#I may just have to make another post about it

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i cant really tell if yuu's involvement in ace's character is more for fanservice reasons or because they really did play a part in his character development.

like in nbc we have malleus choosing to focus on finishing the task at hand as quickly as possible so that they can then find the prefect rather than drop everything there at that moment and prioritizing finding yuu. (iirc) and compared to that we have ace who does put a lot of emphasis on finding yuu especially when no one seems to remember it during the halloween event it feels very traditionally fanservice-y ? and i cant really tell where the line is drawn for ace anymore. and you did mention a lot of other points in another post that you made esp with ace's dream recently dropping and the fact that hes the only guy whos dream yuu was actively involved in idk its a little confusing for me i hope im making sense TT no shade to the shippers im just a little slow in comprehending it all bvbvsjdj

your posts are always really neutral and accurate it just helps to clear up a lot of my confusions and questions i have when playing so thank you for your hard work!

[Referencing this post; you might also find this related post useful in the discussion of Ace and Yuu's relationship!]

DISCLAIMER: I do not mean to invalidate or detract from Ace x Yuu or Malleus x Yuu shippers or anyone who may interpret their relationship as romantic. You should ship what you like and have fun doing it. My reply aims to be more objective, but that should NOT impede on your enjoyment or whatever it is you choose to ship.

iufipaerasfeao Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you find my posts helpful. I try my best to be objective when it comes to analyzing the story and characters, but there's no true way for someone to be completely neutral. There are definitely times when I have an aside to insert my two cents on a situation or I get super heated about a particular topic. Hopefully I still leave enough space for everyone to come to their own conclusions.

I think it's both fanservice and because Yuu actually plays a big part in Ace's character development? Like, it's technically fanservice but it does not feel egregious because it fits Ace’s teasing nature and Ace's bond with Yuu has been established from the start. He was the first student we met at NRC and we spend so much time with him since then; there's no way Yuu wouldn't have had an impact on him, especially when book 7 is now paralleling the two as people with insecurities about being weak/unable to do anything + not contributing enough and Yuu encouraging him when he finally gets his UM.

I commonly see people joking about Malleus having "missed the meeting about Twst not being a dating sim" and holding him up as "the main love interest". (And to be clear, Twst isn't a dating sim, nor do all Twst fans see the characters romantically; I am only speaking about this in a romantic lens in the context of this post.) However, I think there's a very strong case to be made for Ace as well. The thing is, I also feel that Malleus and Ace fundamentally appeal to two different groups of yumejoshi. Malleus is the tall, dark, and mysterious type you can "fix", the type of guy that would burn the world down for you. Ace is the teasing and approachable boy-next-door that has your back and supports you even when the entire world is against you. This is also evident in the ways they're set up in the main story; Malleus is introduced in a way that encourages much more "filling in of the gaps" due to how little he actually shows up in front of Yuu in the main story. It gives the player a lot of space to imagine what their relationship with him is like because there isn't a ton of interactions in canon to go off of. Meanwhile, Ace has many more canonized interactions with Yuu (eating lunch, doing homework, watching movies, playing video games, etc.), so the effort of thinking about what they actually do over the course of their relationship is already done for you. There is an established friendship and connection with Ace, but you barely see Malleus enough to truly have a strong impact on him or to change him. Does that make sense?

IADUPADF9A9FSBdb I do find it sort of funny that Malleus is basically like, "Oh, something unexpected happened (ie Yuu is missing). We'd better solve this." Not really showing much emotion about them being gone in Nightmare. (Malleus only gets annoyed when Leona begins to take charge; he is not mad at the fact that Yuu is gone.) Meanwhile Yuu is missing in Endless Halloween Night and Ace is the FIRST person to excuse himself to check Ramshackle for them.

If you consult the fandom and the fandom alone, you'd think the situation would be reversed. The English speaking Twst fandom has a VERY strong bias for Malleus x Yuu, so there is a tendency to misinterpret or misattribute what Malleus says and does to support the idea that "Yuu is his most important person". (For example, even though Malleus provides no reaction at all when Skully kisses the back of Yuu's hand, many Malleus fans claimed that he would be very jealous or would harm Skully for doing such a thing. In another Halloween event, Glorious Masquerade, people believed he was angry at Rollo for harming Yuu even though this was not the case; the event states that he was mad because the invitation he had been extended was a fake one.)

It is because of thinking like this that a lot of English speakers genuinely believed Malleus would OB in book 7 in a desperate attempt to prevent Yuu from returning to their original world. Misinterpretations, headcanons, misattributions, and personal projections were conflated with canon, leading to many people to believe that Malleus was closer with Yuu than they actually are. Instead, Malleus ended up OBing because he feared Lilia leaving and he barely even considers Yuu after he OBs. And, ironically, Ace is the character whose dream prominently features Yuu and a scenario in which Yuu doesn't have to leave them forever. It was always Ace that we had a strong relationship with, not Malleus.

Ace is often overlooked even though he has far more canon interactions with Yuu in the main story. I think this could maybe to chalked up to a combination of him being "boring" compared to the literal DARK FAE OP CROWN PRINCE M. Draconia over there and the fact that so many of those "gaps" are already filled by the main story. There's less room for imagination because the game has already defined what Ace and Yuu's relationship entails. Malleus is just so much more appealing when it comes to intrigue and mysteriousness. When you look at it objectively though... Yuu only meets Malleus face-to-face like 5-6 times for brief conversations. That's not nearly long enough to make a huge impact or change in his life (unless you as the player extrapolate and imagine more Malleus and Yuu interactions outside of the ones we see in the main story). At best, I think you could say Malleus is glad he can have a special little friend who doesn't know of his name and status? He doesn't really change because of that relationship though. Malleus doesn't even show up until book 2. But Ace has literally been there since the beginning, canonically spends tons of his free time with Yuu, and has been through several near-life experiences with them (several OBs). He has the chance to bond with Yuu. Malleus does not. (He has given Yuu advice once, sent them a card once, and reassembled a stage for them once; all other interactions in the main story are short talks.)

It makes a lot of sense that Ace would be the one "touched" by Yuu's influence, whether you see it as romantic or platonic. Both he and Malleus (and all the other characters, really) get their moments of fanservice--but very few characters' development is directly impacted by Yuu's presence. Yuu might be there for most of the main story, but they actually get only a few moments to engage with the other boys in the cast to the point of actually changing them. It feels like the changes that occur are more often the result of the other boys (Trey standing up to Riddle and holding his hand afterwards, Epel and Deuce bonding on the beach, the twins telling Azul he's lame but also being the first to check up on him following the OB, Idia finalizing his farewells with Ortho, etc.) Ace just so happens to be an exception to that, as Yuu very clearly plays a big role in his development.

[victoryai]

JUNO IN THE SIGNS, 👩‍❤️‍👨

You can reblog ↪️ but please have the decency not 🚫 to steal my posts

(JUST AN HONEST OBSERVATION)

Juno represents your union and marriage with your spouse . Juno persona chart shows how both of you act and live in the union. According to me, Pls note that Juno is about the union and not your spouse . Juno focuses on you both(the union) not your spouse.

© Victoryai

♈ Juno in Aries: Your marriage/union is filled with bursts of energy and action. It's like a blockbuster movie. Life after marriage will NOT be boring 😄. You and your spouse create a union of energetic souls. You both have your own separate identities that if not handled well could damage this beautiful union. It's very possible one of you approached the other spontaneously and asked to date when you both met. Too much energy can however turn into agression if not kept in check 😭. You all can play fight 🥰 but don't let it get violent. If one is jealous they won't hide it. Cheesy couple 😤😁

♉ Juno in Taurus: This is what I love to call the chill 🌬️marriage. You guys are so steady and grounded 🥺. You're that couple that buys expensive stuff. Rich and comfortable are the words. After you say yes,you hardly go broke because this marriage has 🤑 and omg you guys look sooooo good together, people might think you guys have more than you actually have. You guys might have met in a restaurant or shopping mall, or an exotic place, or a place filled with products, goods or money. You guys eat healthy tho😁. Marriage is bringing money to upgrade you.

♊👬 Juno in Gemini: This couple can talk for hours♥️. They literally act like siblings. Always laughing at an inside joke🤣. This is the description of high school love 😘. They might have started as friend, met at school or neighborhood and have so many similarities. They're the type to write love letters to each other and roam around town at evenings. Travel short distances together such as going to school together. They're also the type to bicker alot sometimes. Childish couple 💩

♋🦀Juno in Cancer: The homie couple 🫂. Awwn 😊. You guys are so clingy. Your marriage is so sweet and homie. You both love to build a home together in a safe space. So shy🥺. This union makes both of you so empathetic and soft. Even if you are a naturally tough person, this union will soften you. You guys might have met at one of the others house or were introduced through family members.

♌ 🦁 Juno in Leo:The fun and spotlight couple always grinning from ear to ear. You both are people to get married because you derive joy from it or because you want kids so badly not because you see it a duty. Together you both will plan your outings together,make the other more confident. The downfall of this blissful union could arise because of ego or lack of passion.

♍ Juno in Virgo: In health and in sickness, till death do us apart. This Juno reminds me of marriage vows that are kept till the end. This is the marriage that will be there through thick and thin. If poorly aspected by rash planets or houses, it could mean that you guys always fight in your marriage. I know a lady who has this and she and her Husband always be bickering then the next minute they're laughing Wtf 😒😂. It might also mean that you guys may later turn out to be enemies then probably end in conflict or court 😭. I'm sorry 😔.

♎ Juno in Libra: This is a marriage!!!!!! 😆. Y'know all those countryside love stories where they meet, fall in love, get married and grow old together 😉. If your 7th lord is also well placed, then it will show a very balanced ⚖️ married life. You and your spouse will be able to settle very comfortably in your marriage with peace of mind 🌬️. The downfall of this union could be a third party interference.

♏ Juno in Scorpio: This is indicating that after marriage you guys might have a joint account/share funds together or keep important/confidential secrets from one another. Don't do that!👀. There's a tendency to get suspicious or jealous easily not because you dont trust them but because you don't want to lose them🥲. You both are passionate about love 💕* wink* 😉

♐ Juno in Sagittarius: When foreigners meet there's always curiosity to explore and understand the world together 🥺. You liked my phrase?😉🤭. Alright, you both might be foreign to one another. I mean that you guys might be from different countries, brought up in different ways or even religion but altogether what brings you together is curiosity/knowledge/adventure. You both might also meet at a place of learning or worship e.g university /church. Somewhere far from home. The marriage itself will be characterized by 😊 fun, learning, morals/religious beliefs or a significant distance between you both (physically or culturally. Don't laugh too much, you might end up falling in love 😂.

♑ Juno in Capricorn: The couple that every one knows is together! or should I say power couple? Your marriage is going to make you high class or put you in a place of authority . You guys might be a celebrity couple or be in the same line of business. Marriage promises stability to you both. With other saturnian aspects inclusive, they might be a significant difference in age or status btw you both. You might get married late too. Make sure you don't get to caught up in the pubic eye after marriage, people are nosy 💩.

♒ Juno in Aquarius: You and your spouse are similar in many ways . Might be closer than people expect. From my observations, there's some weirdness with this union. I observed this in a chart and Her husband was about 30 years older than her(but it was also conjunct Uranus). People are just really confused about what to say concerning this union.

Another scenario could be that you were first friends then it turned into a love story 🤭 or you both truly were not expecting it to take you guys this far. Maybe it was something casual , then boom 🤯 before you knew it, you were getting married. You might meet online or through friend or big events. Marriage will help you achieve that long term goal

♓ Juno in Pisces:🌬️🍃. Juno in Pisces is the ultimate union of souls 🌬️. You both will never meet another person apart from your partner that will be able to understand you on a deeper level. Your spouse is someone that can be so far away from you, but so near at the same time. You guys might frequently dream bout each other even before meeting. Marriage will make you moreeee spiritual and in tune with other realms . Another scenario (take with a cup of coffee) is that overtime you both can grow apart 😭 due to emotionally distance. One might go to jail because of this union (physical or mental) I'm sorry 😔.

@victoryai

[bbadandboujee]

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT.2

so y’all liked a niggas last post so i was like hmmm..why not give the beautiful people what they deserve??? so BOOM another one fuggittt.

also isn’t Marilyn so beautiful?

OBSERVATIONS:

the year where your natal 7h, 10h, or even 9h is the solar return ascendant..BABY PREPARE FOR A GOOD ASS YEAR!! making connections, being in the public eye, and overall having a lucky ass year is what its all about!! the years where i had these placements were one of my best years!! (i have it for this year too 🙂‍↕️) one thing i’ve noticed as well is that something positive may come up that’ll change your life forever, change overall is whats coming up for you for that year. if you were bed rotting like me..GIRL ITS OVER THE WAR IS OVER!! you will feel extroverted, lots of opportunities will come your way as well, so trust your discernment when it comes to these opportunities because you never know where life takes you. if you have the natal 7h as your ascendant, be prepared for connections, and even a possible relationship! also if you have natal 10h as your ascendant please be prepared for ALL EYEZ ON YOU! a job promotion & possibly getting married is what i’ve noticed with this placement. natal 9h as your ascendant, prepare for a life changing year spiritually, as well as excelling throughout your university/school, i’ve noticed too that you’ll often have a glow with this placement lol.

the year where you natal 12h is the solar return ascendant: worse year EVER oh my God..and i thank God i don’t have this ascendant anymore for my later solar returns..this year was very traumatic for me as well, not gonna dive deep into it although i healed from it, but just prepare to endure some shit honestly, and make sure you talk to someone about how you’re feeling, that year i had nobody, i was in and out of mental hospitals, like shit was BAD yo, and guess what? i was only 11, so just be careful with this if you have it.

moving on..having a 5h stellium: okay so like you WILL have opportunities in love don’t get it twisted, but this year will not only focus on that it’ll focus on creativity, having fun, children, also noticed you could babysit for that year if you’re into that?? but still, just basically starting something new with a 5h stellium is what you’ll go thru, for me it was nothing much tbh, didn’t even date either like i thought i would, BUT whats weird is that i didn’t start to receive any love opportunities until that very..next year..mk so maybe its not like that for all of y’all but yeah! to sum it up it was an okay year tbh, nothing much fr.

pluto first house: this can either make or break you, yes you’ll endure hella change, all that old shit you’ve been doing? it’s being destructed. this year is giving “new year new you” LOL, like seriously, you won’t be the same and lowkey i love it bc it’s like, yk when butterflies transform into a butterfly? ITS GIVING THAT!! like you’re breaking out of that shell and you’re going into a new year of just change yk? i love it idk.

moon in 12h: is a year where you’ll have hella prophetic dreams!! or simply dreams that come to past, you’ll most definitely be shocked by them as well, having dreams about your future, and to throw it in there even visions about it! even experiencing spiritual experiences!! a very good year for resting as well if you’ve been just burned out from everything, a good year for traveling out of the country especially for your mother. and i noticed this is gonna sound very specific lmk if this resonates too, if your mother has traveled out of the country have y’all found yourselves in relationships? or just dating? like lets think about it fr..

venus conjunct Saturn: can definitely be a year where you get proposed to, or even married, or start ypur first relationship too! i’ve seen this in charts where people get engaged! and then the next following year i’ve noticed venus is in the 10h?? idk just a little theory of mine.

mk so this was short again..omg 💔 lmk if y’all need a part 3! thank you guys so much 4 the love fr!! ily 🫶🏾

[manwritingtales]

Jock Roommate

Note: Some pictures were too spicy for Tumblr (this post got flagged!) so I've linked to them instead

---

You know, I was happy when I first saw my roommate. Fit, handsome, and just excruciatingly sexy. You just know he had an easy life using his looks. He'd walk down the street and men and women would stop to turn and stare at him. He was that gorgeous. Too bad he was also a complete slob. He only cares about getting fit, playing sports, and getting laid. The stereotypical jock. Several shirts thrown here and there around were fine; and I honestly didn't care—I even took a sniff or two here and there, but I didn't expect him to be such a big fucking slob.

After a month of living with him, discarded bottles were all around, energy drinks, pizza boxes, and all sorts of garbage that I couldn't even decipher. It made me mad—not just by how dirty he was, but with how he could manage to eat like a pig and still look like that. Even if he didn't shower for days, instead of getting just stinky, he exuded this strong scent that I couldn't help but secretly enjoy. It was unfair seeing how much of a pig he was and still looking like that. Every other day, he'd be dragging some chick to bang all night, and the day after, I kept telling him to quiet it down, and he'd just roll his eyes and tell me to "lighten up." It was relentless. Every day, he'd be bringing a chick, sometimes two, and they'd go at it all night. The guy was a horndog. Muscles, chicks, sports, sex. That's all he cared about.

I don't know if he knew I was gay. Maybe he did. Sometimes, he'd be back from the gym, throwing his wet shirt along the pile of laundry on the floor, he'd grin at me and tell me to clean up the place. He'd take a long shower, while I stared at the soaked shirt. I would take it, feeling the warmth and moist of it, and plunge it deep in my nose. God, he reeked. It was a smell enough to drive a man wild. I wanted it closer to me, I wanted it in me.

When I heard the shower turn off, I immediately threw it away and started cleaning up. He'd stand there, looking fresh with clean skin and black hair, letting the water hit his chiseled abs, and he'd smirk at me and leave without saying a word. It went on for months until I hit my breaking point.

