your lips. "rafe, i'm..." you whimpered, "i'm so close..."

"yeah, you close?" rafe started drawing quicker circles on your clit, "me too, sweets... fuck, you're so tight..." your husband groans, "you gonna make me cum in you, huh?" he grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head so you were looking down at him, "gonna make me put a baby in you?"

"yeah..." you mumbled, picking up your pace, once again starting to feel the fire inside of you starting to spread, "you want me to make you a mom so badly, dontcha?" you could simply nod your head intently as you felt the dam inside of you starting to break once again. "gonna fill you with my babies..."

you threw your head back when you finally felt yourself let go, when you felt every part of your body be filled with the bliss that had been trapped in your abdomen, a moan of your husband's name leaving your lips as he continued to thrust up into you even though your walls were gripping onto him tightly, clenching around him.

"gonna..." grunt, "get..." grunt, "you..." grunt, "pregnant..."

with one final thrust, you felt rafe's cock twitch inside of you and spill his warm load inside of you, painting your walls white as he stilled inside of you, the two of you slowly starting to get down from your climaxes, heavy breaths filling the jet, until they finally slowed down.

rafe was still inside of you, looking up at you, and even though he was starting to soften, he didn't want to pull out of you. he wanted to feel connected to you. your husband tucked a stray hair behind your ear, a small grin on his lips.

"what are you grinning at?" you ask, lifting your brows in amusement.

"just about the fact that i have a whole week with no work that i can spend to get you pregnant." rafe brought his hand to your stomach, making you giggle, "over and over again."

"can't wait."

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @dollyfiles @bakugouswaif @littlelamy @izumis-salty-penis @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @cameronsbabydoll @tinythebunni

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

Smart Boom's Diary No. 3: They did a freakin' escape room and it was HILARIOUS from start to finish 🤣🤣🤣

Petition for all BL couples to do scary escape rooms. There's no proof of relationship more genuine than seeing how your ships treat each other in a life-or-death scenario 😅

Toxic fandom culture is out here duking it out about "alpha-omega male labels" and "top-bottom discourse", as if proving one or the other makes their ships better. Why can't we just enjoy watching a 185 cm, pro basketball player-sized manchild hide behind the one guy we've been baby-fying with cat ears for the past ten weeks? 😅

Smart's also a baby, you guys. The lesson here is we can all be baby. Why are we all fighting for dominance here? We can just admit we're scared and go find ourselves a Boom-sized shield.

Also, I do NOT feel sorry for Boom one bit. He chose the freakin' game. Smart warned him he'd be absolutely useless in a scare-fight, so Boom good luck solving this on your own while Smart cowers behind you 😅

(Sidenote: I have a feeling production asked them to choose the scary one. I felt like Boom was leaning towards choosing the easier rooms at the beginning, but camera cuts off and when it returns he selects the most popular horror game instead. To their credit, Boom did admit that he didn't mind scary games, and was the only useful person in that team 😅)

Well, I did feel sorry for Boom when he had to go through that Final Destination-esque MRI machine because Smart admitted he was claustrophobic:

Sorry Boom, no princess treatment here. You're literally the eldest in that room. You're the sacrifice 🤣

I love that Boom couldn't believe Smart was sacrificing him to the MRI machine TWICE, the abandoned tunnel, AND that separate patient's room in the span of an hour. Dude did every obstacle course in the name of his adorably shaky manchild. And Smart really out here showing us that no one should get special treatment when you're trying to survive a deranged murderer. Love that for them. 🤣

Last one, see this promise Smart made before locking Boom in that creepy MRI?

All men do is lie 🤣🤣🤣

(I'm just kidding, please don't cancel me fellow SmartBoomers 🙈)

[carielises]

We have no choice but to stan our stans, it's how it goes. It's been five years, and I still don't know how I managed to survive it. In reality, I didn't and my breakdown was very much public for everyone to see because I was chronically on tiktok and twitter back then. We did! We recorded seven music videos for all seven songs, but only ended up releasing six of them. The last one was too personal, so we've kept it hidden. Once we were finished recording everything, we went no contact for a couple of months and then I went to pick up the flashdrive from her that had the music videos to release, and that's when she told me she was dating someone else. A wild time, let me tell you.

