#felt the need to share this one

[tenpent]

[lil-lemon-snails]

sometimes you just need to hear it v some stills below the cut v

[e-vasong]

I did ask George Rexstrew some Cameo questions, and while I half-wanted to hoard them for myself, I figured it was only right to share the love! :D

The big hits for those who can't (or don't want to) turn audio on:

For love languages, touch is a pretty strong no. Acts of service and quality time are his primary love languages. Also, he may not realize it, but he would actually love to be on the receiving end of gifts, because it would "surprise him." He hasn't gotten a lot of gifts over the course of his existence!

Edwin hates/dislikes a bunch of stuff, but the things I found most interesting were: abandonment; Satan's star; being late; loud chewers; and tobacco pipes.

"Loud chewers" threw me off, but then I remembered that he got devoured alive for 70 years straight so it makes sense again.

"[Hates] girls...☝️ he's not a misogynist, though." AJSHDKJASDHK

[hanafubukki]

Lilia wondered if you knew what it meant to be loved by a fae. Did you truly?

To be loved by a fae meant to be worshipped.

To be loved beyond eternity.

To have lasting memories that would never fade.

To be found in all lifetimes until the end of eternity.

Silver and Sebek knew, having grown with faes and learning their culture.

Silver, even as a human, had learned and readily accepted it but he grew with such knowledge.

Sebek had grown knowing such from his mother and grandfather, even his father knew what it meant to be loved by a fae and willingly accepted it.

Lilia watched as you dozed on Malleus’ lap, the prince stroking your hair with a loving gaze upon you.

You, who were loved and cherished by him and Malleus, two powerful faes who made nations tremble at their power.

Lilia knelt by your side, kissing your forehead. His own blessing mixing with Malleus’s, marking you theirs.

Lilia knew that in time you would realize what it meant to be loved by them, maybe you already had.

After all, you loved so gently yet passionately. You loved with your entire self. It was only proper for that love to be returned just as intensely.

He knew you would never come to danger, not with them protecting you: the Dragon and the General of Briar Valley.

You were also protected by the Knights of the Future King of Briar Valley, both of whom considered you family.

You were loved and cherished, and will continue to be so by all you have come to know and will know.

And of course, especially by them.

🫶💚

[nipuni]

Photos at Madrid's Victory ball! 💃

We attended our first ball! It was such a dreamlike experience!! It was also our first time doing Regency reenactment so it was a challenge. We haphazardly put together some looks, had a great time learning more about the fashion and the dances and met a bunch of lovely people from all over the world. The palace was stunning, the live band was wonderful and the food delicious, it was an unforgettable night 🥰

[wildsaltair]

Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[askgardenerwoods]

hi Emma! Who do you consider your friends do you have a crush on anybody?

" For crushes... "

[leviachanbaka]

I don't know if anyone has posted these comments on Tumblr already, but just in case...

[ivysos2001]

I still can’t believe marvel had Steve tell Natasha he could only really see himself with someone with ‘shared life experience’ (5 seconds after they literally kissed) and then had the two of them practically glued together for literal years (in this movie and in every other movie after it), only to not even seem to consider them as a potential couple/love story

[luvlyycy]

"you're kinda ugly.. in like— a pretty type of way." you mumble, poking at law's cheek. his arms are wrapped firmly around you as you lay in his lap, his nose scrunched up as he looks away from the television to you.

"thanks? you're not ugly at all."

you shake your head, "ion mean looks, baby. you're jus an ugly person. you're kinda mean, rude, nasty, but you're really thoughtful," you place your palm flat on his cheek, noticing how he stopped smiling.

"I am?"

you nod, "you care so much about your family, about your friends, all the people close to you. so, you're just ugly on the outside but pretty on the inside", you smile at him and he slowly smiles back, gulping down the lump in his throat he didn't know was there.

he's so lucky to have you, someone as pretty as you with someone ugly like him, he thinks. he leans down, silver necklace tickling your skin as he places his lips on yours— sneakily attempting to hide his tearing up eyes..

