#i just wish they hadn't provoked so much suffering

[iangallagherisadeadman]

i hate the plot of svetlana and her father/husband, but i saw it as an opportunity to reflect upon her character, her little milkovich child, her relationship with fatherhood, mickey and his involvement in yevgenys life.

obs. I'm NOT saying in any way that I believe Mickey has the obligation to raise Yevgeny as he didn't choose to engage in the sexual relation that led to Yev's conception.

svetlana and fatherhood

what was all of that about stevlana and her dad? i finished shameless and i still dont totally get it. was she really married? i believe so cause none of her other marriages were legal. how did that happened? what is her dad like? when she married her russian husband? just everything seemed rushed and i wish he had more info about it.

either way, I remember she said once to mickey that she named their kid after her father and hes like "didnt the bastard fucking sold you as a sex slave for like 300 dollars" (which I think is really nice cause that means she shared with him that information voluntarily) to which she responded something like "yes but still he had some good in him". later she says to kev that she supported her father and all that cause she owned him for taking care of her until she was like idk nine years old and could take care of herself and i remember seeing someone here saying it is probably because in russia is really common for the father to abandon his children so the fact he stuck around means a lot to her.

it all makes me believe that the image of a father is of importance for svetlana. doesn't that means that she would want mickey to be involved in their childrens life then? i mean he was for a while as she forced him to until his boyfriend kidnapped her children and babys father went to jail and then she held back and i understand it i totally do but now that they have all growned up and gallavich is a somewhat resonable couple with somewhat legal jobs and somewhat living an honest life wouldn't she want them in her and more specifically her childrens life again?

svetlana and mickey

noel once said in an interview for s5 that he believes that in some ways Svetlana is perfect for Mickey cause shes strong where hes not and she complements him, and i believe that too. at the beginning every time shes onscreen she looks scared as shit truly frightened but as the episodes go on and they interact more it seems like she can perceive how small and frightened mickey is under all that bad boy facade and she grows upon him and then they get in a fighting-friendly-respect-disrespect relation in which they recognize each other somehow, and than that went sideways after the whole yev kidnap. mickey probably thought he was wrong thinking he could ever play family, that he could ever be any different and be something other than a fucked up in the kids life, that hes not up to being a parent and that theyre better off without him and make them go away; he chooses to take care of ian instead of his family by s5 end when he said svetlana could leave if she wasn't accepting ian coming back to their house after kidnap episode.

fact is svetlana and mickey found themselves in challenging situations simultaneously. svet was an undocumented immigrant who resorted to prostitution as her only means of survival, while mickey grappled with complex issues involving his love life, sexuality, and the pressure to conform to his fathers expectations, leading a life he didnt desire. despite these difficulties they shared the experience of becoming parents at a young age which significantly altered the course of their lives and their relationship. they were both the source of pain and the potential for each other's salvation. their relationship was fraught with difficulties as mickey treated svet poorly, refusing to acknowledge her as his wife despite her longing for the american dream through marriage and family, which she quite fought for at the beginning when she seemed to hope he would eventually love her (she was gentle and submissive and played perfect little wife). instead, he agreed to fulfill a fatherly role, and they supported each other superficially, lacking a deeper connection. for mickey, lana was an instrument to appease his father while simultaneously being a painful remark of everything he wasnt and didnt want to be, all while introducing complications into his relationship with Ian.

even with all the differences they faced, they had a lot in common, as they both were young and trying to survive, living lifes they didnt choose, the whole respect for their piece of shit fathers that they shared, the fact theyre both queer, how they dont trust others and try not to rely on no one and solve things with their hands and they both have bad manners and dirty mouths and take aggressive approaches to solve their problems and are always scheming and find hard to change their nature. they have a lot in common and they got to find that out while living together and fighting each other, trying with effort to shape one another so they would comply to play the role and accommodate to the life each was expecting to build. svetlana made mickey take off the nazi posters he had as is stated in s3 finale and would threaten and blackmail him into doing what she wanted during s4, and he would do his best to fight her by trying to scare her with threats and make her submissive holding her in an inferior place by diminishing her and calling her names in s4 until they grow to a somewhat peaceful relation in s5 even including ian.