Oh, fiddlesticks. I guess I do like them very much, misguided as they are. Cari, I'm so invested now! I want to know every dirty detail. How on earth did you manage that? I would've been such a publicly awful person if that happened to me. Did you really just.. randomly decide to do that? Randomly? It feels like there must be more to the story of why that happened.

[nightravenxd]

Look, I am not into politics, but some things really trigger me abt it when it comes to Transformers

Transformers Prime, a show which we love

And I'm here to make a deep dive into its politics

We all heard Ratchet talk about Orion and Megatronus' past, but I'm gonna say that it's heavily biased.

Let's see Orion and Megatronus separately:

Orion grew up in Iacon, a place which is for the rich. He specifically worked under Alpha Trion as a clerk. In no way did he actually struggle in life -from the video of Emperor Kumquat- he got frustrated that he didn't go to an amusement park. Orion didn't know what was happening in the South.

He doesn't have to fight to survive, everything is basically served on a silver platter to him. Everyone in Iacon is ignorant about what is happening there.

Now, Megatronus/D-16 was different. He worked in the mines and couldn't do anything about it. Only when he joined the gladiatorial pits did he actually have some influence on people.

He had to learn how to survive, to fend for himself. He had to put his life at risk every time he fought, and all the time when he worked in the mines.

So now we have them, one naive and ignorant, the other having to fight for rights. Orion would never understand that, to have to fight every day just so that one word of his could be noticed, Orion didn't need that, he already had rights and freedom.

So after bots in Iacon started to hear Megatronus' words, Orion reached out to him. Megatronus befriended him and taught him about what he had to go through, but Orion could never fully grasp that since he never went through it.

Now here comes the part that I've always thought about. When -now named Megatron- came to the high council and spoke about his ideals, they weighed the pros and cons of his vision. They knew that they wouldn't be in power anymore, they wouldn't have any bots willing to do the labour.

But when Orion stepped in and said his vision, they liked it because it was "peaceful", it wouldn't bring harm to them. They saw how naive Orion was, so they could easily manipulate and use him to their will, but they couldn't do that to Megatron.

The high council was the sole reason for whatever was happening on Cybertron, they built it that way. So when they saw no harm in Orion's vision, they went with it, pronouncing him a Prime.

Megatron felt betrayed by that, by the council and Orion. He went through so much while Orion did nothing, so that's why he turned on him, wanting to make movement with or without the title of a Prime.

Megatron, seeing that politics did nothing, turned to something more material to send a message, war. The council would be left with no other option than to fight back and preserve what they built. Now that Orion has been named a Prime, he had to fight against Megatron.

After much war, resulting in Cybertron slowly dying, Orion went to its core. Ratchet's words: "The ailing Primus, sensed the innate nobility within Orion and bestowed the Matrix of Leadership"

No, I believe that Primus didn't sense it, Primus only gave the Matrix to Orion in the heat of the moment. Primus was dying, and if he died, he couldn't give the Matrix. So even if Megatron, Ratchet or even Jazz was there instead of Orion, Primus would still give the Matrix as a last resort.

I believe that Megatron didn't care if Orion -now named as Optimus Prime- had the Matrix, he only cared to fix the caste system on Cybertron.

But after Cybertron fell, he lost his path, now only caring to get one more bot out of his way to rule Cybertron, Optimus. Therefore, the war became what we know of; the battle between Optimus and Megatron.

There are so many more faults in the Cybertronian caste system, someone deciding what you are before even knowing who you were, no one caring for one valuable spark in the mines and etc.

And arguably, there was no "Golden Age" on Cybertron. It was only the Golden Age for those in the North, striving while the South slaved off to provide for them. Yes, at that time you could form a group to do something else other than just laboring your whole life. But did it really make a difference? You would still have to work, just in slightly better conditions, but even then your whole life would be thrown away, overlooked by your class.