[rollercoasterwords]

i know that the scars were largely added by fandom & aren’t even part of r’s actual description etc etc but one thing i would love 2 see more of in depictions of that is like. scars that are not faded & pale & flat…scars that r puffy & raised & dark & red & contort the skin around them & just generally look uglier & more alarming by conventional beauty standards etc. perhaps i am projecting a bit but depending on the severity of a wound scars can take a very long time 2 fade & there’s no guarantee they’ll ever be fully flat & pale, & especially in contexts where r is getting new scars due 2 repeated transformations etc i think it would be cool 2 see more representation of scars in different stages of healing & scars that heal differently

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[blluespirit]

TL;DR: Zuko is not winning any Liar of the Year awards here, but he's by not a ‘bad liar’ either. He's also (apparently surprisingly) not sharing his every deep-seated thought and feeling to anyone and everyone and can in fact, keep a secret.

a canon vs fanon Zuko thing thing I see fairly often that I personally disagree with is that Zuko is constantly over-sharing and telling people too much about himself and his problems.

People love to use the Book 1 finale incident when he talks to Aang's unconscious body in the cave, but that feels like a bizarre example because... he's more talking to himself. He's not really talking to Aang. Aang can't hear him. Aang is literally none the wiser. It's not an inappropriate time or person or unreciprocated, and honestly the whole thing is more for the audience to get a sense of what in gods green earth is going through Zuko's mind considering how reckless this action was. And even if Aang was awake I still don't know if you could call it oversharing considering Aang has genuinely tried to reach out to Zuko before and tried to understand him (e.g., the Blue Spirit). Of all people, Aang would likely be the most receptive. Like... net zero information gained...

I've seen people use some examples with Iroh which I personally think is pretty ridiculous to count because it's not like he's saying anything Iroh doesn't already know??? Iroh is like the only one in Zuko's orbit who actually knew all the details about his banishment and trauma. I don't know how any scene Zuko could have with Iroh that you could call over-sharing. Zuko also never said shit to his crew about any of his past for like. two whole years. The most they thought of him was angry and spoiled. They didn't actually know anything about him. like... at all. Jee thought his scar was from a training accident.

People like to also use the scene on the ship with Mai in Book 3 when Zuko is returning to the Fire Nation, but even that feels like a bit of a stretch. Yeah, Mai dismisses him and tries to play it off, but nothing Zuko says feels 'too personal' especially when Mai is supposed to be his girlfriend and Zuko has literally not been home in three years. Telling your girlfriend/someone you trust how you feel in a obviously emotionally turbulent situation is not sharing too much, no matter their reaction or whether they asked first.

MAI: Aren't you cold? ZUKO: I've got a lot on my mind. It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed. MAI: [Yawns.] I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story. [Zuko frowns at her sarcastic response. Mai giggles and holds his face in her hands.] MAI: Stop worrying.

Another example I see is when Zuko rants to the badgerfrog. Again, not really an example since the badgerfrog is not a person and the story needed Zuko to Say Things Out Loud so we have some clue about what he's thinking. It's the same thing with the unconscious Aang. It's not oversharing. It's venting. And once again - net zero information achieved!!

Like, none of these instances feel like he's revealed too much information. None of it feels inappropriate in the context of the story.

I think people get 'over-sharer' and 'openly wearing your emotions' lines confused sometimes, but even that gets misconstrued in fandom.

I don't think that Zuko being more open with his emotions than other characters is an incorrect conclusion to make, however, I think there's something to be said about Zuko in book 1 and 2 using anger and rage as a coping mechanism rather than being vulnerable with his emotions.

Zuko will talk about his feelings a lot more in Book 3, which is actually super important to his arc, since he doesn't actually talk about his feelings in a real way in Book 1 and 2 (he's angry most of the time, and the only times I can remember when he does really talk about how he actually feels is usually when things have gotten Real Bad like when Zhao takes his ship or it's the anniversary of his banishment). In Book 3, he's really thinking and reflecting on how he feels and how he felt in different situations.

Even the 'Zuko is a bad liar' gets WAY over-played in fanon!

Yeah Zuko is not great at thinking on his feet when confronted, but it seems very context dependent, actually.

When in dangerous situations, while he's definitely not winning any Best Liar Ever Awards, he's not a bumbling fool either -

Zuko lies to Zhao about the Blue Spirit swords:

ZHAO: I didn't know you were skilled with broadswords, Prince Zuko. ZUKO: I'm not. They're antiques. Just decorative.