It was semi-finals. I was working on several projects and I got an exam the next day. Phillip—God, even his name sounded sexy on him—brought another girl home and started making out on the sofa. I heard the girl giggling in delight as they moaned. I peeked my head out and saw Phillip kissing the girl's neck. I grew angry. "Do you mind taking it in the bedroom? I got an exam tomorrow. Don't you have class too, Phillip?"

He looked at me in annoyance. "Mind your own business," he said. He turned to her. "Don't mind him. The fag's just jealous he's not you." They both laughed and started making out again.

That was it. It was too much. The pressure from college, Phillip calling me a fag, and the deep-seated feeling that he was right—I was jealous I wasn't making out with him. Things had to change.

What I didn't mention before was that I'm studying chemical engineering. The only reason I got into this prestigious university was that I was a stellar student. I was always combining compounds even before high school, and I knew I could work on something if I work hard on it enough.

I didn't sleep for three months. I dedicated day and night trying to find the perfect compound to use on Phillip. I may have barely passed my exams, earned a warning from my professors for being late or absent, but I was dead set. I used the university lab to make my own concoction, further improving upon it during the night. I barely survived the semester and I still spent the entire break perfecting my concoction.

Time passed like a blur, but I remembered every painstaking detail. Every late night of brainstorming. I didn't care. I was angry at him. I was angry at him for being such a slob, for being a jerk to everyone, and I was angry at myself for being attracted to him. In the end, I finally released the breath I'd been holding for months. I had done it. I'd found the perfect combination.

A new semester arrived. Phillip talked to me in the living room. God, I hated how my stomach felt when he was with me. He just exuded this potent musk, and the way he looks at you is enough to make your knees fall.

"Dude. You gonna pick up around here or what?" he said, glancing at the dirty apartment. I didn't point out that he made that mess. "You know I got more important stuff to do than handle all this. And it's not easy taking care of this bod, you know?" His muscles bulged as he spoke. I stared straight at his eyes. "Try not to be completely useless, for once."

This time, I didn't get mad. I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He looked at me strangely. I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't feel helpless against him, helpless against my attraction for him. I had the solution.

Just as scheduled, he went to the gym first thing in the morning. When he came back, he fixed himself a drink and got on the shower. Listening carefully to the running water, I let the liquid fall into his drink. I felt calm. I was so nervous thinking about it, but doing it felt so easy. I ate breakfast as I watched him drain the drink in a single gulp.

I saw him groan and enter his room. I sat on the couch, looking at the clock as minutes passed by. Finally, he opened the door, shuffling slowly to the living room, a confused look on his face.

"I… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, collapsing to the floor.

I looked at his unconscious body. He even got a nice bubble butt. Too bad it was wasted on a straight dude. I got the vial from my room and swallowed it down. This shouldn't take too long, but for now, I looked at his body.

I turned him around. God, he's handsome. In spite of the horndog jerk, he was so pretty to look at. I let my hand roam over his skin, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelled clean and fresh, his skin cool. I inhaled deeply, burying my face on his neck. His potent scent filled me. I could feel my dick become harder. I looked at his face, letting my fingers trace over his abs, and I kissed his lips. I let my tongue inside him, savoring his warmth, enjoying his saliva. I lifted his arms and smelled his pits. Still fresh from his shower, I gave it a lick. A shiver ran down my spine. God, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

I felt a tingle in my chest. The vial was kicking in. I shucked off my clothes and let my naked body fall on him. I could feel his chest, his dick, and his arms. I felt my brain cloud. An odd sensation lingered on my feet. looked down and gasped as I saw my foot slowly merging into his body. This was it. It was happening. I kissed his chest, my hands moving over him as I felt more of my body sinking into him. I could feel his soft breath against me, and it drove me wild.

I felt my chest fall inside him, my arms fading into him, and then the darkness consumed me as my consciousness slipped away.

I blinked. I was looking at the ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in my head, and I clutched it in pain. Everything felt weird. My eyesight was hazy. I blinked rapidly until it cleared.

"What the fuck…"

Phillip's voice came out. I gasped and touched my throat. I felt stubble on my cheek. Looking down at my legs, I noticed how much stronger and more defined they were.

"Holy shit," I said, the words coming out in Phillip's voice. I touched my abs, feeling how firm they are. I looked down at my arms. Holy shit. They were toned as hell. I stood up and gasped at my new weight—my new height. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Phillip's handsome face stared back. He looked confused, and I raised my arms and saw Phillip in the reflection do the same. I reached out and touched my cheek.

"It… It really worked…" I felt his tongue, somehow the feeling of enunciating words and syllables felt different. I flexed his arms and saw Phillip in the reflection doing the same. "It fucking worked!"

I watched as Phillip's face lighten up, grinning, as I felt my new body. "God, Phillip. You were always so fucking hot."

Hearing Phillip talk this way was enough to make me hard. I looked at every inch of his chest, at every part of his arm, and I could no longer ignore the hardening length below me. I shoved his boxers down. Good God. Phillip was packing serious heat. The thing was seven inches long, and it was only half hard. "Damn, Phillip," I muttered, "no wonder you got a chick every night."

Just the mere fact that I'm looking at Phillip and listening to his voice was enough to make me hard. I let out a heavy breath as I watched his cock get harder, arching to a full ten inches. I gave it a tug and left out a groan. Phillip's voice was manly and needy.

"You're so hot, Phillip," I said, gasping as I took his dick in his hands. I closed my eyes and let the sensation overtake me. I was him. I'd finally done it. I gave my brand new dick a squeeze and I groaned, as loud as I can. I felt my knees buckle, warmth coursing through my body and directly to my dick. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection, seeing Phillip with his mouth open, hand on his long, hard dick, groaning. I spit on his dick, the saliva mixing with his pre-cum. I grinned at his reflection, trying to emulate the original Phillip as much as I can. I flexed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows as I stuck his tongue out. Jesus Christ he was sexy.

I turned and looked at Phillip's hairy bubble butt in the mirror. He was perfect. I stroked his cock, feeling the overwhelming heat radiating from it. It was veiny and wet, pulsating in my hand. I stroked it faster while flexing his arms, sniffing his armpits and feeling his knees buckle from the sensation. I started stroking harder and harder. "Fuck, Phillip!" I groaned, the words coming out in his voice, sounding so damn sexy. I stroked harder, feeling his body get slick with sweat. "Ohhhh fuck yeah!" I groaned harder, letting his voice fill the room. I inhaled deeply, taking in his smell, sniffing his armpits as hard as I could. His scent was powerful. It'd never been this overwhelming. It was in me. This strong, musky scent was everywhere.

I stroked harder and harder. I looked at Phillip in the mirror, seeing his body jerk off, his hands slick with saliva as his mouth drooled. I felt my knees buckle and I let out a loud groan, massive amounts of cum spurting from his dick, splattering against the mirror. I let the sensation wash over me, the warmth still so overwhelming. I breathed in and out, my chest rising and falling.

I looked at his reflection again, then at my hand. It was slick with his cum. I stared at his reflection and watched Phillip lick his own cum from his hands.

---

I plopped down on his bed. Even his bed smelled like him. His room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, bottles, papers—but I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling, watching Phillip's chest rising and falling. I looked over his body, the birthmark, the veins, and all the little things I'd only began to notice now that I was in him.

"God, Phillip, why did you have to be such a dick?" I whispered in his voice. I breathed in and out, still not sure if this is real or a dream. I heard a notification from his phone, and grinned as it opened using facial recognition. It was a message from a random chick, asking when they were going to meet up.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I whispered. "I'm gay as fuck."

Hearing Phillip say those words made me snort, a laugh escaping my lips. I tossed the phone aside and let myself enjoy the warmth of his bed. He feels so tight, so manly, and so good. I looked down at his dick, which was already getting hard again. A wave of intense horniness washed over me, then dove straight to my hardening cock. "Jesus, Phillip. Now I get why you're such a fucking horndog."

[dainahlai]

Beyond being able to teleport, he's also faster than bullets. Mentioned explicitly in the Abyssal Chaos, (can't remember the exact line). I have made a post about why Xavier could be so easy to mischaracterise, and the reason (paraphrased, don't take my word for it since it is merely my analysis) is that he genuinely doesn't have a concrete character. Having gone through so many identities that we don't even know of, it gives the fact he can simply have a different personality under a different name. With Lumiere, he's gentle, morally good and untouchable, almost perfect. And that's the only other identity we as players actually know of, so it makes it difficult because you get to pick and choose his personality traits thinking both are his actual selves.

To explain in easier ways; you can choose to discard Xavier's neediness, and take Lumiere's silence (not the best but bear with me). When writing, people tend to forget the fact that Lumiere is a fake persona, meaning that most of his different traits are fake and made up. They refuse to understand that Lumiere isn't Xavier. Yes, Xavier is Lumiere but it doesn't go the other way round.

That and his character is mainly hidden behind a lot of storylines and misunderstandings and appearances (similar to Sylus). If you don't pay attention to him, you'll only see what he shows himself.

My conclusion is that, yes, while he may have had an identity which calls for him to be 'childlike', it won't be him essentially. It would just be him wearing the skin of another. So your characterisation of him may technically be correct at some point, it wouldn't be true because you're then writing about one of his personalities and not his real self. To use his current personas, you'd be writing about Lumiere, not Xavier.

Lastly, if anything here is wrong, please do not get angry or something of the sort. I easily make mistakes so don't take my word for any part of this analysis, as its simply speculation on my part. If any part of this has offended anyone in any way, please mention it calmly so I can understand my mistake. I easily overreact over problems, and I tend to act out of line when confronted harshly. Thank you for reading so far!!

Very quick Xavier rant.

———————————————————————

Listen I know Xavier is probably the least popular LI but the mischaracterization of him gets me so mad SO FAST.

I am so tired of seeing hc’s or posts from people that know NOTHING about his character.

I’d rather people just not post about him instead of dumbing his character down.

Like um actually he has more depth than just sleeping and being jealous. If you interacted with his content you’d know that.

And this trend of calling him childlike??? I understand he may look the youngest but he definitely isn’t AND definitely doesn’t act like the youngest.

Now I get it

Xavier isn’t the most perfect

His jealousy is definitely the most immature part of him HOWEVER he doesn’t let it get to a point where he does toxic shit.

Each LI has parts of them that aren’t the most healthy

(Zayne: Suicidal workaholic

Rafayel: Rafayel

Sylus: morally questionable because he literally does crime and beats up and kills ppl

Caleb: Drugs women

Xavier: tends to be jealous) /j

But this man has led a planet.

He was the captain of a time traveling intergalactic crew.

HE’S CENTURIES OLD.

Each one of the boys has amazing writing and character depth. There’s so much to work with.

Can we please put some respect on my man’s name?? 😭

Am I the only one who’s noticed this???

EDIT: YES OMFG like he can teleport. Which is objectively one of the coolest powers in the game and barely anyone mentions it.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY MONTHLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

The fics I’ve read and enjoyed for the month of January. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

He has never argued with a punishment, not since he was a toddler, if then. Surely she’ll listen, surely she’ll see this is too harsh, that he wouldn’t be disrespecting her like this if he was simply sulking over not getting his way. He needs that food, needs to be able to eat enough if he wants to be Robin.

He’s been hungry before, but back then, it never mattered if he was a little weak or dizzy. It never risked his life or the life of his partner when he was a kid.

She turns, sighing softly and pursing her lips. She reaches out to pat his cheek, and for a moment his heart soars hopefully, and he barely restrains himself from leaning into the rare bit of contact and soaking up his mother’s touch. “Oh, Timothy,” she tuts. “This is for the best. And honestly, I think it’s wise for you to cut down a bit on the snacks. I’d hate to have to listen to anyone tittering at the next gala that you’re getting chubby.”

And without another backwards glance, she turns and heads upstairs, leaving Tim alone and frozen at the bottom of the steps.

Day 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger

Screaming In The Dark (While We All Play Our Part) by WakingNightmares

The boy makes a choked off noise, but slowly, with trembling hands, he pulls the hood of his hoodie down. “I… I… I’m… Robin.”

Immediately, Oliver steps back, pulling the knife out of his bathrobe pocket.

Robin. There’s no way this boy is Robin. Logically, Oliver knows that ‘Robin’, protege to the greatest serial killer in American history, is young, but there’s been sightings of the boy for over a decade. The young man standing in front of him is Roy’s age. Robin, with over thirty suspected kills of his own, can’t be this scared, frightened looking thing standing in front of him.

Dick's kept his promise, and finally escaped with his brothers. Now he just has to figure out what comes next.

Cats and Communication by InkpotSprite

Damian wants to befriend Tim, but after their difficult start, Tim is more guarded than ever.

Then Dick says something that changes everything.

"Treat him like an abused cat."

And Damian does.

Clone Wars

one step back and to the left by sithlordbinks

Cody’s mouth is dry, words stuck in his mind. Which perhaps is a good thing considering in response to I think I may have you, all Cody’s brain is providing him is please do.

And it’s then, Cody realizes, that with the most inconvenient, embarrassing, unprofessional timing ever, he’s hard.

Kriff. Fucking kriff.

or: cody thinks he's doing Real Great at the friends with benefits thing with his general. spoiler: he is not…and somehow this saves the entire galaxy

The Hunger Games

17 Last Words from Hunger Games Tributes That Are STILL Echoing In Our Heads. Yes, Still. by ghostwriterofthemachine

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! We can’t wait until we can say Happy Hunger Games in earnest (only another month!), but in the meantime, we are celebrating the best moment of Games from years past. Make sure you also check out our list of the most iconic final showdowns and our favorite post-victory moments. What’s on the plate for today? Glad you asked! The Games are all about triumph, but they’re also all about tragedy (which makes those victories even sweeter). Today, we’re looking at 17 final moments from Tributes that we are still thinking about. To make it harder for ourselves, we could only pick one from each Games (so if your favorite didn’t make the cut, that could be why!). Some made us scream, some made us cry, and a few even made us laugh (you’ll see!). Read on! 

A listicle from Capitol Buzzfeed.

SVSSS

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: On My Time as a Student Under Shen Qingqiu by Margo_Kim

On the desk in between Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu was a printout of the email. Shen Qingqiu refused to look at it. If he tried very hard, he could pretend it wasn’t there. When the email had hit his inbox this morning, Shen Qingqiu had read it and reread enough to have it memorized, as he tried to comprehend the meaning of these words arranged in this order. The second that comprehension dawned upon him, he’d deleted the email then promptly tried to forget everything about it.

He wasn’t being very successful on that front.

The message, written with the extraordinary eloquence that Shen Qingqiu knew Luo Binghe was capable of, had been sent en masse to the entire faculty and student body. It stated two main points. Firstly, that Luo Binghe attested that Shen Qingqiu had never slept with, assaulted, molested, groomed, or was in any way inappropriate to him during his time at Cang Qiong Academy (thanks for the endorsement, Binghe!!). Secondly, that Luo Binghe was announcing this because he intended to marry Shen Qingqiu and did not want even the whisper of false impropriety to stain his Shizun’s name. 

Original Works

Inheritance by Juna_R

Rulin discovers the house his cousin had left him came with three magical “dependants”. And they haven’t been fed since the day of the funeral.

[yolkochan]

How @tigreblvnc Gains Engagement from Artists Without Proper Credit (19/2/25)

Helloo, it’s Yoko (@yolkochan), and I’m an artist in the bllkblr community. I believe in the importance of properly crediting creators, not just for ethical reasons but because artists deserve recognition for their work. 

Unfortunately, there are people who consistently repost artwork without giving artists proper credit, benefiting from the engagement while the original creators remain overlooked. This post highlights one such case—@tigreblvnc(Tetsuo/Suo)— who has repeatedly done this more times than I can count.

This problem has been recently brought to my attention by multiple people in this community. As a professional artist myself, I feel a responsibility to call out this pattern and raise awareness about why proper crediting matters. Despite knowing that I may lose some followers due to this post.

(20/2/25 Edit: @tigreblvnc has deleted his blog 5 hours after the release of this post. Sooo….)

I do not condone the harassment of anyone mentioned within this post.

@tigreblvnc is a well-known blogger in the Blue Lock Tumblr community, frequently analyzing characters like Michael Kaiser and reposting fanart. However, his repeated failure to properly credit artists has raised serious concerns. Instead of clearly naming artists in the captions, he relies on small, greyed-out “source” links that are easy to miss. As a result, he continues to gain thousands of likes and reblogs from art that isn’t his—without giving artists the recognition they deserve.

Below are multiple examples demonstrating this pattern.

Evidence of Improper Crediting

Examples of what someone would see when scrolling:

Link to post

Art by ogata69 on X

(underneath this post is literally another art repost lol) 2. Link to post

Art by asamashi288753 on X

Original posts: 1 2

3. Link to post

Art by asamashi288753 on X

Original posts: 1 2

4. Link to post

Art by ttioo14 on X

Original posts: 1 2 3

5. Link to post

Art by eppaya_okoge on X

The original posts of these artworks have been deleted.

This specific case is even more egregious since this artist doesn’t even allow reposts without permission.

In all of these screenshots, he posts their artwork without naming them in the caption.

The only credit is a small “source” text (greyed out as well) that is easy to miss when scrolling. (The link only goes to the profile, not the original post). This shows that this isn’t a one-time mistake but a repeated behavior over multiple posts, these are just a few examples from over 20+ similar instances. His top posts are almost all art reposts.

With at least 20+ instances, it’s hard to believe it’s purely accidental. 

Whether intentional or not, this kind of crediting prioritizes his own engagement over actually giving artists the recognition they deserve. If he genuinely didn’t realize, now he knows- and if he keeps doing it, that’s a choice.