them as a throuple happy family worked for a while and i mean i doubt she has anyone even as close as a colleage in her life right now she doesnt trust easily and v and kev are out of scene and she is married to that rich guy etc. so having a friendly relation with mick again seems like doable? desirable even maybe for her? at that time by s5 they were both dealing with illegal jobs and svet was raising her kid barely by herself and mick was using A LOT of drugs like pills and drinking and cocaine and crack i think and still they made it work for a while so only imagine what they could do now that theyre both at their best.

after s11

also, she is married to that rich dude but its a fact that hes not going to live longer and i know my girl is smart svet did her thing secured that bag stole and gained and got what she could but the plot said that the marriage was under the regime of separation of property meaning she isnt going to get any goods after her hushbands death and probably is not going to have contact with her husbands family cause theyre not close so not only she will have freedom but she will be lonely right. until she finds her a wife at least.

I know the importance of family isnt for the milkovichs what it is for the gallaghers and that yev came as result of an abuse relation, but mick didnt seem to take that on the child once he was born and he was taking care of him, he didnt seem to resent him or hate him or see terry and be hurt by it. i mean he does process trauma in such unexpected unexplained ways that i cant really vision how he trully feels about yev, other than how he rejected fatherhood in s4 and his comments with ian in s11 about not believing he can be a good parent, but s5 in the police station theres a lot of "hes a good kid" from the officer and mickey holding and kissing yev only to take care of ian as debbie hold yev on the passager seat in the way home that was made on purpose and i perceive it as he likes yev but hes afraid to break him. idk if there could ever be the same feeling that lip has with fred, of wanting to be a better father for him than he ever had. thats probably not micks thing. but i can see him at some point wanting to know about yev, and who he became, what is he like, and bonding with him, even more so cause hes not bad with kids they would hit it right away. probably a more friendly bond than father son tho. as for ian, there is that deleted scene of him visioning him mick svet and yev as a happy family and even thought he was maniac i think that came from the heart hes good with kids and he wants a family with mick and he lived a nice life with svetlana and he said to fiona he loves yev.

headcanons

there is the fact that svetlana probably never talk about mick and never went to see him anymore onscreen cause mick might probably not be babys dad but i like to think yev really is a milkovich just because they reproduce like fucking rabbits and i think thats really funny. also the beggining of s6 makes it clear he had done jobs from inside jail before so that he could get commissary money and svet could raise yev with her share, so s6e1 states they somewhat worked together which leads to suppose svetlana and mickey hold a friendly relationship even after they fight cause ian kidnapped yev and mick kind of kicked her out their house, AND since she asks ian to accompany her in the visit shes ok with him too it seems. ALSO not only i think is reasonable to assume they kept in contact for a while when he was inside and only got some distance as she was building her life with her relationship with kev and v and the allibi and he started getting involved in dangerous stuff with the mexicans (since in theory she visited him with divorce papers), i truly believe they only cut off contact completely when he told her he was leaving for mexico cause i mean he told terry i truly believe he told her too.

like i know a lot of people want galladads but i just see it as unresonable they came out of jail theyre traumatized and never done therapy ian fucking stole a baby and that baby was under micks supervision they fucking suck thats the true!! and i would kind like to see them taking responsibility for yev and bonding somewhat. just imagine what kind of parenting that kid would have hes probably unhinged since his parents are freaks. also i think that the more your parents control a kid the more they want to be a rebel (karen-like) and since he was raised by horrible people he is probably the opposite, really calm and mature for his age etc kind of like liam. hes also probably smart since he had a good education and speaks a lot of languages like svet, and aggressive but not fist like? i can vision it, mick telling him about what he was up to when he had yevs age and them playing videogames and mick like spitting on the floor or idk trying to teach him how to fillet a fish and yev totally disgusted by it cause hes a rich little motherfucker and then yev enthusiastically trying to explain the last robotic ethics article he read and is really excited about and making science fiction comparisons so that mick can understand it. OH ALSO also i believe yev is really into the fact hes half russian and knows a lot about its culture and all and wants mick to know more about ukraines and eat their food and know their history and learn their langague and that makes mick PISSED i just know it.