While not ultimately convincing, his delivery of it is far from terrible. The circumstances are against him here, though, after all, there are few people who hate Zhao enough to commit treason to stop him from capturing the Avatar than Zuko.

Zuko lies to Zhao about having found the Avatar:

ZHAO: [Pulls up alongside Zuko and smirks.] Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue. So, how is your search for the Avatar going? ZUKO: [Aggressively.] We haven't found him yet. ZHAO: Did you really expect to? The Avatar died a hundred years ago. [Close-up of Zuko, as he slants his eyes.] Along with the rest of the airbenders. [Close-up of Zhao, whose face contorts in an evil expression.] Unless you have found some evidence that the Avatar is alive? ZUKO: [Faces Zhao and responds very clearly.] No. [Stares back in front of him.] Nothing. ZHAO: [With an expression of disbelief on his face, as he rises from his chair.] Prince Zuko, the Avatar is the only one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning this war. [Leans in and faces Zuko.] If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you'll tell me what you found. ZUKO: I haven't found [Looks up at Zhao and his tone becomes slightly more aggressive.] anything. [Close-up, as he continues on a softer tone, slightly mockingly.] It's like you said. The Avatar probably died a long time ago. [Gets up.] Come on, Uncle, we're going.

I'm not trying to say Zuko is secretly this great liar, but his effort here is commendable. It's his directness that gives him away, but he's not afraid, or nervous, or stumbling over his words like he's often portrayed to be.

Zuko confidently lies to Jet about not being a firebender:

[while on the ferry; you can see Zuko thinks for a second Jet knows who he really is. Jet doesn't pick up on this, and Zuko plays off his fear].

JET: You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will. ZUKO: I've realized lately that being on your own isn't always the best path.

[during Zuko and Jet's fight]

JET: Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now. [As Jet swings at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabs one of his broadswords through the hilt, pinning it to the ground. Jet looks at it with annoyance before focusing back on Zuko.] ZUKO: You're the one who needs help.

Zuko, throughout these interactions, plays off Jet's comments. He's learnt to be vague sometimes (like on the ferry to Ba Sing Se) and be confident when refuting someone. Yeah Zuko did go straight for Bodily Harm but that's very on brand to me.

Zuko lies to Chit Sang about the escape plan without hesitation:

SUKI: But how are you going to get the cooler out? CHIT SANG: [From the staircase.] Yeah, how are you going to get the cooler out? [Jumps down.] SOKKA: [Covering up.] What? We didn't ... w-we didn't say that. ZUKO: Yeah, you heard wrong. CHIT SANG: I heard you hatching an escape plan, and I want in. ZUKO: [stern] There's nothing to get in on. SOKKA: Yeah, the only thing we're hatching is ... an egg? [Zuko lowers his head and Suki covers her eyes while they both sigh in annoyance.]

Zuko comes up with a lie to tell the guards at the Boiling Rock about keeping his helmet on:

MALE GUARD: Hey, new guy! I know it's the rule to have your helmet on at all times, but this is the lounge. Relax. ZUKO: [plays it up] But what if there's an incident? If I'm not prepared, someone could strike me on the head. [The guards laugh.] FEMALE GUARD: Give it a week, he'll loosen up.

However, Zuko most often has the most difficulty lying to people who are kind to him (and who are Azula tbh) -

In Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko and Iroh are now refugees and Zuko bungles this conversation with Song:

ZUKO: [Nervously] Yes, we're travellers. SONG: you have names? ZUKO: Names? Of course we have names. I'm, uh ... Lee and this is my Uncle, uh ... Mushi?

In Tales of Ba Sing Se, Zuko struggles to find even ground with Jin and doesn't know how to answer her questions:

ZUKO: You have ... quite an appetite for a girl. [He fiddles his thumbs awkwardly.] JIN: [Uncomfortably.] Umm ... thanks? So, Lee, where were you and your uncle living before you came here? ZUKO: Umm ... well, we've been traveling around for a long time. JIN: Oh. Why were you traveling so much? ZUKO: We were ... uh, part of this traveling circus. JIN: Really? What did you do? Wait, lemme guess. [She thinks for a moment and quickly points at him.] You juggled! ZUKO: [Zuko folds his arms and looks annoyed.] Yes, I juggled.