This is probably all I'm gonna write for now, if you disagree or want to add something, feel free to ask.

[wallflowerwritesstuff]

to be grateful.

I've had some Gideon/MC friendship brainrot lately. Pulled me out of writing for my other fandom and everything 🤭🤭

Unbeta'd and written on my phone while out and about~ maybe I'll come back to this at some point.

-🌻

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

"Hey. Question."

Gideon doesn’t look up, tinkering with a wooden airplane model. You have a sneaking suspicion it is a gift by his careful handling, but keep it to yourself to avoid ruining the surprise if you so happen to be right.

His furrowed brows relax slightly at the sound of your voice, but all he responds with is a noncommittal hum.

"Why do you let me stay here sometimes?"

It was a question you'd been wanting to ask since the first time he found you in Skyhaven deliriously exhausted and slightly tipsy. Fighting sleep with downers was definitely not the move. You learned that very fast the next morning when both he and Caleb read you the riot act.

"Dumb question," Gideon answers, but there's a teasing tone lingering beneath the gruffness you recognized instantly. "But I offered an equally dumb answer so I'll humor you with the real one," he continues, placing the complete model down and turning to face where you were sprawled out on his couch.

You perk up and wait patiently, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

"If you had asked me the first time you crashed here, I'd have said any friend of Caleb's is a friend of mine. But now...my answer is a little different."

Curious, you sit and lean against the arm of the couch.

"Good different?"

Lips curl into a smile as he hums again, this time in mock consideration.

"Absolutely not. It's the worst different you can imagine."

You squint as his smile breaks into a grin.

"Good different," he relented while waving a hand in the air. "I let you stay here because you're my friend. The second reason is because you not only gave me friendship, but brought back one I never thought I'd have again," he says, scratching his cheek and avoiding your gaze.

"I didn't—"

"You did," Gideon insists. He was good at knowing your tells by this point, vocal or otherwise.

"The person who came back wasn't Caleb. Not completely. That person was cold...forced back into being disconnected and cruel to survive. I doubt you agree, considering how different he is with you, but it was almost uncanny that day I met you at the cemetery. Like a person was wearing a mask of Caleb's face."

You chew on your inner cheek, eyes shifting down to where your fingers were picking at the couch's fabric. You partially understood, remember the interrogation when you were left stupefied at the man in uniform that wore your best friend's face. Every expression was foreign and new, but there were brief moments between them where you just knew it was him.

That he was, despite all odds, your Caleb. 

Gideon clears his throat.

"You were able to slowly bring back that warmth and drive he had when I knew him. He won't ever be the exact person I met," he says with quiet understanding, "but the fact he can have a support system again...a genuine one, not one possibly infiltrated by work and secrets–that's all I could have ever asked for."

You swallow, then laugh to avoid the emotion that threatens to form a lump in your throat.

"That's quite the answer," you reply, pleasantly surprised that your voice doesn't shake. "Thank you...for both being a friend and seeing me as a trustworthy one."

Gideon chuckles. "I don't recall saying trustworthy."

You frown, placing a hand on your chest where your heart beats steadily. A huff escapes you. "Am I not trustworthy?"

"Hmmmm. Depends on who really stole my last piece of cake from the fridge a few weeks back..."

He laughs louder when you throw a pillow at his face, your ears and cheeks burning.

"I didn't know it was yours!"

"Oh yes, a cake in my fridge couldn't possibly be mine," he jokes, catching the next pillow you throw at him. "But if we are being honest, I have a confession."

He sighs just as dramatically as you did earlier.

"It was originally meant for you anyway. An extra I picked up as a thanks."

You blink, unsure if you felt touched or annoyed at the revelation. You go with the former, lowering the last pillow to your lap.

"I wasn't sure how to offer it to you without you feeling like you would need to owe me. So..."

"Asshole."

Gideon raises a brow.

"I feel the appreciation from here. Cake goblin."