#!: ☆ other posts of mine include: shameless hot takes ; shameless x arctic monkeys ; gallavich x this velvet glove ; shameless moodboards ; shameless playlists ; saddest character ending: karen

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

I always see people say things like "oh i wish i was erin everly/shes so lucky to date axl rose" etc and after falling down in a rabbit hole, i found an article about the Erin lawsuit and one quote hit me really hard

"Despite pleas from friends and her mother to leave Rose, Everly refused. “I always believed things would get better,” she says. “And I felt sorry for him. I thought I could make [his early childhood suffering] all better.”".

People have said that she isn't innocent victim (which makes sense since yes she also didnt have the best upbringing) but still my heart breaks for her. In the article David Arquette who was in a relationship with her after Axl, says that she flinched a lot and he had to constantly reassure Erin that he wouldnt hit her. I sometimes try to imagine what their relationship would be if he seeked professional help early in his life. At some point i was certain that he loved Stephanie more, but i guess at the time he was dating her, he was just at a better state of mind and knew better how to express his love.

Totally. It would’ve been interesting to know how their relationship would’ve turned out had Axl gotten therapy sooner. I can speculate that he may not have been as aggressive or had as many frequent outbursts as before.

Some fans said that if Axl didn’t leave Erin for Stephanie then his cycle of abuse would’ve continued. But since he was with Stephanie he managed to break that cycle, ponder what went wrong in his relationship with Erin, and tried to be better, not only for himself, but for the people around him, including his new partner. This kinda debunks the early therapy part because, if Axl received therapy, but continued his cycle of abuse, then it’s clear that he needed to leave Erin for his own mental sake.

I’m not trying to demonize Erin here. Believe me, I like her a lot more than Stephanie, but she wasn’t right for Axl either. Sources mention how Erin was the aggressor who would push Axl’s buttons, or provoke him in a way, that caused him to lash out/defend himself from her. Instead of indulging in a screaming match with each other, they both should’ve communicated with one another and try to see the other’s perspective on what not to do and how to make things better between them. What’s sad is both Erin and Axl didn’t get to love each other properly because of the damage in their lives as Axl once noted:

I think One is one of the greatest songs that have ever been written. I put the song on and just broke down crying. It was such a release. It was really good for me. I was really upset that my ex-wife and I never had a chance because of the damage in our lives. We didn't have a chance and I hadn't fully accepted that. The song helped me see it. I wanted to write Bono a letter just saying, "Your record's done a lot for me."

The song One from U2’s album Achtung Baby was released in November of 1991, the same year Axl started dating Stephanie Seymour. He was still mourning the loss of Erin when he was with Stephanie and he was trying to heal from other things like his childhood past that came back to haunt him. Axl did view Stephanie differently because, for him, she was the right person to be around, and he thought she was perfect. She supported him when he talked about his childhood trauma in a Rolling Stones magazine article and when Izzy left the band.

I understand Erin and Axl were a cute couple, and I know there are lots of fans who still wish they were together. But the truth of the matter is…those two weren’t meant to be together for the long-term. As for Axl and Stephanie, it was the wrong place and the wrong time for them.

From my experience, the people who wish they were Erin are the ones who don’t know much about that relationship lol. I don’t blame them for saying that either tho, sometimes I think I could’ve helped Axl, but at the same time…it might’ve been impossible, and I don’t think I could’ve lasted as long as Erin did. Reality sucks…

I know Axl deserved better. He truly did 🥺 and it breaks my heart knowing he hasn’t found the love of his life yet. I’m still manifesting that he’ll find the right woman someday, but only if he wants it to happen.

[katiajewelbox]

On the occasion of Dilandau and Celena's birthday 2024, I feel this is an appropriate time to share some of the reasons why this character is special to me.

