#but i can fix that if it really bothers me that much

[revelboo]

Everytime I think about the pure unhingedness of the current situation megs is in is so unserious, like imagine making a rebellion against this dictator and going through all the hardships of this unseemigly long war only to end up pregnant? And it’s not even yours!?!!? Kinda - being forcibly pseudo surrgate turned reversed hostage husband married to this squishy small alien that you assumed was more pet but nooo turns out your soldiers have been fucking these things and now you carrying your second in command, who has been up to this point, trying to kill you, and now. NOW. YOU. ARE. ONCE AGAIN: Pregnant with his and the alien’s kid. Like you fucked yeah, but you are now forced into a polycule with alien and two of your best soldiers because of you trying to be nice, for once, and look what it did! The slight good thing is that it can maybe save your species but like miner megatron or gladitor megatron would’ve never expected to be anywhere near this absolute shitshow of drama that everything is alright megs is right in. Still accidental mpreg/baby mama/you are not the “father” megatron was never in my bingo card for ANY year. Speedrunning the entire series since i found it yesterday has been a something. Idk. Love it tho. Your writing is amazing, but im reeling because WHAT. Great work.

Yeah, poor guy is not having fun.

A little shy of 2000 followers, it’s at 1996 this morning, but I wanted to go ahead and post this extended chapter to cheer myself up after getting into it with the car dealership I got Soundwave from this morning because the window they just replaced is already leaking again. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 132

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

Megatron doesn’t want this moment to end. Wants to just feel you drifting through him, to enjoy this intimacy. This feeling of belonging that he’s not had in so long. Or, if he’s honest with himself, ever. Even in the mines there had been companionship, brotherhood, but nothing like the feel of being so tangled in someone else that he can’t tell where you begin and he ends. Because right now he can pretend. Pretend you’re someone who loves him, that he loves you. That the fragile spark he’s cradling within himself is really his. It’s all a lie, though and he swore to never be deceived again. Not even by himself.

But he needs this so much. Knows you’re his now, as trapped as he is. Bound to each other by accident for life. Needs to believe that you might eventually love him. That this will get better, less broken over time. Hurt less.

Trembling as his servos wrap around your wrist and gently separate you from his spark, you make a soft sound of protest at the loss. For a moment, teetering on the edge of crying though you're not quite sure why as his arm curls around you and he rights his plating. And he brushes his mouth against your forehead before letting his helm fall back against the berth, the uncharacteristically gentle touch making the urge to cry worse.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got roped into this mess," you whisper. Even if he'd been delighting in tormenting Starscream, going out of his way to antagonize him, he'd still not really deserved to be saddled with you for life. You and Star.

"Are you?" He asks, optics fixed on the ceiling and not bothering to look at you. Most likely furious with you for what you'd unconsciously done to him. He's yet to take it out on you, though. Hasn't yelled or threatened. Just seems oddly resigned to this and it makes you feel even worse. Had felt that longing for more echoing through the bond and it hurts. Aches through you.

Before you can come to your senses and second guess yourself, you lean forward and brush your mouth against his in a quick kiss. "You didn't have to save me. You could have let me die and be done with Star, too."

He's just staring at you. Like he isn't sure what to make of you before he drapes an arm across his optics. "I could have been permanently rid of Starscream?” He mutters as if it had never occurred to him until now and you smile despite yourself.

Blowing out a breath, you look up when someone knocks on his door and he slowly lowers his arm, head turning. And then huffs out a bitter sounding laugh as the door opens and Soundwave hesitates just inside the doorway. His visor brightening when he spots you and guilt seizes you by the throat. Not sure what to say to him after what Star had done to your bond with him, but unable to not feel like it was your fault. That you could have stopped Star. Could have fought for your bond. And now you can’t even meet his optics.

“For Primus’s sake,” Megatron growls, rolling slightly so you slide off of him onto the berth as he pushes off and mass shifts. Looming over you, a big hand splayed near your head. “Fix this.” He demands, venting to stir your hair. “Watching you two pining for each other is torture.”

Breathless, you watch him straighten and reach to lay a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder. Before going out the door and leaving you both alone in his habsuite. “Little one,” Soundwave whispers, keeping his distance and you feel it. This new distance and hurt between you. Feel it and hate it.

Sitting up, your jaw works as you press your fists against the tops of your thighs. “I’m so sorry,” you manage, voice breaking and then you’re crying. Knowing it’s all your fault. That you could have done something. And he’s just staring at you, before he rocks into motion. Barely aware of him mass shifting and joining you on the berth. Of his arms curling around you when he goes down on his knees and pulls you into his warmth.

Wrapping his arms around you as you cry and just keep apologizing, your voice ragged and small, he realizes you blame yourself. Even though you couldn’t have stopped Starscream, you’re hurting, too. Brushing his mouth shakily against your forehead, he can’t help but think that maybe if he hadn’t tried to push you and Megatron together to protect you, that Star wouldn’t have tried to sever his bond. Wouldn’t have felt threatened and lashed out. “It wasn’t your fault, little one.” Trying to reassure you as you hide your face against his neck and he feels the dampness of your tears on him. Crooning to you like he would a cassette as he gently grips your chin and makes you look at him.

“I let him,” you whisper, sounding so lost it hurts.

“Couldn’t have stopped him,” he counters, leaning his helm against your forehead. “Bonds can be repaired. If you still want that?” Still want him. Because how he feels hasn’t changed. Even if he has to share you, he wants to bond you. To claim you as his. The swim through your warmth and light again, know you better than he knows himself.

And those teary eyes look up at him as you loop your arms around his neck. Letting him settle himself with you in his lap. Retracting his mask, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips, those words spilling warm through him. Words he’s been desperate to hear.

Servos threading through your hair, mouth sliding hungrily on yours and you open up for him. Letting him taste you as his glossa slides against your tongue. Shifting the plating protecting his spark as he lifts his head. “I love you, too, my little one. My mate.” His little spouse. And you bridge the distance, reaching for his spark and arching against him with a breathless sound.

Expects you to flee and to have to chase you, but you rush to him. Pouring into him, your emotions still a mess of grief, love, and guilt as he cradles your warmth. Soothing away the pain, understanding what you need from him. For him to be your calm, your shelter from the other two when they’re at each other’s throats. And you’re so tired and hurt. Overwhelmed by all of it as he wraps himself around you.

Coaxing you gently to accept him. To claim him as yours. Because even though this isn’t what he would have imagined, this craziness is the family he’s found and he wants it. Even if it comes with Starscream and Megatron as brothers even as they hate each other. He’ll take it for you. For a future. For a chance at a family. Sparklings. Wants it so bad it hurts. To spark you and raise a family with you.

Feel him coaxing you, can feel that not quite a question right there and you accept. Reaching for him as he curls himself tighter around you. Aware of your real body, his mouth brushing against yours even as you’re here tangled in his light. Feeling that bond spangle through you, tying you to him and feeling right. Feeling like home. And his hunger and need spill into you. His desire to spark you lighting through you even though you’d been worried about it when Megatron had brought it up.

But you want this with him, you realize. Whimpering when he carefully separates you from his spark, mouth sliding against yours as if in apology as he rights his plating to hide away that warm light. Those big hands sliding against you as you reach up to cup his face. Pressing kisses against his mouth, his cheek, anywhere you can reach as he hooks an arm around you and carefully lays you back. And you’re all need, arching up into him as your hands stroke over plating. “Please,” you whisper, wanting him. Wanting everything. “Soundwave.”

His mouth covers yours again, the kiss becoming more demanding. Urgent as he frees his spike and you feel it brush against your inner thigh, branding you with his heat. And he growls when he shifts against you, finds you, and presses deep to make you gasp.

That familiar spike stretching you as he shifts against you, hips pumping. His mouth moving against yours, glossa sliding against the seam of your lips and stealing inside as he thrusts inside you, your fingers dip into seams, clinging to him.

