#entirely because we liked each other and wanted to have each others' presences specifically going forward

[cerastes]

The thing with a friend group being a kind of community and a community not necessarily being a friend group is that a friend group is together because the people in it gel together and are there to hang and fuck around and do shit together because they like each other, the onus being that there is no one specific topic, people are there for the people.

A community exists around a certain something, so while a friend group could be a community, a community is not necessarily a friend group, and the onus of the community usually is a topic, a show, a game, something that you have congregated to celebrate and enjoy regardless of who you find in there, because you’re not there for the people per se, you’re there for people in general, and some of them you’ll like, and some of them you will not have a single droplet of chemistry with.

Friend groups also exist because interactions are made in good faith: It is normal to assume that whatever encounter of interests or opinions is ultimately not personal, and you just move on, because you like each other or at the very very least you don’t want to shit it up for everyone else and you’ll be good with whoever you have a disagreement in like 2 hours from now, anyway.

Communities are not necessarily based on good faith. In fact, it is a very common story that like cliques within communities try to undermine others in a vie for “influence” or “power” within that niche microweb context. You are united by an interest, one of the weakest bonds possible, so it’s not at all surprising to see person A misrepresenting person B, engaging them in bad faith, or taking them out of context for the express purpose of stirring the pot. The members of a community are also not necessarily your friends, and the context isn’t necessarily one of friendship, so you have a lot of, pardon the bluntness, socially maladjusted jerks that would just get the boot in any other context hanging out and shitting things up with toxicity.

What I’m trying to say with this is that you should not consider a community a friend group, and likewise, your friend group is invaluable and is a community, but it’s also home.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon. 

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role. 

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention. 

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps. 

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect. 

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious. 

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject. 

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words. 

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head. 

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.  

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined. 

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking. 

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.  

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right? 

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple. 

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered. 

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. 

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind. 

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body. 

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust. 

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect. 

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well. 

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high. 

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response. 

A bath sounds nice.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, sooo could you do buddy as drifts sibling/sparkling (which ever you want) and knew him when he was deadlock with him leaving them on accident with them running into each other again with buddy still being a con would drift try to have them join the lost light?

We are going with the twin route because not even I'm ready for an abandoned sparkling one. Also added some extra things, hope that was okay!

Personally, I don't think he would ever willingly abandon his sparkling or twin under any circumstance

Hope you enjoy!

Drift's twin the Con who was left behind on accident

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Slight Angst, Romance, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Buddy had been by Drift/Deadlock side since the beginning.

From the overdose.

Meeting Ratchet and Orion Pax.

Meeting Megatron and joining the ranks.

Being one of the best snipers compared to their twin.

“I bet you 50 shanix you can’t hit the bot over there.”--Deadlock

“The one behind the rocks with that horrendous color scheme? Please, I’d do it for free, but since your offering…”--Buddy

Buddy closes their optics and fires the round hitting the bot on the shoulder.

“Non-lethal. Doesn’t count.”--Deadlock

Buddy holds a digit in the air.

The bot suddenly explodes.

Deadlock smirks.

“Compression rounds?”--Deadlock

“You know me Deadlock, I have to make my presence known one way or another. What better way with an explosion.”--Buddy

Deadlock reading his rounds.

“Always one for the grand entrances.”--Deadlock

Buddy smirks back.

“Always.”--Buddy

Drift/Deadlock was their entire world and vice versa.

Buddy was his light in this dark world.

The only rocks in the world they had were each other.

Through the fun times and worst times, they stayed loyal to each other’s side.

But then the accident came.

It was the two of them and a small group of Cons on a stake out.

No one knew about the bombing raids.

Drift remembered the screaming and grabbing Buddy’s servo trying to get to safety.

He remembered the feeling of violently getting flunked into the air and blacking out.

He remembered waking up to nothing but scraps of metal and holes in the ground.

He remembered screaming and yelling for Buddy, realizing they weren’t holding his servo or anywhere in sight.

He remembered clawing the dirt around him trying to find them, hoping that they had been partially buried and safe.

He found nothing and went back to the base empty handed and empty hearted.

Buddy’s death was one of the turning points for Drift when he thought about his purpose with the cons and eventually joining the Autobots.

He would later tell the life of his beloved twin to his closest allies on the Lost Light.

Not a day goes by when he doesn’t say a little prayer to Buddy. It was a way of coping with the loss for so long.

Obviously, Buddy isn’t dead.

As it turned out the explosion took them much farther than everyone else.

Their signal had gotten jammed with the surrounding fauna and injuries didn’t help.

They remembered blackout out for a while before a group of Decepticon’s stumbled across their stasis frame. After an accidental reactivation Buddy was brought back to their ship for repairs.

A group they called the Scavengers.

Krok, the unofficial leader welcomed them to their group.

Buddy ended up joining the group as they added more members slowly as they tried to get back in contact with everyone.

The Scavenger couldn’t count the number of times they found Buddy try and contact Deadlock.

They tried to get in touch with Deadlock, but soon it became clear to Buddy that there was no possible way to communicate with him or anyone without the specific equipment for it.

It was now hope that fueled Buddy to one day see their twin again.

It was never a dull moment with the Scavengers and Buddy liked it.

The addition of Fulcrum and Grimlock just added to the fire.

The war may have been a loss… but it wasn’t a loss for everyone.

Krok looking at Buddy who had fallen asleep at the main console again.

He sighed before going over and gently picking them up.

Buddy stirred a bit in their sleep but didn’t wake up.

“They fell asleep at the console again?”--Spinister

Krok just nods as he moves to get Buddy to their habsuite.

“How many times has it been this week?”--Misfire

“Its none of our concern Misfire… They’re just tired.”

“Maybe they should start actually recharging at a decent hour.”--Fulcrum

“Maybe…”--Krok

“They need to let loose a bit you know. Maybe, I don’t know, take them out?”--Misfire

Krok stops in front of the door.

He feels his face plate warmer than usual.

“They won’t be interested.”--Krok

“You could always shoot them.”--Spinister

“No!—I mean—Spinister we don’t shoot team mates.”--Krok

“Krok I think we all know you and Buddy are a little pass the ‘Team mates’ phase.”--Fulcrum

“What makes you say that?”--Krok

Crankcase points at him.

“You carried them to bed and actively tucking them in.”--Crankcase

Krok paused for a moment before walking to the doorway.

“Listen, they are just another valuable member of the team. Anyways—”--Krok

“Krok.”--Crankcase

“Who in their right mind would want to go out on a date me?”--Krok

“Krok.”--Spinister

“They’re smarter, they’ll find some one else to settle down with.”--Krok

“Krok.”--Fulcrum

“Even if they do want to settle—"--Krok

“Krok.”--Misfire

“What?!”--Krok

The four Scavengers point behind him.

He turns and is face to face with Buddy.

“GAH!”--Krok

Krok trips backwards but Buddy grabs him and pulls him flush to their chassis.

Krok feels warmer than usual.

“Buddy… I thought you were asleep?”--Krok

“When your one of the best sniper of the Decepticon army and Deadlock’s your twin, you learn how to sleep lightly and play robot-opposum.”--Buddy

Krok chuckles nervously.

Buddy smirks at him.

“You know… there’s a planet that’s Cybertronain friendly coming up. We could go do some site seeing, what do you say?”--Buddy

Krok tries to speak but he just dumbly nods.

All the Scavengers behind him face palm at the interaction.

Buddy’s smirk turns to a genuine smile.

“All right then, see you in a couple hours then Krok.”--Buddy

They wink and close the door.

Krok just stares at the door.

“What did we just witness?”--Misfire

“That Buddy clearly has more game than Krok?”--Spinister

It was no surprise that Krok had feelings for Buddy.

But when Buddy reciprocated them, that took them all by surprise.

They worked perfectly with each other like a well-oiled machine.

They worked together determined to stick with each other through thick and thin.

“Krok, you’re doing it again.”--Buddy

“Doing what?”--Krok

“The clicking…”--Buddy

Krok looks down at the clicker and slowly sets it down.

Buddy comes to his side and slips their servo into his giving a loving squeeze.

Krok just rest his helm on their shoulder sighing.

“Do you want to talk about it now?”--Buddy

Krok shakes his helm.

Buddy moves their servo and pulls him into a side hug.

“Is this okay?”--Buddy

Krok vents and nods.

They stay on the couch for a bit.

“Buddy?”--Krok

“Hmm?”--Buddy

“Thanks… Thanks…”--Krok

Buddy reaches and hugs him properly.

He responds immediately.

“No, thank you Krok…”--Buddy

The pair end up cuddling in Krok’s room for the rest of the night.

The pair had often danced around being Conjunxes, but both were too shy to bring that up.

The rest of the crew has their own romantic drama to watch now, and they don’t even need a TV for it.

One night the WAP’s engine broke down.

They sent out an emergency pin for repairs.

They received one back.

From the Lost Light.

The ships captain had offered a temporary stay on the ship while their ship was being repaired on the condition that they would be on their best behavior.

The team agreed.

Now The Scavengers were walking to the entrance port as the giant ship had latched onto it.

“Hey Misfire, who did you say the captain was again?”--Fulcrum

“Rodium? Rod? Hang on its on the tip—”--Misfire

The doors open.

“Guess we’ll find out.”--Krok

Buddy takes the lead.

Krok gives them a questioning look.

They walk in and nearly have a spark attack when they see the Co- captains, Ultra Magnus and a familiar felicon.

“Buddy? Your online?”—Megatron and Ravage

Buddy walks forward to the big grey mech.

They stick their servo out.

“Megatron. Its… been a while.”--Buddy

Megatron wordlessly takes the servo.

“It has…”--Megatron

“That’s Buddy? I thought they offlined a while back.”--Rodimus

“Well, they’re not.”--Grimlock

“Grimlock!?”—Rodimus and Ultra Magnus

“This day is just full of surprises isn’t it.”—Ravage

Upon remembering Buddy’s infamously and realizing that the ship was practically crawling with Autobot bot, the Scavengers formed a protective circle around Buddy as they continued to walk with the three other bots.

Ravage took this chance to leave the group.

He knew there was someone that needed to see this.

The group made it to Swerve’s and Buddy instinctively went on guard.

They were honestly glad they brought Grimlock as he gently pushed them forward when they wanted to stop.

Buddy felt uncomfortable knowing full well that many bots had recognized them, ye they weren’t doing anything.

As the group sat down in one of the larger booths, Buddy reached under the table and grasped Krok’s servo.

He sent out loving squeezes trying to soothe them a bit.

“How are you feeling about all… of this?”--Krok

“…Could be better honestly…”--Buddy

“At least Misfire and Grimlock seem to be having fun.”--Krok

Buddy looked over to see Misfire and Grimlock happily chatting with the red minibot bartender.

“Good for them—”--Spinister

BANG!

Buddy immediately moves in front of Krok upon hearing the noise.

There at the entrance of the bar was a white and red mech.

Behind him another white and orange mech panting behind.

“Drift… I swear if you ever do that again…”--Ratchet

Drifts optics frantically searched the bar until they found Buddy.

Buddy felt their spark stop for a second.

Their frame slightly trembled.

“Buddy?”--Drift

Buddy quickly moved across the bar and tackled the mech down in a hug.

Ratchet quickly moved out of the way of the tender reunion.

Drift latched onto Buddy.

They were both slightly teary optic.

“Drift… Oh Drift…”--Buddy

“Oh, Thank Primus… You’re here! You’re here!”—Drift

There was a lot of catching up between the twins as they left to a more private place on the ship.

Drift really owed ravage this one.

Throughout the next few days Drift and Buddy hardly left each other’s side. It soon was made official that The Scavenger’s would be a part of the Lost Light, the twins were overjoyed.

“Drift! I haven’t properly introduced my team.”--Buddy

Drift smiled at them.

It was almost hard to believe that this mech was once one of the most feared mechs in the Decepticon armada.

“You’re the ones who saved Buddy?”--Drift

“Yes.”--Krok

Drift shook their servos.

“Thank you doesn’t even cover it.”--Drift

Buddy slides next to Krok and holds his servo.

Drift looks at this interaction and gives Buddy a smirk.

Buddy looks at Ratchet behind him yelling at a poor bot that decided to play with his equipment.

They mirror his smirk.

“Who would have thought you fell for the one mech that saved your sorry behind all those years ago.”--Buddy

“You aren’t one to talk. At least he’s my Conjunx, is he yours yet?”--Drift

“Not yet—KROK!”--Buddy

Krok fainted in Buddy’s arms.