There's so much we don't know about Dilandau based on the canon information in the anime, but what we do see provokes tremendous curiosity! How does the whole biological sex changing thing work? Is Dilandau "trans" in our modern sense of the word or something else entirely? Who is the real identity - Celena or Dilandau? Is Dilandau happy in their role as the bringer of death and destruction or are they suffering the whole time? Does Dilandau truly care about the Dragonslayers and what is the real relationship among them? Why is Dilandau filled with so much hate and aggression, and are they really evil or just a troubled teen with access to a flame throwing giant mecha? There are many interpretations of Dilandau and every fan has their own idea of who and what Dilandau really is.

Of course, as a transmasculine person myself I feel a kinship with Dilandau due to their intriguing and never fully explained gender identity. Dilandau was one of the first transmasculine coded anime characters I saw, along with Lady Oscar, when I was a young person and hadn't yet figured out my own gender identity. Seeing characters like this got me curious about unusual gender identities and it just resonated with me even though I didn't fully comprehend why that was at the time.

Finally, being a fan of Dilandau and creating fanworks about them gave me comfort during a very dark chapter of my life when I lost my Dad to cancer, faced financial instability, and was trapped in an abusive relationship with my now-ex fiancee. It was difficult for me to care about myself when my self-esteem was at its lowest, but I could care about Dilandau. Creating stories about Dilandau overcoming horrible trauma, loss, and abuse before finding a happy ending with Miguel cheered me up and inspired me to imagine a more hopeful future for myself.

Dilandau continues to be my muse, my anime waifu, my comfort character, and my Best Girl (that's a gender neutral term in my book!). I look forward to sharing more fan art in the future as well as the thought-provoking fanfiction about Dilandau and Miguel I've been working on for the past year. I'm sure they'll have that special place in my heart for many years to come. Please join me in wishing them a very happy birthday 2024!

[lets-try-some-writing]

I just finished reading your “Optimus as Unicron’s Sparkling AU” (IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST PEICES OF WRITING I HAVE EVER READ) and there was something I was left wondering about. What if Optimus joined the Decepticons in his exile instead of the AutoBots. However you want to do it is fine, whether that be because of Unicron’s constant urges, or the Prime just feeling so betrayed. Again it’s up to you entirely. But really you writing is astonishing, and absolutely amazing. Thanks!

Thank you so much for the praise!! My dear requester you have literally made my day with this (after I dug through my pile of requests to find your lovely idea). I love this whole concept, thank you very much. I wish I could draw better so that I could illustrate these scenes.

Previous part here. Part most relevant to the request here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Autobots wallowed after they chose to send their Prime away, but left alone to heal and to think, Optimus's thoughts wandered. As he hid in an old garage, trying to compose himself and come to terms with all that had come to pass, he started to reminisce. He thought back on his life and all that had led up to his current situation, and as he did, he found his opinions shifting.

Over the first week, he remained firm in his belief that what he did was right. He struck his maker down, for if he hadn't, there would have been nothing left of his foster Sire's efforts. He could not condemn the one who raised him to continue on without a legacy. That was a faith he kept close to himself, but his thoughts regarding his mortal life began to be questioned. He fought for the Autobots to stop tyranny and to ensure that Primus's creations remained free. Megatron wished for freedom too, but his actions were monstrous, terrible by any moral definition. But then again, what was Optimus if not the creation of monstrosity?

By the end of the second week, Optimus began to doubt, not even bothering to move from his hiding place as he thought. At first he was plagued by guilt for even questioning, but then as he continued his contemplation, pieces he never considered began to fall into place. When he was Orion Pax, he was middle caste and was not shown the darker sides of society. He was foolish in his actions and his words, going on to provoke Megatronus by stealing the spotlight the Kaoni warrior deserved and fought so hard to obtain. He was willing to accept that he was wrong in that regard. But when he ascended to once again become a Prime, was he really wrong to fight back? Megatron killed mecha, he stripped them of their choice by tearing the council down without a care for those caught up in the backlash.