Thrusting deep into your wet heat, you whimper into his mouth and you’re where you belong once more. The bond finally whole like it should have been all along. Your emotions spilling into him, familiar and right. His little mate in his arms. Your need and love urging him to claim you. Growling as you hook a leg around him, hips rocking to meet his thrusts as needy as he is. And he wants all of it, all of you, mouth brushing yours as he breaks the kiss and your head lifts, breath warm against his lips as you try to claim his mouth again.

“Let me spark you,” he growls, your lips brush his. Those eyes he loves opening and he needs this. Wants it so much his spark aches. Just the thought of you carrying his sparkling nearly enough to make him release right then. “Let me have this.”

“Spark me,” you whisper and he groans, hips pumping as he shifts over you, trying to find that angle you like. That spot that makes you shatter for him. “Soundwave.” Voice a ragged whimper, he mouths your soft skin, rolling his hips and you cry out. Coming apart under him, little fingers digging into seams as you tighten on him.

Hips bucking urgently, he urges one of your thighs up higher. Driving deep as you fist his spike and listening to those little, needy sounds that are just for him. Because right now, it’s just you and him. There’s no other mates, so drama. Groaning as his thrusts falter, he shifts his plating. Snares you with his spark as he’s filling you. Hips still rocking as he coaxes you. Asking. Pleading as he tangles in you, your scent, your body, your light all his. And he feels you accept him, reaching out in return as he shudders against you, filling you again as his mouth opens on a groan against your jaw. His little mate. Finally his.

Previous

[decreare]

Weiss: EXCUSE ME I believe I can dress myself just fine! And it's not like you would need much fabric in the first place to make my dress... Mama Arc: Oh don't you start! Jaune chose you! And you might be a little cold around the edges but nothing some Arc Lovin~ Can't fix Weiss: You have been spending time with Yang haven't you... But what about the dress my mother wore! I don't want to let it go to waste! Weiss: It's special to her... Mama Arc: Tell you what, I'll see what I can salvage from the dress I made for Willow and I'll get her drunk butt to help me! Oum knows we need to catch up! Weiss: You'll do that? For me? I don't want to be a bother... Mama Arc: In exchange, you got to wear whatever I want underneath~ Weiss: Figures, but I really don't think I have much to show off compared to other girls... Mama Arc: Nothing an Arc pregnancy can't fix! Weiss: WHAT!? Mama Arc: Nothin Dear~ Go back to bed~

The Dress

Mama Arc: Oh, sorry to wake you dear, I'm just getting some measurements.

Mama Arc: Now, what color do you want for the accents of your wedding dress?

Mama Arc: Don't worry dear, Arc wedding dresses are famous across Remnant. You'll look amazing.

Mama Arc: Almost as good as you'll look in the hand made lingerie on your honeymoon~. Now, tell me what colors you want.

(Imagine your Jaune OTP)

[ac1dmeow]

can you write a meet cute with au!powder??

powder x female reader

cw: fluff, non-established relationship, wlw content

the sun was shining, the air was warm, and you couldn’t have felt more content while walking down the bustling street of chatting townies. with your box of new supplies in your arms that you’ve been so excited to acquire, your day couldn’t be bothered even if someone tried.

POOM!

suddenly you’re on your butt on the cement. books and gadgets lay around you haphazardly, a few cogs rolling in random directions. then you’re hearing a raspy feminine voice panic above you,

“oh! i am so sorry! please, let me help you!”

a girl seemingly you’re age bends down to your level, and you’re met with a rather pretty view. all lanky limbs and blue hair tied up into two buns on her head, and choppy bangs lining her forehead that are oddly endearing.

you’re gaping for a moment before you realize, and shake your head. “nah, it’s nothing.” you bite your lip nervously while you help the stranger gather your stuff back into your flimsy cardboard box.

before you can even grab it yourself, the girl is hoisting the box into her arms as she stands. you immediately follow after, not sure what to say.

“you got an interesting lot, here. do you attend the academy?” she asks you curiously. then she seems to remember that she’s still holding your stuff and hands it back over to you. your arms suddenly feel like they’re made of jello.

“uh-huh.” you say.

“well that’s a fun coincidence. so do i!” the blue haired girl chirps. “the name’s powder.”

she’s holding out her hand for you to shake. and you just stare at it for a few seconds.

“oh no way!” you finally manage to respond. you almost fumble your box when you reach out to grab her hand. it feels warm and inviting—it makes you wonder how it would feel to have her arms around you. gosh, chill out.

“cute name. i’m y/n.” you nearly surprise yourself with the sly flirt. and it could be wishful thinking but you swear you see powder’s cheeks darken, and it makes you automatically smile.

“uhh haha, thanks!” she chuckles. a beat of silence passes where you watch her fix a strand of blue hair out of place. and that’s when you notice the streak of pink. how much more intriguing can this girl get?!

“where were you off to?”

powder’s question makes your heart leap. you swear your whole body lights up and you have to stop yourself from bouncing on your toes excitedly.

“to my dorm actually. i have a project i have to set up…” you realize it sounds like you’re turning down a possible invitation to hangout with powder. but then you realize she hadn’t actually asked for anything of the sort and she could actually just be curious about what the hell you were doing with a box of random scraps and books.

powder’s mouth opens to speak when suddenly a gruff voice from beside you makes both of your heads whip around.

“OI! get out of the middle of the road, wouldja!? folks got places to be ya know.”

both of you step to the side away from a mean looking old man like he’s the plague, unkept and frail leaning on a cane as he mumbles profanities and insults under her breath as he wobbles past.

“would you wanna exchange dorm numbers? maybe one of us can stop by and we can hangout sometime.” powder suggests calmly as if that didn’t happen.

you whip your head back around to face her. it takes you a moment to fully grasp what she said.

oh. my. god. a pretty girl just asked to hangout. she’s actually interested in you romantically. is this really happening!? oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee—

“yeah for sure! i’m 606 on the sixth floor!” your words are rushed and adrenaline-filled and you hope to whatever is out there that this girl can’t tell how ecstatic you feel right now. you hug the box tighter to your chest.

“oh hey, i’m just on the other end of the hall!” powder exclaims. “i’m in 624. gee, no wonder i haven’t seen you around yet. although, i’m also kinda surprised.” she snorts.

your head tilts. “so am i…”

another beat passes.

powder smirks and stands up straight. “i’ll let you go now. don’t wanna hold you up for too long—gotta get a head start on that project, amirite!?”

she begins to walk the opposite way you were heading, and your gaze follows her as she too seems to keep looking at you.

“you better show me that project once it’s finished! i have plans of seeing it.”

you giggle. your box nearly falls out of your arms again when a random bumps into you but you can barely pay any mind.

“i’ll make sure of it!” you shout. and then both of you are lost amongst the crowd once more.

-

a/n: sooo.. happy valentine’s day ? 😀

[arthemis005]

Wrong Person

The bar was crowded, the vibrant music filling the air, and the lights flickered in colorful tones. You looked around, trying to distract yourself. After a tough week at university, all you wanted was to relax and enjoy the night with your best friend, Mina.

However, your plans quickly changed when Mina became enchanted by a guy—tall, handsome, and clearly interested in her.

“Go talk to him!” you encouraged her. It was obvious she wanted to.

“We came here to unwind. I’m not going to leave you alone,” she hesitated.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. We came here to have fun, so go get him, girl,” you smiled, giving her a little push.

She smiled back before making her way toward him.

Not long after, they disappeared into a more private area, out of your sight. Now alone, you tried not to let it bother you. It was true that you had told Mina you didn’t mind, but in reality, the last thing you wanted was to be alone. You attempted to distract yourself—scrolling through your phone, observing the people around you—and, since you were at a bar, you figured you might as well get a drink.