You exhale, a quiet laugh escaping as you plop back onto your back and eye the ceiling. You hear the gentle rustle of items being shifted on his table, gnawing away at the skin of your lower lip. 

Then, you speak. 

"Thank you."

Gideon grumbles. "It was just cake."

"Not for that," you groan. "For watching over him back then. I know he was probably hard to read once you got under all the smiles and jokes."

He shrugs.

"I'd barely consider it watching. Our first year was spent with me running around while he appeared when he felt like it. Drove me crazy."

"Yet here you are as friends~"

Rolling his eyes, Gideon picked his model back up and started to pour out some paint onto his mini pallet.

"Yeah, yeah, sentimental stuff blah blah."

You check your phone for messages before placing it on your stomach, eyelids growing heavy as the quiet room attempts to entice you into napping. You didn't want to, knowing that Caleb would let you sleep if he found you that way. 

“...I'm glad we're friends. But don't tell him I said that. He's insufferable enough.” 

Your lips twitch, your eyes closing as your breathing slowly begins to even out.

Maybe Gideon was right about you not being that trustworthy with your first thought being how Caleb would react to such words. 

“Sleep, I'll wake ya before he gets here. But you're dealing with the whining.” 

A hum is all he gets in response, but he spots the smile on your lips once you're out, shaking his head and returning his attention to the blue plane in his hand.

Wiping off the brush, he dips it into the orange next. 

[soggypotatoes]

the rat and the goat sit side by side on the first floor of a construction site

the rat shivers, and says, 'is it ok? are things going to be ok now?'

'better than before', says the goat

'it's not the first time you've said that' the rat side eyes the goat

the goat smiles. 'it's always better. every day is putting the last one behind us.'

the rat thinks. 'sometimes things get worse though. some people lose good things, bad things happen to them. they end up alone. how do you know that's not gonna be us?'

the goat looks away. 'things can get worse, too, you're right. but look around you.'

the rat and the goat look up.

the sun is setting. it is a flickering candle against a white wall in the dark. something warm sleeps before them. the world is quiet.

'that's my favourite colour.' the rat said.

the goat replied, 'yes. mine too.'

'remember that time when we were little? when we stared into the fire as we fell asleep, and we were so afraid we wouldn't be able to sleep, we hadn't been able to sleep in a long time. but the fire was warm, and the colours were beautiful, and the movement of the flames were hypnotic. we watched it and we did fall asleep, didn't we?'

the goat put his arm around the rat. she sighed and looked down at the ground beneath their dangling legs.

'it doesn't seem like much from up here,' she remarked, 'it doesn't seem like far at all. why did it take us so long to build this much? I'm so tired.'

the goat leaned his head against her shoulder. 'it doesn't look much to someone short sighted, maybe. or to someone who was given a house already, or was taught how to build one. we made this ourselves.'

the rat snorted derisively. 'we didn't make these bricks. or mix this paint or weld this metal. we were given as much as anyone else. more, even. and for what? look at them.'

she pointed at the buildings ahead of them, dark towers in the night.

'we will never be that tall. our floors will never fully hold our weight. we will always be a sham of a house.'

the goat was quiet for a minute, his brows furrowed. 'sure. you're right about that. we'll never be a house like them. but we got good at building, didn't we?'

'what do you mean?'

'look at us!' the goat lifted his arm off her shoulder and flexed playfully. 'have they got guns like this? no! we don't have a solid floor or a second level yet. but we're strong, aren't we? we know how to build. we know how to put things together, make things work. I bet all their fancy blueprints haven't taught them that.'

the rat chuckled against her will. the last remnants of the sun trailed its fingers down her cheeks like tears.

the goat looked away, then took her hand in his.

'im afraid too, you know', he said. 'we all are. everyone's afraid. but we might as well live, right? we might as well keep setting brick against brick.'

'what if it never happens though?'

'what if what never happens?'