But then again, when was peace really ever an option? Mecha still would have suffered if things had been done slowly as he had hoped so long ago. There would have been pain all the same, it just would have lasted longer and been more drawn out. Fighting back against Megatron's revolution turned rebellion only brought greater suffering than if he had just allowed his former brother in arms to win. Not only that, but was Megatron really that wrong in his ideals? Yes they were more perverted from time and bitterness, however he still fought for freedom did he not? If Optimus had been there to steer him in the right direction, he could have appeased his maker by ensuring change was a constant while also assuring that his foster Sire's children didn't wipe themselves out in civil war.

By week three he came to a startling conclusion amidst his wallowing. He had failed in both his directives by trying so hard to maintain mortal morality. He was a creation of Unicron, his function was chaos and due to the kindness of his foster Sire, it was his duty to ensure his chaos was directed into something useful. In attempting to be something he wasn't due to his time as Orion Pax, he failed to bring change. The war was horrific, but it was static, nothing of note ever shifted. Always death, always battle, but there was no change. And in the never ending death, he was also failing his foster Sire by allowing his creations to drive themselves to extinction, even going so far as to encourage it by driving the war on and refusing to yield.

His Autobots didn't want him anymore, they feared him and all that he was. Even his oldest friend and his sparkling wished him to vanish. Optimus could not grant them that, he was eternal, destined to walk the stars until they went out and the universe unraveled. However he could fulfill his function and in doing so, finally bring about an end to the war that was driving his foster Sire's children to extinction.

When at last Optimus stirred, he did not reject his maker's touch. He relished in it. The Matrix pulsed in warning but Optimus ignored it for the most part. It was there to keep him on track, he would heed it when required, but his duty was long planned. He had a mission, a goal. He had to end this foolish war, and he was not afraid to wield the power granted to him from his birth to do so.

Thus as Optimus pushed himself up and abandoned the place he had taken shelter in, he found himself wandering. His frame broke apart into what it was in the beginning of times, a mess of energy and corruption balanced only by enough order to keep it contained. Unicron smiled and praised his creation through their bond with every passing moment as Optimus drew more and more upon his maker. In a matter of days, all remnants of the adaptation Optimus performed during the age of Primes faded away to reveal his true colors. A giant even amongst Cybertronian kind, he walked the surface of the earth, all its flora and fauna bowing to the one son of the being which spawned them. The Matrix screamed in concern, flaring wildly to try and reign Optimus back in, and it worked to a degree. Optimus's thoughts shifted, his ideals warping in response to the influx of his maker's power, but never did he become what his maker intended. Primus's touch was still powerful, but more subdued.

His attachments faded somewhat, ending up still present but distant in the ways of immortals gazing down upon their short lived comrades. He cared for his former team, he still loved his dear Autobots, but he knew what was best for them. The foolish children of Primus could not see their faults. The Decepticons were cruel, they were wild, and they were most certainly lost. However the Autobots were no better, their corruption ran deep, so deep in fact that only looking through the sight of one beyond mortality revealed it to him. Optimus had been so wrapped up in his war and maintaining morality that he hadn't seen the indoctrination, the functionalism, and the rampant biases that would most certainly lead to reinstitution of the council should the Autobots win. Changing their path was impossible now, but Optimus had no desire to kill those he held dear. He merely needed to play the side that needed his aid, just as he did with his false siblings during the first age.

They would hate him for it, but did they not hate him already?

With his frame having lost all its Cybertronian adaptations beyond the general form of one, Optimus was left with no ability to use internal commlink communication or any sort of technological advantage to contact Megatron. However Starscream quickly proved useful as soon as the seeker in exile was captured. Starscream shook like a leaf when he was wrenched out of the sky, and thus he complied swiftly when Optimus forced his shattered frame components to rattle in a mimicry of true speech.