The first one went down easily. The second did too. Before you knew it, the third was on its way. The bitter taste of alcohol barely registered as you focused on feeling less out of place.

However, as the alcohol took effect, a wave of dizziness hit you. The voices around you blurred together, the music pounded in your head, and suddenly, everything felt distant. You tried texting Mina, letting her know you wanted to leave since she was your ride, but after waiting a few minutes with no response, you figured she wouldn’t see your message anytime soon.

The discomfort grew, and you suddenly realized how vulnerable you were. Not knowing what else to do, you decided the right thing was to text your brother so he could come pick you up.

Fumbling with your phone, you scrolled through your contacts. After some difficulty, you finally tapped on his name and typed a message.

"Hey, Eiji. I’m at the bar, and I’m not feeling great. I think I drank too much… Can you come pick me up?"

His response came almost immediately.

"Coming."

You noticed his reply was unusually short. He was usually much more affectionate over text, but maybe he was just annoyed that he had to come pick up his little sister at 2 a.m.

Even so, you sighed in relief. You really didn’t want to be there anymore.

A few minutes later, you spotted a familiar blond-haired boy at the bar’s entrance. His eyes scanned the room, searching, until they locked onto yours. You tried to smile, but with the alcohol clouding your system and your mind in a haze, you figured you probably weren’t doing a great job of it.

He walked over quickly, his expression calm—no sign of judgment.

“Hey, let’s get out of here,” Katsuki said, placing his hands gently on your shoulders.

He started leading you outside, but as soon as you stepped out of the bar, you pulled away, stopping in your tracks and looking at him, annoyed.

“Where do you think you’re taking me? You can’t just drag me anywhere just because you’re Eijiro’s best friend.”

He sighed, turning back to face you.

“You texted me to come pick you up, dumbass.”

You stared at him, confused.

“What? No, I didn’t. I texted my brother.”

Too impatient to deal with you in your drunken state, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and held it up, showing you the message history. And there it was—the same message you thought you had sent to your older brother had actually been sent to his best friend. Your cheeks flushed as you realized your mistake.

“Can we go now?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You simply nodded.

He turned his back to you and walked toward his car. Now that you were calmer, you took a proper look at him. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, his shirt slightly crooked—almost as if he had rushed out of the house without even bothering to fix it.

Was he really that worried about you?

The thought lingered in your hazy mind as you followed him to the car. Katsuki wasn’t the type to drop everything for just anyone. He was blunt, impatient, and rarely went out of his way unless it was for someone he truly cared about.

Had he really rushed out just because of your message?

Your gaze drifted back to his slightly disheveled appearance—the messy hair, the crooked shirt, the way his jaw was set, like he was annoyed but still here. Still making sure you were okay.

Maybe, just maybe, he cared more than he let on.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Bakugou opened the passenger door and waited for you to get in. Obediently, you did as he wanted and sat down. You watched as he walked around the car and got in himself.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

He nodded. “If you need to throw up or something, tell me. I don’t want you messing up my car.”

You smiled at his words. It was no surprise to anyone that his car was his most prized possession. But now that you were finally inside it, you understood why. The car was immaculate. Not a single speck of dust, the leather seats looked brand new, and the faint scent of something fresh—maybe citrus or mint—lingered in the air. It was the kind of car you’d expect from someone as meticulous as Bakugou.

You let your fingers glide over the armrest absentmindedly, still feeling the slight buzz from the alcohol in your system. “I get it now,” you murmured.

Bakugou glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “Get what?”

“Why you’re so obsessed with this car. It’s… nice,” you admitted.

He scoffed, but you could see the corner of his lips twitching upward, as if he were suppressing a smirk. “Damn right it is.”

A comfortable silence settled between you as he drove, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. The city lights blurred past the window, and despite the night not going as planned, a strange warmth spread through your chest.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that, even though you had texted the wrong person, Bakugou still came for you.

Not long after, he finally reached your place. Parking the car, he stepped out and walked over to help you.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he steadied you, guiding you up the stairs to the apartment you shared with your brother.

Fumbling with your keys, you unlocked the door and stumbled inside, leaving it open so Bakugou could follow.

“Isn’t Eijiro home?” he asked, glancing around.

You looked around as well, but there was no sign of your brother.

“Oh, that’s right. He’s spending the night at a classmate’s place to finish a project,” you said, suddenly remembering.

“I see,” he muttered.

“Katsuki, can you help me get to my room?” you asked, pointing in its direction.

He nodded and led you there, steadying you when you stumbled slightly. Once inside, you grabbed your pajamas and made your way to the bathroom.

Bakugou sat on the edge of your bed, waiting patiently for you to return. Normally, he would have just left. But for some reason, he was still here.

And strangely, that was comforting.

As the warm water ran over your face, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness in your head. Slowly, you changed into your pajamas, exhaustion settling deep into your body. The night had been overwhelming, but knowing that Bakugou was still there, waiting, made it feel a little less lonely.

When you stepped back into your room, he was still sitting on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up, his sharp eyes scanning you quickly before nodding in approval.

“Feel better?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, much better.”

He stood up, stretching slightly. “Alright, then. I should probably—”

“Stay,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself.

He froze, raising an eyebrow at you.

You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I mean… just for a bit. You don’t have to, but—”

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes, but instead of leaving, he sat back down. “Fine. Just until you fall asleep.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you climbed into bed, pulling the covers over you. Bakugou leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, looking like he wasn’t planning to move anytime soon.

The room was quiet except for the occasional sounds of the city outside. The only light came from the moon, casting a soft glow over Bakugou’s face. He looked ethereal—almost unreal—and something shifted inside you.

Sensing your gaze on him, he turned to you. “You know, to sleep, you actually need to close your eyes, idiot,” he muttered.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Thank you for coming to help me,” you whispered, shifting a little closer to him, seeking warmth.

“Whatever. You’re my best friend’s little sister—I couldn’t just leave you there, dumbass.”

You smiled and, before you could think twice, moved even closer.

“What are you—” Before he could finish his sentence, you kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant. But before you could fully savor it, he pulled away. You looked at him, confused.

“Look… you’re drunk. I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret tomorrow,” he said, looking away—but you caught the redness creeping onto the tips of his ears.

You smiled, nodding in understanding before curling up under the blankets. Your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up to you.

Just as you drifted off, you felt the mattress shift slightly, a warmth settling beside you.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t texted the wrong person after all.

[ahamkara-apologist]

Crossposting this over from Bluesky almost verbatum bc its Late but I can't stop thinking about Revenant so this goes here too. I really really love the little worldbuilding detail about the Eliksni being so technologically advanced, yet still relying on apothecaries for medical care because of how long-lived they are; this makes sense to me is mostly bc technology advances exponentially fast while medical development builds very slowly and cautiously, oftentimes with great reluctance to move away from what already works. There's a much higher risk factor regarding faliure one vs the other, and more limitations placed upon medicinal advancement by default, so it makes sense that a long-lived artisan race would have been leaps and bounds ahead in robotics and digital tech while still sticking to ancient medicinal techniques. It's not about innovation, it's about improving what already works, and a long-lived people are more likely going to want to stick with the safety net of reliable, known medications vs racing to get better tools because they're perpetually aware of just how much their current ones can be improved.

Additionally, when age isn't a limiting factor, innovative engineers can continually build and expand on their prototypes/ideas to develop new, effective tech easier, but it also means that the apothocaries would also build on their old, traditional medicinal knowledge, leading to a preservation of the more ancient rites of using tonics. The means of advancement are on two different paths/development curves. Then you've also got the fact that the Eliksni seemed to have a different, positive cultural view on gene editing (aka eco-Splicers), so that means herbs could be edited to be much more potent and effective much more quickly, thus maintaining the tonic system vs advancing drug development into different delivery mechanisms to work around those limitations. You don't find an alternative or a workaround, you just smash through the wall limiting you in the first place by editing the plants themselves to yield what you need directly. It's like how mammals went through a huge phase of adaptive radiation to fill in all the different niches left behind by the dinosaurs after the Cretaceous extinction, but crocodilians retained roughly the same bodyshape they had for millions of years, just tweaking it a bit to fit the newer circumstances- if it ain't broke, don't fix it!