'what if we never feel content? you say all these things to make me feel better. do you actually believe any of it?'

the goat tightened his grip on her paw, taking a minute to respond. his voice was soft. 'i don't know, rat. I believe whatever I need to to survive.'

the rat sighed, and turned her hand to clasp his.

'i guess we'll keep going then.'

'i guess so.'

[cloudpools]

Icy blues roll at the mention of propping her up. Though she couldn't refute the claim... Being able to channel that much power through a single soul shouldn't even be possible, yet Nara had trained hard to compensate for her inability to feel wavelengths... And the larger problem of not being able to connect with others...

Until now.

Nara hadn't been the one to pick Wylan. Wylan was the one that had picked her. Stuck by her side despite her nasty disposition, constant chiding and berating. It frustrated her that it had taken them both almost dying for her to see that. Scaling the ladder quickly, Nara stood tall on the roof of the town hall, eyes nervously flicking down to the sea of rats filling the streets below. It sure was a long way down... Her vision swam for a moment as she stared down into the dark sea, body swaying slightly with vertigo. But there wasn't time for her fear of heights right now, so she quickly shook it off, turning her attention to the cause of all this.

Ignoring the piper's threats, Nara did what she did best: planning their next move. "The flute..." Her voice is low, meant only for Wylan. "The flute is what's controlling the rats. We have to destroy it." It was so obvious now that she had said it out loud that she felt a bit embarrassed for not thinking of it sooner. Though, they had just been running for their lives, so there wasn't much time to critically think about anything other than surviving.

The weight of Wylan in her hands fluctuated as he spoke, not from her own uncertainty this time, but something happening with him... And there's another realization that she feels stupid for not having put together sooner. I may not be able to feel his wavelength, but the more in sync we are, the easier Wylan is to wield. It had happened time and time again in their fights. Arguments causing the blade to become impossibly heavy, rare moments of harmonizing making him light as a feather. Even this was a change. Thinking more about how they could work together rather than how she could make up for where she perceived he lacked.

Though they weren't completely safe on the rooftop, it had significantly slowed the rat's ability to make it to them. The pair had some sort of advantage now, but the masses in the streets swelled with the sinister song, rising higher and higher, some pillars coming to greet them in the open air, other crashing back into the horde. If they didn't end this soon, they'd be swallowed... Like Wylan had been in the alley just yesterday...

"Don't make me regret believing in you." There was no bite to the words, just a statement of fact. Nara trusted him more than anything in this moment. She had to. She wanted to. Grip tightening, zweihander finally cooperating with her, she took off. Slicing through columns of rats before they could come crashing down onto them. Without realizing it, the force of her soul, her strong drive to protect them both and provide Wylan time to sort out whatever it was that worried him, was pushing back the sliced sheets of black, unable to hold their form separated and alone. They didn't need to retreat now. They didn't need to stop.

"I'm here with ya."

The words were simple, but they touched Nara in a way that she hadn't known she'd needed. A partner. A friend. Someone she could rely on. To share some of the burden the world had thrust on her shoulders. The two of them together? They could lift five times the weight of her alone. And she could feel that now, as concentration kicked in, the meister shortening the gap between them and the corrupted human.

He was only a sprint away now. Making the last leap to the building the piper was perched, she slid under a column of rats that had arched over them like a rancid rainbow. Once on the other side, within reaching distance of their leader, she swung hard with one hand, backhanded slash cutting the rainbow in two, rats raining from the severed ends. Using the force of the swing, she drove a hard kick into the air, aiming to knock the flute from the evil being's grasp. Her soul flared and Wylan got heavier, but this time she allowed it, driving the kick harder and faster as Wylan pierced through the marshy tiles, Nara holding on and flipping up and over the sword to regain some distance between her and the piper. She wasn't even sure if she made contact as she lands, eyes narrowed, gauging next steps.

Nara’s choice to run was a smart one. Any forward assault would have put her into the wave of rats that erupted from the manholes below. To say nothing of the swarm that clambered from the rooftops, a space for maneuvering was needed. The damp environment of the swamp-town put the small creatures at an advantage in far too many places.