“DANG IT NOT AGAIN! SOMEONE CALL A MEDIC! OR GET SPINISTER HERE!”--Buddy

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN!?”--Drift

[peterparkouryo]

dream palace. | p.p imagine

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

prompt: Movie night with your boyfriend turns into something more.

warnings: fluff, making out, no smut because i suck at writing it (mentions of it)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i am extremely sorry for not uploading anything last week, really busy with captivated habits two and rebound three. enjoy this lil fic i made this weekend

Every Friday was movie night. It was a traditional thing you and your boyfriend, Peter did, even before the two of you started dating.

Sometimes on a rare occasion, your two other friends would join you, but since MJ and Ned weren't a couple, it almost felt like they were third wheeling whenever the two of you would drift your focus away from the movie playing and onto each other.

You were almost glad that on most Friday nights, it was just you and Peter. It gave you the opportunity to focus less on the movie and more on each other, which in a logical sense, defeats the entire purpose of a "movie night".

Today, rather it be fortunate or unfortunate, wasn't one of those days, and the moment you opened the door of your apartment to Peter's grinning face, and laptop in hand (since you didn't own one and you enjoyed watching it on his rather than the TV in your room), you were ecstatic of his presence. 

He had such a giddy effect on you, it was no wonder with every alone time you two would get, you could never keep yours hands off him.

"So, what movie are we watching?" You questioned the boy, plopping down on your bed as he trailed behind you, the door coming to a close as he did.

"Return of the Jedi, although not my favourite, I figured it's best we get this one out the way." Peter tells you, setting his laptop at the bottom of your bed. You let out a groan of protest, which didn't go unnoticed by him.

You adored Peter's dorkiness, it was one of the many reasons you were dating him, but sometimes it smothered you whenever it was Star Wars related, and you both knew you couldn't really get into the franchise itself no matter if you pretended to or not.

"What?" He asks quite frantically, a small pout forming on his lips.

"This is the fourth Star Wars movie we seen during our movie nights." You pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but the last one didn't really count because we were fu-"

"Okay! But that's different, and that only happened 'cause I didn't want to watch another Star Wars movie." You cut Peter's words off rather quickly as he lets out a laugh.

"No, really?" His voice comes out sarcastic and you roll your eyes.

"Can we just please watching something else?" You pleaded, your first and maybe last attempt at the puppy dog eyes you were giving him.

Peter eyes you for a moment, fighting a debate in his head rather to give in or just see where the night takes him if he insists you have to watch Return of the Jedi, and god knows you and your charm will have him doing the exact opposite as last time.

"Fine." He gives in after another heartbeat of silence, holding back an eye roll at your squeal of happiness.

"What movie did you have in mind?" He grumbles out, opening his laptop to a streaming service.

You think on his words for a minute, not really having a movie that you wanted to watch specifically. In all honesty, anything but a Star Wars movie would do perfectly fine. You say the first movie that comes to your head.

"Clueless." 

"And you say Star Wars is bad." Peter groans and you send the boy a glare.

"Nothing is wrong with Clueless, it's a perfectly good movie with decent comedy." You argue and Peter says nothing as he goes to search for the movie anyhow.

"Yeah, for someone who enjoys cheesy rom coms about rich people." He states back, successfully finding the movie, clicking play.

Thirty or so minutes passes by, the two of you cuddled close together as the laptop settles on Peter's lap, and you don't miss the yawn he lets out as he tries his best to not seem bored of the movie.

You would almost feel bad, but the past few movie nights has been his pickings and rather the two of you would pay attention or not, it was your turn, rightfully.

You feel Peter's figure shift, his hand wrapped around your arm, cuddling you closer as he lets out a bored sigh. You give him a side eye, a very annoyed one before you decide to just ignore his bored state and focus on the movie.

Peter then gives your shoulder a light kiss, running his fingers up and down your arm slowly and it certainly didn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly what he was trying to do.

"Peter." You warned, shrugging his close figure away from you and he smiles at your protests.

"Sorry." The boy apologies sheepishly, and you know all too well that he really wasn't.

After the interaction, a few more minutes pass by and you focus on the movie, or at least you tried to.

"What do you think you're doing?" You feel Peter's hand retreat from underneath your shirt, his hand taking home to your arm where it should had respectfully been anyway.

"I'm not doing anything?" Peter tells you, his voice confused, pretending to be watching the movie.

You roll your eyes at his words, smiling at the thought of Peter being so miserably bored, he'd do anything to distract you from the movie as well.

"Didn't seem that way." You point out, giving him a glance, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

"I know better than to have sex with you during our movie nights." Peter informs and you can tell his words are a clear mocking of the exact thing you do whenever it was a movie of his you didn't want to watch.

You shoot him a glare.

"First of all, I don't do it every time it's a movie you pick, and second of all, Clueless is a lot more entertaining than people in space." You argue, folding your arms over your chest, like a child would.

"I never said you did and this movie is way more boring and has no action." Peter bites back and you chuckle at the adorable pout on his face.

"Would you rather do something else? Like maybe, braid each other's hair, or put on face masks?" You suggest jokingly.

Peter finds no humour in your joke, and continues his pouting, watching the laptop screen, but not actually paying any attention to it.

"Or we could just make out." You joked some more, chuckling to yourself, because even if Peter didn't find anything you were saying funny, you knew you were on some level the funniest person to be known.

"Okay." You hear him say, and you stop yourself from your laughter, raising a quizzical eyebrow, your gaze reaching Peter's eager one.

"I was joking." You point out, and the boy shrugs, unaffected at your words.

"Well I wasn't and if sleeping with you won't drag your attention away from this boring movie, maybe making out with me will." The boy shows you an ear to ear grin and you tilt your head in disbelief.

"How about we finish this movie, then we'll see?" You say slowly, and Peter doesn't give that option into consideration.

"Or, we can see now." Peter pushes the laptop off his lap, turning to you rather quickly, attacking your lips before you could say or do anything.

The first time you and Peter ever kissed was well, awkward. It being your first relationship and vice versa, you never knew exactly how a kiss should be and obviously, neither did Peter. 

Though yes, it was really awkward, given the fact the two of were in the middle of having ice cream, and it was a very sticky, messy kiss, it still was somehow perfect. Some might say it wasn't, but oddly enough, it just made sense.

And ever since your first kiss, Peter made it his life's mission to prove just how progressively good he was at "sucking your face" (as MJ likes to call it).

With the movie now long forgotten, you swiftly fall under the spell that is Peter and his lips, the boy pulling you onto his lap.

The kiss had a mutual understand of the ache burning in your bodies, but you knew better than to act on it. Only because Peter had this annoying habit of leaving very noticeable blemishing on your skin and it took a lot of hours of makeup and strategic thinking to hide them, not only from your friends, but parents too.

Peter's hands were (very) eager, to grip pretty much any part of your body, settling for clasping his ungodly hold on your waist, which was a prominent touch you felt even through your shirt.

Your hands rested on his shoulder, sliding their way to the back of his neck, playing with the soft curls as they did so.

A keen noise escapes Peter's lips and you smile, continuing with the kiss.

There were moments like this were you were content with Peter's captivating presence. It was hard to put in words, but anytime you were in a proximity of him, you felt safe. Not only that, but the boy gave you every reason in the world to trust him with your life.

Hopefully Peter trusted you just as much as you trust him. You surely didn't doubt it, with how he was practically moaning in your mouth at the moment.

You two eventually have to pull away to catch your breath, and you. catch glimpse of Peter's dazed state, biting your bottom lip to stop the grin forming on your face.

"What?" Peter wonders, his flustered gaze staring at your curiously.

"Nothing, just love looking at your post make out face." You admit, running a hand through his head full of curls.

Peter says nothing, closing his eyes as he lets out a sigh of content at your gesture you've done plenty times before.

If it were up to you, you'd stay like this forever. Watching your boyfriend enjoy your delicate touch, his breathing at an even pace, letting you know he was comfortable and genuinely happy in any moment spent with you.

"We should get back to the movie." You suggest, attempting to remove yourself from his lap but unfortunately the spider boy had a stronger advantage.

You raise an eyebrow at him and his pout of protest.

"I'd rather you stay here and keep me warm." He suggests, sliding his hands behind your back for a hug.

You smile at his words, giving him a hug back, melting into his touch.

"If you know what I mean." You hear him say, smirking in your neck.

Your eyes roll at his suggestive option, pushing him away from you.

"Gross." You groan, successfully removing yourself from his lap, reaching for his laptop and unpausing the movie.

"It's not like you haven't done that before." 

"Peter!"

"Right, sorry."

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can we please get a scenario to how the main three proxies (Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian, and Toby) act if they have an anxiety or panic attack? I just want to see your thought on them, because I’ve noticed many people act entirely different, and I find it interesting.

I didn't include Masky/Hoodie specifically because I really don't think either of them have panic attacks, but the other three are here. Sometimes I include the two of them in these sorts of things but they don't fit here for me.

Also, I included if they do or don't have a s/o in this as well. One of the boys ended up being a lot like me in terms of symptoms and only I know which one.

Tim:

Tim doesn't often get panic attacks, I think honestly in the mansion he gets them the least amount of anyone. I think Tim can mostly fly under the radar with his panic attacks unless it's a really bad one. He'll get sweaty, shaky hands, tremble a bit, but he can usually get control over himself and he'll just excuse himself to the bathroom for a moment so he can catch his breath and shake off whatever's got him so panicked. However, if it's a much larger panic attack, things are different for Tim. Usually, these panic attacks occur because of stress from their job, or because of Tim having to deal with Masky being inside of him. Tim gets hit pretty hard; sense of doom, chest pain, dizziness, nausea, detachment, shortness of breath, and shaking. 

Tim gets incredibly scared during these times, as though he's fully shutting down, and he tends to try to run away and hide from people, sometimes collapsing where he is on the way to do so. If he has you, you're the person he immediately tries to find in times like this, all but crumbling into your arms, into his safety net. He calms down much easier in your presence, clinging onto you in ways only you've seen, apologizing and crying, weeping because he feels so guilty in his anxiety for letting his fears get to him, and only your calming words and gentle touch are able to relax him. If he doesn't have you, he tries with all his might to get to his bedroom, to be alone. He'll stay in there, isolated from everyone else as he spends what could be minutes or hours trying to calm himself down, as not even Brian is allowed to see him like this. 

Brian:

Brian I think is second after Tim in terms of least likely to have a panic attack, as I think Brian tends to be good at managing his stress and anxiety, but I think his anxiety actually gets to him more often than it does Tim. I think Brian's panic attacks tend to escalate to the same level each time because when he realizes he's going to have one it causes his fear and anxiety to greatly spiral. It starts with hot flashes for Brian, sweatiness, and headaches. After that, he starts to realize what's happening, and he starts to get shaky and his voice starts to tremble, and he'll try and excuse himself from whatever he's doing. If he has you, he'll have you try and help him upstairs so he doesn't have to be alone because he hates being alone during a panic attack. 

He'll curl into you, hugging you and trying to do breathing exercises with you to calm down before the brunt of it hits him. He'll start to get nauseous, choking on his breath and swaying back and forth in dizziness, so he often likes to lay down beside you. He often breaks down in tears, clinging to you because he feels terrified that something is really wrong with him, and he gets an impending feeling that he's going to die, that he's going to disappear. His panic attacks are very scary for him. If he doesn't have you, he'll go through a similar process with Tim or Slender, one of them being the one to keep him company, although Brian will instead be laying down under a blanket, curled up and hugging a pillow as he tries to calm himself while they comforting rub his back and assure him he'll be okay, that he can get through this, but it usually takes him about an hour to get through one.

Toby:

Toby, on the other hand, has panic attacks on a very regular basis because of his trauma and the very high level of stress and anxiety that I think he feels on a very regular basis. I'd say Toby has a panic attack at least once or twice a week, but some weeks he could be having them every other day when he's going through a very rough patch, although Toby's panic attacks can tend to vary on how they show up for him. Sometimes he feels physically sick, he'll have nausea, and dizziness, and have an extremely rapidly pounding heart rate, with sweat coating his body, breaking down in tears, and unable to stop crying. Sometimes he has an extreme sense of fear, with the impending doom that he's going to lose control of his life, that his dad will come back and take him away, that he's going to die, that he's going to lose control of his life, and he'll start shaking incredibly bad, almost unable to walk, unable to breathe properly and dizziness overtaking him as he finds himself nearly paralyzed and unable to move. 