In Zuko Alone, he's at a loss for words when asked his name:

SELA: Does this guy have a name? ZUKO: [Nervously.] I'm... uh... GANSU: [Off-camera.] He doesn't have to say who he is if he doesn't want to, Sela. [Cuts to shot of him standing with his family.] Anyone who can hold his own against those bully soldiers is welcome here. Those men should be ashamed to wear Earth Kingdom uniforms.

Listen, he's not weaving any incredible tales here, but he's not this bumbling little uwu boy who's completely helpless without Iroh or the Gaang that for some reason is incredibly persistent in fan depictions of him.

[quibbs126]

I had some mental wires cross the other day and it basically came up with the idea of: AU where Megatron and Megatronus Prime are the same guy, he just changed his name

I know one of the wires was Animated, and I assume the other was One or some other continuity with the 13

So Megatron originally was a Prime, with the idea he was one of the rulers of Cybertron alongside the other 13, being a council of sorts. But at some point he turned on the other Primes for whatever reason, probably killed one or two, founded the Decepticons and started the war. And also this caused the Thirteen to basically dissolve as a group, even if some of them are still alive

He changed his name from Megatronus Prime to just Megatron, both because the other Primes basically discharged him from the group after his betrayal, and because he himself wanted to cut ties and association with them. Though his demotion is more in name only, as he’s currently too powerful for anyone to actually take away the power being a Prime grants him

Oh and with that, in my head here Prime is a high status and something someone becomes, not just by taking the name but there’s physical changes too, essentially being an upgraded form. But they’re also not immortal or gods and the Thirteen might not all be the first Transformers, direct creations of Primus. Don’t know where Megatron falls into that category then, but he is a Prime and has been for a long time

Optimus meanwhile is someone only given the name “Prime” after Megatron’s betrayal and after the Thirteen are dissolved. I’m not sure if he’s the only new Prime after the dissolution, because again I like the idea of other Primes being around, but he’s at least the first new one. He might also be the one with the power to appoint new Primes, since he holds the Matrix which is what makes them

I really need to stop coming up with random AU ideas, especially when I know I’m not going to use them. They’ll just be there for a few days and then I forget all about them. *sigh*

To be honest, I think part of the problem is I never think of them outside of Optimus and Megatron, and maybe a couple other characters like Elita and Starscream. I need to work on that

But I at least wanted to share this one, because I don’t think I’ve heard the concept and I also don’t think I’ve seen much of the idea of Megatron at some point being a Prime, not even in Shattered Glass, and the idea tickles me

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

okay they seriously outdid themselves with the new SAB weapon set this year. just LOOK at these things!! my hands are going to die a noble death collecting them... but it will be worth it.

[marstonsboy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston & Jack Marston, Jack Marston & John Marston, Jack Marston & Charles Smith, Sadie Adler & Jack Marston, Mary-Beth Gaskill & Jack Marston, Simon Pearson & Jack Marston Characters: Jack Marston, Abigail Roberts Marston, John Marston, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Sadie Adler, Simon Pearson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Arthur Morgan Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Blood and Injury, Minor Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Adult Jack Marston, Jack Marston Needs a Hug, he gets hugs :), Family Reunions, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Van der Linde Gang as Family (Red Dead Redemption), Hurt/Comfort, Afterlife, Red Dead Redemption (2010) Spoilers, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Time Skips, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Arthur Morgan's Journal, and his hat!, both get passed down to jack, i had tb kill abigail im sorry, the red dead revenge cycle and how it kills everyone it touches, Writer Jack Marston, 5+1 Things, High Honor Jack Marston Summary:

Ma squeezes his hand, her face pale and reddened around the eyes, her grip shaky and weak. She shudders with a cough. “You— you’re a rotten man, John Marston, you left us again.” She sounds like she might cry, and her eyes are unfocused. “You promised you wouldn’t leave us again.”

Jack says nothing. Pa has been dead for years now, and judging by Ma’s delirium in her sickness, she’ll be joining him soon.

As he squeezes back, he chooses not to correct her. She’s out of it, confused and suffering, and him confusing her further won’t help matters at all. “I know,” he murmurs instead, quiet, feeling like he’s wearing shoes that are two sizes too big. “I’m sorry.”

(Or: Five times someone mistook Jack Marston for his father, and the one time they didn’t.)