Optimus: C̷o̴m̸m̸u̴n̴i̶c̸a̶t̷i̵o̷n̸ ̴m̷u̷s̷t̴ ̵b̷e̷ ̷a̸c̷h̵i̶e̴v̶e̵d̵.̷ ̶C̴o̴n̵t̷a̵c̶t̴ ̷M̸e̷g̶a̸t̴r̷o̸n̴ ̶o̵f̶ ̵K̵a̴o̶n̶.̶ ̶I̴ ̸m̴u̵s̸t̸ ̴s̵p̵e̸a̶k̵ ̶w̷i̴t̴h̴ ̶h̸i̷m̴.̴ ̶

Starscream, terrified for his life and unwilling to risk it: Of course my Lord.

Starscream was dutiful, and within the groon Optimus had communications established. It was of course an understatement to assume that Megatron was shocked. He witnessed Optimus's full might as Unicron woke, so seeing him in such a state once more put him on edge. However against all his expectations, Optimus did not threaten, he did not demand or speak in strange clinical whispers as he had last they met while the Prime was filled with the Unamaker's power. No, instead Optimus merely uttered his decree.

Optimus: M̴y̶ ̴m̵i̸n̶d̸ ̸w̴a̵s̵ ̷c̸l̴o̴u̵d̵e̶d̶ ̶b̵y̵ ̸m̵o̶r̷a̷l̴i̷t̸y̵ ̵t̶h̷a̵t̴ ̷I̷ ̷w̶a̴s̷ ̴n̸o̵t̸ ̵m̸e̷a̸n̶t̷ ̸t̶o̵ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶r̴e̶h̴e̵n̷d̶.̷ ̴I̴ ̵d̷e̶v̸i̴a̴t̸e̴d̷ ̴f̵r̷o̶m̸ ̷m̸y̶ ̶p̵u̷r̴p̴o̷s̶e̶,̵ ̶a̵n̵d̵ ̴a̴l̵l̷ ̵o̷f̶ ̷P̸r̴i̸m̶u̸s̷'̴s̸ ̸c̷r̸e̴a̵t̵i̷o̶n̴s̸ ̸h̵a̵v̵e̵ ̵s̸u̴f̶f̶e̸r̵e̴d̷ ̵f̷o̷r̵ ̶i̵t̴.̴ ̵

Megatron: What do you want Prime?

Optimus: I̵ ̷w̵i̸s̷h̸ ̸t̸o̶ ̵m̴a̸k̶e̵ ̵t̷h̸i̸n̴g̸s̶ ̶r̸i̸g̷h̷t̴,̶ ̸t̷o̶ ̷e̷n̴d̵ ̵t̴h̶i̸s̶ ̸m̷e̵a̶n̴i̷n̵g̵l̸e̸s̸s̶ ̶s̵t̸a̷t̴i̸c̸ ̷c̵y̷c̶l̷e̶ ̶o̷f̷ ̷d̵e̸a̸t̸h̴ ̷a̸n̸d̷ ̶d̶e̷s̴t̵r̴u̷c̵t̸i̶o̶n̷.̸

Megatron: So you wish to slaughter me and my Decepticons with that newfound power of yours?

Optimus: N̸o̷,̴ ̷t̶h̴a̸t̴ ̶i̸s̸ ̵a̶ ̷w̵o̴r̶t̸h̷l̸e̷s̵s̵ ̶e̸n̸d̶e̸a̸v̴o̵r̸.̴ ̸T̶h̶e̴ ̵A̴u̴t̷o̴b̷o̴t̸s̴ ̴a̷r̷e̵ ̶g̷o̵o̸d̸,̵ ̴b̴u̷t̷ ̴t̷h̵e̷y̴ ̵a̸r̸e̶ ̸m̶i̷s̴g̶u̴i̶d̴e̸d̴ ̸s̶o̶ ̶g̵r̶e̶a̵t̵l̶y̵ ̵t̴h̶a̸t̷ ̶I̵ ̴c̴a̶n̵n̷o̴t̵ ̵f̶i̸x̸ ̶i̵t̷.̴ ̸T̶h̵e̷ ̷D̵e̴c̴e̷p̷t̷i̶c̷o̸n̴s̷ ̴a̷r̷e̸ ̵l̴o̴s̸t̶,̴ ̴b̸u̴t̵ ̵t̵h̷e̵y̶ ̵c̴a̵n̸ ̵b̷e̴ ̶f̶o̷u̵n̴d̶.̶

Megatron: Get to the point.