Sometimes he finds himself growing silent, unable to communicate, his vision blurry, his mind in a sense of detachment so strong he can't even tell he's conscious anymore, his body swaying back and forth, his breathing slowed and shallow, a numb sense of fear humming inside of him. If he has you by his side during any of these, he tends to cling to you, silently asking you not to leave him alone. He won't be talkative at all, in fact, other than his iron grip on you he might seem as though he's avoidant and doesn't want you there, but he's just lost in the confusion of it and unable to communicate what he wants. He just knows that he trusts you, and he wants you to remain by his side so he can have a glimpse of feeling safe. If he doesn't have you, he tends to isolate himself and go through them alone, although sometimes he might prefer to have Slender by his side, comforting him and just being around him so he can know he's not alone or in danger anymore.

[outsideratheart]

La Reina and La Diosa (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A/N: It only seemed fitting to write a fic to celebrate Alexia's return to the squad and to post it seen as though we’re through to the final!

In a way it felt like yesterday when you got the call telling you that Alexia was hurt when in reality it was 296 days ago. In those 296 days you have witnessed Alexia's strength and determination first hand and it inspired you to play every minute as if it was you last and dedicate every game to her as she watched on in the stands or at home.

It wasn't easy been on the pitch without her, in fact in the 10 years you have been with the club you can count on one hand the amount of games where she hasn't been on the pitch with you. It's why the energy is different as the team travels from El Johan to Camp Nou.

Alexia has a smile on her face that you hadn't seen in a long while. The two of you, as well as some other players, sit at the back on the bus, she sits opposite you but your feet are touching under the table, every so often you would give each other a nudge as if you were school children.

"Something's changed. The team is happier than normal" Lucy says from her seat beside you.

"Ale's back. Her presence puts everyone at ease" You look at the brunette who sits across from you.

"You more than anyone else. I haven't seen you this peaceful since before you got the call back at SGP"

It wasn't a memory you were fond of and the days that followed were some of the most challenging. You told the lionesses you were withdrawing from the Euros and it sparked outrage amongst the majority. Since been in Barcelona Lucy and Keira saw first hand what you wanted to protect and if put in the same position again they would encourage you to go home and be by your wife's side.

"Everything is better when I have her by my side"

Little did you know Alexia had heard what you said. She kicks you gently and when you turn your attention to her she mouths 'I love you' to which you respond 'I love you more'.

Whilst you enjoyed the company of the english defender beside you, you did have a pre match ritual which starts with you blocking the outside world out. Taking your headphones out of you bag, you place them over your ears and play your playlist that had been curated for this season specifically.

"She's found it hard without you" Mapi tells Alexia "she tries to hide it, especially from us but we see the moments when she is with Lucy and Keira"

Mapi was telling the truth. The entire team felt the absence of Alexia but as Captain it was your job to lead them and you couldn't do that if you were obsessing over the fact that Alexia wasn't there with you. They saw the moments of frustration when you play balls to Patri who doesn't react because you do so without out saying anything. That's how it was with Alexia, she knows how you play and what your are thinking, words aren't needed between the two of you.

"Don't take offence to whatIi'm about to because I love you all, I really do but I can't want to back on that pitch with her, it's where I belong. For years it has been Y/N and Alexia"

"La Reina and La Diosa" Mapi adds the fan given nicknames that you and Alexia both loved and hated at the same time.

"Right, well for years it has been us and by her side her playing football is where i'm the happiest"

"You two are disgustingly cute" Alexia gives Mapi a look "Oh please you have been playing footsy under the table since we left the car park"

Like every game you are the first off the coach but you wait near the door until the team is off, Alexia is the last one to descend the steps. She stops on the last step, out of sight, and you see the hesitation on her face.

"You ready baby?" you are aware of the fans and cameras around you so you keep your tone low so that only she hears you.

When she nods you step aside and the fans erupt upon seeing the player that they have been waiting for.

"Wait a minute" you grab her hand as she walks towards the entrance "Listen to that, they're here for you, take it in"

Alexia turns around to face the fans. They chant her name, the sound gives you both goosebumps. When you see her close her eyes you know that she is savouring the moment. The way you look at her is hard to describe, saying it was the look of love didn't do it justice.

You don't realise you are staring until you feel her tug you hand. The small act of PDA sends the fans wild as they rarely get to see you and Alexia interact with each other in this way.

Jona had talked with you about Alexia's return and when it should happen. The setting was perfect; La Reina makes her return at Camp Nou but you wouldn't risk her career.

"Remember what we talked about?" He says just before you leave the locker room.

"Yes. The decision is mine, I'll you know if I think it's the right time"

"I'll wait for your signal Captain" with a supportive pat on the back he leaves you be and after a few moments you walk through the tunnel and to your rightful place at the front of the line.

The game is close, too close, with both teams scoring making it 2-1 so when Jona asks you at half time you reply saying that a 60 minute sub is not an option.

70 minutes into the second half Chelsea are pressing hard and it feels like a goal is imminent. AKB goes down and requires treatment so you take this time to talk to the team and regroup.

"Time is running out, he needs to bring Alexia on" It is the first thing Mapi says causing you to roll your eyes.

"No, that is not an option and it's not his decision, it's mine"

"What do you mean?" Aitana asks.

"Jona isn't on the pitch, he doesn't feel the intensity that this team is playing with so he left it up to me to decide if Alexia comes back in this game. Right now Chelsea are fighting and some of their tackles are dangerous, I myself have been on the end of some gruelling ones and I won't bring her on only for her to get hurt again"

"What do we need to do?"

"Score. We need a comfortably lead. If we make it 4-1 in the next ten minutes I'll give him the signal"

With a purpose other than to get to the final the team go back to their positions, ready to do whatever it takes to get Alexia back where she belongs.

If Chelsea thought Barcelona was attacking heavily before this point they would be mistaken but everyone on that pitch is playing with a new found energy and it caught the blues off guard making the home side unstoppable. When Mapi finds herself in space just outside of the box there is only was option going through the blonde's mind, she winds her leg back and hits the ball with the most power she has this season so it comes as no surprise when the ball hits the back of the net.

"That's one" Her arms are wrapped around your neck as you make your way back to your side of the pitch "Now are you going to be the one to score the goal that lets her play?"

It wasn't like you were't trying. You had scored a goal in the first half but the Chelsea defence was a back 4, 3 of those players where your national team mates who knew you very well. It made your job very hard but the way Mapi worded her sentence made you want to, no you needed to be the person to score the next goal.

When you get fouled a couple of meters away from the box, Barcelona are awarded the freekick. Mapi, Mariona and yourself stand over the ball but you all know who is taking it, the other two are simply there for a decoy.

When you turn to face the bench Alexia is up on her feet, she knows what's coming and she is ready to celebrate. The faith she has in your in infectious. You face the goal, close your eyes to block out the noise and imagine that it's one of those countless times where you and Alexia have stayed back to practice free kicks. The ball hits the top corner leaving AKB with no chance of stopping it. You and the team celebrate in front of the ultras and when you are back in your place you look towards Jona and hold up your index fingers, making the number 11.

It is time.

Alexia is subbed on for Keira and the whole stadium erupts in a sound of applause, players on the pitch join in, even the Chelsea players. Nothing compares to the happiness you feel knowing that someone you care deeply for is happy. You are overcome with emotion as Alexia runs onto the pitch.

"Are you crying?" Frido asks.

You are unaware of your glassed over eyes, the only thing you focus on is the Catalonian who is smiling from ear to ear. Not wanting to be caught by anyone but the Swede you bend down and pretend to tie your laces. You stand up just it time for Alexia to reach you. You wanted this moment to be special so you take off your captain's armband and pass it to her, this was her moment after all.

"No" Alexia pushes it into your chest "You've been by my side as my wife this entire way, now I want you by my side as my captain"

"Welcome back La Reina"

"Good to be back La Diosa"

The next ten minutes, Alexia will remember them for the rest of her career. The way the ball felt at her feet as she ran up the pitch, the way she saw you running down the middle. It was something that she has seen before and when the ball travelled towards you she knew the weight behind it was perfect. You header the ball into the back on the net and it means more than any other goal you have scored thus far in your career. Alexia is standing arms open wide waiting for you.

"Bloody beautiful" you praise her assist.

"You never did miss those shots, nice to see some things haven't changed"

After playing 4 added minutes the final whistle is blown, you had done it, you were going to Eindhoven and more importantly Alexia made her long awaited return. The team celebrate the latter more than anything because this team was a family and it was a special day for one of their own.

As captain and POTM you are called over for media much to your annoyance but you also know if you don't do it then they will call for Alexia and you wanted her to enjoy the moment and not have to worry about journalists.

By the time you are done Alexia is stood in place talking to Mapi, the person who didn't leave her side when she first got injured. It was a personal moment and you didn't want to interrupt so instead you turn to the crowd in search of the person that will be feeling the same overwhelming emotion as you, Eli Alexia's mother. She stands proudly with her hands clasped over her heart as she blows you a kiss, one which you happily return.

"Y/N" hearing your name being called by her never get's old.

You pick her up and spin her around whispering praise and congratulations in her ear as you do so. Alexia's legs wrap around your waist and in an automatic response your hands travel downwards to her bum so you can hold her up.

"I did it" Alexia only ever voiced her doubts to you but you told her time and time again that she would come back stronger.

"I told you so"

You look her in her eyes, those hazel eyes that you could get lost in. Her happiness was evident in the way they sparkled under the Camp Nou lights.

"It's the first time I've played in this" she brings her left hand in front of of you and shows off her taped finger "It feels weird"

"You get used to it" you tap your ring finger on her bum.

Her arms remain around your neck as you put her down. You could hear the screaming fans but they were nothing more than background music for the moment you are currently having with Alexia.

"I want to thank you Y/N. You never gave up on me, not even when I gave up on myself which happened more times than I'd like to admit"

"We made a vow Alexia. In sickness & in health, for better or for worse. I broke them once and I will never do it again"

"How many times do I have to tell you that you didn't break your vows and you didn't betray me. You had a country to lead last summer and watching you play, watching you win those awards at the end of it and lift that trophy, it inspired me more than you could ever imagine. You were my source of motivation every day whether that be in rehab, in the gym or on the pitch"

One thing is for certain, you are in awe of the woman standing in front of you. You often had moments like this where you freeze in front of Alexia so that you can see her, really see her.

"What?" Alexia brows furrowed upon feeling the intensity of your gaze.

"You're amazing and I'm incredibly proud of you. You say you gave up but you didn't. Look around Alexia, you have just made your comeback in front of a sold out Camp Nou and you get to play in yet another Champions League final"

"We can get play in the final. It's me and you Y/N and I'll never take this" she points at the stadium around her then at you "for granted"

Oh how you wanted to take Alexia home and have her to yourself for the night atlas it was wishful thinking. Sensing that your conversation was coming to an end Jana runs over and pulls Alexia over to the fans so that they can celebrate. She ushers for you to follow and you do so happily albeit a little bit slower so that you could enjoy the sight of your wife celebrate the moment she has been waiting the last 9 months for.

[godbirdart]

You don’t have to answer this question as it’s probably dumb to ask…but do you know what platform(s) would be a good starting point? Particularly for original content rather then fanart? I heard deviantart is a good place where alot of ppl got there start on but there’s lots of art thrives and such.

don't even worry, it's not dumb at all! it's hard to gauge where to Begin in the vast hellscape that is the online world. i do get this question [and some adjacent questions] often so please allow me to use your ask as an excuse to post a few of my site rankings for various art things!!

for reference, these are the sites I'll be addressing because i have used them at some point within the last year. please note: my information on Cohost and Itaku specifically may be out of date as I haven't used them in a long while. naturally, this is all solely my perspective. i run both a furry/original content account and an anime/fanart account on most of these sites and run them reasonably independently from one another. these rankings are based on how well each account fares on each site.

I will be talking about Patreon and Ko-Fi as if people will only be posting paywalled content there. you Can publicly post on both sites, but for the sake of this post i'm only going to treat them as paywalled sites since well, that's kind of their purpose.

POSTING ART IN GENERAL

the A-tier list sites here are the ones that are most practical, with a decent member presence and little to no algorithms impairing your reach. the only sites here with any sort of algorithm are tumblr and deviantart, but i feel they don't ruin your reach that much.

B-tier list is mostly centered around popularity. there are massive audiences on both masto and twitter. twitter can be really good if you're posting certain content. mastodon has countless instances [read: servers / subdomains, however you want to call them] that can help narrow down an audience and like-minded people. for example, i use mastodon.art whereas many furries may use meow.social. you Can be discovered by people on other servers than yours.