Biology likely also played a factor as well. If the Eliksni had a lower body temperature than humans do, then they may be more tolerant to bacterial infections on account of simply being poorer hosts (or they're less suceptible to infections outside of parasites deliberately evolved to live in them). Our very warm, nutrient-rich mammal bodies mean that bacteria can multiply rapidly, but if the Eliksni were conditional ectotherms (or just had lower body temperature), then bacteria would likely multiply at a slower rate, giving their immune system more time to recognize and eliminate the threat before reaching a point where medicine is needed. Being able to moult/regenerate limbs also drastically simplifies the healing process. Ecdysis is a very effective tool to cure wounds or shed external parasites, and if a limb gets infected, it may be the safest/easiest option to cut it off with sterile tools and regrow it rather than risk the bacteria spreading to the rest of the body (though it would be ether-costly). If it's too damaged to regenerate properly, then the rapid technological advancements with prosthetics + higher neuroplasticity from limb regeneration also make it much easier to treat infected limbs by Simply Not Bothering and chopping them off. This means that stuff like reconstructive/restorative surgeries might be less advanced than our own, simply because there was no real need for it. I do think that vaccines would have been a thing, because it's always much better to prevent than to cure, but tonics would have remained the most viable option for getting medicine into an Eliksni, esp. if they did stuff like bolster bone regeneration or limb regrowth. Hence, the very wide range of specific tonics at different potencies being used to cure various ailments, and the copious amounts of artificial limbs on Eliksni survivors, even accounting for the whole 'we-fled-our-apocalypse-and-promptly-waged-war-and-destroyed-the-last-vestiges-of-our-old-civilization' shtick

I don't know how Eido's tonics turned us into chickens, however. Or plants. Or frogs. That one I'm going to rule out as a guardian-induced confounding factor on account of their paracausal nature, bc I don't think there were chicken-transformation tonics on Riis XD

[iamnmbr3]

Hello, hope it’s okay to ask about more than one number for the headcanon ask: Draco – 12, 18, 29

Totally fine!

-12- skills and abilities

Oooh! Time for me to talk about one of my pet peeves. For this one I'm going to say Charms and Transfiguration. Could this question be interpreted more broadly to go beyond school subjects? Absolutely. But then I wouldn't get to rant about my pet peeve. See, it's really popular in fandom to treat it as a given that Potions is Draco's best subject.

And to each their own. I'm not trying to be the fun police. But also, this has no basis in the actual text. Draco is favored in Potions because Snape is friends with Lucius (or rather, pretending to be) and also because Snape hates Harry so that also sets up a dynamic where he is predisposed to favor someone who has an antagonistic relationship with Harry because he's viewing it through the lens of his own trauma at James's hands. Draco's not bad at potions by any means. He's a pretty good student overall. But Harry's not bad at potions either. When Harry has good instructions and a teacher who makes him feel comfortable in 6th year he's great at potions. Just as good as Draco was in the first 5 years. So it's not like Draco has any extraordinary ability in potions. He just has the opportunity to reach his maximum potential without someone undermining him at every turn. He also doesn't show any particular passion for it; during class he's usually messing around with his friends or trying to antagonize Harry. He just gets a pass for it.

He does however demonstrate extraordinary ability in transfiguration and potions. In book 6 he is able to perform a Protean Charm - a NEWT level spell that only Hermione has been shown being able to to do. Not only that, but in 4th year he's able to make the "Potter Stinks"badges, which is actually a pretty impressive piece of magic. Especially since, while most spells like that wear off after just a few hours, the badge Harry has saved inexplicably (well, inexplicably but for drarry) in book 7 is still working YEARS later. Not to mention, he's also able to fix the cabinet. (By the way, this makes it even funnier that he messed up his Charms OWL in book 5 because he got distracted looking at Harry and thus completely failed to perform a hover charm - despite being shown to be able to do so easily the beginning of 6th year).

As for transfiguration, he is shown to be able to conjure a snake on his first try in book TWO despite conjuring being something that isn't taught till the NEWT level. That is hugely impressive. And it's rarely mentioned. Draco is legit super talented. Just at different things than than Harry is.

He also shows great ability with nonverbal spells too (though I think that's more linked to his tremendous Occlumency ability; this is another topic but I think he's easily one of the most powerful Occlumenses in the book).

-18- beloved or important items or property

His wand. Draco grew up with a lot of possessions that he enjoyed. But his wand is something he prizes above almost everything else.

At first it used to bother him a bit. Unicorn core. Not really what he'd hoped for is it? His father never says anything about it, but he could tell that Lucius was surprised and a little disappointed when he saw what wand had chosen his son. Dragon heartstring would have been so much more fitting. Or phoenix feather. But unicorn? Soft. Weak. Not enough. And hawthorn wood - difficult and complicated some say, treacherous and unlucky say others.

But the wand feels so warm and right in his hand. Like a friend that understands a part of him he didn't even know he had. And it serves him well. And he grows to like how no one else can get it to work for them right on any of the rare times he's momentarily lent it to someone. And unicorns are powerful animals too. And aren't there whispers that the Dark Lord used unicorn blood to revive himself? If he did that then why can't unicorn hair be just as suitable for the types of magic required for his service as any other wand core?

It is isn't. And neither is Draco. They can force themselves through it. When they have to. When the alternative is suffering themselves, but both their cores rebel at it at some fundamental level. It's like having your soul twisted inside out, hurt, sullied. Worse in a way than the alternative. And the Dark Lord surely know that.

And then Draco loses the wand to Potter. Or gives it to him. He can't be sure. He wanted to fight back - to pull his hand away, to shoot a spell to defend himself - but something in him rebelled and he let Potter take his only weapon and companion from his limp and unresisting hand. And he can't quite bring himself to regret it, for all that he's doomed himself and probably his family too.

Potter does the impossible. Of course. He comes back from the dead. He uses Draco's wand to do what Draco never could have and kills the Dark Lord and releases them all from terror and tyranny. And then come the trials. Potter is there and Draco avoids prison miraculously. And then there is a year of probation with no wand at all, lost out in the muggle world which is loud and strange and frightening. Potter is there too, somehow. At first Draco thinks Potter must be there to investigate him - probably regretting his inexplicable choice to speak for Draco at his trial and trying to fix his mistake. But he's not. He's there to help.

He probably still has Draco's wand. Draco doesn't ask. It's not like he's ever going to see it again. It belongs to Potter or else it's in a museum somewhere as an important historical artifact - the wand that killed Him. They're not going to give it back to a disgraced former Death Eater. He'll be lucky to ever have any wand again. He hopes Potter still has it. He'd rather that, somehow, than it just end up gathering dust imprisoned in a lonely Ministry vault or behind glass in a display being gawked at by uncomprehending strangers. Being with Potter would be the happiest fate and just feels right somehow.

Eventually, against all odds the Ministry ends his probation and lifts the restrictions on his magic use. Harry seems suspiciously unsurprised though he claims ignorance. Maybe someone else would believe him - Harry is an impressively good liar - but Draco knows his expressions far too well. Still, he doesn't push it. Harry is presumably trying to spare his feelings when Draco already owes him so much.

The wand returns to him by floo the next day, along with its most recent owner. Harry thanks Draco for letting him "borrow" it. Draco jokes that he's surprised Harry was able to stand the wand's troublesome nature but Harry tells him it's a good wand, that it worked perfectly for him. He holds it out and Draco takes it. It feels like coming home, like seeing the core of himself and finally finding it enough, and in that moment he finds the courage somehow to admit the feeling that's been inside him longer even than he's had the wand - since that disastrous first meeting in Madam Malkin's - though he didn't realize it at the time.