“Oi. Where the hell did that come from?!” Wylan balks, the eye of the pommel twitching with embarrassment and anger at Nara’s remark. “Pft, like you’d have picked me for a weapon if I’d been something small like that.” He clicks his tone. Let alone that she hadn’t really had a choice to begin with. “Besides, gotta keep you propped up somehow, right? C'mon.” His wavelength could only do so much in the face of her destructive capability.

The repositioning saves them from the threat of being surrounded. Ichor waves of conjured rodents swirling about in the streets as the piper dances between the rooftops. Seeing him joined at that level by the meister and their weapon earns Nara a displeased stare. They’re agile, and cocky, but far from helpless. A devilish sneer.

“Oh I see~. Planning something are you, meister? Well well! We need a fitting march for this parade. Come come along, me with all my friends.” The flute rises to his lips, and the sound that leaves the instrument blasts into an echoing around and bringing the minions to bear.

The rats surge and undulate like an angry tide in the streets. It wasn’t long before their teeth and claws were soon visible, streaks of white and red among the void. They were dispersed easily, but the issue wasn’t strength but the numbers. They kept coming and coming. And being slowed down would be enough to allow the kishin soul to reach them.

Wylan focuses, or tries to.

It was only when she let him in that he could keep her in top shape after all. Still, this did feel different. He wants to be optimistic. There was still a distance between their amplitudes, yet the weapon could see something now in the fog when he reached out between his grip and her hand. They can work with that.

We’ll… work with it…

Ugh. But alongside the frequency of energy between himself and Nara, Wylan feels something unsettling build as well with the new song that was being played. The resonance and noise from the rats and flute together bounces off his gut- or whatever accounts for it when he’s a blade- and his mind stutters as the echo of a chitter wrenches him.

“Wait… Nara something’s still wrong… with me… I’ll try to handle it… you focus on the fight. I’m here with ya.”

[witheredgardenparty]

I will never forgive a single one of you

[jayktoralldaylong]

I love that the villain of Mouthwashing is not some outer space monster, it's not a science experiment broken free from a lab, it's not even a man with an obvious stereotypical mental illness.

It's a man with self esteem problems. A selfish cowardly man who so badly wanted to be praised for doing the bare minimum. A man who let envy bite through the hand that fed him. Cause sometimes the worst monsters are the ones that are the most human. And everyone died and suffered because one man (Curly this time) kept making excuses for that one weak link (Jimmy).

I also love that the crew in Mouthwashing didn't die because Jimmy went around hacking them up. They died because of his poor leadership decisions. The leadership that he so badly believed that he could do better than Curly.

- Anya was already stressed out from the assault and she was on the edge of a mental breakdown, Jimmy responded to that by shouting at her. 💀 Girl chugged down that pill bottle like it was water.

- Daisuke was an intern, he just did whatever he was told, eager to impress Jimmy. Jimmy says climb the vents, Daisuke climbed the vents. The vents collapsed on Daisuke.

Jimmy then tries to disinfect the wound with Mouthwashing, mind you Anya had earlier mentioned that using the chemical would only make wounds worse. Swansea reminded him of this. Jimmy ignores him. Proceeds to aggravate Daisuke's wounds so bad they Swansea has to mercy kill him.

- Swansea is an old man and 'life in prison' does not mean so much to him anymore. Plus, Jimmy has stepped on his last nerve. Swansea tries to kill Jimmy. Jimmy shoots him.

A domino of events that look like accidents, all avoidable if Jimmy listened, if Jimmy calmed down, if Jimmy did not act so darned arrogant and demanding all the darn time. And now he's left in a ship of corpses, but Curly is still there........

So Jimmy does what he does best.

He blames Curly (and then Jimmy finally has a mental breakdown).

[flyhighisco]

after matches like yesterday you can always tell which madriddies are new here

[danwhobrowses]

Okay I've had a sleep, I've seen a lot of what the fandom has to say and I'm gonna just talk about my thoughts on the episode 118 stuff in more detail too.