C-tier has been sorted in accordance to audience. this is solely in my experience, but not a lot of new people are flocking to cohost and itaku. we also just hate facebook in this house and i will never give a facebook products a high rating.

F-tier: if you are a new or growing artist, putting your art behind a paywall or making it a chat platform exclusive thing can really hinder your growth. you can still do this of course, but you won't get as many eyes on your work as you would on a public gallery. threads is there solely due to privacy issues that Cannot be overlooked. i will not recommend it.

POSTING ORIGINAL CONTENT / CHARACTERS / NON-FANWORKS

here's how i'd grade these sites for posting Original content, characters, stories, etc. your best sites will likely be furaffinity, deviantart, and tumblr. i've put these three here for their tag use, discoverability, and audience presence. tumblr can be a little glitchy with its tags, but they DO function.

A-tier is entirely centered around audience presence. these sites are great for showing off your work, but they don't have the same population as the S-tier. mastodon can be good as the quieter instances give you more discoverability. bluesky has been THRIVING when it comes to the furry community as of late [i'm personally on there daily] - the only reason i don't put it as S-tier is because it's invite-only AND you need to rely on your work being found through the Feeds feature if you aren't an already established artist.

B-tier: useful, but population may hinder your growth. toyhouse is GREAT for posting your original characters and stories, but it is invite-only and not necessarily gallery-focused [it can be USED for a gallery, but it's not the main purpose]. you can also post stories and lore to toyhouse. discord and telegram are Good, but again it can be hard to gain an audience through sites that require invites.

C-tier: it is DIFFICULT to grow on paywalled sites with original content. cohost [to my knowledge] has been stagnating with the release of bluesky.

F-tier: threads sucks, the end.

POSTING FANWORK, FANFIC, FANDOM CONTENT IN GENERAL

S-tier here is sorted because of audience presence. while twitter does suck, i'm finding a LOT of success there with fanart. tumblr is The fandom site of course. furaffinity is great for a surprising range of fanart that isn't exclusive to furry, and deviantart's Groups feature is still going strong which can give you that extra exposure.

A-tier is: fans Go here, but the population or algorithm can make things tricky. instagram is good for fanwork but the algorithm and the speed that things are posted there can make discoverability an uphill battle. patreon; if you make comics or art with fan characters [especially 18+ content lmao] you can grow pretty rapidly there. patreon, like any other paywalled site, should be a secondary site and not your Primary posting location. artfol and pillowfort are still growing. pillowfort has a Communities feature - sort of like deviantart groups - that you can submit your art to which gives you that extra exposure. artfol is just a nice gallery site and the tagging system is,, decent enough. a little confusing because the tag system looks up keywords in posts and titles First, you have to tab over to hashtag searching specifically.

B-tier: invite only and audience reach. again, bluesky relies on your art to be picked up in Feeds, as there's currently no tag search. inkblot is growing but has a decent audience. ko-fi isn't as known as patreon for exclusive content but it's still a good site. mastodon has tagging that makes discoverability easier, but mastodon and its many servers can make things confusing for some people. itaku's not as commonly used so it may be harder to gain new eyes there once you establish yourself.

C-tier: posting fanart to these sites Can Work. toyhouse focuses on posting and sorting original characters, so treating it as a gallery site won't get your far fast. it isn't impossible to grow as an artist there, but the site isn't intended for fanart posting. i cannot say much on cohost here. telegram and discord, again, it's harder for people to discover you out of the blue unless you mention your server / channel on another site.

F-tier: fuck threads.

lastly, to address thieves,

thieves are gonna be everywhere. i'm sorry to say, but there will always be shitty people. i recommend the following:

watermark your art. not in the corner, don't just sign in one spot, place a Huge translucent watermark over the WHOLE art. i recommend making it a colour gradient too instead of one solid colour or greyscale.

also: sign your goddamned art! put your username on there!

post a low resolution when sharing online. less than 1200px wide or tall. 72dpi. JPEG format. keep the high res privately for yourself.

add a subtle noise filter over your art. it doesn't have to be high opacity, and it'll make your art a little grainy, but it's good for fucking with AI bots and ruining any print quality potential.

i hope this offers some insight! if you have a different experience on these sites, please feel free to add your testimonial in the replies or reblogs! not every artist is going to have the same experience and growth rate.

[danielnelsen]

i think the point i’m trying to get at in my tags on that recent post is basically…

the more choice you give your players, the less their choices matter, just from an entirely practical perspective. at some point you have to draw a line between letting the player have complete creative freedom with their character and making the player feel like their character has an established presence in the world

that was the whole thing with origins: you didn’t just go around with a few different options based on your race; you had a very different experience depending on your origin, specifically. a dwarf noble and dwarf commoner may both be from orzammar, but their reception upon returning is extremely different. city, dalish, and circle elves have completely different experiences throughout the whole game. human nobles and human mages get very different opportunities and reactions from all kinds of npcs. every character starts off feeling like they already exist and have friends and family and complicated circumstances

personally, i’ve never found it restrictive to be given a solid background. there will always be other options that it would be cool to have, but that line has to be drawn *somewhere*

if you compare da2 and dai, i’m very glad they didn’t try to add different backgrounds to da2 because *being hawke* is so integral to the game, so to add different backgrounds they’d have to write a whole in-depth plot for each of them; it’s not just about adding a few dialogue options

that was the problem with dai. given the scope of the game, i think they was right to give you options for your inquisitor, but they didn’t have time to write them in a way that actually made them feel like part of the world. and it doesn’t help that you spend the whole game very far from home with just a few text-based missions to interact with your past

so when they say there aren’t proper background options in veilguard beyond your race and faction and you’re gonna be able to come up with whatever backstory you want for your rook… that doesn’t make me feel excited, it just makes me feel like rook’s past won’t matter and won’t be relevant at any point. what happens when we visit the place that i’ve decided my rook is from? i’m not gonna run into any friends or family or awkward situations i left behind

sure, factions will give some background, but what did i do before my current job? i’m planning to play as a grey warden, and that’s not a life you just *happen* to be part of. i must already be a skilled and experienced fighter who decided (or was forced) to leave everything behind to follow a greater calling. i could have been anyone before that… so how will they make me feel like i already existed if they’re leaving that definition up to me?

[autumnmobile12]

I’m hoping that as Nocturne continues, that there might be some eventual parallels between Alucard and Richter.

I’ve mentioned in another post I don’t really like Richter.  I’m not going to reiterate the entire thing, but the long and short of it is I found his character unnecessarily mean-spirited.  Some of his dialogue really rubbed me the wrong way and I didn’t find his lines all that funny.  But it’s this specific line to Tera that sealed the deal with me disliking him.

“And you just happened to stumble upon it one day while you were out picking flowers?”

Um, what the fuck?  She raised you, gave you a safe place to grow up, has been a surrogate mother to you, and has shown you nothing but kindness and support, and you’re going to talk to her like that?  What an asshole.

And this is the difference between Richter and Trevor’s characters.  Trevor is an asshole, but did he ever talk to Sypha or her grandfather this way?  No.  Did he talk to Alucard this way?  Well…yeah, but also observe Alucard also woke up snarky and began insulting him from minute one, so we can argue they are delightfully matching each other’s energy with a vengeance.

But I’m not gonna lie…for the first two seasons, I also didn’t like Alucard’s character all that much and for the same reasons.  I’m a little biased as I generally don't like protagonists who are just mean for no reason.  We all know someone like that in real life, whether they’re a relative or a co-worker or a boss, so why deal with it in fiction?  Okay yeah, I get that it’s often part of a character arc and symbolism for growth and finding maturity.  I understand why storylines like this are necessary, but I’m still gonna hate the little shits for the duration they’re assholes.

So Alucard…the way he treats Trevor in the first two seasons is also pretty crappy behavior.

“I imagine one sacrifices a chicken, and divines the location of the book you want from the intestines. Maybe Belmont has a crystal ball in here you could ask. ….  Your ancestors were apparently mentally ill hoarders.  I fully expect to find family cats mummified under some of these shelves.  Unless your family preferred to eat them.”

You’re gonna talk to your comrade like that…in his own home…where his entire family was brutally slaughtered by a mob....possibly right in front of him?  Yeah, real charming, Alucard.  And this is the tone for his character in the beginning.  There is the point where Sypha calls him out and tells him to stop testing Trevor, but I think there’s another element at play.  “…and he’s a drunk and he’s self-destructive and anyone trying to hold on to him may as well be dragged down with him.”  He isn’t just testing him, he’s judging him and he’s already decided he’s a useless drunk who got lucky and happened to win a few fights.

All right, now that I’ve dragged him through the mud, I’m going to pull back and assess the wider perspective of Alucard’s full character arc.  Alucard’s growth follows the line of the spoiled brat who experienced hardship and had to grow up because of it.  I think Alucard lived a very sheltered life before his mother died, and his actions and dialogue in the Belmont Hold are the strongest indicator to this.  We clearly see he’s disgusted by the trophies and the history of murder against the vampires, and he is not shy about voicing his contempt towards the family’s entire purpose.  He’s right, though.  With the presence of the infant skull in the display case, we do get the very subtle nod that the Belmonts, for all their claims of virtue and protecting humanity, have also committed atrocities.  He does have a right to his anger against Trevor and his family.

But what’s absent from Alucard’s character here is the fact he doesn’t seem to consider the atrocities the vampires have committed against his mother’s people.  To the vampires, humans are food, livestock, and a lesser species.  Godbrand brutally murders several humans in his flashback with no clear intent on actually eating them, so he kills for sport.  Cho torments the humans in her court by amusing herself with duels to the death that only she can win.  Not a humane way to treat the vampire equivalent of livestock.  And exactly how long does Erzsebet Báthory keep those girls chained up while she drains them of blood?

Why does Alucard condone what the vampires do to humans and at the same time condemns the Belmonts for hunting the vampires?

The answer:  I don’t think he did because I don’t think he was fully aware of these scenarios.  Think about it, he had no knowledge of Dracula’s Generals and the only thing he talked about regarding his father was the tragedy of his madness and how killing him would be destroying centuries of knowledge.  I think Dracula wanted him to have a peaceful life and fed him the more rosy-colored version of their history.  Maybe he intended to tell him one day, and that day kept being put off by the sentiment,  “He’s a boy.  Let him continue to be a boy.”

Alucard lives his peaceful childhood until it comes to a screeching halt when Lisa is killed, so I honestly think there is an innocence behind his upbringing that gave him a very clear bias against the Belmonts that was completely justified in some elements and not so much in others.  There’s also the point that he keeps referencing Trevor as a drunk, which is very much condescension.  It’s not until Season 3, after he’s experienced his traumas and has fallen into his own slump of grief that his attitude towards Trevor changes.   There’s still ribbing between the pair, but it’s not the same cutting remarks that we saw back in Season 2.  Alucard walked a mile in Trevor’s shoes, and that mile was bitter.

...

So where I stand with Nocturne:  Richter has started off in a way similar to Alucard.  He lost his mother at a young age, but aside from that, he grew up safe and loved in a stable home, has a good relationship with Tera and Maria, and has otherwise led a relatively peaceful life. Even in the midst of the French Revolution, they don't seem like suffering peasants.  Like Alucard before his world truly went to hell, Richter also didn’t have a full concept of what real hardship looks like.  This is apparent when he’s all confidence and bravado, going around and yelling he’s the ‘last of the Belmonts’ and he ‘kills vampires’ and “Who’s next?”  And then Olrox shows up and he cows him right back into the scared, little boy he’s pretending he’s not.

And so not only is there a parallel between Richter and Alucard, but there is also a big one between Trevor and Annette.  Both of them have suffered through their own individual hardships, both losing their loved ones in some of the most brutal ways imaginable, but those same hardships gave them their pride and their poignant maturity and cynicism in how they see the world.  Granted, the difference between Trevor and Annette is she never lost her purpose or her will to fight despite having been dealt the worse lot of having been born a slave, but still…Trevor never ran away from his nightmares like Richter did.  Even though Annette and Trevor have their moments when they are scared, both of them stood up and said,  “Fuck it, I have a bastard to kill and if I die killing them, so be it.”  They don’t give an absolute damn.  They took their pain and they wore it like armor.

“Killing you was the point.  Living was a luxury.”

“If I let my past terrify me, I’d never be free of it.”

…

Compared to them, Richter is a spoiled brat who has yet to grow up.

And I think Alucard’s going to be right there with him saying,  “Don’t worry.  I was like you once and we’ll get there together.”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 6: Ghosts of Kamino

A/N: I posted this on AO3 and forgot to post it here 🤣 whoops!