.... ok that got away from me. but tldr Draco and his wand have been thru a lot and I think he feels a deep bond with it. Especially due to having been separated from it and being very glad to get it back. And after they get together he and Harry absolutely sometimes casually switch wands tho because they are super compatible. It bothers Ron because it feels like some sort of weird PDA that he can't even complain about.

-29- quirks and personal habits

I mean, so many. But one thing I headcanon is that after the war Draco develops a nervous habit of fiddling with his left sleeve and making sure it's all the way pulled down, especially if he's feeling nervous or self conscious.

Headcanon ask game here

[mamawasatesttube]

Number 22 for the ficlet warm up? Perhaps with some Young Justice?

22. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"What're you doing out of bed?"

Dammit. Busted. That's the problem with having a Kryptonian playing nursemaid—the guy can hear everything. Ugh.

Cassie puts on her best innocent look and turns from the door, blinking at Kon beguilingly. "I was just going to the bathroom, jeez." And if she's floating about an eighth of an inch off the floor to disguise how dizzy she is, nobody has to know. "Can't a girl go pee?"

Unfortunately, Kon doesn't buy it. He raises an eyebrow, folds his arms over his chest, and drawls, "Riiiiiight. And you needed your sneakers and lasso to go pee because...?"

Aw, rats, she was hoping he wouldn't look at her feet! "Um... emotional support?"

Kon snorts. "Uh-huh." He takes her elbow, and ugh, dammit, Cassie melts despite herself. Her skin is clammy and cold, and his hand is warm, and... man, he doesn't even need that jacket on his shoulders, does he?

She caves, letting Kon float her into the air, pull off her shoes, lay her lasso on the side table, and tuck her back into the nest of (warm, inviting) blankets on her bed. He pauses, pulling the blankets down to check the bandages on her side, and Cassie hisses at the invasion of cold air. "Hey!"

Kon lightly flicks her forehead. "You were just planning to sneak out the bathroom skylight. Don't 'hey' me about moving your blankets."

Seemingly satisfied that she hasn't torn any stitches, he tucks her back in, then settles on the edge of the bed and... oh, mm, that's nice. Okay. He's forgiven for catching her and bundling her back into bed. His fingers scrunch through her sweaty hair, stroking it back from her forehead and away from her neck.

"Seriously, rest up. Donna's got it handled. And Bart's on standby just in case she needs backup." He keeps stroking her hair. "We didn't pull you outta there just so you could run back in and get whammoed a second time, Cass."

Discomfort sits between her ribs, a dull ache that's somehow worse than the burning agony of the wound on her side. Cassie sighs. "...Just wanted to help."

Kon sighs, leans down, and kisses her forehead. Cassie opens her eyes in surprise, then gives him a tentative little smile, the best she can manage for the moment. She's so glad she still has him, even though it's not—it never really was romantic. They were just confused kids, clinging to each other in a storm.

"You did help. And now it's our turn to help you." Kon smiles back at her. He shifts on the mattress, swinging one leg up; the blinds close against the night sky, and the familiar feeling of his TTK squeezes her hand under the blankets. "Rob's making soup."

...What? Cassie wrinkles her nose. "I'm not sick," she says, bewildered. "It's just poison. Poisoned magic sword thing. The evil chick is literally named Doctor Poison."

Amusement flashes across Kon's face. "Yeah, well, you know that, I know that, and Rob knows that, but he's worried about you, and he doesn't know what else to do with himself. So. You're gonna get some chicken noodle soup pretty soon." Kon winks at her in the dimness. "My theory is that he has two modes for fussing over people. He either fixes the problem by building you a weird device, or by making soup. He doesn't know there's any other options out there."

Affection stirs in Cassie's chest even as she laughs, and then groans, because laughing kind of hurts right now. Her whole body is sore and feverish and painful, but it doesn't bother her too much, not when she's got her silly guys around.

Kon strokes his fingers through her hair again, and she sighs, closing her eyes. That does feel nice.

"Rest up, Cass. Let us keep watch for a bit." His thumb brushes her cheek. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Rest does sound tempting. A lot more tempting than jumping back into the chase and battle, if it's even still ongoing. It's probably over at this point. Or about to be. Donna's really good at what she does, and Cassie went down right at sunset. It's been a bit.

"Okay," she relents, and yawns. Her body aches, and even after cleaning and bandaging, the wound on her side burns. "Wake me up when it's soup time?"

"Of course," Kon promises, and Cassie lets herself drift.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 16

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- It gets pretty angsty this chapter & the next few chapters! I hope the girlies can work this one outttt…🤞🏻 Please like and reblog, it means so much to me! <3 ALSO I’ll be posting twice a week again starting next week. Tuesdays and Thursdays!😌

Remy’s POV

I looked at the time on my dashboard, anxiously tapping my foot against the weather mat in my car. It was 4:15pm and they were still not here. I don’t know what the hell the crack I was smoking earlier was laced with when I thought there was even a slight chance of me getting to San Jose by car on time. I searched for the fastest, cheapest flight out of LAX I could find, and booked it.

If I could get out of here and to the airport by 5:30pm, I’d make it on my flight on time and get to the concert by 8pm the absolute latest.

I got out of my car, headed straight to the women’s restroom, when I saw Joe and three other slightly younger men sitting at a table. They were loud, drinking out of fancy cocktail glasses, and barely even noticed me walk by. I made my way over to the table, probably looking confused and a little bit pissed off.

“I didn’t see you guys come in?” I stood by their table. The four of them turned to look, fixing their eyes on certain attributes, before Joe got up to pull my chair out so I could sit. His hand grazed my lower back, his touch invading my personal space, as I sat in the chair.

“Well, we were at the bar at first, getting a couple drinks.” Joe sat back down after me, reintroducing me to the corporate bodies next to me. His hand rested on my shoulder as I mentally took myself out of my own body to get through dinner.

“Would you like to order anything? We have sushi coming out any minute. You want a drink? It’s on the company card tonight.” One of the men, Victor, offered.

“I’m okay, Victor, thank you.”

“Please, call me Vic.” He insisted.

I nodded, smiling politely, wanting to get on with the reason I was here.

I began to bring up my ideas, explaining what Rachel and I wanted to do, and even opened up the opportunity for Joe to tell them how much he likes my writing. I felt like I was just there to be stared at, like a museum display that no one bothered to read the inscription on.

I watched as they looked me up and down while I spoke, taking their time to notice the square neckline held up by my ribbon shoulder straps. I tugged at the hem of my red dress, feeling exposed and in the wrong company. I very quickly noticed they weren’t really interested in what I had to say.

They would interrupt to compare what I was saying to something that didn’t really relate, as well as direct questions toward Joe, that should’ve been for me.

I found myself fighting to get a word in, as the room would fill with laughter due to their inability to be serious.

“Seriously. How many time a day do you need to make copies for this guy, huh?” The one named Connor joked.

I fake laughed, asking myself if this was even worth it at all. Maybe this is how they network. Maybe this is how I get in with the important people, I lied to myself. I had to play the game.

“So, Michael.” I put a hand on his arm, leaning in and noticing a wedding ring on his finger. “What’s good to drink here?”

I noticed his demeanor a little flustered, flipping through the drink menu for me. Side eyeing, I caught a glimpse of Connor looking at my legs. I gracefully cross them, showing off a little more skin.

Michael waved a waiter over, ordering me a Cosmopolitan. I hated cosmos. I smiled at him with my eyes. I sipped it anyway, making sure to be delicate and proper, unlike them.

“Are you sure you want to be writing these things, instead of posing for them?” Vic said.