Spoilers under the cut and it's a little bit (5 paras and a tl/dr at the bottom) long

I have never liked the Release Predathos option, but it had been very apparent - since probably as far back as the vorbing - that Matt had been pushing the narrative towards that option whether Bells Hells wanted it or not. The lack of alternatives provided meant that yes, the Hells had little choice but to deal with Predathos themselves; Ludinus was likely not dead, they were low on strength and resources even after a short rest to fight another full-strength Ludinus, and even if they caved in the core and killed Ludinus again someone else would've tried to come and release Predathos. On that I can't really fault the cast for playing ball with the DM and I can't say what the characters are doing is out of character or with bad intentions, it simply annoys me how close we were to entertaining the idea that should've been discussed earlier of putting Predathos somewhere nobody can get to. Objectively it was still a terrible idea, one that even in delivery could've been better prepared with Imogen not in range of the two saving throw buffs or having any Inspiration as she took on Predathos knowing from previous experience that a wisdom save is likely to be involved. But again, the alternatives offered up to them are sparse, nothing else in the narrative had offered a clear solution and if something did suddenly come up it would've felt too much like a deus ex machina. The Hells are not doing this because they want to do Ludinus' plan, but doing so is by proxy doing Ludinus' plan, and thus the problem as of current lies in the Plot.

Right now, they're at a very high risk of the plot not justifying a story, because why did we have this campaign if the outcome is gonna be the same? If the plan is to reset Exandria why didn't we have C3 in the post-reset era and trickle in what happened as lore? Bells Hells have often lacked agency when it came to the Predathos portions of the campaign, but even when they took agency to try and be more than what they were made to be they found themselves punished or being withheld the catharsis they needed to grow. Regardless, the plot is currently failing the characters, and thus the characters are failing the audience - to the point where some in the fandom now want them all to die or for Braius to betray them all - because we the audience don't see the appeal of the direction.

There is a caveat though: it's not yet over. We expect that there will be a fight between the Hells and Predathos!Imogen (we need a name for that) and possibly Ludinus swooping in with the harness to try and steal a victory, but that does mean that the theatre of imagination can come into play in dealing with Predathos itself. There is of course uncertainty whether Predathos can die, since Vecna at 0hp would've just discorporated them for a bit, but there are a lot more options for the Hells to entertain now than there was at 118, including having to kill the vessel - be it Imogen or transferring it to another like Ludinus or Liliana, being able to expel Predathos from Imogen and entrapping/banishing/killing it with the knowledge that yeah that was a terrible idea, or somehow having Imogen suppress it and remain control over herself (and hope that the same rule doesn't apply to her as it does with Delilah being free when Laudna dies), which all can involve exciting twists and turns and creative solutions befitting of a conclusion. In that hope is the opening for a more exciting and satisfying end, and while the plot has had rightful criticisms a good ending can make up for them just as much as a bad ending can ruin a good plot.

So in short; I don't like that Imogen did that, but I know why she did it. And why she did it is more the plot's fault because we never saw it as a good idea, just the only decision that was pushed to be made. There's hope though, and all is not lost, but the plot as well as the characters are gonna have to earn it.

[parsapuff]

Who put the entire charmony dove copypasta in my poll come out rn

[mer-se]

explored two new places thursday.

[running-in-the-dark]

my niece is staying with us for the whole weekend for the first time. until now it's always been one night only, not two.

it's the second night now and I have already decided this is not happening again anytime soon. I'm so fucking exhausted. it'd be less exhausting if it was my nephew, I think - he's older and also doesn't need as much help (even when he was her age).

I love my niece but she just asks so many questions. like when we're watching a show or a movie, even if it's one she has seen before (even multiple times), she doesn't understand what's going on and constantly asks me to explain everything. I don't mind it, really, but it does take a lot of energy. plus tonight it took over two hours for her to fall asleep because she was scared by the noises of the house and the nearby road. I get it, but damn I'm so fucking tired, I just want to sleep 😭