Common concerns:

1. “He’s not making money off it, what’s the harm??”

Engagement is a form of profit. If his top posts are all art reposts, he’s gaining a following, likes, and influence off other people's work.

Engagement stays on his post, not the artist’s — when a repost gets thousands of likes while the original post goes unnoticed, the artist loses visibility and recognition.

2. “He did credit the artist, see? The source is right there!”

A hidden, greyed-out link isn’t real credit and  people won’t click the source - the link is small, greyed-out, and easy to miss while scrolling. If the artist’s name isn’t visible in the caption, many won’t bother checking. Proper credit means making the artist’s name visible and easily accessible. 

If people need to dig through tiny text to find the source, it’s not actual recognition—just plausible deniability.

On another note, he didn’t actually credit it himself, it was an automatic attachment by Tumblr which can be explained better here by @feathers-little-nest .

3.  “He’s just sharing art he likes! It’s not that deep.”

If he really liked and respected the art, he’d want people to find the artist.

Art reposting without proper credit is disrespectful because it reduces an artist’s work to engagement bait.

4. “Not everyone knows how to credit properly!”

Maybe once or twice, but after 20+ posts, he’s had plenty of time to learn.

5. “At least he’s not claiming the art as his own.”

That’s the bare minimum.

Also, multiple people have told me they thought that was his art due to the unclear credit, this can also be seen on the reblogs. And he doesn’t try to correct them.

Now you may be asking, how do I properly credit an artist then?

I will show you in the below examples, but on Tumblr (not cross-platform) I specifically encourage you to never repost someone’s work, just reblog the original post. Always check if the artists allow reposts in the first place in their bio and try to ask for permission before doing so.

Some basics are to mention the artist's name clearly in the caption and linking the original post.

Here’s 2 examples of how to properly credit an artist if you’re reposting them on a different platform.

1.

Art by @rokuii on Tumblr

(please support her!!💗💗)

2. Made by @sunriozz on (X/Tumblr)

also support her too! <3

End Note

This is not only a callout to him but also a callout to the many fanfic writers in this fandom who use fanart/fanedits in their fics (as a cover to grab attention, etc), and other art reposters in this fandom who use Pinterest without crediting the respective artists clearly in the post.

Suo’s repeated failure to credit artists properly is not just an oversight—it’s a pattern that prioritizes his own engagement over the visibility of the original creators. Whether intentional or not, this practice actively harms artists by preventing them from receiving the recognition and support they deserve. Please do not make the same mistakes as he did.

If he genuinely respects artists, he should:

Start clearly crediting artists in the captions, not just in hidden “source” links.

Retroactively update past posts with proper credit.

Refrain from reposting art unless he is willing to credit correctly or have permission from the artist.

There are other skeletons inside his closet and personal matters that I cannot publicly address, but they are worth considering. This post is also the reason why I haven’t been active in a while.

At the end of the day, artists deserve to be credited properly, not used for engagement. If you support artists, follow them directly, engage with their work, and avoid boosting repost accounts that don’t credit correctly.

[ghost-proofbaby]

"AND JUST LIKE ALL THOSE TIMES BEFORE, YOU WEAR YOUR BEST APOLOGY. BUT I WAS THERE TO WATCH YOU LEAVE."

summary: you finally see all the damage done.

warnings: strong language, angst, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, direct mention of cocaine usage, reactions to possible overdose, mentions of making someone throw up/someone throwing up, thoughts of death/losing someone. dead dove - do not eat. and, please, minors dni.

wc: 5.3k+

a/n: i need to emphasize the warnings for this chapter. it's not a pretty one, and i must emphasize that this is not meant to be glorifying this behavior at any capacity - if anything, take note of how damaging and destructive it is. if you are unable to read due to warnings, let me know, and i will post a more direct summary of this chapter to be read in place of it. thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for beta-reading this one (and for always letting me ramble about this story endlessly) <3

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

Show me what you’ve become, Eddie. 

You need to be more careful what you wish for these days. 

Gareth nearly runs into you when you pause mere steps within the apartment, looking around and trying to swallow down all your shock. He’d warned you, tried to prepare you for the worst, but you hadn’t expected this. 

The penthouse is hardly recognizable from how you’d witnessed it during the weekend. 

It’s a mess, an explosion of loose-leaf paper and empty beer bottles across every room within view – the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Not one, but two ashtrays filled to the brim sit patiently on the coffee table. You can make out butts of cigarettes, as expected, but there’s also plenty of roaches to catch your eye. Burnt down to the filter, sucked dry for all they were worth. You swear you see broken glass, and when you find the strength to stumble forward one more step, you confirm it. 

Not broken out of anger, but seemingly having slipped off the edge of the coffee table. 

“Fuck,” the expletive falls from your lips before you can think better of it. The longer you stare at the scene, the worse it all comes to light. 

Pens thrown astray, plenty of glasses laying on their side on both the floor and couch.  Sticky rims, sparse ashes flickered about. You see one empty bottle of whiskey, and have no doubt there’s another – possibly multiple – scattered throughout the apartment. 

“I told you,” Gareth says weakly, placing an attempt of a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It gets bad.”

How can so much damage happen over four measly days? 

You try to shrug off Gareth’s hand, but he tightens his grip, “Look, maybe we should leave. Matt and I can handle this-” 

“No,” you snipe, pulling far from him, taking several steps into the wreckage. “I told Matt that Eddie was my problem now, and I meant it. You can leave if you want, but I’m staying.” 

Eddie’s clearly not out here in the living room. There’s a deep imprint on the couch that looks like he may have been there recently, but he’s long gone. All that’s left is the mess, and a sinking feeling in your gut as you spy another terrible item on the coffee table. 

Gareth spots it just as you do, as well. 

“Listen, I really think we should leave.” 

The magazine with that blurry, candid photo of the two of you on the cover, bold and bright letters obscuring it. Those, and the little white line you can spot remnants of across the shiny paper. 

“I’m not fucking leaving, Gareth.” 

What the fuck happened in the last four days? 

Had you said something wrong that night? One wrong step, in a fatal direction, sending Eddie right into this crash out? Had it been the contract, and how hastily you had signed it, that sent him straight into spinning out of control? 

You lean down to snatch up one of the glasses discarded onto the floor, unphased by the residue of alcohol that clings to your fingers. The overwhelming and nauseating scent of pure whiskey almost makes you sick. 

“Does this happen every time?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, almost too quiet to be heard over the drumming in your chest, “Does this- is this fucking normal to you guys?” 

He gets this way.

You kick a pile of papers, eyes wandering over deeply scratched words in black ink. 

This is sort of normal for him.

“Do you guys just-” you struggle to find the words, looking around at this mess. All the red flags, all the reasons to run, and all you feel is a terrible pull towards Eddie. The need to find him, the need to refuse to leave him alone through this all, is rampant in your chest. “Do you guys really just leave him during times like this? When he clearly needs you most?” 

You swear, you’ve started to see red. 

When you turn to face Gareth, he’s holding his hands up, face twisted in defensiveness, “Hey, listen, it’s not like that-”

“Then what is it like?” 

If Eddie’s in this apartment, he can surely hear you. Your voice is no longer quiet and timid, wavering with each syllable. Loud and clear, ready for a fight. 

“You haven’t been here this last year!” Gareth raises his own voice to match yours, seeming more desperate than agitated, “It’s not like we just- just- gave up on him!”

And yet, that’s exactly what it looks like has happened. 

Every single person that has become a staple in Eddie’s life has seemingly given up on him. They’ve given up fighting for him, on pushing him, on offering a helping hand. They claim to have grown weary, broken bones and patience alike in the battle of forcing Eddie to be a better person. And standing here in this apartment, seeing what they so clearly try to cover up and ignore, you know they’re going about it wrong. 

You don’t have to force Eddie to be a better person. He already is a good person, somewhere deep down. 

“That’s exactly what it looks like!” you laugh coldly, waving about the apartment, “You all clearly knew what to expect, what- what this place was going to look like. You knew what was happening, and you’re doing nothing.”

Gareth’s nostrils flare with one deep breath, and you already know what he’s about to say is going to cut deep, “Aren’t you the one that simply vanished on him? On all of us?” 

He’s right. The blow of the truth would have jarred you more had you not been prepared. 

“I didn’t know,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at the boy before you, “I had no idea he had gotten this bad-”

“Oh, c’mon,” Gareth shakes his head, turning and walking carefully through the damage, gesturing about just as you had been, “You’re not stupid. We both know you aren’t. What else did you think was happening?” Another step, and you can hear the crunch of glass beneath the sole of his shoe that has you cringing, “That Eddie was just… having the time of his life? That everything was perfect?” he pauses on the other side of the couch, and you can see a world of hurt behind his big brown eyes. “You knew better than that. You knew him better than that.”

What had you thought was going on when Eddie pulled away so suddenly?

Had you really known Eddie as well as Gareth is assuming right now? 

Your eyes flutter shut as your throat tightens, because the hard pill to swallow is that’s exactly what you had thought. That Eddie’s life was finally perfect. That he was living his wildest dreams. That there was only one bump in the road to his otherworldly success, in the terrible shape of you. 

“You…” You don’t know what those last months were like. You don’t have the sound of Eddie’s voicemail memorized. You don’t wake up from nightmares to the sound of a dial tone in place of future plans bursting into flames. You don’t know the silence. “You’re right.”

You could spend days standing here as you made excuses. One after another, a list longer than the miles once put between you and Eddie. Dissect every possibility you’d deemed possible, and drudge up all the ones you’d simply refused to see in the daylight. 

Fighting with Gareth doesn’t make this right. Fighting with one of the boys you’d grown up with doesn’t erase the situation at hand. 

“Everything was going to shit a long time before you left, y’know,” Gareth’s voice finally breaks a bit, and you look up to find the rims of his eyes pink as they hold back tears, “I don’t know why you left, none of us do, but I’m willing to bet all the blood money I’ve made from this band that it’s because of something an awful lot like this.” 

“I did what I had to do,” you defend yourself so weakly that even you don’t believe the words. 

“Exactly. Just like we have been since you left.” 

There’s more to say and more to argue about, but it’s enough for now. You don’t want to waste another second here, pointing fingers at who’s in the wrong and who’s to blame. Really, all you want to do is find Eddie. 

So you do just that. You decide to make a beeline for the hallway.

“I-” Gareth takes a few steps towards you, but you don’t slow down. He has the common sense to follow, “Where are you going?” 

“He’s obviously not in there,” you say through heavy breaths, fighting tears and pausing between the two doors at the end of the hall. The in-house studio, or the bedroom. “We can fight about it later. I don’t care, I just-”

You choose the bedroom. 

All your words die on your tongue as you throw open the door and see him, all the oxygen in your lungs expelled forcibly to make room for a hole like never before in your chest.

He’s sprawled out across the bed, still in a t-shirt and jeans that look eerily similar to what he had worn Sunday. 

“Eddie.”

You’re not sure if it’s your voice or Gareth’s that echoes through the room as you throttle forward, body in autopilot. 

What happened to him? Is he okay? Is he breathing? Is he alive?

The bed jumps from the weight of you as you crumble beside him, quick to press your ear to his chest. 

Is he alive?

The first thing you notice is the warmth of him beneath your palms. A good sign. 

Please be alive. 

The next thing you notice is the shaky breaths resonating within that chest you cling to. A heartbeat mingling somewhere beneath the press of your cheek as you slump in relief. A grunt as the weight of you pins him down. 

“What the-”

The words are croaked and slurred, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken out loud in days. You feel him start to shift beneath you, and the moment of serene relief that had overcome you from him just being alive evaporates as quickly as it had momentarily lived within your chest. 

Please stay alive.

You sit up straight, eyes finding his, “What did you take?” 

Blown out pupils. Whiskey breath. Powder residing at the tip of his nose, barely noticeable until you were as close as you currently were. 

“I-” Eddie blinks up at you slowly, mouth ever so slightly agape, looking confused as ever, “What do you mean?” 

I need to keep him alive.

“I mean,” you hiss out, sitting up fully and dragging him with you. You can’t focus on the fear creeping up at seeing him this way; it’s as though he might not be within his body, like he’s vacated the premises and you’ve been left with an uncoordinated vessel. “What the fuck did you take, Edward Munson?”

“Maybe we should give him a sec-” Gareth starts, but he’s cut off when you stand up entirely, Eddie in tow with your hands around his biceps. 

The boy makes no move to help you, clearly shocked, but Eddie is pliable. He lets you toss him around like a ragdoll, no protests to be heard beyond ragged breaths that you can’t quite be sure you aren’t just imagining joining your own. 

I need him to stay.

You’re not giving him a second. Depending on what he’s taken, that second could be the line between life and death. 

“Tell me,” you grunt with persistence, working your way under Eddie’s arm to support his weight against your body properly, “What you’ve taken,” Gareth takes a step forward but pauses at your sharp glare, “So I can make sure you don’t fucking die on me, Munson.” 

Your voice is terribly fragile as you start dragging him along towards the bathroom. His feet are moving, stumbling right along with you, but he remains mostly slumped against your side. Head lolling, eyes closed every time you sneak a glance through your struggle.

I need him to stay with me. Please.

Gareth is a foreign stranger, a mere on-looker to the catastrophe. 

That’s fine. It’s fine. It’s becoming abundantly clear that he doesn’t recall any of Eddie’s speeches, lectures, regarding the mixing of drugs that he gave once the group had discovered his side gig back in Hawkins. 

Which drugs did he warn against mixing? Which substances should I be worried about getting out of his system first? What symptoms should I be watching for? 

You rack your brain with each step towards the bathroom, only being able to remember one thing crystal clear. If nothing else, you recall Eddie telling you the easiest way to sober someone up a great deal, across most substances they might have taken. 

The shower. You need to get him in the shower. 

It’s not the cold water you need, although it’ll certainly help. Maybe it can shock him out of this trance just a bit, doing away with his droopy lids and any lingering substances on his body. Sweat, cocaine, alcohol – it’ll clean him up, surely, but that’s not your only goal. 

“Anytime Rick has seen someone try to mix the harder stuff with alcohol,” Eddie had once drawled to you in his van after a party he’d let you join him in attendance of, a milkshake in both of your hands as you’d reminisced on the night, “He makes ‘em chuck it all up. It’s gross. But efficient. Gets ‘em in a shower, or out in the yard, and just… makes it vomit town. Doesn’t do much but does somethin’, I guess.” 

All your movements are robotic, your mind hardly your own as you go through the motions. You don’t know how you’ve dragged him fully into the bathroom so quickly, no help from Gareth – but you have. You don’t know how you kept him upright, pressed tightly to your side as you turn on the water – but you have. You don’t know how you manage to situate him on the floor of the tiled shower, water soaking his knees and calves – but you do. 

Your body isn’t your own. Just like Eddie, you’ve become a witness to the events, no longer feeling as though you’re actually partaking in them as you take the final step. 

It’s not a pretty sight.

You don’t register the feeling of you shoving your fingers down Eddie’s throat, but soon enough, his head is hanging between his knees and Gareth is hovering behind you in sheer distress. 

“Did he just-” he starts to question, trying to peer past your kneeling figure to get a better look.

You don’t make him finish the sentence, doing the honors, “Throw up all that shit in his system? Yes.”

Look at me. Stay with me. Stay alive. 

Your chest feels two sizes too tight as you look at his heaving shoulders, a hand hesitating in mid-air as it reaches out to land on his back. That space between your palm and his shaking back. Two inches of space as your skin constricts a bit tighter. 

Stay with me. Please. 

Gareth is saying something, probably having a complete meltdown as you should be, but it’s static noise. Nothing else matters as you completely destroy that final bit of distance, and you let your palm fall against his back. Feather-light, so unsure, quivering even more than his figure as you go deathly still. 

You can feel every breath. Every little hiccuping gasp he takes as he regains composure. 

Look at me, please. 

Your pride, your fear, and your panic all collide as you give in. Your still hand is now in motion, palm rubbing his back feverishly with desperate comfort. You collapse entirely on the ground, letting yourself fall half into the shower to be close to him. You don’t care about the metal railing digging into your thighs and hip, you don’t care about your clothes growing damp as you enter the edges of the stream of water now washing away all the vomit. 

You only care about him. 

You’re about to open your mouth to say his name, surely being your voice this time as Gareth continues to hang back in shock, when umber brown eyes are finally looking up at you. 

The rivers of blood below the surface of your skin run far colder than the stream of water coming from his shower ever could. 

It’s simple syllables, the quietest of noises, and it has the power to absolutely crush you – all he does is sigh your name, and the world stops. 

You can’t speak. He slowly leans back up, back colliding harshly with the tiled wall of the shower, and you can’t speak. You hardly even move that pathetic attempt of a comforting palm out of the way in time.

He’s squinting as he groans, eyes darting between you and Gareth, “What the fuck happened?” 

You lean back out of the water a bit, unaffected by the feeling of wet jeans sticking to your skin, as Gareth scoffs out, “You went on a fucking bender. That’s what happened. Again.”

“It wasn’t a bender-”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” 

All his words are still slurring. His pupils are still just a tad bit too big for those whiskeyed eyes. 

“I was just having a bit of fun-”

“What about this is ever fun?” Gareth’s voice raises, louder than he had even been when fighting with you in the living room. “The part where we find you high out of your mind, half-dead in your apartment? Or the part where we’ll be cleaning up your mess?” 

I just wanted him safe. Alive. With me. 

You can’t join in the fight, because you weren’t looking for a fight. You had been so focused on simply finding Eddie, making sure he was okay, that you’d never considered what would happen once you did. 