“Oh Vic, it’s my dream to be a columnist.” I nodded, flipping my hair behind my shoulder. “Maybe I could show you some of my outlines?” I reached into my purse, pulling out my phone.

“You can just email those to us, sweetheart.” Vic shrugged me off.

Upon seeing my phone, I saw I had 4 missed calls from Billie. My stomach dropped, seeing it was 5 o’clock already, making me more anxious by the second.

“Excuse me a minute.” I stood up, sashaying towards the restrooms. I dial Billie, staring at myself in the mirror.

“Helloo.” She answered.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t answer sooner. What’s up?”

“I was checking on you. About what time are you getting here?”

“8pm the latest.”

“But, that’s right when I go on stage.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry! We’ll do Guess together. Or Bad Guy. Whatever you want.” I adjust my strapless bra and breasts.

“Okay. I’ll see you there, then!” I could hear them sound checking instruments in the background.

“Of course. See you soon.” I hung up.

I walked out, knowing I had to beat traffic to make my flight on time. I sit back down as they feast on sushi. I grab a few pieces, careful not to get any soy sauce on my dress. They continued to talk through me and about me, without even really acknowledging me.

Anytime I contributed to the conversation, I swear they looked at me with pity in their eyes, like I was this ditsy, precious, little thing. It made me hate myself. I wish I was another man they could respect and admire.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have to carry on without me. But I thank you for your time. I had a great time with you.” I began to stand up.

“Oh, please, stay a bit longer!” Michael begged, waving the waiter over to get me another drink.

“Really, I need to get going. But please, enjoy yourselves.” I smiled, rage building inside me.

“Before you leave.” Connor stood up, with a glass of red wine in his hand. “You don’t spend an hour with a young lady like this and not give what she wants.”

I looked over at Joe as he stood too, “Rachel’s office is yours. She’s going to be working remotely from her apartment and we wanted you to have it.”

“The- the office?” I squinted, confused as to what he meant.

“Yes, for now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He laughed, the rest of the men joining him.

I laughed in disbelief. “That‘s not what I wanted-“

“I look forward to those ideas of yours in my inbox tomorrow morning.” Connor leaned in to say goodbye. He hugged me, laying a clammy hand on my lower back.

Michael waited his turn before planting an uninvited peck on my cheek, and Vic gave me a goodbye hug, pressing his chest into mine a little too tight.

I nodded, my head throbbing and spinning from how ridiculous I felt being passed around like an appetizer.

I sped to the airport, making maneuvers I’ve never made before.

I made it 20 minutes before boarding began, going through security with nothing but my small, leather clutch. It didn’t even matter to me that my outfit was getting strange reactions from people passing by.

As if tonight couldn’t get worse, the pilot announced a delay due to an issue with the tarmac. You have to be kidding me. I text Billie I’ll be a little late, but would be there in time for Guess.

The next 2 hours go by and the plane finally lands in San Jose. I shoot out of my seat, not minding the people reaching for their overhead carry ons. All I care about is calling an uber to take me to the arena.

By the time my uber driver pulled up, it was 8:45pm. He did a double take, unlocking his car and greeting me.

“Hello, are you-“

“Remy, yes. I’m going to the SAP Center.”

He looked at me thru the rear view mirror and began to drive, noting my rush. “Is this a special event?”

“Kinda.” I tapped my foot, constantly checking the time. The acid in my stomach created a whirlpool of anxiety.

Eventually, we made it to the venue. I made sure to tip the driver, running as fast as possible, ignoring my aching feet in these heels.

I showed my backstage privileges to security at the door, hoping they wouldn’t hold me up much longer. By almost 9pm, I was finally backstage, where Maggie and Patrick greeted me and offered me food.

“I’m so late, did she already do Guess?”

She nodded. “You just missed it.” She looked like she knew Billie would be upset, like Billie already knew I wouldn’t be on time.

It felt awful, watching Billie do the barricade walk without me, smiling at her fans, taking the time to hold their hands up close. I watched the rest of the concert alone backstage on a screen, while Maggie worked her Support & Feed stand outside.

Once it was over, I stood up, fixing my dress and putting my heels back on.

Billie walked in a few minutes later holding her water bottle and a sweat rag. She looked at me, her head tilted, her brows furrowed, and her mouth slightly parted.

I braced for impact, hoping she wouldn’t be upset.

“What are you wearing?” She put her things down, taking off her rings.

I looked down at my bright red dress, “I had a work event, I didn’t even bother to change-“

“Yeah right. You wore that for work?” She stood, watching me trip over my words.

“It was at a restaurant- it doesn’t matter, I’m here now.” I anxiously laughed, hoping she’d stop focusing on that.

“Is that why you were late? You were eating with that girl? What was her name- Sydney?”

“Stevie, and no, if you must know, it was dinner at Nobu with Joe and a bunch of the executives from Variety.” I crossed my arms.

“Wait, wait, wait. What? Dinner? How’d you have dinner and drive up here, 5 hours away.” Her voice raspy as she tried to catch her breath. She needed her inhaler, I could tell.

“I didn’t. I flew on a plane.” I furrowed my brows. She was so upset, I felt like anything I said would automatically annoy her.

“You flew here? You mean this was your last stop of the night.” She scoffed. “What a waste of fossil fuels.”

“Billie, I’m so sorry, I thought it would work out better than this, and then my flight got delayed- Believe me, I tried my best to get here on time. It’s not my fault!”

“Nothing ever is, is it?” She sat on the couch. “You said you’d be here and you chose whatever the hell you were doing over keeping your promise.” Her voice was low and exhausted.

“Hey! It was for work! I couldn’t miss it! Joe promised it would get me closer to my own column! All three of the execs were there to listen to my ideas.” It stung knowing it wasn’t even worth it. But I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire

“Oh so that’s why you dressed like that! That’s why you’ve been dressing like that. Showing off, thinking it’ll get you in with the elites? Who told you that? Rachel?” She shook her head.

“What are you talking about?” I squinted my eyes.

“You send me pictures in your new work clothes, looking like the secretary every married piece of shit hides from his wife… you don’t even look like yourself anymore. And you’re fine with that. You’re fine with flaking on your friends, and giving yourself up, just to write some bullshit on a magazine no one even reads! You don’t even read it!”

“I- what the fuck do you mean!” I uncrossed my arms, feeling that sting. “I showed up! I’m here, and I tried my best! I’m sorry that I have to make just a few compromises so I can advance in my career!”

“Once you get this promotion you’ll have to make a few more compromises.” She held her fingers up, making air quotations. “And one day, you’re gonna realize you spent your whole life compromising, and never showed up for your friends or for yourself!” At this point, she was shouting. Every word resonated with me, but I didn’t want to face it.

“This is about you not understanding how much this means to me. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I hate what those people have turned you into. Look at your inability to tell people no! Rachel takes advantage of you. She makes you do her work and she gets all the credit, and you let her! And Joe tells you where to be, and what to do whenever he wants! You haven’t taken a day off in so long! Even on weekends he makes you do shit for him! And you’re not even clocked in! You get paid salary, you’re screwing your self over! What- you think they’re giving you overtime? They know you’ll fucking do anything so they made you their bitch! And don’t even get me started on you wearing this shit just so they’ll look your direction!”

“Oh, fucking please! Look who’s talking! As if you even worked a day in your life! You have the perfect voice, the perfect face, you wear whatever the fuck you want, and everyone just fucking throws their money at you! You could show up and scream into the microphone, and still sell out arenas. Everyone says yes to you, whatever you want, whenever you want it, and if there’s ever an issue, you can pay for it to get solved. I have a family to take care of, I have bills to pay! I don’t get to travel the world and be admired! I have to bust my ass to barely make it to the end of the month!”