Warnings: Description of panic attack, disassociating, canon violence, Hemlock being an intimidating bastard, Stitch is having a rough time, mentions of reconditioning.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Masterlist

A soft noise brought you to awareness, your entire body stiffening as you tried to figure out who was in the room.

The infinite smoothness of Nala Se flooded your mind and it forced your eyes open. The Kaminoan was sat down, her long limbed body almost folded in half to sit in a human chair. Large, dark eyes blinked at movement from the bed and she seemed to suck a quiet breath in. A touch of relief reached you as the first groan left your lips. Your entire body was on fire, muscles screaming from the rough workout they had been put through recently.

“Why are you so relived to see I’m alive, Nala Se?” Your throat was dry, sticking and causing you to cough. Slowly you sat up, gently taking the offered glass from the pale hand that held it out.

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes travelling over the floor and back up to you while she tried to form a reply. “All the specimens are important,” she finally said and you paused mid motion.

“All? You mean the clones?”

“No. There are others.” You wanted to say you were surprised, but the depths that Hemlock would go when it came to prisoners did not surprise you.

“I felt them,” you murmured. Remembering walking past the large double door and feeling the faint shimmer of another presence, one that resonated with yours. “They are kept here, others like me.”

Nala Se bent her long neck slightly, gesturing slowly with an open hand. “There are others. But not like you.” Her voice was light and firm, breezing through the small room. “You are different.”

Taking a long sip of water you quickly assessed the creature before you. She didn’t seem hurried or anxious today. In fact, she was down right chatty. “How am I different from any other human you have taken blood from?”

“I knew you were special, from the moment you were pulled out of the pod.” Everything you thought you knew zeroed down to this specific point as you repeated what she’d said, your lips moving around the words as if it helped you process them.

“A pod.”

“Yes. Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas came to us, talking about a brewing conflict within the galaxy. He wanted to help his fellow Jedi.” Your fingers gripped the cup, the only solid thing that was tying you to reality. “He offered his genes to create more Jedi. We tried, of course, but the failure was widespread. Most of the units did not survive infancy, much to our dismay. Their M-counts interfered with the healthy development, Master Sifo-Dyas declared the Force was not allowing them live. Apparently it tipped the balance,” she explained quietly.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Your heart beat erratically, tension prickled down your scarred arms and you began to chew on your nails.

“You were the only one to survive.”

“That’s impossible,” you scoffed. “Tech found that Sifo-Dyas was—was my father, not my…donor.”

“CT-9902 would not have found anything linking you to Kamino, because I erased it,” she stated as calmly as someone commenting on the weather.

You winced, but still your teeth pulled anxiously at your skin. “This is insane,” you told her with a nervous half laugh. “Why are you telling me this? Does Hemlock know?”

“He does not.” Tugging on your lower lip you rocked slightly on the bed. “I fear what he will do to you if he does find out.” Your thoughts were swirling, each breath hitched a fraction in your throat as your eyes lost focus. The man you had been told was your biological father, wasn’t your father at all. He had shared his DNA with the Kaminoans to make Jedi clones. They didn’t survive, none except you.

“Why did I end up with Jango?”

“Master Sifo-Dyas was worried his actions would draw the attention of the Jedi Council or others who might use this information to their advantage. He looked at you like the daughter he could never have, and I let him take you. Hiding you within the Mandalorian community was both a good and bad idea.”

“Why did he leave me behind?” You whispered, not sure if Nala Se would have the answer.

“Jango Fett did what he thought was best for you. With whispers of the growing hostilities, he decided to hide you before he came to Kamino.”

“Ridiculous,” you mumbled, blinking back tears that burned your eyes.

Nala Se leaned forward, her large arms dipping between her folded legs. “You must be cautious. Dr Hemlock is showing more interest in you after the incident with IC-1309 and IC-1262.” Your mind scrambled around, linking the designations to the clones and the fight in the training room.

“What will he do to me?”

“What he does to everyone,” she responded with an air of regret.

“Which is?” You prompted, watching the way she gracefully rose in a single fluid motion.

“Take everything he can from you.”

“W-why did you tell me this? Won’t he know you’re in here talking to me?”

“Dr Hemlock has left the facility,” she explained. “I have told you so you know to hide this part of yourself from him.”

“It’s not something I can control, the visions…” you trailed off, wanting to tell her everything and yet, still not sure if you could trust her. For the millionth time you wished yourself parsecs away, with a bunch of defective clones that had looked after you since they found you.

“I have altered your blood results in an effort to keep what you are, hidden,” she added softly, as though she assumed it would reassure you.

“What is he looking for?”

The Kaminoan regarded you with unblinking, emotionless eyes. “He is working for the Emperor.” You knew this, you weren’t sure how but this information wasn’t new. “I will do whatever is within my power to keep you safe.” You waited a couple of beats before looking back up.

“Nala Se.” She paused facing the door. “Is there a way out of here?”

“No,” she whispered, confirming your worst fears. “Not for us.” You let her go. Frozen on the bed as you tried desperately to stave off the gathering emotion that clawed at your chest, threatening to spill out in waves that had no end. Staggering to the shower, you quickly shed your clothes, diving under the stream of warm water and letting your tears quietly mingle with the drops on your skin.

It was crushing. Realising that, once again, you had no idea about your own past or who you were. Your hands curled against your arms, squeezing you in a hug that you wished was coming from someone else. You tried not to think about them, the Batch. It was agonising not knowing if they were ok, where they were or what they were doing. More than once it had crossed your mind that the Empire might have them.

Your legs gave out, the close walls of your tiny shower barely managing to keep you upright as you slumped onto the floor. Your teeth were chattering, a reaction of shock and stress mixed together while your body tried to muddle its way through. A soft groan left your lips at the tightness in your chest, each breath felt like you were pulling glass into your lungs. This will pass…this will pass…

Logic never prevailed in these moments, sweeping you away on a flood of intrusive thoughts that had you sobbing. The heels of your hands dug into your eyes, trying to press the horrific images of dead clones and empty armour from your mind. You despised the fact you were here, surrounded by everything your friends were fighting to destroy and you couldn’t do anything. Nothing. You were useless. Trapped like a womp rat in a cage with nowhere to turn, the unknown pressing in from all sides.

Your breaths quickened, dark spots danced in your vision and the shower suddenly become suffocating. You didn’t even turn it off, spilling out from the cubicle to lay bare and wet on the floor as you shivered.

This hell was your life now. Who could say for how long.

You waited a few days. Staring at the greys walls in a blissful state of disassociation. You could barely bring yourself to eat, it all tasted like ash in your mouth anyway. Crying did nothing to alleviate the pressure in your mind, so you spent all the time trying to distance yourself from it.

Until the day Scorch came back.

His grey and sunshine yellow armour splashing across your eyes so harshly you had to squint for a moment. Something had changed. His presence felt darker, more threatening and you shrank away from him. “Up.” He demanded harshly through the vocoder. “Move.” The end of his blaster jabbed you in the shoulder and you felt that warm flare of anger spark in your gut. You held onto it, relishing in something that wasn’t lifeless and hollow within you. You quietly followed him down the corridor, eyes drawn to the double doors on your left. You could feel them, bright spots at the edge of your senses, as though they were just beyond your fingertips.

The red glow of the barriers made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on end, an uncomfortable feeling and one you wished would end as quickly as possible. Scorch led you out the other side, turning left this time and leading you to a turbo lift. The doors opened and the light sucking black armour of Niner was revealed, a shadow in the glaring whiteness of the lift. Scorch seemed to hesitate, a swift flare of frustration rose from him but he pushed you into the lift anyway.

Niner’s visor turned to look at you, the blue against the black was unsettling and you wrenched your gaze away to watch the lights on the lift display change. Scorch shifted beside you, seemingly adjusting his position as casually as possible, but then you sensed Niner tense up behind your shoulder. They were communicating within their helmets, much like the Batch could.

The lift glided to a stop and the door opened smoothly. “Move out,” Scorch practically snarled. You went first, stopping after a few paces when you realised you had no idea where to go.

A hand gripped your arm and you yanked yourself free. “Don’t touch me, di’kut.” Niner pulled back his hand, helmet tilting as he regarded you.

“Now where did you learn that word, verd’ika?” Your anger flared at the veiled insult in his tone but Scorch shoved you in the back.

“Enough. Don’t make me change my mind.” He wasn’t looking at you, his helmet facing Niner.

The shadow clad clone retreated a step, a sigh coming through his helmet. “Fine.”

You were still seething, making a note to take Scorch’s blaster and shove it where the sun didn’t shine, when a door a few meters away opened.

His blue eyes were like shards of ice. Now they narrowed, pining you to the spot and your steps ground to a halt. Doctor Hemlock’s presence rolled over your senses like oil slicks over water. Thick and cloying it muted everything, snuffing out your anger and replacing it with fear.

“So good of you to join us.” His voice was like a hydrosnake hissing in your ear. The unspoken threat of his menace, a shadow on every word and it had you wanting to flee in the other direction. “Escort her inside.” Hemlock turned and you had no choice but to follow, looking at the clasped hands behind his back. His black gloved hand flexed, clearly trying to ease some discomfort he suffered from.

The commandos flanked you, Niner on one side and Scorch on the other, giving you nowhere to run. As if you could anyway.

It took you a moment to realise where you were, but when you did, the dread raked forcefully down your spine. A chill permeated the air, filling you with something cold and lifeless that spread down your limbs. The room was larger than you thought, no mist shrouded your surroundings and the red glow was muted to the four large tanks on the edges of the platform. The machines you had seen in your nightmare were huge, not leaving much room to move around. Bulky and intimidating, the nearest one to you had dark stains near the straps and you swallowed down a nervous lump in your throat.

Hemlock looked around, like a man surveying a kingdom, his attention running over the tanks and for the first time you noticed the screens. Each one had a read out for the occupants vitals and your stomach flipped in disgust.

A presence loomed behind you as Niner almost pressed his armoured chest into your back. Clearly an effort to keep you in place. You’d rather take your chances with the commandos than you would the Doctor. His presence was twisted into something dark and ugly, something that screamed at you to run away.

“You have been holding out on me.” Hemlock turned slowly on his heel, his eyes running over the equipment until it finally settled on you. He cradled his gloved hand in the other, a weirdly vulnerable gesture coming from a man who held nothing humane within him.

The ability to speak had fled, Nala Se’s recent revelation about your origins, kept your lips tightly sealed. Trepidation made your insides quiver as he took a threatening step in your direction. He looked almost disappointed when you didn’t respond. “No curiosity?” He asked in that liquid velvet tone. “Where is the fire you brought with you?” He stepped closer, causing your heart to skip a beat and your breath to hitch in fear. He terrified you.

Hemlock hummed quietly in contemplation, so close now, you could taste the rank tang his presence gave you. The lines on his forehead were thrown into sharp relief, tracking like permanent scars across his skin.

“I have spoken to the Emperor, about you.” He spoke softly but you were not in danger of missing a single word. Still you kept your lips pressed together, watching him step even closer to you. You sunk into Niner, hating how the clone was stopping you from leaning away as Hemlock tipped his head towards you, bringing his face uncomfortably close. “He knows what you are.”

You trained your gaze over his shoulder, trying desperately not to react to the whispered words as they ghosted across your throat. “He has been watching you for a while now,” Hemlock continued, turning his face so he could gauge your reaction. “I have been granted permission to bring you to your full potential. I was told how invaluable you would be to our efforts here.”

“I will never help you!” The words were like acid, spilling from you in a rush. You were breathless, struggling to fill your lungs with air that didn’t make you choke.

“There she is,” he murmured, drawing close enough to brush his nose along your cheek for a brief second. When he stepped back you were helpless against the power of his clear blue eyes, reluctantly magnetising your own to them. He gave the smallest smile but it did nothing to soften the severe features of his face. “I apologise, for giving you the assumption, that you had a choice.” His gaze drifted and firm hands closed around your arms before you felt their intention to grab you.

Instantly you reacted, heaving your body in the hope one of the clones would lessen their grip, but it felt like you were fighting statues. They were rigid, their hold on you like beskar cuffs. Hemlock watched with a sick satisfaction in his expression, allowing you the illusion you could fight, when in fact you were as helpless as a babe. You tried to find something on the smooth floor to dig your heels into when the commandos moved you to stand beside one of the massive machines. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you eyed it, hoping your intuition was wrong.

“Do you know what these do?” Hemlock asked you, his tone mild and conversational. Again, you refused to answer. Blowing an exhale through your nose and glaring at him with as much hatred as you could muster. “This machine has the potential to reshape an individual, to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.”