Optimus: I̶n̷ ̷e̶x̴c̸h̷a̵n̶g̶e̵ ̷f̴o̷r̵ ̶m̸y̷ ̴A̶u̸t̸o̸b̷o̷t̸s̸ ̵b̸e̴i̶n̴g̶ ̸a̷l̶l̸o̵w̸e̵d̶ ̶t̴o̴ ̷l̸i̵v̸e̵,̷ ̴I̷ ̶w̷i̷l̴l̶ ̸j̷o̵i̴n̵ ̸y̷o̵u̴ ̵a̸n̶d̵ ̷f̴i̵g̶h̷t̸ ̷f̴o̷r̵ ̸t̶h̷e̶ ̷f̵r̵e̸e̷d̴o̶m̵ ̷o̵f̵ ̶y̴o̶u̴r̸ ̶k̶i̴n̷.̷

There was a great silence from all present as the words were spoken. Starscream froze up, incapable of processing the Optimus Prime of all mecha was about to jump ship and swap sides. Soundwave very nearly lost his mind the moment the audio from the commlink was relayed to him. Every other present commander had to reboot their audial systems just to be sure they heard right. As for Megatron? He stopped, his optics wide as he listened and waited for the other shoe to drop. When Optimus said nothing else, he rebooted once and then nodded simply.

"I always knew you would make a fine Decepticon"

With no reason to doubt the Prime in his declaration and sensing Unicron's affirmation through the vague connection Megatron held to the chaos god, Optimus was soon allowed on board the nemesis. He was met with raised blades and increadible suspicion due to his prior behavior, however within a few weeks, that hostility all but vanished as Optimus proved his worth. The Decepticons were still wary of him, his field and nature as one of the Unmaker's creations ensured that. He was their opposite, a thing that was similar to them but not the same. Even still, the Vehicons laughed in joy when Optimus joined them on the battlefield as one of their own for the first time, much to the horror of the Autobots there to fight.

Bulkhead: Optimus? What are you doing?!

Optimus: I̶ ̵w̶a̵s̸ ̷l̶a̶x̶ ̷i̴n̷ ̸m̷y̵ ̷d̸u̷t̵i̸e̸s̴.̷ ̸B̵u̶t̷ ̶n̶o̵ ̷l̸o̴n̸g̵e̴r̵.̵ ̶I̷ ̶w̵i̵l̶l̵ ̴e̵n̷s̷u̸r̶e̶ ̷t̷h̶i̴s̶ ̶f̵o̷o̴l̷i̸s̸h̸ ̷w̸a̸r̶ ̶c̴o̵m̸e̸s̶ ̶t̶o̴ ̷a̵n̸ ̵e̴n̸d̶.̴

Arcee: Have you lost your mind!? What does that even mean!? What are you doing with the Decepticons?!

Optimus: D̷o̸ ̴n̷o̵t̸ ̶f̴e̸a̷r̴ ̸l̵i̵t̴t̵l̵e̸ ̵c̴h̴i̵l̵d̵r̷e̴n̷,̶ ̶y̴o̵u̷ ̸b̴e̷l̸o̷n̷g̴ ̵t̴o̸ ̶m̵e̴,̸ ̵a̸n̵d̴ ̷t̴h̶u̷s̷ ̴I̷ ̵w̵i̴l̸l̸ ̵m̶a̴k̶e̶ ̴s̴u̷r̵e̷ ̸t̴o̷ ̸k̵e̶e̶p̷ ̷y̴o̸u̷ ̴a̶l̴i̶v̶e̴ ̸a̸s̴ ̶I̴ ̵s̴e̶t̴ ̴t̵h̵i̵n̶g̶s̵ ̸r̴i̴g̸h̷t̶.̷ ̴