She stood up, shaking her head, “Oh hell fucking nah! You’re really going to go there? You know the hard work and dedication I’ve-“

“You’d never understand all the hard work and dedication that went into the position I have today-“

She cut me off, “WHAT POSITION? You mean the assistant to the assistant manager bro?”

“No! Thanks to them tonight, I have my own office now! And they asked me to email them my outlines for a new column! You swear I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!”

“OHHH WOW! My bad! She has her own office now! She’s bad as fuck!” She waved me off.

“Yeah, sorry for assuming you’d give a fuck.”

“You lied to me saying you’d be a little late, knowing you were 5 hours away, because you double booked yourself, even though you pinky promised ME you’d show up! You took a flight to make up for your lie and contributed to global warming!! And meanwhile the ICE CAPS ARE MELTING! You know what next time- don’t even show up!” She ranted, throwing her hands in the air, pacing now.

“What about all of the stupid fucking things you’ve bought that you said you’d never buy if you had this kind of money? What about all the cars! Those burn fossil fuels too, genius!”

“I barely even drive them!”

“Exactly!! Stupid!”

“What does that even have to do with any of this?”

Flustered, I found anything to cling onto. “You’re judging me and you don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about! I can’t just drop a band and get whatever I want! I need theis job!”

“You can get any other job you want!”

“No! That’s you!” My speech rapidly increasing in pitch. “Look, Billie, I was trying to be supportive and show up for you, while also worrying about my career. When you couldn’t show up for me because of something happening in yours, I was never an asshole to you!” I pointed at her, watching her expression change.

“When I pinky promise to show up, I show up!” She got closer, staring in my eyes, her voice sharp and aggressive.

“I DID show up!” I looked at her, pronouncing every word forcefully.

“You know what I mean! I wouldn’t be 5 hours away and have to rush over! I would just- BE THERE!” Her voice broke, becoming creaky and guttural.

“Billie. I am trying my fucking best here.” I felt like I was being shot in the heart.

“No! You know how exhausting it is to rely on you, and trust you’ll be there, and every single time I end up disappointed! At some point, it’s not just you thinking about your career, it’s you not thinking about me.” She took a deep breath after finishing out her sentence, wheezing a bit, thanks to her asthma. She grabs her inhaler out of her pocket, taking a hit. I watched her stabilize her breathing. I tried to think of anything to respond with, but I didn’t even know where to start.

Billie continued, “You KNOW he’s using you. You KNOW those pigs aren’t the least bit interested in what’s on your mind. Joe didn’t even care about you until you started walking around the office in a mini skirt!”

“You just can’t fucking believe that one day I could be SOMEONE other than just Billie Eilish’s friend!”

“No? What I can’t believe, is that you’d really let some piece of shit treat you like that in front of people, and not even allow you to grow unless you suck his metaphorical dick. That’s abuse of power and you know it! And you of all people should know I know a thing or two about that!”

“You of all people should know how hard it is to accept it in the first place!” I shut her up.

She glared at me, her eyes glossing and her jaw clenching, like she wanted to cry. She scanned my body, ending her stare at my red, strapped heels.

“Just leave. Don’t worry about squeezing me into your schedule anymore.” She grabbed her things, throwing them in her duffle bag.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello!!! First of all i just wanted to say as a non Black person that i really appreciate this page and how much it has educated me!!!

I just had a few questions to ask about a certain Black character I'm writing. The way my story works is that all the four main characters represent a different aspect of the universe, if that makes sense?

One of them is Black, and she's a sort of chosen one. She's a leader whose job is to protect and bring peace to the areas of this universe that she's responsible for. She was put in this position by the old gods, who let her channel their magic to do her job.

The gods are very strict and cold, and they have very high expectations for her and her team and often put her under a lot of pressure. What i want is for her to have an arc where she realizes, through her friends' efforts, that the gods are being unfair to her and don't really appreciate the good that she does because of their impossible expectations, and for her to learn that she doesn't need their approval. She's a good person, a good leader, and tremendously loved regardless.

What worries me is that this might sort of come across as the strong Black woman trope? As in she's a strong leader who undergoes a lot of hardships and doesn't even get appreciated for it by the gods? It could come across the wrong way at first, and i don't want to perpetuate that. She does have a very good support system in the form of her friends who help her overcome these issues and that she can rely on, and there is far more to her character than just this, but this particular aspect of her character was bothering me and i just wanted to hear an actual Black person's views on this. Thanks so much!

If you actually write the story the way you intend to- showing through the narrative that the gods are being unfair and that she's struggling with their expectations, and that she has a strong unit of support- then no, you should be fine.

What would come across as the Strong Black Woman stereotype would be if they had all those expectations and she just swept in like Superwoman to fix/meet all of them for the white characters whose stories and feelings are focused on far more than hers; where she has zero agency except to do for others and then vanish into the background.

[ezrasxfics]

If you want, could you do a more angst fic about Jax being an aromantic repulsed by romance(pda) but not able to accept his feelings being like that because it seems weird/abnormal to him? Maybe him lamenting about it alone somewhere?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense, I don't know how to word it but I want to see this represented in something because it never is and I really love your writing

diary entries

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jax angst

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[authors note: i myself am not aromantic, but i’m part of the lgbtqia community, so i tried to project some of my own feelings of being ‘wrong’ onto this, along with some knowledge i have from my aromantic friend’s experiences. if any aromantic people have any comments or improvements they want on this, please let me know]

‘hey, it’s me again, writing in this dumb diary pomni made me start when i opened up to her a little. i don’t understand how this is supposed to help, but i’m giving it a shot to humour her. “feelings out on paper” or whatever.

i think there’s something genuinely wrong with me. and i know that sounds dramatic as hell, but, it’s not. everyone around me seems to be in ‘love’ with someone. pomni and ragatha, gangle and zooble, kinger and queenie (well, before she abstracted). and i just.. cant find anyone who sets off ‘sparks’ for me, the thought of it makes me feel sick. i don’t want love, but it feels like i have to want it to feel ‘normal’. i remember when we were in the real world, i’d pretend to fall for people. i wouldn’t lead them on or anything, i’m not that much of a jacka**, but i’d just sorta keep it to myself, trying to find comfort in feeling ‘normal’, and hope that love might become real. but it never did - i think i’m not made for it.

i’d never be happy in a relationship with someone. people assume i’m lonely because i’ve never been in one, but i’m honestly happy not being with anyone. it’s never really bothered me, but whenever i try to look into this sorta thing, i only get one answer: ‘you’ll find the right person eventually’.

so, people expect one person to just ‘fix’ me? i think that’s bullsh*t.

-jax.’

i put down my diary, taking a deep breath as i do so, before picking it up and slamming it against the wall, hard. what’s even the point in writing all this!? i sure don’t see one - it’s just writing. it’s not gonna fix my problems. i don’t think anything can fix me.

-

IM SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT!!!! and, he doesn’t need fixing, he’s (mostly) perfect the way he is<3

reblogs appreciated!!!!