“Oh, fun,” Eddie laughs coldly as his head throws back carelessly, and you flinch at the way he lets his skull bounce against the tile. Your fingers twitch, aching to have stopped it, to prevent any further damage, “We’re gonna have this argument again.” 

I just needed him alive. 

Your palms are sweaty against the tops of your thighs, pressed down tightly to prevent from reaching out to Eddie. There’s a ferocious need to clean him up further, to kick Gareth from the bathroom, to focus more on getting him sober than scolding him right now, but-

“Damn right, we are!” Gareth’s sneakers narrowly miss your lower back, and you’re looking over your shoulder with shock as he begins pacing, “Yeah, we fucking are having this fight again. How many times is it going to take? How many times am I going to have to explain to someone new how this is your normal now? How many times is someone going to stare at me like I’m the asshole here when I don’t do anything to prevent it, because I can’t?” 

“Gareth-” you whisper, trying to calm him down, moving to stand up when Eddie laughs again. 

“I don’t even fuckin’ know why she’s here,” you aren’t looking at him when he says it, and you’re almost glad for it. It’s in the way he says it – words easily mistaken for the ringing of a blade being sharpened, “What’s the point? Go ahead and do it now, Sugar.” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, you turn back towards Eddie, “Do what?” 

Dagger in hand, eyes so cold, he finally hits his mark, “Leave. That’s what you do, right? So just do it. Leave.”

Just how much blood can the human body spill? 

There must have been a time you learned that fact. 

Some time long ago, in a faraway classroom, the fact fell from the lips of a high school teacher in a droning tone. But you can’t remember it, because somewhere in that mystifying glimpse of the past, you’re sitting in a chair beside the man in front of you. You’re not bothered with facts of the human body or blood loss, because all you know is passing notes and giggles covered with coughs, the gentle tickle of knuckles brushing and knees bumping beneath desks. Your mind was on afterschool plans, which diner you’d meet up at and which of you would be picking the flavor of the milkshake you two would share. Who would claim they don’t want fries, and who would be sliding their plate across the table to let the before liar have easier reach. Who would be dozing off on the other's shoulder, as the other one finally brought up the responsible topic of homework. 

Trivial things. Things taken for granted. Things that fall out of reach when you finally extend yourself towards them, with the whisper of never being able to go back. The weight of Eddie’s cheek pressed to your bare shoulder over the roar of summertime cicadas outside a diner window, or the flat tone of a teacher informing their students of a fact they’ll seemingly never utilize again in their life.

You don’t remember, because back then, you’d never expected the man before you to make you bleed. 

You start to shake your head, but he prevents you from defending yourself, “You can’t deny it. You did it – it happened. We wanna air out all my dirty laundry? Cool, let’s start with yours.”

“Eddie,” Gareth has quieted down as you’d wanted, but you wish he hadn’t, “Give her a break, man.” 

Every atom in your body is hardening to try and prepare itself for his next blow. All expression drained from your face, the life fading from your eyes. 

“Why should I?” When he leans forward, you don’t even worry if he might get sick again all over you. He levels you with a wintery stare, and it’s the eyes of a stranger looking into yours now, “Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends? I’m saving us both some heartbreak, ain’t I, Sugar?” 

The way each word bleeds into one another should lessen the blow. The haze over his eyes should make everything feel a little more dull, a little less precisely sharpened. The sluggish movements and the constant sway of his body even when frozen in place should make it all less painful. 

But drunken words are honest thoughts, and you can’t help as the first crack of emotion bursts in the form of burning eyes. 

Stay with me. I need you to stay with me.

You don’t have it in you to defend yourself, to defend whatever this is that you two have pulled out of the rubble. 

All you can do is meet his stare, so vacant and so chilling, as you say, “I’m not leaving.” 

And then, ironically, you do exactly that. You leave. 

Shoulder bouncing against Gareth’s, you move as quickly as you possibly can out of the suffocating bathroom, the tables turning entirely. The roles have switched, and now you’re the one gasping for air. 

“Hey, hold on,” Gareth tries to reach out for you, but you’re quicker than him in pulling yourself away from the two of them entirely. 

“Clean him up,” you instruct flatly, unwilling to look at Eddie. You’ve seen enough, bled enough, for one day. 

Neither man replies to you verbally, and all you hear as you exit the room is the pattern of water breaking against the tile. It almost sounds like your heart, if Eddie Munson hadn’t already done the honor of tearing it apart in his current state.

—

You stay true to your word.

You don’t leave.

Not the apartment, at least.

For the next hour, you put yourself to work, digging under Eddie’s kitchen sink and finding a large enough trash bag for the current task you busy yourself with. You never let a single tear fall as you glide around the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. 

You don’t go near the bedroom. Near the bathroom. Near Eddie. 

Gareth only shows his face once the entire duration, stepping outside of the room briefly but never glancing your way. You can only assume it’s to let Eddie get dressed, his clothes probably needing to be washed after the entire ordeal. 

If he flinches as he hears you toss all the trash within reach of your hurricane in the bag particularly violently, you don’t say a word. 

By the time there’s any sign of life on Eddie’s part, you’ve already cleaned up most of the apartment. Ashtrays emptied, all glasses not broken in the sink, a semi-neat pile of any pages you could decipher his handwriting upon. You were cruel, if Eddie’s presumption of knowing how this ends was anything to go off of, but you weren’t so cruel as to toss away anything he might have written for his career. 

This time, you don’t snoop. You know better than to read a single line on the pages. If Eddie has something he wants to say to you now, he’ll have to say it to your face. 

There’s a creak from down the hall as you’re finally collapsing onto the couch, a photo frame in hand as the overflowing trash bag is discarded to the floor temporarily, fingers already working nimbly at getting the back of the frame off before whoever it may be enters the room. 

Just as the creased photograph is in your grasp, a throat clears from behind you. 

“I…” he sounds smaller than he had in the bathroom, voice a bit clearer, “Uh, thank you. For…. for earlier.” 

Slow, steady steps. No longer blundering, or needing the support of another body to guide him. 

“I’m-”

If you were to turn around, you know you’d see the Eddie Munson you swear you know. The one who had sat beside you in science class, the one you would kiss under the bleachers every Friday night. You’d see the boy you’d followed across states, followed all the way to New York, sprinting to catch up with him as he’d trailed ferociously after his dream. Clear eyes, somber face, not a single blade in hand. 

But you can’t keep chasing after that boy. You think before Eddie ever turned his daggers towards you, he had taken them to that boy first, and he was buried long before you could even think to say goodbye. 

“Don’t apologize,” you force out, letting the words leave you as easily as the breath you were holding. The air in your lungs, however, stays put. “You were fucked up. It’s fine.”

Over the edge of the photograph you hold, you see his bare feet. New tattoos on unfamiliar ankles, the hems of pants he’d bought without you at his side. 

“It’s not fine, and I shouldn’t have said that,” Each word drips with sincerity. Then again, his accusation in the shower had as well, as you recall it now, “Will you- Please look at me.” 

Please look at me.

Please look at me.

Please stay with me. 

You can’t say that you break. Because, truthfully, you hadn’t been whole to begin with. Some sort of chasm had torn you apart the moment you walked into this apartment - no, the moment you had walked into that damned meeting room and seen his face for the first time in years. 

Two years. Twenty five months. One hundred weeks. 

Your brain has no capacity to break down the hours, minutes, seconds. All the time spent without him, unknowing that the man you had loved was rotting away in the ground six feet under, as the ghost of him haunted stages across the world. 

“I need to finish cleaning,” you say suddenly, jumping up off the couch, keeping your vision downwards. 

What if you look at him, and you decide to leave?

What if you look into his eyes and see the picture once painted by dial tones and automated voices announcing an electronic mailbox was full? 

What if you just weren’t as strong as you were determined to be?

“I have all the cups in the kitchen sink,” the words slip over a frantic tongue, one hand twisting at the plastic material of the bag until your nails are piercing right through the thin veil to prod painfully at your palm as the other won’t let go of that damned photograph, “I emptied all the ashtrays, and-”

Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends?

When we both know how this ends? 

How does it end? You want to scream at him, ask him the question that chokes you up now. Is this how it ends, with awkward encounters and coming to the rescue recklessly? Does it end with hurtful words said out of spite over the stench of intoxication, or does it end more quietly, over the whispers of apologies and thanks that should never have been necessary to begin with? 

Does it ever really end? Because surely, it didn’t end for you two years ago. Twenty five months ago. One hundred weeks ago. 

Why does this love of yours insist upon being a weapon, just as Eddie had written in his song? 

“Sugar, please,” he tries to stand in your way, force you to look up, but you won’t, “Please, stop cleaning, and-”

“I can’t.”

“You can, just sit down, let’s talk about-”

“I can’t.” 

“Gareth can get the rest of it all, it’s fine-”

“I can’t!”

You both stop all movements, Eddie’s shuffling and your attempts to escape him, as the yell falls off your lips. Finally, you look up at him, shocked to find red-rimmed eyes.

They weren’t that pink when you’d found him. Even when intoxicated. 

The tears gathered proves it. 

“I almost lost you, Eddie!” It feels good to scream. Feels good to watch him crumple right along with you as your voice bounces around the hollow room. “You almost left me this time, okay? And not- not in the- you wouldn’t just be somewhere out there!” At some point, your hands begin to curl into shaking fists, and you let them fall against Eddie’s chest in a broken pattern. Thump, thump, thump, “You’d just be fucking gone! There would be no contracts to fix it! I can’t make a deal with the fucking Devil or God to bring you back!” His fingers wrap around your wrists, fists still in motion. Not stopping you, simply holding onto you, “Gone!” Another smack to his chest, “No second chances!” Tears had started to fall, finally, but you pay your blurry no vision any mind as sobs tear out of your throat along with every weak toss of your fists, “De-”

You can’t finish the word. It’s coiled up at the back of your throat, a stopper to all the sobs you’ve started choking out. 

A chest two sizes too small, a heart with a hole in the center of it. 

Maybe you had been born with the hole in the shape of the man that catches you when you collapse against him. It was always there, nothing to be done about it, except to let him fill it. Slot himself right into your life, place himself over it just like a bandage, wrap his arms around you as small shushes fall from his lips. 

It’s selfish – terribly, terribly selfish – that he’s comforting you now. 

But he does. He lets you cry out, slumped against him without complaint. As though simply holding you might fix this. As if this entire day may be capable of being erased by this very moment. 

At some point, you have no sobs left in you. Your entire body has been pressed into Eddie’s chest, and he’s clinging to you as though his life might rely on it as he buries his cheek against the crown of your head, but not a cry is left to give. 

“I’m not leaving,” he repeats your words from earlier in the softest of tones. 

They hold an entirely different weight on his tongue. 

But the entire Universe holds its breath as it’s set into stone – neither of you are leaving. You’re both here, headstrong with feet cemented where you stand, and you are not leaving this time. 

Your fist still homes the photograph, albeit adding new wrinkles to the picture as it curls within your hold. 

Carefully, you start to pull back from Eddie, and he lets you. Arms dropping away as you take one step backward, sneakers crunching on the broken glass scattered about the rug below. 

There, in your palm, there’s a lifetime you think you may always miss. A time that you’ll always remember like a sore ache in your back molars. 

You, and Eddie, and Gareth. Even Dustin Henderson is in the photo. 

“What’s that?” Eddie asks as his eyebrows wrinkle and he attempts to get a closer look at the treasure you stare blankly at now. 

“A photo,” you blandly explain, another step back before you can collapse onto the couch once more. Eddie joins you this time, “From that first big show at the Hideout.”

There’s more words turning stale on the tongue, but you don’t need to reminisce anymore. You get it now. Sort of. 

It hurts, it might hurt for a while, but it’s over with. It’s never going to be fair to continue to compare the two of you to what once was. You can’t go back, you can’t change a past already written. Two graves need to be laid to rest now, after one hundred long weeks, and it’s time to leave the cemetery. 

That chapter was closed. The book wasn’t. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Eddie whispers. You swear you can hear noises from down the hall, suddenly remember that Gareth was still here, “I… I didn’t say it the way I should have, but I meant it. If you want out, I’ll let you go.” 

Maybe the Universe had gotten the memo, but Eddie hadn’t. 

You look at him with wild eyes, “What? I don’t-”

“I know, I know. The contracts and stuff. But I could get them nullified. If it’s what you want, I’ll force them to let you out,” you’re stunned into silence as he smiles sadly at you, “You didn’t sign up for this shit, Sugar. I can scrap the album, too, if you want. The guys can help me write new stuff, stuff not about us, and we can just-” 

You toss that photo right onto the ground, let it flutter down to settle beside the trash can. Like flowers on a grave. 

“Do you want to know what my first thought was when I came in here?” you interrupt him, staring up at the front door as you fight back tears. He doesn’t respond, so you continue on, “Please be alive. My first thought was for you to just be alive, be okay.”

That’s what it had been. No care for nostalgia or all that once was. Simply needing him to be breathing inside this apartment.

The callous laugh that escapes him isn’t quite as cold as the ones he’d let out in the bathroom, but there’s still no trace of humor, “Can I be honest? I’m definitely alive, and some of that credit belongs to you, but… Jury’s still out about being okay.”

You turn your body towards him, blinking your sore eyes slowly, “Then talk to me about it.” 

His shock proves that this has clearly become a foreign concept. 

“What?” he tries to chuckle, tries to force a little laughter into the tone rather than sheer nerves, but it’s useless when it comes to you. He used to laugh like that any time that he lied to Wayne – it was always his giveaway. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but like I said, you didn’t sign up for any-”

“I did,” you stress, almost reaching out to grab each side of his head, shake some sense into him if possible. Just make him understand. “When I signed Matt’s contract, I signed up for it. When I agreed to get just a cup of coffee with you, I signed up for it,” you pause, taking a deep breath, eyes shutting for only a moment to compose yourself. It’s hardly a second, a long blink if anything, just so you can keep him in your sights, “You keep acting like you’ve forced me into this, but I’ve always been able to walk away if I really wanted to. Every step of the way. I could have refused to take Corroded Coffin on as a client, I could have told you to go to Hell and meant it. I could have laughed in Matt’s face when he suggested the contract. But I didn’t. Get it through your dense skull, please, Munson – I’m here, I’m staying, and I signed up for it.”

He’s quiet, dead silent as he stares at you with red eyes. You can see the bags shadowing beneath, all the damage done over four days that you can’t clean up with a trash bag and enough anxiety to fuel you for days. Things that take longer to heal, things that eat away at someone if they don’t talk about it.

You remember all that anger you’d felt when you’d realized this wasn’t the first time that Eddie had done this, that this was his new normal. 

How it had stunned you that none of them had ever just offered to talk to him. 

‘You knew him better than that.’

Gareth had been right. You do know Eddie better than that. 

“I can’t force you to talk about it all,” your voice drops, something for just the two of you, “But I can ask you to stop bottling it up. I can ask you to stop self-destructing. Because, trust me, I’ve been there – and look where it left us.” 

He tilts his head as he opens his mouth, but you’ll never hear his argument as Gareth finally enters the room. 

“I, uh, cleaned up the room and bathroom,” he holds up a smaller trash bag, free hand rubbing the nape of his neck, “I just tossed his- your old clothes into the laundry basket, but…. Yeah. It’s clean.”

A small correction, a shifting of the eyes to acknowledge not just you, but Eddie. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, terribly earnestly, twisting his body to settle his arm along the back of the couch. You’re still thinking about that tilt of his head, and whatever he had to rebuttal you with, “I… I appreciate it.” 

The words sound uncomfortable on Eddie’s tongue, as though he hasn’t said them in a while. 

“I also called Matt and let him know you’re alive,” Gareth breezes right past the gratitude, but it moves as though a weight in the air has finally been lifted as he circles around the couch to drop his bag of trash beside yours, “He said to take a few days to recover, but… Keep in touch. Not specifically with him, if you don’t want to, just- Anyone.” 

Gareth’s eyes catch yours as he says it, and you know exactly what he means. 

Eddie won’t, can’t, speak to them – but maybe he can find a way to talk to you. 

“Thanks, Gar,” you can’t fight the slightest twitchings of smiles on the corners of your mouth as you say it, and Gareth is quick to roll his eyes. It almost feels normal. It’s almost enough to forget what’s happened. 

“If you’re going to start calling me that, I might just have to tell the guys that the pizza date is cancelled,” Eddie’s head snaps from Gareth to you, not angry but simply confused, “They still haven’t stopped talking about that, by the way. Better be good on your word, Hellfire.” 

All you can do is nod, and try to not sink too deeply into the warmth sparking up in your chest at the nickname. 

“Hellfire?” Eddie, for the first time since you’ve found him, is laughing genuinely. It’s a tired sound, a little breathless, but it’s actual laughter. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.” 

“Haven’t had her around in a while,” Gareth is quick as he nods in your direction before finally moving towards the front door, “I’m heading out now, but… Call me if you need me. Or if you start craving pizza. Or… Don’t. I don’t know, I don’t control you two.” 

You almost ask him to stay, but you’re starting to suspect Gareth had heard more of your private conversation with Eddie than you’d like, and that it might be better for him to leave before you two can continue talking.

Before you ask Eddie about the tilt of his head, the argument on his tongue. 

“See you around, Gareth,” you hum, waving as you sink back further into the couch. Already preparing to settle in for a long night, a long talk. 

“See ya,” he makes the effort to not just nod in response to you, but Eddie as well. Just as his hand is on the door, though, he suddenly turns back around, “Oh, and before I forget - catch.”