A dull memory surfaced, one of a clone in a box. He had no name, no designation…he had been wiped clean. You tried again to shake off Scorch and Niner, even though your exhaustion was growing. You refused to be erased. To have your memory wiped until you couldn’t remember anything except what Hemlock told you. To lose what little shreds you had of yourself; the brief months of happiness with the Batch, with Tech, was soul wrenching. Tears teased the corners of your eyes and a small whimper broke free as you squirmed.

“You know what that means.” He looked pleased at your reaction.

“You can’t do this!” The smile that toyed with his lips became crueler.

“But I can. No one can stop me.” He backed away, curling his hands behind him as the triumph gleamed in his eyes. He gave a nod to the clones before turning away and some tether of anger forced you to speak.

“You are just another monster, in a long line of monsters,” you shouted. “Whatever you do to me, will not break me.” Hemlock’s shoulders flexed slightly, his hands gripped each other and you thought he was going to continue walking away.

He turned, a deep lined frown marked his brow, his eyes were so intense they almost glowed as they burned into you. He stepped forward and you automatically tried to shrink away, but Scorch and Niner still had a firm grip on your arms.

Hemlock sighed, heavily. The heat of his gaze tracked over your features, making you more nervous the longer he scrutinised you.

“I admire your sentiment,” he spoke softly, reaching out to run his fingers along the tense edge of your jaw. You jerked away, revolted by the feel of skin on yours, but he snatched at your chin with a bruising grip. “But you have never faced a monster, quite like me.” The volume of his voice did not changed but his words became harder, losing the pillowed edge he usually softened them with. “And, I can assure you…” he sucked in a breath, revelling in how helpless you were against him. “You will break.” His fingers pressed painfully into your cheeks, forcing your jaw to open. He watched you try to fight his grip, gaze trained on your mouth, a faint curl lifted his lip when he succeeded in causing enough pressure so you had to comply. “See?” Hemlock’s velvet tone teased your ears. “No one goes against me…” his eyes locked with yours. “And wins.”

The Doctor finally released your face, the sting in your cheeks a hateful reminder of how helpless he made you feel. “Put her in.”

Your body reacted. You had no idea what you were saying, words spilled forcefully from your mouth. Your feet left the floor, kicking and hitting whatever you could reach, but it did no good. You were pleased to hear Scorch grunt with exertion while he fought your legs into the bindings. Niner had a harder time with your arms as you arched your back and tried to find purchase on his armour with your fingers.

“Hu’tunn!” You screamed, spitting at Niner. You were too worked up to notice he froze beside you, or the way Scorch looked at him from the bottom of the machine. “Ni’duraa!” The bindings rattled with every jerk you gave, ignoring the pain as they lashed tightly against your skin. The tangy smell of blood reached your nostrils but you didn’t care. You just wanted out of this machine.

“A fascinating display,” Hemlock murmured. His soft voice cutting through the screaming chaos in your mind. Your entire body was pounding with each frightened pulse in your chest. Being restrained like this — trapped with no way of getting out — made your panic a living, breathing creature. One you thought you had left behind.

“Please,” you whispered through dry lips, eyes searching for Niner’s visor. Hemlock followed your gaze, his glacial eyes narrowing for a moment.

“You will remain here until you give me what I want.”

Your arms were still moving, shifting and slicing your skin on the restraints. Tears slid out of your eyes, wetting the inside of your ears.

“What do you want from me?” You cried out to Hemlock, desperate to be free while hating how pathetic you sounded.

He smirked, bending at the waist to lean over you slightly. “I want complete control over you.” Hemlock reached in, pressing his thumb in the middle of your forehead. “You have something hidden inside you that I want, a gift you will not acknowledge.” You tried not to sob, grinding your teeth against the urge to wail, ignoring the pain he was creating in your head. “You have secrets,” he breathed, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting from you. “And they will belong to me, eventually.” You hiccuped quietly, eyes fluttering as the pressure between them vanished and he straightened. “Proceed.”

The machine hummed to life, causing your muscles to tense as you readied yourself for what was to come.

But no amount of bracing could stop the searing agony that ripped through your body, and stole who you were.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idia and his parents communicating ipad to ipad for Family day. I want to see it, it sounds like something out of a dystopia 😭 can you write it? (Hope I’m asking the right way!)

I seriously thought long and hard about censoring Idia's whole face out using his tablet in the banner 😂 I ended up choosing not to because leaving his face exposed makes Idia more vulnerable (which suits the tone of this interaction).

This piece was actually inspired by a scene from a cooking manga of all things if you can imagine that 😭 It was about two brothers fighting because they reacted so differently to a traumatic event; I reworked the elements of that for this scene

***Contains major plot spoilers for book 6 of the main story!***

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Idia.”

“Dad.”

The air between the two floating tablets was electric—not from the devices, but from the charged tension they emanated.

On one screen was a circle encasing a triangle and skull emblem, a generic symbol for Idia’s infamous voice calls. On the other screen was a man that could only be described as Death itself, pale skinned and blue lipped, suited in a pristinely lab coat. His hair was a blue blaze, and his mouth folded into a neutral line.

Ortho floated between the two tablets, his gaze darting nervously between them.

“So nice of you to pay your son a visit,” Idia spat. A mean, pessimistic bite to his speech was the norm—but these were different, coated in something stronger. Not quite hate, but the distinctively metallic flavor of masked hurt. “What am I in for this time?”

“I’ve come to check up on you,” Mr. Shroud said carefully, as if placing each word down with a fine pair of tweezers.

Idia couldn’t suppress an audible scoff from slipping out.

For as long as he had lived (though could one really define “living” as being cooped up in his room 24/7?), Idia had never known his father to be particularly warm. He was an aloof man, as icy as the pits of Tartarus itself, dedicating himself to research above all else. Results over emotions, and facts over feelings: that was how Mr. Shroud operated.

Something about his mere presence made Idia freeze over, his limbs lock up like a machine with cogs that hadn’t been greased. The man he called father—where had he and mother been when their son needed them most?

Two years. Two years of crying alone, grappling with his guilt and his fears, shut away from the world. Researchers passing him looks of sympathy, containing their whispers amongst themselves. It was the robot parts gifted to him that kept him sane, gave him some semblance of hope.

The limp body of a child, entirely indiscernible on the floor, was still so clear in Idia’s mind. Mangled, the warmth robbed from it. As cold and as lifeless as the machines that populated Styx HQ.

“Give him back. Give him back to me…! Give me all of Ortho… His body, his personalities, his memories! EVERYTHING!! I WANT IT ALL BACK!!”

His tears had run hot, but his parents’ blood had turned to solid ice. He had fixated, and they had seemingly forgotten.

“Kk, sure. I’ll buy it even though I actually don’t,” Idia said sarcastically. “Go off, say what you want to say.”

If Mr. Shroud was offended by his son’s tone, his face didn’t show it. “I wanted to ask if there have been any… issues since ‘the incident’. More specifically, among ex-subjects A through F, regarding their experiences within our facility.”

Because we neglected to wipe their memories with River Lethe this time, Idia knew. He wants to know if they’ve been running their mouths off about Styx with all the online rumors on secret organization going viral…

“How should I know? I don’t make it a habit of monitoring my classmates’ internet posts. And so what if they do? It’s not like anyone has proof…”

“This is a matter of great importance, young man. If word gets out about what we are and what we do…” Mr. Shroud frowned and shook his head. “It puts our entire operation in jeopardy. As future director, you should be taking this more seriously.”

“I didn’t make that choice,” Idia muttered. All I wanted… was to be normal. But no, that freedom was already taken from me before I was even born.

“What was that?” Mr. Shroud’s volume rose ever so slightly, brows subtly drawing together.

“Wah, let’s not fight!” Ortho interjected, holding up two hands. “It’s Family Day, Nii-san! We should be doing fun activities as a family. Will you join us, Mr. Shroud?”

“Ortho…” Idia bit back a protest.

Mr. Shroud’s expression shifted, adopting mild amusement. “… The world’s first self-improving technomantic humanoid.”

“Yup, that’s me!” Ortho twirled happily. His outfit—black and blue, just like the school uniforms of the Ignihyde students— shone wonderfully in the sunlight.

“Fascinating. It’s been equipped with a new gear which seems to being it something akin to human joy,” Mr. Shroud mused. “I assume this was your doing, Idia?”

At the other end of his tablet, Idia clenched his clammy fists. There he goes again, acting like people are his experiments. Just data to be stared at, manipulated and studied.

Annoyance colored the tips of Idia’s hair red. Ortho’s smile, his happiness, was genuine. Of that, Idia was certain—but it was a waste of his breath to try and convince his father otherwise.

For Ortho’s sake.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out. He expelled his pride, and his flames cooled back to blue.

“Yes, I made his College Gear. Ortho’s officially enrolled as a student now, so I don’t get what the big deal is. You signed off on it.”

“An artificial intelligence with the capacity for organic learning and growth is an ever-expanding field of interest. Your mother and I granted our permission for Ortho’s enrollment so as to collect data on…”

There was a rattle and a slam from the other end of Idia’s tablet. His shaky voice rose, fire burning red hot.“L-Look, I… I don’t care what you think of me, or about school, or your work. But don’t talk about Ortho like he’s just an object.”

“Technically speaking, it is an accurate statement.”

“Ortho’s so much more than that!! He’s my brother. Kehehe… If you can’t recognize that, then maybe you aren’t as smart as you like to think you are.”

Ortho’s eyes widened. “Nii-san…”

Mr. Shroud pursed his lips. “You’re being emotional. Let’s think about this rationally—”

“One day,” Idia continued, his voice cracking. “Just one day of being normal boys with a normal family. Can’t you at least give us that? No, I guess you can’t, because all you care about is getting your results. The feelings of your sons don’t matter.

“You won’t acknowledge Ortho as his own person, but you’re the one that’s more machine than man. We may as well not even exist until you need to call on us for something. Y-You..: You didn’t even cry when…!!”

“Idia.”

Mr. Shroud’s face was a marble mask, free from feeling—but in his eyes was an immense sadness. Despair swirling in a vortex of lost souls, locked away and the key thrown out. “You think you’re the only one who has been suffering? Your mother and I…”

He didn’t finish the thought. Or else the marble would crack, and a torrent of tears would escape him.

Idia went silent. Harsh accusations rested on the tip of his tongue, unsure if they would be spat up or swallowed down.

“… Human beings choose to mourn and to honor the dead in their own ways,” Ortho said quietly. “Coping is unique to the individual. Even so, I think it’s possible to understand one another.

“Nii-san, Mr. Shroud. Why don’t we do away with the screens and speak face-to-face? Maybe then… we could understand each other.”

Idia gave a bitter laugh. “… Sorry, Ortho. I don’t think I could do it.”

“But…”

“He is correct. From the looks of things, it would ultimately be a fruitless, futile effort. We’re done here,” Mr. Shroud declared. “You have the day off from classes, so you may spend it however you wish. Play your video games or whatever it is children do these days to amuse themselves.”

Idia snorted.

“… Be well. Until next time.”

Click!

His video feed abruptly ended. The cord between him and his children, cut.

Back at the Isle of Lamentation, Mr. Shroud pulled up a keyboard and notes on his device. He began punching in his report.

Day XX / Month XX

I was worried about Idia’s emotional and mental state in the aftermath of the incident. The boy has experienced a number of hardships as of late. Regardless, he seems to be doing well. He is still as reclusive and as snarky as he ever was. However, I observed a marked change in his behavior with regards to Ortho.

Idia has become rather protective of the android of his own creation. He now truly regards it as his own brother and reports to enjoy spending time with it. This could yield promising therapeutic results in the future.

I will continue to log his progress.

Signed,

Director Shroud

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Subversion of expectations in Set Me Free Pt. 2

What makes it all worth it in closely following an artist's career trajectory is having the opportunity to look at their work from various angles. In turn, that opens the possibility to make comparisons, to be able to spot the various inspirations, to see how it's positioned in the appropriate contexts. It's not an easy job, but the result is that by taking into consideration all these elements, it's possible to eventually know what type of interpretation is more suited, without making major leaps for the sake of it or turn the work into an ahistorical event.

I've been thinking all day how I should write about Jimin's pre-release track. I kept postponing it, going back to watching the music video and keeping my involvement in debates to a minimal. In actuality, and for the sake of honesty, after a few hours I was in the avoiding stage. I had thoughts here and there, but nothing that I was able to put together in a coherent way. I wrote and deleted paragraphs several times. The reason was because in the last few months I've become more interested in his projects, wanting to witness the direction he is taking which in turn affected the way I approach each topic regarding Jimin's work.