[chiritori]

basically done setting up my new room YEAAAAA

[finalgirlminamurray]

remember when halloween 2018 (or as i like to call it, halloween h40) came out and people were making those flowchart-style diagrams explaining the various halloween timelines? i like when people try to do that for the texas chainsaw massacre series because it is a fool's errand. you cannot divide that series into distinct specific continuities because there aren't any. there's a good argument to be made that every single film in that series takes place in its own completely separate timeline because it so often does not bother to meaningfully connect them beyond the single recurring character of leatherface.

i've mentioned before that tcm2 is my favorite sequel and the only one i actually like and will accept as a canon sequel to the original film, and part of that is because despite the complete 180 in tone it does, it's the only one that bothers at all to be a sequel. i think it's the only one that makes sense as a continuation of the first movie - the only glaring continuity errors are confined to the opening scroll text, which you can take or leave as part of the films' canon. (by this i mean the first movie's opening implies that the sawyers' crimes were discovered after sally's escape, while the second film explicitly says no evidence was found. also it retcons sally's last name to be "hardesty-enright" instead of just making lefty's last name also hardesty, for whatever reason.) there's one newly introduced member of the family but you can infer why he wasn't there in the first movie, and the one who isn't there this time has a good reason to be absent (he's died.) one of the main characters in this movie is a relative of the first film's final girl and his involvement in the plot is explicitly connected to what happened to his niece and nephew. the events of the first movie clearly happened in this universe. low bar, i know.

this could be attributed to this being the only sequel also directed by tobe hooper, although the original film's screenwriter did not return, and him having more of a vested interest in continuing the story of his own work. most of the original film's cast did not return for this one (can't say i blame them), but they work with that pretty well. i do think the film ends in a way that pretty decisively puts the brakes on any possible continuation from there, which could be attributed to hooper not really wanting to do a sequel in the first place and trying not to get asked back for another one. (i agree this was not a film that should ever have had sequels, much less become a full-on franchise. but you can tell that upon having to do it they were just like fuck it, let's have fun. hence the tone.) not that that stopped the studios from valiantly trying again and again to profit off of this title.

which might explain why the later sequels are so particularly weird. they don't really have a lot to go off of, i guess. i think part of the problem is that this is one of the few slasher films where the villain is actually a group of people, not a single recurring killer or identity various killers take up. they do have a silent, masked slasher who can be played by whichever new stunt guy you get for each film, but what about the rest of the family? it's always felt important to me that there isn't anyone outside of this isolated little unit in the first movie, but sequels keep inventing totally new characters out of nowhere with no explanation as to where they've been in previous installments. doesn't matter - we're in a new continuity now. tcm3 does not logically follow in any real way from tcm2 or tcm1. it's not a sequel despite the number in the title. it's a reboot.

(i've kind of come around on tcm4 aka tcm: the next generation. i used to think it was the worst sequel but now i think i get what it's trying to do a little better, although it is a pretty stupid movie in a lot of ways. some people have described tcm2 as a deliberate parody of the first film but i think that applies way better to the next generation, seeing how it follows a lot of the same plot beats but done in a more outlandish and parodic way. also, hey: same screenwriter as the original, returning this time as director.)

then the remake made a shit ton of money and kickstarted a new direction for 2000s horror (great. thanks for that.) and got a prequel that also actually made sense as existing in the same continuity as the film it was a prequel to. (again it probably really helped that they were able to get most of the cast back. no need to invent new family members when you still have all the same people playing them.) then in 2013 we got a sequel that promised to Finally be a Direct sequel to the original movie and...it made no sense as one. they try to pick up right where the original left off but right away there are once again a whole bunch of new characters who definitely weren't there in the first movie suddenly appearing in the house, including a baby whose existence is crucial to the plot.

(i'm sure everyone knows about the bizarre timeline decisions of this one, namely the main character ostensibly having been born in the same year as the events of tcm1 but only being about 18 years old during the main events of texas chainsaw 3d, despite it seeming to take place in the modern day. however there is an explanation for that! originally the film was supposed to take place in the early 90s when a character born in 1973 would have been that age, but studio meddling forced them to reshoot it to be 2013. you might notice that any mention or depiction of the exact year the opening scene takes place seems conveniently obscured in this film, implying that it is yet another alternate timeline where the events of tcm1 occurred sometime in the 1990s. this also serves as further demonstration that 1. studio executives are the dumbest people alive, and 2. people really don't care that much about the first movie. more on that later.)

leatherface 2017 is an attempt at a prequel that also makes little to no sense as a backstory for its titular character; i wouldn't be surprised if it started out as an original screenplay that got retrofitted into a tcm movie. there are no new sawyer relatives invented for this film (i don't think), but it does seem strangely insistent on keeping its leatherface away from the family for as much of the film as possible, making it feel especially like it didn't actually want to be a tcm movie. (the twist of the titular character's identity is clearly meant primarily to be surprising and not to make sense, but i can only say: there's no way that the original film's leatherface grew up apart from his birth family for that long and also used to be a "normal"-by-neurotypical-standards, verbal kid. different continuity.)

then in 2022 we get yet another attempt at No Guys Seriously For Real, This is a Direct Sequel to the First Movie, and i should have known things weren't looking good when it was announced this was actually getting dumped on netflix in february but my expectations plummeted to rock bottom when that teaser came out that thought the most relevant part of the movie to sell to people was a "canceled" joke. jesus. tcm:tng i'm sorry, this is the clear worst sequel. (if it was just that one dumb joke it might not be, but there's so much more that's awful in this movie - whatever.) anyway continuity-wise i guess this isn't completely disconnected, there is clear acknowledgement that the events of the first movie happened, but it's really not relevant to the main plot at all, when you get right down to it. pro tip: if a slasher sequel advertises the return of the original film's final girl, she will most likely not be in the film for more than five minutes. there's some implied backstory about leatherface running away to this neighboring town and being taken in by the lady who runs the orphanage, but honestly this could easily be yet another different continuity where leatherface is the adopted son of a kindly old lady (who still has a confederate flag in her window, jfc, i think this is the first time that imagery has ever been used in this series and it's associated with a character who's supposed to be sympathetic??) who was keeping a lid on his murderous tendencies before she died. points for effort i guess but i don't think it deserves much.

i really don't know why this series in particular is like this. most horror franchises will have their movies clearly follow each other and exist within the same continuity, sometimes with a reboot or two if they've gone on long enough (see: halloween having at least three different timelines, but all clearly branching from the same source.) if it's supposed to be an anthology series, they'll just...say that. i've heard it said that this series works best when viewed as variations on a theme, like the original film's events are an urban legend of sorts being told and retold around the campfire and every version is different because everyone remembers it differently or makes up their own. i do like that and think it makes the franchise make more sense but i know most people watching these movies aren't thinking about it like that, they're thinking of them all as sequels to the same movie, with the remake and its prequel being the only ones clearly existing in their own separate continuity.

it's a little sad to see how no one making official movies in the series seems to really care that much about the ostensible source material. maybe i'm biased because it's the film my brain latched onto the hardest when i started really getting into horror, but i think this movie is so interesting and there's so much there to explore with the little we're given about these characters and their dynamics and what they do and why they do it, and even if you can't really dive into all that in a movie you could at least use what's already there for your sequel and most of them just...don't. like they don't seem to have watched the original movie even before writing a sequel to it, just going off their own vague memories about that one scary movie about a guy with a human skin mask and a chainsaw. i know i shouldn't be expecting any more from a slasher franchise on its 9th installment but...whatever. it is what it is. this was never supposed to be a franchise in the first place. at least i can shout into the void about my thoughts and feelings on here.

(i think i read somewhere that the filmmakers were actually forbidden from referencing cannibalism in the script for texas chainsaw 3d and if that's true...oh boy. talk about missing the point. if you feel like something significant is missing in the later films in this series that's probably part of it.)

[spitinsideme]

i jyst realided somethinf is demon pomni based off of fizz?

absolutely not !!! i get people soemtimes calling her fizz or like helluva boss inspired design or sowmthing, one time i even had soemtone think it was a helluva boss au but its not ! in my head there is no connection between fizz and demon pomni ! she has two different coloured horns because thats literally pomnis whole thing and she has yellow eyes becaud like .. yellow eyes are fucking cool .. and they mske her look more like a creature whoch is very nice !!! there is z3ro connection between the two 👍

[gunstellations]

to love and be loved

[willowser]

honestly if i had a bigger brain, i would write an entire android shouto fic

[fortune-maiden]

CXS’s mother’s comments about someone else causing instability in the timeline is reminding me again of this post about a completely unrelated time travel series and its explanation on superpositions and observers

idk if that’s how the rules in link click work but it’s fun to think about