Your hands move faster than your mind, thankfully, as a shining object flies through the air from Gareth’s palm and into your chest, “What the f-”

“Matt can make a new copy if he really wants one. I think you’ll make better use of it than us for now.” 

You look down at the silver key that Gareth had produced right as you had been on the verge of getting inside the apartment, of getting to Eddie. 

Eddie sees it too, and his brows furrow quickly, “When the fuck did Matt get a key to my place?” 

“Who cares?” Gareth shrugs, “Just be glad he did, or else you’d probably be replacing your front door from her kicking it in.”

It’s your turn to let out a sincere scoff, pocketing the key regardless. He’s right – your ankle almost screams out it’s thanks as you think about whether you would have tried (you would have) and if you would have been successful (you wouldn’t have been).  

With that, Gareth leaves. 

The front door doesn’t slam shut as you and Eddie are left properly alone. A new key to add to your own chain heavy in your pocket, and a million questions weighing down your mind. 

You and Eddie turn back to one another in sync. Something simmers in the air – something hopeful, something promising. The rosy glow of sunset outside the skyline windows illuminates the room just so. 

“Now that we’re alone, I’m going to ask you one more time, and I want you to be honest,” you start strong, sure, ready. Eddie nods along with each word, never shying away from your gaze, “Are you okay?” 

Instead of answering immediately, Eddie suddenly shuffles around his position on the couch. You’re taken back, freezing up, but don’t dare protest once you realize what he’s doing. 

His head falls into your lap with minimal hesitancy, and suddenly, big brown eyes are staring up at you. 

“Honestly, Sugar? No. I feel like shit,” you can’t fathom how he manages to do it, delivering it with a boyish grin that doesn’t feel condescending, only slightly teasing. It should be inappropriate, but if this is how he needs to be in order to open up, then it works. “Got any preference on where I start?” 

Your fingers find home in his scalp on instinct, “Wherever you want, Rockstar.” 

You can bury the old versions of yourself all you want – some habits will never die. Some things will never change. 

“Great,” he sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut for just a moment. You both bask in all the serenity that traces the edges of his face as the dipping sunrise continues to paint his cheeks gentle shades of pink and orange. “Then let’s start with promising I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m never mixing cocaine and whiskey again. Totally cancels out for me. A real buzzkill.” 

“Not funny.”

“I know,” his eyes shoot open, and half his mouth raises at a sorry attempt for a grin. Still tired, still truly looking like shit, but there’s promise behind those twisting vines of amber and chestnut looking up at you, “But I mean it… Gotta start somewhere, Sugar.”

He’s right – it’s a start. And you hope he means it. Because, whether it be fortunately or unfortunately, you’re not leaving. 

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

[renesassing]

i may never really explain the whole deal with my revan on here bc reasons and there's just Too Much to get into but i am also deranged and i need you all to Get what im deranged about so here's like. a very quick list of core aspects of how i characterize revan & interpret kotor so my disembodied rants aren't coming from a complete vacuum

kotor 2 is more about revan than kotor 1 is. kotor 1 is what saves revan, though, so maybe it's the most important thing. the book isn't about kotor at all so i ignore it.

have you ever been built to love things and then convince yourself it's a flaw that must be compensated for, and no one bothers to correct you until it's too late?

the answer to the question "what makes a mandalorian afraid" ends up looking a lot like another mandalorian.

"love will save you, not condemn you" jolee was fucking right about that

there's not a single person in kotor 1 or 2 who gains a net positive in their life from interacting with revan. except maybe hk-47, who was created by them

what it means to be driving the trolley in the trolley problem. what it means to be a passanger, too.

determination and ruthlessness can be just the same thing from different points of view.

it's about inter-generational trauma. which means a lot of things but also that technically everything is exar kun's fault.

war destroys jedi. at it's gentlest it leaves deep, gouging scars.

revan exists in the narrative as a black hole in a way that probably says a lot about my special interest in black holes

that one post i made about revan and their divinity

to be saved and to be redeemed are two different things. revan never experiences redemption or resolution.

revan never stopped trying to be a jedi. it's part of the problem

[writingastory]

Xavier: 🍋-Alphabet

Warnings: Explicit (obviously lul), written for fem!reader

Genre: Canon AU; MC (including storylines) is non-existent.

A/N: Time to bring this classic back. 😏

A = Aftercare

🌟 Xavier is such a sweet soul. Before Aftercare even becomes a thought, he just wants to bask in Afterglow: steal soft kisses from your lips, plant the sweetest kisses everywhere his mouth can reach, pressing himself to you as close as he can (without suffocating you).

🌟 He just needs a few moments of snuggling like this, with him still inside you, until he's naturally slipping out ever so slowly.

🌟 Once that happened, he will ask you what you need and bring it to you. Something to clean yourself, a shirt, a nightgown, a snack, a beverage - you name it, he'll make it happen for you.

-

B = Body part

🌟 I feel like Xavier would be obsessed with your hands. They are so small and soft in comparison to his.

🌟 Remember the Nightly Rendevouz? When he held your hand so gently against the window? Yeah, he loves your hands.

🌟 Definitely making sure that your fingers stay entwined from the beginning to the end. He doesn't want to lose that connection, under no circumstances.

-

C = Cum

🌟 He loves to creampie you.

🌟 More specifically, he loves cumming deep inside you - and then watch his seed trickle out of you slowly.

🌟 Please don't be shy to spread your legs for him and let him watch.

🌟 Bonus points if you let him rub you to another high and he gets to watch your sweet pussy flutter and clench, pumping out his cum.

-

D = Dirty secret

🌟 Actually, this man doesn't really have a classic dirty secret. You basically know everything.

🌟 Except maybe that he thinks about letting you dom him completely for once. He's not quite sure yet how to articulate that wish, but he'll get there.

🌟 Please just bind this man to the bed and wear him out, okay? He needs it every now and then.

-

E = Experience

🌟 Not the most experieced, but!

🌟 This man is always very atuned to his loved ones, especially to the woman of his heart. So, he really doesn't need a lot of experience to know what he's doing. He sees and feels your reactions. Xavier quickly understands what you like and what you don't like.

-

F = Favorite position

🌟 It's either Flatiron or Missionary.

🌟 Either way, it's gonna be a very close variation. He craves close skin-to-skin contact.

-

G = Goofy

🌟 Unintentionally goofy sometimes. Just like he is in real life.

🌟 And that's also kinda the reason: This man has no separate personality for intimacy and sex. You get the same Xavier between the sheets that you get for grocery shopping on a Saturday morning.

🌟 So sometimes, even if he doesn't mean to, he's a little goofy while he's pressing inside of you.

-

H = Hair

🌟 Probably doesn't have the wildest hair growth anyway.

🌟 Still, he makes sure it's all neat. Doesn't shave clean though.

🌟 Also doesn't expect you to follow any "routine" for your body hair. You like removing your hair? Okay, sweet. You don't like removing your hair? Okay, sweet.

-

I = Intimacy

🌟 He's so focused on satisfying you....

🌟 Seriously, if there's a time he does not think of sleeping... it's this.

🌟 He's so sweet, too. Whispering soft words, greedy for kisses and for touching you...

🌟 He's a very soft dominant man. Yes, he likes calling the shots in bed - but he does so very gently. You're a treasure and you're ought to be treated as such.

🌟 Only exceptions are when you explicitely tell him to be rougher... or when he's jealous. That's another story, though.

-

J = Jack off

🌟 Not a fan, honestly. Not even before you two became a thing.

🌟 His thoughts may have derailed every now and then, but never to a point where he had to relief himself in some way.

🌟 Even less since you two became a couple. Why would he use his hands when yours are so much more talented...?

-

K = Kink

🌟 Voyeurism.

🌟 Need I say more?

🌟 Check "C" in this post. 😭

🌟 He totally would have you touch yourself while he watches, just saying.

-

L = Location

🌟 Everywhere it happens. Except in public. He's not a fan of public sex. That would always be an unpleasant thrill, and he'd have to rush... and he doesn't want that.

🌟 His favorite would be the bed though. Mainly because he can just snooze off once you're both satisfied.

-

M = Motivation

🌟 Huge on physical motivation.

🌟 Yes, seeing you in cute or sexy lingerie is awesome... but if you want to get him going, you need to get physical with him.

🌟 Scratch his scalp gently, kiss his neck, nibble on his collarbone - or just boldy squeeze him through his pants. He'll be mush and putty in your hands.

-

N = No

🌟 He will not do anything that hurts you.

🌟 He'd probably not even choke you, even if you asked him.

🌟 Harming you is not on his agenda.

-

O = Oral

🌟 Loves giving and receiving equally.

🌟 He would not want to finish like this, though. He'd much rather finish deep inside of your perfect pussy. But he loves when you get on your knees for him.

🌟 On the other hand, he loves burying his head between your thighs. This man will take his sweet time with you, spread you open gently and lap at your entrance and your sensitive pearl carefully. He revels in the quivers he feels around his tongue.

🌟 Please pull his hair when he goes down on you, it'll make him moan against you. :)

-

P = Pace

🌟 Depends on his mood. If it's a good day, he will take his time. It'll be sensual, passionate, a slow build up to the crashing waves of your orgasms.

🌟 If it's a bad day (or you riled him up, you bad girl), he's gonna be a lot more demanding and fast. He'll pound into you with more vigor and purpose.

🌟 Same happens when you ask him to be a little rougher with you. No matter the occasion: if he happens to fuck you a little harder and faster than usual, he'll make sure to press you down, so that you have no other choice than to take what he gives you.

-

Q = Quickie

🌟 Loves shower quickies. I don't make the rules.

🌟 If his morning shower contains washing your hair and filling you up... who is he to complain?

-

R = Risk

🌟 The riskiest thing during sex this man will do... is to try out new positions.

🌟 He's not a huge fan of taking risks. He wants intimacy to be enjoyable and not nerve-wrecking.

-

S = Stamina

🌟 Lots of Stamina on this one, he's fit as hell.

🌟 Still, he can only go one round - but that round will be worth it. Don't worry, he'll make you finish several times before he even thinks of finishing himself.

🌟 When he finishes, it's like a switch was flipped in his brain. He's satisfied, he doesn't need more than one round.

🌟 That's also why he makes sure you're thoroughly satisfied before him. He knows that once he's done, he can't go on any longer - so he takes care of you first.

-

T = Toys

🌟 No.

🌟 Would probably be confused by a lot of them?

🌟 Also, why would you need those? You have him? 🤨

-

U = Unfair

🌟 Unintentionally unfair and teasing.

🌟 He's rubbing you so good and you're close? He'd pull away, confused why you're annoyed suddenly? He was just repositioning himself to eat you out. He knows you prefer finishing on his tongue, so why the long face...?

🌟 Also, this man says the lewdest things with the straightest face. "This is welcoming me back so warmly. Can you feel it?" he'd whisper, not understanding why you're embarrassed? He was just stating a fact? :(

-

V = Volume

🌟 Noisy, but not loud.

🌟 Definitely a breather and groaner, not necessarily a moaner.

🌟 He'll make sure to breathe and groan right into your ear though, so you can hear him, no worries.

-

W = Wild card

🌟 Xavier is so obsessed with your body, but in a non-sexual way. He could spend hours just tracing your form with his fingers, finding all the little imperfections that make you you - and he'd love it.

🌟 So, don't be surprised that you find him watching you getting dressed or undressed or taking a shower. He's not trying to be creepy. He's just in awe of your beauty.

-

X = X-ray

🌟 5 inches / 12.7 cm

🌟 Pretty straight, and girthier towards the base. A few veins here and there.

🌟 His tip is slightly pink.

-

Y = Yearning

🌟 Surprisingly high. This man could go at any time during the day.

🌟 After your first time of making love, you did it daily - sometimes several times a day - because he simply could not keep his hands to himself.

🌟 You two are still very active, but mostly during "set" times and not just at any time during the day.

-

Z = Zzz...

🌟 Okay, we know this man can sleep anywhere, anytime. After sex is no exception. Once you're both clean and comfy, snuggled up under the blankets... he's out. Just like that.

🌟 He'll wrap himself around you btw, so there's no escape. You're sleeping, too. :)

[anneapocalypse]

Oh yeah, the elements thing as well as the Divine Chronicles missing its seventh verse were definitely a factor! That said, most common people in Eorzea aren't scholars, or all that familiar with scholarly work in the way someone who hangs around with a bunch of Archons cannot help but be (and it is unclear to me how much of Eorzea is literate? but that's another post). There was absolutely an entrenched belief that the Calamities were Over; however I think that had there been people alive with grandparents who remembered a Calamity happening (in the way much of my generation grew up hearing stories of World War II), it might have been easier to change people's minds on that--to persuade them that this is something that could happen again.

That is a good point about Nyunkrepf as well! Combined with the lack of territorial disputes, the experiences carried into the founding of Sharlayan make an interesting combination that creates the ethos we see there today: the emphasis on knowledge and learning and the preservation of them, but also the understanding of knowledge as dangerous and needing to be controlled.

Relatedly, another thing reading the timeline and also the history of the Fifth Astral really drives home for me is that even though the Circle of Knowing failed to entirely prevent the Seventh Umbral Calamity, it could have been so much worse. Even with all the damage Bahamut did, Eorzea comes out of the Seventh Umbral Calamity with all of its major civilizations intact. Limsa, Ul'dah, and Gridania are all still standing with their systems of governance intact despite the upheaval; Ishgard and Sharlayan are never even really forced to pay attention. Which is kind of bananas for Sharlayan especially given that they would have probably the best records of what happened in the last Calamity, which pretty much wiped out civilization across Eorzea. Mhach is gone; Nym is gone; Amdapor is gone. People survived, but the societies of that era did not, and there's no quantifying how much knowledge, culture, and technology was lost.

And given their knowledge of that history, the value they see in preserving knowledge, and also the importance of their secret mission from Hydaelyn, the Forum needed to be pretty fucking confident that Sharlayan, at least, was in no danger. Had they actually believed another Calamity was coming, history would have given them no reason to believe they would be able to opt out of it just by staying home. At the same time, their mission from Hydaelyn puts a different spin on that as well. Even if there were some who saw merit in Louisoix's predictions, knowing that there was an even worse crisis coming, I can see how they might conclude that the best thing they could do was bunker down and continue their preparations, no matter what. Even so, Louisoix's intervention may very have saved Sharlayan as well as Eorzea.

(ETA also, I implied above that the three major territories in Eorzea weren't known by those names prior to the Sixth Umbral but I was mistaken there! La Noscea was La Noscea before Limsa Lominsa existed, and so forth.)

Reading the Sixth Astral Era timeline in Encyclopedia Eorzea really puts a lot of things into perspective for me. Like I knew the Calamity happened in 1572, but actually reading the timeline of major events in Eorzea really forces you to conceptualize how fucking long that is.

For one thing: the last Calamity was 1500 years ago? For the average person that might as well be Biblical times. No wonder people didn't believe it would happen again. You might as well be telling them Noah's flood is going to happen again next month.

For another: it puts a lot about Sharlayan in perspective when you realize that a) it was one of the first city-states to be established after the Calamity of Water flooded most of Eorzea, and b) the territory Archon Nyunkrepf and his followers settled seems to have been largely uncontested. Within 600 years they were figuring out how to build aetherytes. Meanwhile, the Elezen who settled Coerthas were fucking around and finding out with the dragons; Gelmorra and Belah'dia wouldn't be built for another century; Limsa Lominsa wouldn't be settled for more than another century after that. And the regions that would become known as Thanalan, La Noscea, and the Black Shroud would be mired in territorial disputes for hundreds of years after that, some of which persist into the present-day.

It's not that the Sharlayans are uniquely smarter or intrinsically value learning more than anyone else, imo, it's just that it's a lot easier to put resources into scientific study and build stable institutions of learning and knowledge collection when you've never really had to prioritize military strength because you don't have a neighboring nation trying to kick your shit in every other week. And it also makes sense that they subsequently balk when pressed to join a military alliance, because that is not the resource their society is built to offer.

[gayaest]

Hey, so I mean this entirely in good faith and just want to see where you're coming from.

When you draw pictures of people (OC), why do you only list their name, age, disabilities, and race (and some other stuff sometimes)? not likes or interests or hobbies or a look into their life? Is there somewhere else for me to find out more?

Personally, I don't find those to be the most interesting things about a character or a person or an object or anything like that, and I don't typically base characters around it (not saying you do, just not sure why else they take precidence over other aspects of their character)

I love your art and hope youu have a nice day!

I’ll try to answer this in the best way possible, but my wording might be off because I am more ill than usual, so bare with me.

1. Experiences with creating Original Characters is not a monolith — what you like to do with characters may not be what another creator likes to do with them. Some people never make backstories for their characters and keep them mainly for designs. Some people like to create backstories, and both of these things can exist and are okay. What you personally find interesting isn’t the same for everyone.

Even if I do have backstories for many of my characters, not all of them are even close to finished yet or even fully fleshed out, I often start with basics and go from there. If you are interested in the backstories of my characters, I have a toyhouse in which I post them.

2. Race, Culture, Age and Disability is a huge part of a lot of people’s lives, I can attest to that for myself. A lot of what I put down as “descriptors” for my characters are for people to get the absolute “bare bones” of who this character is, kind of like a bio on social media. It may not personally interest you, but Culture is a huge aspect on how people develop and think, the way people grow up and who they are around influence their thoughts, likes, dislikes, career, life choices and more. I find that many people from different cultures are often very happy at the representation of their culture being present if done respectfully, and causes a lot of happiness to feel seen.