I'm saying all this because I want to point out the element of subjectivity. Which is ever present. There's no such thing as complete objectivity. It may manifest as neutral or heavily analytical statements, but underneath all that there's the obvious element of our own taste and bias. I think we can't have an honest conversation as long as we don't acknowledge that. Being biased in this context makes us protective of the artist we like, of perhaps thinking but not being ready to admit that we hold them as the highest standard in order for them to become the main point of comparison when we look at other artists. As much as I see this as an expected result of our subjectivity, I strongly believe that stating and being honest about this can make our interpretation and opinions to come from a more genuine place. Otherwise we hide behind our own notions of taste and knowledge which can lead to useless comparisons and connections between artists when that's not the case or more likely, judging a specific work in relation to some standards that have no place in the current conversation.

This is something that I have to remind myself all the time because I can be guilty of, but it's also a type of discussion that I see happening a lot in online spaces (predominantly twitter) which eventually doesn't bring anything of real value to the table.

In this context, I think it's impossible not to look at Set Me Free Pt. 2 (SMFP2 in the following mentions) as a sort of turning point. Not only the song, but the entire album. But for now, I will refer to this track because it's relevant in its connections to other major points in Jimin's career. SMFP2 closes a chapter while also setting the stage for what will come next. Not only that, it shows a versatility that sometimes it's a more relevant point in the context of releasing a first solo album, an EP in this case. The song and its visual representation can be understood in the context of what came before, specifically Lie, but also Jimin's artistic trajectory in the the last decade as a group member, his personal journey and his status and presence in the public life as an artist.

What I appreciate about Jimin's work is that it shows his ability and predisposition to storytelling. Of taking parts of his individual path and turning them into motifs, easily recognizable for the listener who has the availability to try to understand. I want to mention first Lie and Filter because both songs are representative for specific stages in Jimin's life as an artist. Lie was a cry for help and salvation, of not being able to get out of a web of lies that can swallow one whole. By the time Filter came, it showed a maturity and self awareness that came from knowing how he is perceived, of playing the part, but always on his terms. With SMFP2, Jimin doesn't need an outside force to come for help because he is finally able to do that on his own. And that only comes after years of struggle.

As much as the song is liberating, the aggressive element takes center stage. This is the song of an angry man that had enough and he can finally say and do what needs to be done. And he has only himself which makes it all the more scary because it shows his inner power and ability to endure, but also to fight back. It's a stage in which he shows that he's invincible, with lyrics such as ''I won't hide anymore, even if it hurts/I won't stop even if they mock me''. In terms of structure, the song is a conversation between Jimin who acknowledges that he reached a new stage in which he is free because he did it himself and another inner voice, the one that has to remind everyone that he is untouchable now and no meek person. Musically, this is achieved and punctuated by focusing on the hardware version – the rap part and the software element expressed through Jimin's usual vocal signature.

Instead of turning this into a step by step analytical interpretation of the lyrics and imagery, I want to discuss some elements of it through the frame of expectations and the subsequent subversion of them.

If SMFP2 being a hip-hop song might be considered a choice that apparently doesn't fully characterize Jimin or it comes as a surprise based on the teasers alone, I think it manages to show how he can adapt and make use of different genres, including those that we might not immediately associate with him. The reason why this song works is due to the heavy contrast punctuated by the insertion of a heavily artificial element. While from a matter of personal taste, the sound itself here can be quite difficult to digest, the choice makes sense because it creates a distinct voice that helps in distinguishing the two parts of Jimin that are sending different signals and which represent two sides of the story he's telling. The autotune on the rap parts makes his voice almost unrecognizable, but that also means we're seeing a clear case of subversion. That voice sounds foreign and not something we might even associate with him, but we have to keep in mind that it's the aggressive voice. The one who is sincere and clearly states he basically has no fucks left to give.

The music video was also surprising because it presented a type of choreography that is yet again different from what we would expect. And this element is crucial because of what we know of Jimin's background and his status as a dancer. A common observation/criticism is that he didn't dance as much as it would have been possible and that's a thought that also crossed my mind initially. But then I kept thinking about it and I realized that this might be a case of wanting a specific type of dancing from him and instead, receiving something else. Perhaps it should have had strictly moves for every single beat, a more complex choreography for Jimin and not what looks as him taking control over only specific parts, instead of just making some movements that look a bit uncoordinated in order to fill in the space created by the dancers. But on taking a closer look, it becomes obvious how every movement and gesture is purposeful. I see Jimin here as the one who orchestrates and leads the entire choreography, including controlling those around him. It might look like they hold control over him, as in the case of pointing their fingers, or acting almost possessed trying to take him down, but they move based on how Jimin controls the space. I think it makes a show of power, even in the moments in which on the surface it might look like the opposite is happening.

The (melo)dramatic tone of the song and especially that of the music video is achieved through the use of only a handful of elements. In this case it's interesting to note that it happens in the vein of less is more when usually the opposite is the norm. Using only one space, quite minimalist in terms of chromatic elements and lighting and camera techniques, the focus is on the choreography. It's the principal element which can only come from someone who has an established image and known for his dancing abilities. There is no need for props or other artifice in order to elevate or complement the production. The message needs to be straightforward and adding other elements would take away the attention from what is relevant. For a song that makes use of an imposing choir, brass instruments and drums, that is more than enough to convey the epic element of the story.

Ultimately SMFP2 is yet another example of how Jimin always subverts the expectations, of how there is this entire world and parts of himself that we wouldn't even think about. Yes he will rap, but he will do it in way that is unexpected. Of course he will dance, but the choreography will not be entirely like the type we are used from him. And he will have a poem of Rainer Maria Rilke tattooed on his torso which only indicates that we barely know anything about him. Of what is the spectrum of his inspiration, of what are some of his creative influences separate from what we would already expect. There's always the element of surprise and if there's one thing that I know I can expect from Jimin, is him doing more and different than what I could possibly think of.

This might be a song in his first solo album, but Jimin is starting on this path after 10 years of work. It means there's an entire baggage of experience, but also that we're seeing a new direction. Which can prove to be successful entirely, or perhaps only a first step for someone who will have plenty of time in establishing a public identity as a solo artist. I think his future looks bright, regardless if this song is exactly what we would have wished for or not.

*This post is merely an attempt at some sort of generalized view of the song and the music video. I will mostly likely talk more about specific elements in the following days if the occasion arises, probably by having conversations through asks. 

[breakfastteatime]

I keep thinking about the astrography of the Koboh system and I'm wondering if anyone's got any clear answer on on how Koboh, its moon, and Tanalorr/the Abyss behave in relation to each other. Can I ask what you think?

Because for the arrays to work, that specific part of Koboh and the part of the moon with the station both have to be facing Tanalorr. And of course they have to be close enough: Tanalorr can't have its own orbit like Mars or most of the time it'll be way across another part of that solar system, so I figure they've got to be binary planets, orbiting around each other and moving together around their star.

And, given that we see the Abyss in the sky over Ramblers' Reach in both daytime and nighttime, they've got to be tidally locked, or at least Koboh does. Otherwise you'd have to wait to activate the array until Koboh's orbit has come back around to face the Abyss at whatever time of day that is, and I don't think we say the Abyss move round the sky much, right?

So all that can be explained… but then I've got to wonder: How the hell can anyone, Empire idiots or otherwise, see a giant planet-size nebula spining around Koboh in a stable orbit, a nebula with the same gravitational pull as a planet, and NOT wonder "hey, what if there's something planet-sized in there?"

I know the answer is handwavey plot necessities and I'm overthinking things, but… there could be some interesting plotbunnies in there.

Has there been any talk about this anywhere that you've heard?

As always, love your work! <3

You are way, way, WAY smarter than I am. Wow!Just let me bask in your genius for a moment.

You're right - I don't think the Abyss moves... and oh, how I wish we could explore Koboh at night throughout the game!

I did mention in a "what do I want in Jedi 3" post a while back that Tanalorr is going to have to come under some kind of existential threat in the next game because all stories need jeopardy. We know the Empire is on Koboh and there's an entire Star Destroyer in the sky in the post-game of Survivor. They don't appear to be searching for anything in particular (I may have missed it, but I don't think the troopers say "hey, I hear that Jedi terrorist is lurking here somewhere!" unlike literally every Raider) so I don't think they're there for Cal specifically. More like Koboh's the next world on their galactic conquest. However, it's likely that the more they see, the more they will explore. We know from JFO that Palpatine wants relics of other Force cultures, so maybe he'll show an interest in what was left behind on Koboh...

We also know from the game's finale that the arrays overload and now the only way to get to Tanalorr is to 1) be a damn good pilot, and, 2) be a Jedi, or have one very close by, or 3) have a compass. So there's a really good chance that, with the Empire having a presence on Koboh, they'll notice all the comings and goings through the Abyss and start exploring... and exploding. You have to imagine initially Cal and co will be able to rely on anyone following them in getting 'sploded by the Koboh Matter, but what if someone gets lucky, gets through, and does find Tanalorr and alerts the Empire??? There's your jeopardy.

I hope they have lots of ships of Tanalorr and plenty of people to repaint them regularly to make the Empire think anyone going in there is also dying because they never see the same ship twice...

This is fun to think about!!! And makes me curious to know what the final game will do with this. Maybe it'll be a case of they decide to seal off Tanalorr for the safety of those there.... Maybe Cal does that and he stays behind... Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Thanks for the Ask, and the kind words! I better get back to some writing!!

[beansterpie]

8, 11, 17, 18, 20, 24, 30 and 33 for fitzfool/fitzloved!

ty for the ask!

8.) What do they love most about the other? Why?

I think what Fitz loves most about his Beloved is his kindness <3 and also his playful/mischeviousness lol, or more like a combination of the two. Beloved often uses the latter to express the former, and I think he was such an important presence in Fitz childhood (and adulthood, once the Tawny Man triology comes around) for caring and fun, considering so many other people in his life were concerned with his usefulness.

And I think the Fool loves Fitz's big heart. He fucks up a lot and is like, one giant ball of bad trauma responses, but he cares really deeply about a lot of things, and he feels strongly. In a world that has been so callous to him, I think that appeals to the Fool a lot. His kindness is also another one-- I find that Fitz is a guy who has a lot of shitty kneejerk reactions, but then he tries to see things from different perspectives and attempts to be accomodating (often to a serious fault lol).

And of course their shared history is a big part of all this. They were bright spots in each other's lives when they were still too little to defend themselves from all the people that wanted to hurt them, and I can't really undermine how important those memories are to both of them.

11.) How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

Oh I think they'd both really like pet names lol. Casual ones like 'dear' or 'love' or 'sweetheart'. That being said, idk if they'd have anything more specific or unique that they consistently called each other, considering "Beloved" is such a Thing™ between them. I also really like the idea of Fitz eventually gifting the Fool with his own true name, "Keppit". Idk I think it would be a really meaningful gesture, and also it's a very cute name lol.

17.) How well do they communicate? Are they open with their feelings/thoughts or more reserved? Why?

I think once they like, get their heads out of their asses, and finally admit that they have romantic feelings for each other, and will prioritize each other over everyone else, then yeah! Of course, that's the Big Obstacle though, and we see what happens when they don't manage to convey that to each other (so many decades of misunderstandings and missed opportunities like LEGIT).

But if they managed to admit that to each other, then I think they would be able to communicate pretty well, because the Fool's belief that Fitz doesn't return his feelings/his feelings for Fitz would be a burden on him (Fitz) vs Fitz's inherent low self esteem and deep depression and trust issues and heteronormative expectations is what really causes their miscommunications.

18.) How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick?

I think we've basically seen this on Fitz's end, since the Fool goes through periodic bouts of illness whenever he sheds his current skin. (I'm sure the very few non-RotE followers I have who are even reading this are going ????? at that, but I am being literal.) Anyway, when the Fool falls to fever in Assassin's Quest, from what I remember Fitz literally held him almost the entire time, and also had Nighteyes cuddle him from the other side, no? So yeah, I think Fitz would be extremely attentative, maybe to the point of being a bit stifling lol.

And the Fool would also be very attentative, but like, in a slightly more chill way. He'd have great bedside manner, is what I mean lol. Unless it was really serious-- then I think he'd be pretty frantic and quite fragile about the whole thing.

20.) How do they comfort each other when one of them is upset? Is this method of comfort effective?

If they're in a place where they're able to communicate better than in canon lol, like they have an established romantic relationship, then yeah I do think their ways of comforting each other would be effective. I think even in canon, when their communication leaves something to be desired, they're still (usually) a very comforting presence to one another!