I have a particular interest in researching humans, cultures, disabilities and diversity. You don’t have to have those interests, the same way I don’t particularly have to have an interest in “likes vs dislikes” of a character.

It would concern me if someone doesn’t care about peoples race or ethnicity, the same way it concerns me when a white person says “well, I don’t see color”, it erases the diverse experience of being human. It erases culture, experience, struggle and more. A lot of POC, myself included, find solace in knowing someone may understand a specific experience of what it’s like growing up a certain way. That we are not alone in our struggles.

And this all relates to Disability as well. Able-bodied people are not going to understand the life of a disabled person they haven’t lived in. Growing up disabled, becoming disabled later in life, in general /being/ disabled is a different way of life than the average person. We have struggles and experiences not everyone can relate to — which means by sharing this in a description of a character — it can actually tell a lot about what they’ve been through and understand.

Other disabled people may not understand what life is like for another disabled person — I have had numerous asks and messages by other disabled people and able-bodied people alike telling me they are happy to see representation of a specific disability, or that they discovered a disability through my artwork and they were able to research it or even apply it to their medical training. This is a huge reason for why I do what I do.

I’m glad this is a question in good faith — Thank you for liking my art, and i hope you have a good day as well.

If you have anymore questions, I have an FAQ:

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter XIV - The Cage

Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. But you both have taken vows that make sure your paths may never cross. Until they do.

Aka a fix-it fanfic where Acacius survives the Colosseum.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 41k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, Oral Sex (f receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Semi-Public Sex, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist // Ko-Fi

notes: hello you wonderful people. i am so excited for the next few chapters and to show you all where we are heading. i know this chapter is a bit on the sadder side but i promise if you stick with me, it will pay off. i've been doing a lot of research and i believe i've found some very cool things to include in this fice hehe. smooches! ♡

carpentum - closed carriage centurion - high-ranking army official

Chapter XIV - The Cage

Acacius doesn't feel like staying in his tent. He goes over the route for the next day three more times before folding the map and heading out of the makeshift door. He makes his rounds, greeting some of the soldiers and centurions alike, even stopping at one point to taste the wine one of them offers him. He trails in between tents, all of them neatly organized, built for the night like a temporary, small town. His horse neighs when he nears the animals that are tied to a large wooden post and Acacius smiles in spite of himself, stepping forward and greeting the stallion. 

The andalusian is the only gold spent that he does not feel guilty about, having been his trustworthy companion for several years now. He reaches out, tracing his hand over the side of the horse's head and onto its neck, gently patting it. “You are not sleepy either, are you? Did we not tire you out with today?”

It shakes his head as if to decline and Acacius sighs, allowing his horse a few more pats before retreating. He gets in another round around the camp before forcing himself to wander back into the direction of his own tent. A third round would raise brows, no doubt.

He does feel a bit better, having scoured the perimeter and knowing that you are merely feet away, that he would wake immediately if anything happened so close to him. Not that he hoped he would need to.

But he still catches himself straining his ears when he has retired to bed, trying to gauge if you are still awake or if sleep has already taken you. He briefly wonders if you are the same as him, laying awake and staring at the ceiling. Then again, you don't carry the kind of regret that he does so sleep in general might come easier to you.

Acacius groans as he turns in his bed and brings his hands onto his stomach, staring down at them in his horizontal position. The green stone surrounded by gold stares back at him and with a sigh, he takes the ring off, twisting it between his fingers. The inscription is the same it was when Lucilla first gave it to him.

Marcus • Aurelius • Maximus

The three men Lucilla has loved, one as a father, two as lovers. He is still not quite sure he deserves the engraving to the left of Aurelius that she had added for him when she asked him to wear it. The fact that her father and himself share a first name only makes him feel less equal, like he can never live up to those that came before him.

With a small groan, Acacius sits again, slipping the ring back on his finger and he reaches for his quill. The letter to Lucilla is rather short. He can never mention details, nothing of where they are or where exactly they are headed, just in case it falls into wrong hands. But he can tell her that he misses her, that he wishes he were back in Rome. So he does precisely that.

He hands it to the next courier they meet.

For about a week, things settle into an unsteady normality. They ride and march during the day, Acacius paying extra attention to the formations they decide on, making sure that he and at least one other capable soldier are always close to your carriage. You have started to obey him when he asks something of you and neither of you are openly hostile towards the other. But he can tell that you are unhappy or, at the very least, disappointed in what the world behind the walls of Rome has had to offer so far. He catches glimpses of you glancing out the window of your carriage when he is riding behind you, taking in the hills and forests that you pass. But the winter is still all around you, even as you get further south, and the frozen over ponds and leafless trees make the campaign feel even more hopeless.

You retire early each night, excusing yourself politely and heading back to your tent. Often, you say that you have to perform prayers but he’s not sure whether or not to believe that. And the one evening he does think further, imagining you on your knees in the tent beside his, he has to muffle his moans with his pillow.

The night before you are to reach Beneventum, an excuse to see you opens up before him like the sea when one passes the last hill before Ostia.

“My lady?” He pats the outside of the tent to imitate a knock. “May I come in?”

“Yes,” you call from inside and Acacius slips through the entrance, finding you sitting on your bed. He hasn't been in here since the night he spoke to you but it still looks much the same. Thick curtains that are bunched up and tied to the side around your bed, more pillows lining it than he cares to count. They've even laid out a rug for you and somehow, the soft and warm interior fits you.

“How have you been?” – “Is everything alright?” You speak at the same time. Your voice is slightly panicked while his is awfully polite and he tries to ignore the small stab in his chest at the realization that you think something must be wrong for him to come and speak to you.

“No. No, everything is fine. I merely wanted to let you know that we will be arriving in Beneventum tomorrow, around mid afternoon. We will rest there for two nights, allow the men to catch their breath,” he explains, tapping his fingers against his thigh. The silence that follows his words feel unbearable. “It is a nice town. Small, but nice. Kind people. They will let us restock on what we need.”

“Good,” you answer quietly and why is it suddenly so hard to talk to you? Before, you both never hit a spell of silence. Even during Bona Dea, he found that he preferred talking to you over sleep, over anything. Now, the conversation just feels heavy.

“Very well. I will get out of your hair then.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he turns his back on you and leaves.

***

The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky when you notice riders falling away to the side, leading the men that march behind them onto the fields beside the Via Appia. Your carriage doesn't get steered off course however, continuing on the small road. Then, two riders appear beside you, one on each side and it takes you a moment to understand that they are there for your protection.

And then you see it. Up on a small hill before you sits a small town, the road leading straight through it. The caravan slows down as you reach the outer perimeter, the riders now staying close beside you. You catch a glimpse of an arch as you pass through it. Stone looms above you for a few moments and you think you spot a relief of Trajan in passing. Then you reenter the sunlight and with it, spot Acacius in front of you, his head held high, his white horse proudly stepping through the town. You can't quite place the feeling that builds in your stomach at the sight.

You watch as storefronts pass your window, an array of spices, colored fabrics, painted pots and vases flying by. It's much too fast to look at the items properly so you make a mental note to come back tomorrow and browse around. Unlike a lot of other women, Vestals do get paid so you have more than enough gold to spend.

Eventually, the houses retreat and you pass through a small gate, one so narrow that the riders beside you finally fall behind and then well-kept gardens appear around you. There are statues placed along the path, several small fountains further away. None of it is nearly as large or tall as in Rome but they’re impressive nonetheless. Eventually, the carriage comes to a halt and you feel the soldier in the front jump down from his seat. A moment later, he appears through the curtain and offers you a hand.

You smooth down your coat and glance up at the villa that you have come to a stop in front of, its grounds looming over the town below. Acacius has already dismounted his horse and is talking to a man and a woman animatedly. You are led to join them, smiling awkwardly as you come to stand beside the General.

“Ah, there she is. May I introduce you–” He gestures from you to the couple. “To Sir and Lady Orbilius. They are kind enough to host us during our time in Beneventum.” You greet both of them, even if not quite as enthusiastically as they greet you.

The brown-haired woman, probably in her late forties, bows down a bit too low and reaches for you. “May I take your hand?” You nod quickly, holding it out for her. She places a kiss on the back of it and you can feel Acacius shift beside you. “I cannot tell you what an honor it is to have you under our roof. Of course–” She turns toward Acacius. “Having the General is a big honor in itself. But a Priestess of Vesta, by the gods–”

Tears glisten in her eyes when she straightens again. For a split moment, you think you have somehow offended her and worry seeps into your chest. But then she smiles and you realize that they are in fact tears of happiness or gratefulness or something of the like. 

They show you through the atrium and a terrasse that overlooks the gardens, speaking highly of the hot summer days here. Eventually, the lady of the house leads you upstairs, shows you to what will be your bedroom for the next two nights and then allows you some peace and quiet before changing for the evening meal they have insisted on sharing with you. You find your wooden chest already sitting in the corner and open it to admire your options. Now that you are not sleeping and dining in a tent, you do not need to wear a coat over each of your stolas.

The red one is packed near the bottom and you consider whether or not you should wear it at all. The intention you purchased it with does not hold up anymore. But why not dress up a little? Especially for a woman who was so thankful to meet you she almost cried? You tell yourself that is the only reason why you carefully drape the red fabric over your body, the gold details glistening in the equally golden rays of sunshine filtering in through the curtains. The evening light gives the small room an orange glow. And the view out the window is near picturesque, the small town below you, complete with a temple, fields and woods stretching behind the perimeter. Your hands unconsciously roam over your body, smoothing down the small wrinkles in the soft fabric as you take a deep breath.

***

This has to be a special kind of torture. Watching you lie down beside him, the red and gold fabric of your stola draped over your body and try one food after another without a care in the world. Like your body is not so close to his, like you can't feel the invisible connection that is flickering in the air between you.

Acacius has been tortured before, when he was held captive for what luckily turned out to only be a few days. But this? It's worse.

Your hosts have taken the lower couch, eager to keep the appropriate customs. No doubt hoping for a favor or two, or at least a good word from his lips directed at the Emperors when needed. He wouldn't care so much if it didn't mean sharing the higher of the couches with you, all of you stretched out around the table so laden with food and wine that Acacius is surprised it has not yet given in under the weight.

He tries to recall if your stolas were always this tight, if they always hugged your form so well, highlighting your body in all the right places. Or, maybe, it just seems like it because he now knows what is underneath the fabric, because he has kissed your legs and shoulders and chest and tastes you on his lips, felt inner parts that no other man has ever got to feel. Acacius swallows another bite of his food, adjusting his own toga in a way that he hopes is inconspicuous.

“General Acacius, would you care to join us for a walk in the gardens before you retire?” He barely even noticed the others getting up, expectant eyes now resting on him. He agrees quickly enough, standing as well, thankful that his toga is not one of the thin ones he wears during the summer. Sir Orblilius’s attention turns onto you. “Will you be joining us as well?”

Acacius’s gaze flies around and he can immediately tell that you do not look eager, the hesitation clear in the way you hold yourself. “Well, maybe we should let the lady go on upstairs. Our travels can make one weary.”

The man laughs heartedly at that. “I hope you have not worn her out, General.” It is clear that he’s joking, unaware of any implication beyond a lighthearted comment. But Acacius can immediately see the blush creeping up onto your cheeks.

“I shall join you. I would love to see the gardens,” you respond politely, avoiding Acacius’s gaze. He follows suit as you are both led over to the terrasse and begin to descend the stairs that lead to the rich plants and trees below. He pretends to listen to the couple speaking of their statues and rare fruits, pretends to be impressed by a tree that supposedly never withers. Here or there, he throws in a question or thoughtful nod to keep the conversation afloat, his real focus all the while on you. He does not wish to learn more about your respective hosts but he has things he’d like to ask you. Like how his soldiers have been treating you. If you are comfortable on this journey. If you already regret taking it.

But such is not the kind of small talk expected by the couple beside him. And so he doesn't.

When your small group has completed the lap around the house and he once again finds himself at the bottom of the stone steps, Sir Orbilius gives Acacius a polite smile. “If you would excuse me now, General. I would like to take my wife upstairs.” He pauses for a moment like he is waiting for an invitation to stay a bit longer. When none comes, he continues. “Now that I am thinking about it, I believe it is best if I too retire. We will see you at the ‘morrow?”

“Yes. Of course.” Acacius nods politely. “Thank you for the meal and for showing us around. You really do have a beautiful collection.” He’s become so good at playing a game he doesn't even enjoy.

“Well, my lady Vestal, you may want to retire too.” The woman of the house joins you, having walked side by side with you and she holds her arm out for her husband to take. He does so with a well-rehearsed motion. And Acacius’s gaze is once more drawn towards you rather than anything else. Your polite smile reminds him of his own. A priestess certainly understands the rules of the game well, maybe better than he does. Maybe that is why your answer comes as a surprise to him.

“Not quite yet. I like walking among the stars–well, under them.” You trip slightly over your words and he has to hold back a chuckle, finding it rather adoring. “Sitting in my carriage all day makes my legs feel funny so I enjoy small walks in the evenings.”

Acacius nods along, pretending not to understand the small snide you are sending his way. Because he has been insistent that you stay in your carriage rather than ride or, gods forbid, walk. He simply feels it to be safer that way. It is not unlike the house on Palatine Hill that Lucilla will be sitting in right now, guards always stationed at its gates. He will lock those he loves in a cage if it only means keeping them safe from the world.

Not that he loves you. He just cares for you. For your safety.  Or something of the like.

The others bid you both good night and without speaking, you begin to walk again, taking one of the less-treaded paths that lead straight through the gardens and towards the edge of the property. Acacius trails slightly behind you, hoping that his presence won’t bother you but also unable to let you roam around all by yourself.

He watches the way your hips move and how your stola trails behind you and when he begins to feel sick with himself for abusing his position like this, he focuses on your footprints instead. Which is why he almost runs into you when you come to a halt.

***

You feel Acacius’s hand reaching for your shoulder as he steadies himself and you give him just a few moments before slipping out of his touch. The path has led you to a small, round pavilion, the slightly angled roof looking a few years past its prime. But its position at this side of the garden is high enough to overlook the houses below and the hills in the distance. There is light spilling onto the street from a few windows still, some bright like the fire of Vesta, some stemming from just one or two candles on a windowsill. But behind the houses, the fields and hills lie in the dark. Acacius’s troops must be on the other side of the town, to the north.

“It is so dark,” you whisper quietly, absent-mindedly running your fingers over the column beside you. The stone is cold to the touch. “It is never this dark in Rome.”

Acacius nods quietly, stepping beside you with a few, slow motions and you listen to the sounds of his toga rustling as he moves. His voice is only a whisper. “Rome is a very special place, my lady.”

His hand brushes over the red fabric of your stola, the one you have wrapped tightly around your body to fight off the cold. You can feel his thumb tracing one of the golden lines, his touch as light as ever. If you moved just an inch to the side, you are certain he would drop his hand immediately.

You both stay silent for a while, staring out into the ever growing darkness as one or two more windows below you lose their light. It must take minutes for you to gather up enough courage to look at him.

His eyes are soft, a little glazed-over from the amount of wine he was practically forced to taste at dinner. And the way he looks at you? It is like the difference between day and night, between light and dark, the way he looks at you so differently when you're alone like this. You've seen him give commands with a mere look. But the brown eyes that rest on yours in this moment are not those of a General. They are just those of a man.

“I am sorry my men gave you trouble that first day.” He says quietly, bowing his head slightly, though his eyes never leave your face.

“It is not your fault,” you whisper back, shaking your head. Then, maybe because you hope to lessen the worry in his eyes, you add; “They have been good to me. Many of them are kind.”

Acacius nods. But he doesn't respond. So you fall back into silence. A dog barks somewhere below you. You turn towards the sound, your eyes finding the small street you passed through earlier, the one with the many shops side by side.

“Oh, I meant to ask. May I use the day tomorrow to head down to the stores? I would like to look at a few things, I promised a friend I would bring her back something and…” You trail off, your eyes still on the now abandoned street.

“No.”

And there he is again. The cold, uncaring General who does not give a damn about what you do or do not want. “What?”

“No. Absolutely not. The streets are narrow and will be filled with people, both our own and the townsfolk, not to speak of the travellers. We are not the only ones travelling Via Appia.” Acacius states, his voice already letting you know that he will not put this decision up for discussion.

The anger you would have felt a few days ago now only manifests itself in the form of resignation. Your shoulders slump slightly and a sigh leaves your lips. “Of course. What a silly idea. I forgot you are to lock me up in either a carriage or one of these rooms for the entirety of the trip.”

“I will keep you safe the entire trip,” Acacius mutters. His hand has disappeared from your side. “It is getting late. I will escort you back to the villa. Come.”

You stand like one of the statues around the garden, frozen to the spot. The way he switches up so fast, like he becomes one person and then another–it’s exhausting you. “Acacius?”

“What?” You can tell he sounds slightly on edge, like he’s itching to get away. From you or the conversation or both.

“Could you just–could you just be a little bit kind to me?” Your voice trembles slightly and your head stays bowed. You can’t make out his face in the darkness. His shoulders shift as he gives a weak nod.

“Let me be kind and take you to your room.”

If the last week has taught you one thing about Acacius, it is that he will not allow you to change his mind quite so easily. And with the chances of success so slim, you find that you don’t have it in you to try. Maybe the light-hearted joke earlier tonight held more truth than either of you would have liked. Maybe travel, and Acacius, have truly worn you out. You let your gaze roam over the town below you once more. Then, you turn and obey him without another word.

[wakayrd]

Question for your Theater AU!

How do you think an ecounter between canon Sif and you AU Sif would go.

By Acts for clarification.

I feel like Canon Sif MAY have a disaociative episode during later Acts if they were suddenly droped into a theater that confirms his growing detatchment towards his family, but what about you?

This was an interesting ask that immediately had my thoughts racing. I was thinking about where in the timeline was Curtain Call Siffrin when this sort of interaction was happening? And then on top of that how would it be different if it was multiple interactions each act? How would it be better / worse if it was not just Curtain Call Siffrin but the rest of the crew? Curtain Call Siffrin spends a lot of time at the theatre “alone”, once they got his own code into the theatre. Luckily the theatre owner Euphrasie is very kind about wandering souls like that, and doesn’t mind as long as Siffrin isn’t bringing in others from outside the company into the theatre (for insurance reasons) or using any power tools / doing activities that you shouldn’t be alone for. Euphrasie isn’t at the theatre often anyhow, so it’s a lovely quiet place to do whatever. It’d be so funny to have Siffrin show up then, but also just as fun if it was during a rehearsal. In terms of when in my timeline, it’s going to be exactly where I’ve been sitting so… in certain ways, Curtain Call Siffrin is going to seem a bit clueless. But isn’t it nice to be that way? It all makes me go teehee… I’ve written out my thoughts of what I would think would happen depending on the Act if Siffrin showed up at the theatre. Spoilers for the whole game ahead- and 2hats! This is a long post btw but there's art too so I hope it's all worth it? I tried my best to capture what I thought would happen but I am still trying to understand the characters and how they'd react so if you have different ideas about how certain things would happen feel free to let me know!

CC Siffrin = Curtain Call Siffrin Spirit = Spirit Of The Theatre (aka Loop in the theatre)

ACT 1

Siffrin isn’t that perturbed being there other than a typical “why am I here? Why is there another Siffrin here? What is all of this?” I imagine. It’s one of the lightest interactions compared to the other acts. It’s just a nice bonding moment between Siffrins- especially if this is before the crunch of the rock there isn’t much reason for there to be an issue or any worries other than "well I need to go back to fight the king with my friends" but Siffrin likely assumes this is a dream. Assuming that there isn’t hostility when they’re both like “??? hello?” I imagine they would talk about plays that have happened, where they are in their lives and the people that they know- allies, friends, whatever-you-want-to-call-them. A good time. We all know Siffrins need a good time and that’s this.

ACT 2

Siffrin is a bit thrown off by the fact that they’re in a theatre. From my memory Siffrin hasn’t really slipped that much into referring to their timeloops as a stage / theatre in Act 2, so it feels calming to be somewhere that they kinda enjoy- it’s a time to think about “huh, maybe I can see a play eventually after we defeat the king”. Meeting CC Siffrin is quite a shock. They exchange a bit of their stories. Siffrin tells CC Siffrin about the time loops and while CC Siffrin cannot relate, they do kinda offer his support to them. Siffrin asks to hear about the next play they’re putting on. If they see the rest of the crew, I imagine it’s bittersweet. It’s nice to know they’re happy and don’t have to deal with the King in another universe. … If they see Spirit, they call out to them. Spirit is a bit shocked, and obviously isn’t Siffrin’s Loop. They quickly dismiss the new Siffrin and tell them that they’re not who Siffrin thinks they are!

No art for Act 2... I just couldn't come up with anything. SORRY!

ACT 3 + 4

… Teehee. I’m only combining 3 and 4 because my brain is always foggy on where exactly it switches but I am pretty sure it’s after Bonnie… yeah. Still! They’re both pretty similar.

Act 3 and 4 Siffrin is where we start to see the dread and panic. At first, Siffrin thinks that the stage before them is a dream. When they see…. Themselves come onto the stage (because CC Siffrin was working on something backstage when he heard someone out there), reasonably Siffrin felt nauseous. It takes a long while for the air to clear between the two- if the others are there I can imagine it’s worse because Siffrin could have very well walked into a rehearsal. It’s kinda funny, in an awful way- walking into carbon copies of people you love, you love them so so so much- reciting lines knowingly and laughing as they flub up or accidentally go a bit off script. Siffrin hates it.

Either way, Act 3 and 4 Siffrin is not mentally okay enough for all this. It feels good to not be in the presence of the group- if anything, hanging out on the catwalks and pretending they’re a distant observer of this group of people makes it easier but also way way too familiar. Siffrin and CC Siffrin probably talk a bit- I can imagine it’s not easy for Siffrin, so CC Siffrin tries to fill the space with some things. Siffrin often zones out on him. If it’s intentional or not, CC Siffrin doesn’t know. Siffrin interacting with Spirit comes off a bit more desperate. Maybe this version of Loop can help them surely, surely the situation isn’t as impossible as it feels- but Spirit is uncomfortable. They kinda hate that this Siffrin knows that their existence is tied to the idea of time loops in some way! They’re quick to inform Siffrin that they’re not whomever he thinks they are- they cannot help.

ACT 5

Uh oh. Siffrin hates it. Hates every second of it. The only reason they vaguely keep up pleasantries with CC Siffrin is because maybe then they can get back to where they were away from these fakes, if they’re nice. He doesn't even want to think about why they're in this theatre or what happened for him to end up here. It’s so awkward because everything that rolls off of Siffrin’s tongue feels wrong. CC Siffrin quickly realizes that Siffrin really isn’t doing good, but thinks anything that he tries to do won’t help. It's kinda this internal "oh this guy is not okay" for CC Siffrin.

Siffrin just wants to get back. So they can defeat the King and get out of here. They hate the theatre. They HATE it. They want out. They probably dissociate for a majority of the time they’re at the theatre. Get them out of this blinding play! It’s worse if the others are there- there’s a longing there, a want to get to talk to them even if they’re not their family but they feel absolutely vile seeing them in this setting. It’s very much a “don’t look at me ever but also hug me so tight you crush me” I imagine. They need to get back, they're so close to getting out of these time loops! They don’t want to talk to Spirit. Can’t trust them.

ACT 6 

Still the same feeling of apprehension. When they see another version of themselves, it’s a bit of confusion but also the shock of seeing another him throws them back into reality. The two Siffrins talk for a bit about what's going on, which definitely tells Siffrin that the theatre is an OKAY place to be right now, and that everything is fine. He’s still a bit shaky about it, and is trying not to think too hard about it.

Siffrin retelling the story of where they’re from to CC Siffrin would be fun- CC Siffrin just sits there with wide eyes, it does feel like something out of one of the plays they know. Siffrin brings up nothing about the wishes. They exchange little stories, tell Siffrin about how they’ve been helping out with the theatre and that it’s been very nice to get to know everyone. Siffrin finds CC Siffrin a bit endearing, in the way that they clearly enjoy working with everyone and haven’t been tortured by their own wish like they have. It’s honestly fun and really cute to hear about how Odile is a stage manager, Isabeau and Mirabelle act most of the plays and how Bonnie helps out with snacks. If Siffrin does happen to bring up wishes, they get interrupted by someone clearing their (nonexistent) throat- Spirit.

The moment they spot Spirit they’re hit with another wave of confusion- I imagine the Siffrins are sitting on the stage, and Spirit is above on the catwalk. It's this long moment of silence- to break it, CC Siffrin explains that Spirit is the Spirit of the Theatre, and that nobody else knows they’re there. Siffrin and Spirit lock eyes, and Spirit shakes their head slightly at them. No. Don’t talk about it.

Siffrin requests to speak to Spirit alone. CC Siffrin is a bit confused by it, but obliges. Maybe this person means a lot to Siffrin. He goes off- they’re actually going to grab something for the two of them to eat because Siffrin looks like they should eat.

The conversation between Spirit and Siffrin is tense and awkward. I wrote an approximation of what I think would happen here (pardon my writing I haven't written fanfiction in years. I'm still trying to get a grasp on the characters personally... but I am trying my best). Siffrin probably comes clean right away about- “I know who you are, Spirit. At least, I do if you’re the same as the version from my world.” “...” “Do I need to say it?” “... No.” “...Is this er, this version of Siffrin” with a gesture below to the stage “aware of the time loops? They certainly don’t act like he is.”

“They haven’t started yet.”

“.... oh. How long, until…?”

“I have 10 more months to figure out how to stop him from ever suggesting that play, making that blinding wish and hurting everyone.”

“Stars…Well, we have some time to think about it. Maybe I was sent here to… help?” They spend a bit talking about Siffrin’s experience and how his wish was what caused this time loop to happen, and how they got out of the loops by talking to their friends- their family. Spirit can’t hide the anger they have. Clearly, this was a solution they never thought of.

Siffrin is a bit understanding. They explain what Loop was to them, and how he was saved by them and their help. That they can’t release the burden that Spirit is under and can’t relieve the pain they’ll go through, but they understand vaguely what Spirit may be feeling now that they know the truth about their Loop.

Siffrin does wonder why Spirit doesn't want to tell CC Siffrin about wishes at all, but if Spirit is trying to prevent him from making a wish in the first place, perhaps telling them about it isn't a good idea. “Thank you for being here, Spirit.”

“Well I don’t believe I can actually leave the theatre, so the thanks is mute-”

“Still, you may not hear it properly from your Siffrin, but I see what you’re doing and I want to say thank you.”

"I haven't done anything yet." "But you will, so thank you."

“...”

“...”

“...You know, my understudy believes I’m actually a spirit. They think I have no physical form at all. It’s kind of amusing.” “But then how do you keep the hat on?” “I guess he hasn’t thought that far.” They laugh about it. Some tension has been relieved. They talk a bit more about how the loops happen in the theatre (Spoilers! teehee.) Honestly it’s the most seen and real Spirit has ever felt. There doesn’t need to be a justification or explanation for their existence, and they’re with someone who understands as much as they need to without having to do the icky vulnerable part of it all. They're ignoring the jealousy for now that's rooted in them over the sheer bliss of being seen. Teehee. ACT 6 Siffrin is the most cathartic of them all to me. Plus, Spirit deserves it! I also tried using a new pen for the art and while i miss my bold lines, i think I really like this one more... I may experiment more with it all :)

[chaos-has-a-tmblr-now]

Well, I am no “movie critique” expert, nor even know full english, but reading this post I just cannot let it slide. So, allow me to explain why I disagree heavily with the points that OP has tried to make.

Let's start adressing some of the arguments that OP gave for his critiscism:

“ They are quickly shown to have distinct personalities that, while rough (Chromia) or seasoned (Firestar), are still recognizably feminine in how they regret a mistake and nurture the ones under their care (Moonracer and Elita respectively.) Additionally, their appearance is notably feminine too, and while it may be "exaggerated" for a robot lady, it's not done with malice. Rather, it's done to show that while these women are tough and have fought for millions of years, they are still women. ”

Recognizing mistakes or behaving like a nice, caring person should not be seen as straight up feminine traits. Optimus Prime, or many of his Autobots, display this same behaviour towards their comrades. Nurturing and taking the role of guiding another is something any good leader or even friend does no matter which gender, it is literally just what (most) of the Autobots in G1 act like.

About the appearence of the so called “femmes” by the fandom, I cannot even begin to express how much of importance it is that Hasbro has evolved from making them all have the same body-type of an average cartoon girl to heavy or more unique builds like now. “It's not done with malice”, and yet there is little argument of why they need to show the appearence of the average female character (lipstick, young-faced, slightly thinner and curvy and let's not even start talking about the absurd "boob chestplate") rather than display more variety such as most other robots in G1 or other franchises. Compare your average Optimus to someone else with a more absurd frame like Brawn to put a tame example.

“ They are not women in male bodies, like Strongarm from RID 2015 (and who had the gall to take her name from a preexisting male character), but they are fighting to take back their home, and are patiently waiting for the time they can lay down their weapons and return to the life they naturally desire - primarily, that of caretakers and mothers. ”

I'm sorry, what? What made you even think that is the role they had before the war? Or the one that they desire? Never, in not even a single franchise, do the bunch of them ever express anything as such. Not every stereotypical woman wants to have kids. Hell, transformers do not even have anything of the sort!, They are giant alien mechanical beings, and while still capable of love and emotion, their version of a family does not work as anything similar to what humanity does or did. They have younger bots of sorts that some others mentor, as seen in IDW and Earthspark, but that never defines another transformers' role beyond that. Being a mother or father is not something these characters dream of: They dream of rebuilding their planet to be finally at peace and reunite with loved ones, yes, but not the cliché of starting a family right away.

About Elita

“ Elita is an Autobot commander who has shouldered the responsibility of fighting for her homeworld in the absence of her leader and man for four million years. Yet, it did not make her cold and aloof. Rather, it only made her natural maternal side and kindness grow. She knew that she had to fight Shockwave and his forces on Cybertron and that it would be difficult, but she was not going to let them break her spirit. She would and did not let them take her femininity from her, for that would be just as much of a win for them as killing her and the others. ”

OP puts a great deal of importance to being stereorypically femenine to even make such a statement. War can change people, it is one of the most traumatic events for anyone whether they are involved directly or not. Yet this person says that if Elita allowed herself to harden or become something that is not what a woman is described as by the bunch of stereotypes and harmful laws imposed by our own culture in the past, that would equal to being killed? It concerns me a great deal that anyone looks at these characters and thinks that way.

Please take a look at Elita-One in the Skybound comics. Personally I feel it a much more realistic version of her character considering the years she had to survive in the front-lines on Cybertron against all odds and without the support she should had been given. Her ruthlessness speaks of a great deal of pain and trauma, yet she endures whatsoever. Does her strenght, justified rage and attempts at survival make her less of a woman?

“ The Decepticons want a new world order, which would also entail destroying the old order of society. Elita, as a woman, will not let that happen, for then not only is there no more safety and social order on Cybertron that would put any family she could have at risk, it is also denying her her right to be a woman who is as capable on the battlefield as she is tending house (which, let me tell you, takes the same grit and determination as a man going to work to support the family.) ”

Once again, Transformers are an alien species. They couldn't care less about the stereotypical family and life (some of) humanity still thinks it's the absolute ideal society. Decepticons do not give a single fuck about making female characters "less female" or whatever, they just want the world conquered and for the Autobots to stop existing altogether. And please stop saying that these characters want a family, literally there is no dialogue or scene which outright expresses that "goal" of theirs that OP is trying so hard to gaslight people into at this rate.

“ Instead of a motherly, feminine woman, Elita is gutted all the way to her marrow and filled with the poisonous traits of all modern "strong female characters" - namely that she is a career focused woman who needs no man unless it's to belittle him for his imperfections/limitations/perceived idiocy. ”

She has character development through the movie. It is shown that most miner workers in TF:O seem to focus on trying the best to reach a higher status to gain any type of basic "luxury". Her being focused on her work makes sense in the society they are living in, since she is not the only one. And even if she was, there is little point in feeling offended about it to such degree. Why in the world would someone get mad about a character being tough or not needing a romantic interest? Just because it is different than the character's version from ages ago?

Also, she was literally their higher-up. Her entire job was to adress her subordinates' mistakes, since when one of them made the smallest one she could get demoted as shown in the movie. I would personally be a lot more damn strict and intimidating too if I was put under that much pressure and responsability.

“ The only difference is that Elita is somehow written to seemingly develop feelings for her male subordinate Orion Pax, though the story takes great pains to show that she "dominates" the partnership with Orion/Optimus, something that is a gross disservice to her and Optimus. All of this is a destruction of Elita's characterization. They ripped her feminine qualities for a modern misconception of what women must be in order to "make her relevant". ”

There is no explicit scene where they seem to become a couple (yet!). All Elita One did in her development was become less self-focused and begin to actually support Orion Pax as a friend or close person. Sincerely, if all, it shows more Orion Pax having a small crush on her than anything with the scene where he flirts with her jokingly or the train scene where he looks at her lovingly. As stated a few times before, characters change with the franchise; so if their dynamic is not the same as G1, there is no justified reason to be upset about it to such degree.

Elita One's relevance is not about being "femenine, nurturing and caring" or even being Optimus' first love interest. She has to grow as a character, be flawed and either fix or worsen those as the story goes. Calling that a misconception of women seems highly exaggerated and may I add harmful to the women out there that do not fit the absurd standards OP is speaking of about literal giant alien robots.

About Airachnid

“ Airachnid, though absolutely sadistic and a cold-blooded killer who revels in murder and carnage, is still feminine. In fact, she perfectly embodies warped femininity used to allure, entice, and bend men to her whim. She has a certain "dark charm" that even Breakdown finds attractive for a short while. This is a natural feminine wile that Airachnid uses to her advantage whenever she gets the chance, or to simply flaunt her attractiveness for kicks. This is what most evil women in fiction and real life do, because why lift a finger when you can charm a man into doing the heavy lifting? ”

Now this. This disgusted me to the core.

You see, in TFP there is literally only one single female body-type for transformers, which has always made me upset. Were it not for the different crown helmet, colorscheme, and small details, they are literally the same young face with wide eyes and skinny/small girl. Then the other main cast has literally more different body-types again other than the colorscheme and whether one has lipstick or not and etc.

Her personality fits her character, she is a cruel and actually horrible person overall. Sadly she is more-so near a stereotypical femme-fatale, but the perks of her arc are her own mistakes. Airachnid in TFP is cunning, manipulative and selfish; making her the perfect villain if you want something that is actually completely evil. Her flaunts and taunts are meant to hurt, her strategy does not always work but she is skilled in her fights and smart enough to know when to runaway too. She is a full-blown sadist, a hunter even.