And I think largely that would be sitting and listening with understanding. Which the Fool especially is already excellent at, it's Fitz who usually struggles not to get defensive or otherwise put his foot in his mouth lol.

24.) How do their personalities affect their relationship? Do their characteristics compliment each other, or clash often?

I think they compliment each other quite well, for the most part! I think Fitz runs the risk of being like, overly clingly sometimes lol. Which to be clear I think the Fool would like most of the time, but he's also someone who values freedom so if Fitz isn't able to be chill about it, it could become a problem. But the solution to that of course is for Fitz to realize that everything is ok, and This Good Thing isn't going to disappear from his life suddenly.

30.) What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

Hmmmmm love languages..... I think acts of service is definitely one for Fitz, spending time together for both of them, words of affirmation for the Fool, as well as giving gifts (his carvings). Ngl I'm not well versed in the concept of specific love languages lol, but I do think they work well together!

33.) How do they flirt? Who’s the worse flirt?

I feel like their flirting would be a lot of coy looks across rooms and comments that don't make sense to anyone else, at least from the Fool's end. And I suppose that depends on their living situation lol. If they're at Buckkeep, then they really can't be public about their relationship (unless the Fool is living as Lady Amber, which would open things up a bit more, but even then propriety is quite important at court), but if they've moved away somewhere private where they can live however they want, then they'd be a lot more obvious about things.

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Ty for the ask, sorry for the late response!

[porschesbabydaddy]

Y'all got me into Dead Friend Forever, I cannot believe it. I barely watch TV!

I completely approve of the ending, also I believe everyone is dead.

PheeJin as a pairing is so fascinating to me because why on Earth did these two get involved with each other? Surely they both knew that Non, their common point and someone they wronged fatally bad, would be the ghost that keeps hanging above them.

Unless... that's entirely the point. That they are together because of that Non connection. Because of their still existing feelings and memories and guilt. That they are together because that's the closest they can be to Non now that he is gone, because this is the perfect punishment to themselves to be kept reminded of how they got involved in the first place. Because it's so interesting that Jin is determined to run away from his past to the USA, but he is still hung up on his and Phee's situationship, constantly jealous and wanting answers. You would think he would be eager to leave it all behind.

Phee and Non starting as FWB then turning into a genuine romance, which ended up being their undoing ➡️ Phee and Jin being FWB then Phee keeping Jin distant because he doesn't want a repeat (because he is stuck. because he cannot move on because he knows he will fall into the same patterns. I think the fact his sexual scenes with Jin being very brutal, saying he will be gentle on the account of Jin's injury then being clearly NOT shows he is nowhere near moving on from Non— even when they start gentle, Phee immediately escalates the situation by being gropey and harsh in a way he never was with Non, who he was very tender with (until the end))

In PheeNon confession scene by the lake, Phee is wearing blue, and Non pink. Next we see PheeJin at the (same?) lake, Phee is the one wearing pink, and Jin is wearing yellow and white stripes. Phee 🔁 Non connection through colors, role switch? Blue ↔️ Yellow being the opposite colors of each other in the Display RGB color wheel (as opposed to Painter RYB because of the constant presence of digital technology in the story, cameras in specific), thus creating some sort of contrast between Phee and Jin?

Bonus: Non in his death wears a pale peachy pinkish orange t-shirt. Pink (Non) + Yellow + White = Pale Orange. Orange is the opposite of Blue (Phee), Orange is a combination of Red (blood? Keng? Non's bracelet?) and Yellow (Jin), add white (Jin again), and voila, you get Pale Orange. People whose betrayals hurt Non the worst. I have connected the dots, OP! (I didn't connect shit, this is a massive reach.)

Extra bonus: at the first episode, Jin is wearing a pink jacket, and Phee an orange shirt. More Non connection? Jin a replacement to Non? Phee still clearly not being over Non?

Phee's naivety and claim that he just wanted the truth and not death sometimes feels like a bit of a retcon. Or at least not as done well as it should have: I firmly believe he and New were on the same page from the start: that this was a revenge quest and everyone needed to die. His weird ass relationship with Jin plus getting to know the group beyond "assholes who are responsible (like me) in Non's death" kinda muddled the original plans. Although I still don't think Phee liked them THAT much, to the point I went '????' when he said they were his friends. Bro, HUH?? Plus I don't think New hid his true plans of everyone dying from Phee, so uh, I don't buy it, sir.

I liked that Non in a way symbolises the most common mistakes horror protagonists make: not asking for help, going to locations alone, splitting up from the group (Phee and Jin), trusting strangers, to count the most prominent ones. (Being the most famous of the bunch then dying immediately)

The forbidden apple and the Garden of Eden symbolisms!! The start of the end, if you will. Does this make Non "Eve", as the one who dooms the narrative? What is the forbidden apple here? Their relationship to begin with? A temptation Eve!Non takes that he thinks he is forbidden from because all his life, everyone took took and took from him but now he gets to choose and take?

Jin is very self-oriented that it made perfect sense for his nightmare to involve no Non and all Jin, even though it's his filming of Non's assault that was one of the final coffins in the nail. Plus the fact he runs away for his benefit (which is valid!) while simultaneously trying to cling onto things he wants to leave in the past like Phee (It doesn't work like that, Jin!)

On the other hand, I wonder if he puts himself in Non's position because he feels so guilty in his role that he wishes it happened to him and torments himself with the idea. It disgusts him, humiliates him, he cannot take it yet he also cannot stop himself from feeling like that. (I've connected the dots— *I am forcibly pulled off the stage*)

(The above is a reach but it's also something I do to myself when I think about stuff I feel guilty about, wondering "what if I did this or said that", then becoming scared of the imagined consequences, but also being unable to think anything else.)

With the shot of Phee seeing Non in the background while talking to Jin, I noticed that Jin is smiling but when the camera focuses on Non, his smile is very clearly gone, looking more like a scowl. I know shit about camera technicalities, but Jin's smile was pretty big and prominent, so I don't think being blurred due to off-focus would have erased it completely. To me, it shows 1) Jin will always be after Non in Phee's heart, the rebound, the replacement 2) Phee is aware of that, and so is Jin 3) Oh, they both fuckin' dead.

More color symbolism: Phee wearing orange to Non's pale peach pink, while Jin is in blue (and white), which is Phee's color. Further showing the strength of emotional connection between PheeNon and PheeJin?

(I thought too much about the coloring, if the colors turn out to be wrong due to my screen, I am gonna throw myself into a lake.)

Haven't had brainrot like this in a very long time, thank you for that.

Related: may I suggest Stella Jang's "Villain" song as a potential theme song for DFF? Please listen to it and tell me I am not being delulu.

Ooh these are all such interesting takes! Sorry it took so long to publish this unfortunately I cannot read 💕

[tonightillbeonthathill]

Bruce Springsteen: 'Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.' George Steiner: 'because life is not a thin book, it is terribly long and tangled and dense. And Tolstoy didn’t even want to stop War and Peace'

films7 on x/twitter

Georges BORTOLI: "George Steiner, you write in your book—and it is even the headline that appears on the book's cover—you write: 'Ask a man whether he prefers Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, and you will know the secret of his heart.' Why make Tolstoy and Dostoevsky these ultimate cases, so to speak, these test cases?"

George STEINER: "There are works of art that force us, in a way, to choose, because they grab you by the throat, so to speak, and they say: 'Here is a vision of the world, of God, of your role in the world—choose between us. We have opposing, antagonistic visions.' And for me, they are the two giants of the novel, which is, after all, the quintessential modern form, the form that succeeded the epic poem, the tragic drama. We are in the century, if you will, or in the second century of the novel, and these are the two great masters of this form. And although we may appreciate both of them, I believe that each man, deep down, chooses one over the other."

Georges BORTOLI: "In other words, perhaps to simplify things, is it a choice between rationalism on one side and irrationality on the other?"

George STEINER: "Dostoevsky, in sum, to simplify, tells the whole world: 'If you want the kingdom of justice on earth, the kingdom of reason, you will end up with ruin, with inhumanity, with the concentration camp world,' which he foresaw in The Possessed and in The Brothers Karamazov. And Tolstoy says: 'No, it's here that we must build the kingdom of man and God, and if you escape by thinking of heaven, of the transcendent, then you will end up with injustice.' These two solutions are antagonistic and very much opposed; they do not accept each other equally. And I believe, by instinct, by reason, by sensitivity, we choose."

Georges BORTOLI: "Why, more specifically, did you choose two Russians?"

George STEINER: "Because I believe that in the novel, they are the giants, the giants who define the very limits of the form. There have been three great moments in our literature: the Greek moment, with the Greek tragedians; the Shakespearean moment; and then the Russian moment. Curiously brief moments, aren’t they? From the beginning of Gogol to the end of Tolstoy, just 60 years—60 dazzling years, with masterpieces almost every year, as with Shakespeare, and 10 or 12 great contemporaries. These moments are usually moments of crisis, approaching revolution or the fall of a civilization, where literature seems to carry this weight of anxiety, of revolution. The great questions that philosophy poses abstractly come alive in the literary mode. And Tolstoy and Dostoevsky have shown that the novel can stand up to Sophocles, Aeschylus, Shakespeare."

Georges BORTOLI: "Yes, but still, we tend to believe that the novel, the great novel, was born and also lived elsewhere than in Russia, in France for example."

George STEINER: "The French novel made the decision to be entirely a great secular novel. That is to say, when Balzac creates his brilliant world, it is the world of the bourgeoisie, the peasant—this godless world. He brushes against the problem of God, but in very bad books, in Séraphîta, in Christ in Flanders. In Proust, there is the refusal—a refusal of genius, if you like—but a refusal to open the doors to heaven or hell. Imagine Dmitri Karamazov in socks with God on the ceiling, screaming with his soul—this does not fit in Proust. Neither the dirty socks, because there is dirt in Proust, but never bad taste, nor God. And to simplify it naively, dirty socks and the presence of God go together. They go together in Shakespeare, they go together in the great epic poems, and also in the Russian novel. It is remarkable that the French novel produced Madame Bovary, and Tolstoy responded with Anna Karenina. The French novel produced The Red and the Black or The Charterhouse of Parma, with their politics and Napoleon, and Tolstoy responded with War and Peace, and Dostoevsky with The Possessed."

Georges BORTOLI: "And what do you think of the current French novel?"

George STEINER: "Well, it is almost the culmination of this triumph of style, of the autonomy of rhythm and language over human content. I see that soon the French novel will present us with works where cats and chairs and tables will talk to each other. And the last great Gongorist French novel of this wave of the new novel will be a novel with blank pages. It must come, it began with Mallarmé, who is the master of the current French novel, and in the end, it will be silence—perhaps a very beautiful silence, if you will, on fine paper."

Georges BORTOLI: "That’s the point of view of an American you are giving us here, since you are American."

George STEINER: "Yes, but I hope it’s the point of view of an American educated in France, who owes to France whatever literary culture he possesses. No, I hope, it’s the point of view of a man who reads and believes that there is a kind of very high frivolity, very beautiful, formally very interesting, but inhuman frivolity, in emptying the novel of the human voice, of the presence of the human body, which after all are the basis of language. We are not making music, we are not creating Paul Klee, abstract art; we are working with words, and words exist in the human voice. This is what Tolstoy and Dostoevsky never forget, even when they take the risk of bad taste, of being too long, of being ridiculous, of being grotesque. But they take those big risks, and that’s what is missing from these slim, perfect books we are now offered. After all, between a very large book and a thin book, the difference is almost metaphysical, not just technical. A very thin book is always The Princess of Cleves. It refuses life—with intelligence, art, all you want—but there is a certain refusal there because life is not a thin book, it is terribly long and tangled and dense. And Tolstoy didn’t even want to stop War and Peace. Two epilogues, eight new chapters—it was like time itself marching forward. And Dostoevsky, who writes these gigantic books precisely because he always wants to restart reality. Let’s remember that The Brothers Karamazov is the first volume of a cycle he couldn’t write. He died."

Georges BORTOLI: "Well, thank you, George Steiner, and I would like to remind everyone that your book, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, after having been published in the United States, in England, and in a few other countries, is now being published in France by Éditions du Seuil, in a translation by Rose Celli."

RTF 05/10/1963. Translated from the French

...

'Bruce Springsteen, who is your favorite novelist of all time?'

Bruce Springsteen: "I like Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. Personal favorites: “The Brothers Karamazov” and, of course, “Anna Karenina.” (The New York Times)