It does not make her a perfect character nor what being an evil woman should be whatsoever. Also, the focus of her character is not that she is "evil and woman", but that she is a cruel and heartless foe that should not he understimated.

Her personality is flirty with anyone overall, for starters. She does not "bend men to her will", she manipulates people dumber than her or kill them if they do not serve her purposes. She is a spiteful, revenge-seeking person, and that gets in the way of her many times too. "This is what most evil women in fiction and real life do, because why lift a finger when you can charm a man into doing the heavy lifting?" is an absolutely bizarre line to describe her or to even write at all. Not only is OP dismissing the fact Airachnid works for herself and by herself (with the additional pawn she gets at some point to discard inmediatly afterwards) but also saying, whether meaning to or not, that evil female characters must be using men to do the heavy work. I am not even gonna start adressing the fact OP also spoke about "real life evil women" in such way too.

“ Ignoring for a moment that she looks like every post 2015 cartoon's cut and dry "non-binary" character, the writers completely drained Airachnid of her agency. She's supposed to be the femme fatale that uses her femininity to get what she wants and remains on no side but her own. [...] Her femininity is sucked out of her and she's given the role of bodyguard who does nothing but follow Sentinel's orders and fight in a very bland way that is the most gender-neutral I've ever seen in a character. ”

Airachnid as a character is not "supposed" to be anything except, well, resemblant of an arachnid. What they did with her design in TF:O is make it more uncanny and alien, which grants us with something more unique and way better than just slapping some curvy lines and lipstick to a transformer.

Her concept is, again, that she is a dangerous enemy and villain without any complex morals or goals asides her own survival and enjoyment. Not that she is a femenine character.

Designs, personality and minor details will always change from generation to generation even if it is the same character. Optimus and Megatron themselves go through many different appearences if you take to account the japanese shows too, and their personalities vary even if their main goals and arcs are mostly the same concept. Change is not a bad thing, it allows characters to evolve too.

Her action scenes are actually amazing and demostrate she can fight to a feral degree when provoked or ordered to. Working under Sentinel, it resembles to me what they tried to do with Soundwave in TFP; an uncanny design of a character being a seemingly loyal or alike-minded with a non-more powerful but still evil and dangerous fancy character. I like her being weird and alien, rather than bland and a copypaste of her past version. She is, like Soundwave in TFP, competent and a menace when desired.

I do not see the issue with her appearence or behaviour being considered gender-neutral either. Extremely "femenine" characters can be strong, and so can women that do not fit the stereotypical standard. Fiction or not, the way OP describes this as critique makes my blood boil.

Back to more general points,

“ This movie is telling us that female Transformers, or even females in general, must be cold, snappish women focused on only the work and never once consider having a family that women naturally yearn for. This is a toxic notion that has obviously permeated the fictional world for a little over ten years, and this movie shows that it's not slowing down. It's an insult to me and to the women of this franchise. ”

While it is agreeable that lately the representation of women in Transformers has made them more snarky and self-focused over the years, this is not entirely a negative thing either, nor an attack to those who are "more girly" and still strong. We have more growing variety on the franchise, which is good, for body-models in female transformers and for personalities. I do not disagree that Hasbro needs a better management on representing the more "girlish" aspects in some characters and allow them also to have deeper romantic relationships while remaining focused in their jobs and the war along other more personal-linked conflicts like some male characters have gotten to be shown.

However, OP adresses these matters in complaint that femenine women should yearn for family or children as if it is a question of biology or some weirder thing. Not all women, femenine or not, desire children or romance. And that is completely alright. Women do not "naturally yearn for" your version of peak femeninity nor whatever antiquate view you have of modern (or past) society. The entire post feels like a bad excuse to be spiteful about people enjoying strong and different female characters in a show that has been focused mostly towards the men back in the past. It is sad that OP feels offended about this type of representation, but when it does not harm anyone, your complaints becomes completely petty and pointless.

“ They're independent without having to put down the men, memorable without having romantic or with romantic connection to their male allies, and fun without being "haha, strong girl go brr". The fact that you all feel the need to shove this poison down our throats tells me how insecure the lot of you are, and I'd pity you if my veins didn't burn like Hades' rivers right now. ”

Not much to say for this one. As said above in my own words, I agree that stereotypical girly characters also have great development if handled in the right ways, as long it is not to mock or make women feel either "insecure" or bad about themselves for being different than what's shown. Yet having what OP describes as cold and "not femenine" (in their eyes) be a bad thing is also a foolish view. Girls do not need to be happy, pink and bows and romantic to be girls and femenine, it comes in far too many different expressions and ways for someone to point at a "gender-neutral" looking character and say that said character has been downgraded by society and whatever else.

Women, in fiction and real life, are all different. Some like pink, some not. Some love these characters becoming tougher and strong, and some do not. Calling the new differences of these as a offense to the women of this franchise is being extremely entitled to your own disagreements, and that is what it's not okay at all.

Having said all of that, I lightheartedly hope that OP can learn to enjoy the changes these characters go through as they grow in relevance into this amazing franchise. Transformers women are all cool and skilled on their own, from their G1 versions to the modern ones. Not only are they pink and kick ass, Hasbro is finally starting to give them backstories with heavier relationships (platonic or not) in their arcs that signify more for them too asides being the love interest of some guy. Independent and strong, to me that is more than "femenine" enough.

Transformers One and the Butchering of Femininity

If you're surprised that I'm still worked up about this film, you're following the wrong blog. I'll say this once, and I won't repeat myself:

If you won't take criticism for this movie, keep scrolling. Otherwise, you'll just bring this on yourself.

Now, about the above women.

Transformers as a franchise has had female characters long before Arcee ever showed her face onscreen. Debuting roughly in the middle of the second season of Transformers G1, we are introduced to six female Autobots still living - or rather, surviving - on Cybertron. Of those six, four are named and have speaking roles: Elita One, Chromia, Firestar, and Moonracer. They are quickly shown to have distinct personalities that, while rough (Chromia) or seasoned (Firestar), are still recognizably feminine in how they regret a mistake and nurture the ones under their care (Moonracer and Elita respectively.) Additionally, their appearance is notably feminine too, and while it may be "exaggerated" for a robot lady, it's not done with malice. Rather, it's done to show that while these women are tough and have fought for millions of years, they are still women. They are not women in male bodies, like Strongarm from RID 2015 (and who had the gall to take her name from a preexisting male character), but they are fighting to take back their home, and are patiently waiting for the time they can lay down their weapons and return to the life they naturally desire - primarily, that of caretakers and mothers.

In other words, they fight because they want to have families in a safe home and will do so to achieve this dream alongside the men.

Elita One is a spectacular example of this line of thought. Take a look below for roughly five minutes to see her original characterization.

Elita is an Autobot commander who has shouldered the responsibility of fighting for her homeworld in the absence of her leader and man for four million years.

Yet, it did not make her cold and aloof.

Rather, it only made her natural maternal side and kindness grow. She knew that she had to fight Shockwave and his forces on Cybertron and that it would be difficult, but she was not going to let them break her spirit. She would and did not let them take her femininity from her, for that would be just as much of a win for them as killing her and the others. The Decepticons want a new world order, which would also entail destroying the old order of society. Elita, as a woman, will not let that happen, for then not only is there no more safety and social order on Cybertron that would put any family she could have at risk, it is also denying her her right to be a woman who is as capable on the battlefield as she is tending house (which, let me tell you, takes the same grit and determination as a man going to work to support the family.)

Elita wants to have a family, as do her fellow female Autobots (Chromia hugging Ironhide should tell you how much that iron lady missed her man), and if that means taking up arms until they can return to a normal society, then by golly she will do so. She fights to protect and defend; it is not in her nature to fight anymore than it is in Optimus' nature. It is simply what she must do until the war is over, and when it ends, she will leave the battlefield behind her as Optimus will.

Elita is a kind, warm, motherly woman. She will help pull you out of the darkness of despair and will hug the pain away. She is a mother, and deep down she will fight if she has to, but she will only do so if all else fails.

Yet what does Transformers One do to her?

If the title of that first clip alone doesn't show you what Elita was reduced to, then maybe the clip of her childish scream will.

Instead of a motherly, feminine woman, Elita is gutted all the way to her marrow and filled with the poisonous traits of all modern "strong female characters" - namely that she is a career focused woman who needs no man unless it's to belittle him for his imperfections/limitations/perceived idiocy. The only difference is that Elita is somehow written to seemingly develop feelings for her male subordinate Orion Pax, though the story takes great pains to show that she "dominates" the partnership with Orion/Optimus, something that is a gross disservice to her and Optimus.

All of this is a destruction of Elita's characterization. They ripped her feminine qualities for a modern misconception of what women must be in order to "make her relevant".

And it's not just Elita. It's also another, though newer, female Transformer.

Airachnid, though absolutely sadistic and a cold-blooded killer who revels in murder and carnage, is still feminine. In fact, she perfectly embodies warped femininity used to allure, entice, and bend men to her whim. She has a certain "dark charm" that even Breakdown finds attractive for a short while. This is a natural feminine wile that Airachnid uses to her advantage whenever she gets the chance, or to simply flaunt her attractiveness for kicks. This is what most evil women in fiction and real life do, because why lift a finger when you can charm a man into doing the heavy lifting?

Now, we come to her in Transformers One.

Ignoring for a moment that she looks like every post 2015 cartoon's cut and dry "non-binary" character, the writers completely drained Airachnid of her agency. She's supposed to be the femme fatale that uses her femininity to get what she wants and remains on no side but her own. But instead of keeping that, instead of having a dangerous third party who could even be a chessmaster playing both sides for grins and giggles, her femininity is sucked out of her and she's given the role of bodyguard who does nothing but follow Sentinel's orders and fight in a very bland way that is the most gender-neutral I've ever seen in a character.

What happened to the female psychopath who fought like a woman? I hated her, but in the sense of "I hope she dies", not "gets neutered like a dog".

All of this is a travesty and a slap in the face. This movie is telling us that female Transformers, or even females in general, must be cold, snappish women focused on only the work and never once consider having a family that women naturally yearn for. This is a toxic notion that has obviously permeated the fictional world for a little over ten years, and this movie shows that it's not slowing down.

I don't care that all the fans are going gaga over the plot or whatever they're talking about nowadays with this flick. All I care about is that we got female characters stripped of their femininity in Transformers. It should never have happened, here and in other stories.

Get offended, incensed, and screamy all you want over my post. I'm beyond the point of giving an English damn about what you think and say of this film.

It's an insult to me and to the women of this franchise. They're independent without having to put down the men, memorable without having romantic or with romantic connection to their male allies, and fun without being "haha, strong girl go brr". The fact that you all feel the need to shove this poison down our throats tells me how insecure the lot of you are, and I'd pity you if my veins didn't burn like Hades' rivers right now.

Don't bother speaking to me of this ever again. I'm done. Yes there was good in it, but it came too little, too late. And frankly, it came in the wrong packaging - heh, pardon the pun.

I refuse to engage with anything Hasbro churns out until another five, maybe ten years from now. Perhaps by then it'll have collapsed in on itself and a brighter future for it risen from the ashes, I don't know.

So long - and enjoy these fan produced songs that grant the Transformers' ladies more honor, dignity, and respect than Hasbro could ever dare dream of matching.

[rainebelowzero]

kurt brainrot is real!!! may i request something with like friends to lovers i guess? kurt wants reader and is really awkward and cringe and whiny and freaky :p post-op trans reader?! love ur stuff dude ur so cool!!

Down bad Kurt Kunkle x Trans Male Reader (long ass title sorry)

notes: thank you! Sorry this took so long :') also I agree, I've had Kurt brainrot since like 2022. I have like three requests I'm working on so expect those some time soon (for real this time 🙏), also one of them is my first Eddie request so yippee 🥳🥳🥳 the other two are Kurt so I'm gonna work on them today, at least one might be out by tonight??? It's like almost 11am for me so probably earlier than that

♡ Kurt is a freak, car sex (kinda?), trans reader, spit, mention of choking, mention of slapping, sorta mild masochism (??), making him eat his own cum, premature ejaculation, reader asks him out at the end awww ♡

You often went on rides with Kurt, fucking around while he works. Sometimes people complain about the fact that there's another person in his car when they get picked up, but usually they don't really care, and it was an interesting experience to see all kinds of people from Azusa. Plus, Kurt loved having you around, and you usually get free food out of it.

He really, really liked you. In a way that wasn't completely normal. You mostly saw it as him just being awkward, especially with the way that a lot of the time after you touched him, he'd get all fidgety. You weren't stupid, you knew damn well. It was just fun to tease him. What you didn't know about though, were the more secretive things he was doing, like stealing your things when you weren't looking, or jerking off every time you posted on your close friends story on Instagram.

It drove him insane, every little touch, every look, he spent hours getting off to a picture of your body after your top surgery healed, he was obsessed. He tried to brag around you, do that thing guys did when they would talk about other people they “liked” to make the real person they like jealous. You knew it was bullshit, and after getting no reaction from you, he kind of just stopped doing it. And the amount of times he almost drove straight off the road because he was looking at you were way too many.

It was just a normal day of your usual routine, sitting in his car. It was a hot day, and you had taken off your jacket, sweating. Kurt's A/C was broken, so it was actual torture. Not for Kurt though. No, he was very much enjoying the sight of you. At some point, it became unbearable, and you, being more horny than usual, wanted Kurt. He was pretty cute. And you ended up on top of him, basically every single fantasy Kurt has ever had since he met you.

Kurt watches you with almost wide eyes, and if he were in a cartoon, there'd be little hearts in them as you straddle his waist, finding the most comfortable way to do that without hitting your head on the ceiling of his car interior. It's a little difficult, considering you were two grown men, but you made it work, your hands cupping the man's face.

His skin is warm, face flushed as he stares up at you, barely breathing. You lean down, catching his lips in yours. His movements are uncoordinated, inexperienced, but you don't care, you hold his head in place as you stay against him. You pull away slightly, still close enough to feel each other's breaths, and Kurt's hand snakes up, pressing against your chest. He pulls it away as fast as it settles there.

“Sorry.” He says softly, but you catch his wrist, holding his hand against yourself back in place.

“It's okay.” You respond, voice low. His fingers grip your shirt gently while you lean back down, kissing him again. His lips part slightly, and you grip his jaw, not too hard, but enough to hold him in place. His eyes follow you curiously, and as you lean over him, you urge him to open up.

He opens his mouth a little more, sticking his tongue out a little, and you spit right into his mouth. He lets out a sound, a low groan that almost turns into a desperate whine as he swallows it, some of it dripping down his chin before he can lick it away. You kiss him again, sloppily as your hands roam his body and he tightly grips the front of your shirt.

He can't believe this is happening. He had been into you for almost your entire friendship, and now you were feeling up on him and your tongue was in his mouth. You can feel his erection beneath you, and he whimpers every time you move around in his lap. You do it a few times on purpose, teasing him while you tangle a hand in his hair. When you pull away, he stares up at you, eyes fully entranced in your features as he pants, trying to catch his breath.

It's taking literally every shred of self control for Kurt to not immediately cum in his pants. He's straining hard against his jeans, and he was definitely going to jerk off to this memory later with the shirt he stole from you the last time he went over to your place.

You run your hands down his chest, and he can't help but admire your hands. He wants them around his throat, like that one time he tried to choke himself (it didn't work out). You'd know how to do it, he thinks. You'd wrap those perfect fingers around his throat, squeezing in a way to make Kurt so deliciously close to passing out, just to let him breathe at the last second.

He thinks about letting you slap him around, though he'd really let you do anything to him. Anything you wanted, he'd say yes in an instant. He's probably jerked off to worse.

Your hands meet his belt, and you get his pants down, pulling his hard cock out. He's leaking like crazy, so much you kind of think he already came, but he bucks his hips up when you touch him, the best he can with you in his lap. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands, but he's happy when you don't disapprove of him snaking his hands under your shirt. His fingers run over your scars, before he suddenly gasps loudly. You press the nail of your thumb against the head of his dick, and it hurts so good, making Kurt squirm under you.

He whines, and with about three or four quick pumps, accompanied by slick precum covering your hand and his cock, he's thrashing underneath you, panting and whining as ropes of cum shoot up into his stomach and over your hand. It takes you by surprise, and you both kind of stare at each other as soon as Kurt comes down from the high and realizes what happened.

“I-I…that’s never happened before.” He chokes out, very embarrassed, though the humiliation kind of makes him a little harder. You console him, and a small part of Kurt was wishing you'd degrade him for it, but that's for another time.

Instead, you swipe your fingers against the man's shirt, collecting some of his cum. He gulps as you raise your hand to his mouth. “Aren't you gonna help me clean up?” You say, and it almost makes Kurt cum again on the spot.

He hesitantly sticks his tongue out, dragging it across your fingers before you shove both of them into his mouth. He moans softly, before lapping up his mess, cleaning off your hands. He can't handle it without whining, his cock twitching and throbbing with need, purely getting off on the image of you feeding him his own cum.

When he finishes, you wipe your hand off on your shirt, kissing him again and sliding back into your seat. Kurt fixes his appearance,and the drive to drop you off is mostly silent, though Kurt keeps looking away from the road to glance at you. When you get there, he looks away, something nagging at him.

“Do- should..we just forget about that?” He asks. He wouldn't be able to, no matter what.

You shrug. “We should go on a real date sometime.” You say, kissing his cheek and then getting out of the car.

He's instantly rock hard again.