Unicron rejoiced as his son wrecked havoc on the battlefield. The children wept as they watched the recordings of the event. Bumblebee pulled away, blaming himself for his Sire's fall. Ratchet grew more and more guilt ridden, and the rest of the team were not much better off. They had failed and in their hubris they had driven their leader into a darkness they feared he would never emerge from. All the while the Decepticons grew more and more hopeful, all eager to see the war brought to a close even if none were comfortable around the Prime who now bore their emblem with controlled apathy.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Unlikely Places - Chapter 8 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter: 8 - Nosy Curiosity

Not much had been said since Nurse Rosie interrupted our conversation.

I still wasn't quite sure why Pierce was putting most of the blame for my health on my friends but since it seemed to be such a sore subject to him, I didn't bring it back up.

I just wanted to go home.

A few hours later, once the IV solution bag had been emptied and a few more tests run, I finally got my wish.

Checking out took a little longer than checking in but I was pretty sure the process was still speedier than average.

Nurse Rosie insisted on pushing me out to the car in a wheelchair.

It was something I could have done without but one look at Pierce and I had decided not to argue.

As we approached, I saw Cicero's large head sticking outside the car window and the sight of his happy face was just what I needed.

I was able to give him a loving nuzzle before I slipped into the backseat.

Pierce climbed in across from me and in seconds we were in motion.

I sat stiffly, staring out the window at the blurs of color on the other side. I was tired and famished.

I was also very much aware of the man who sat next to me.

"How long have you been taking medication for anxiety?" Pierce murmured from his side of the car.

My head swiveled toward him.

He wasn't looking at me but out the window.

He sounded calm, maybe even bored.

Was this his way of making small talk?

A bit personal I thought but mentally shrugged.

It was Pierce after all, boundary crossing was probably one of his hobbies.

"Awhile," I answered.

He didn't turn to look at me but I saw his mouth compress.

He obviously hadn't liked my answer.

"How long is awhile?" he persisted.

I sighed out loud.

He was a like a bulldozer.

"Since before high school," I gave in and answered.

It wasn't as if I was trying to hide it and it was nothing to be ashamed of.

Some people had difficulty coping with certain things in life and needed a little help.

I just happened to be one of those people.

Story over.

I watched him nod with his face still turned away from me.

Even though I could only see half of his expression, I could easily tell he still wasn't happy.

That kind of made me mad.

"Taking anxiety medication doesn't make me weak," I said into the continuing silence.

Pierce swiftly turned to look at me as I spoke with a look of surprise.

"I didn't say it did," he replied.

"Well your expression seemed to be implying it," I retorted, turning away from him to stare out my own window.

"Jackson, seriously," he said.

"I don't think it makes you weak."

I grimaced.

I didn't know why but I didn't believe him.

It was probably because he seemed so strong and dominant and very much in charge.

He hadn't hesitated provoking me last night despite my being surrounded by a third of a football team.

I'm sure I looked and acted like a puny weakling in comparison to someone like him.

As I stared out the window, I began to explain to him what had been explained to me and my parents so many years ago when the topic of me starting a prescription medication came up.

"Anxiety doesn't mean I am mentally unstable. It doesn't mean I am not intelligent and it doesn't mean I can't live a normal life. It just means sometimes I get a little more stressed, for lack of a better word, than others. The medication helps to alleviate that stress."

I turned to look at Pierce then, who was quietly watching me.

"If you were sick and had diabetes that required insulin, would you take it?" I asked.

He nodded his head.

"If the doctor said that was my only alternative to stay healthy then, of course."

"Well, think of anxiety medication the same way. It's something I need so I experience less excessive worry and therefore fewer panic attacks like I did today. Though I don't have panic attacks often I really only suffer from anxiety,but when I am overly stressed or overly tired, a panic attack can work its way into my day if I'm not careful," I explained.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked defensively.

I noticed he had started smiling halfway through my explanation.

It hurt to think he was laughing at me.

"Do I overwhelm you?" he asked, side eyeing me with a devilish grin.

I flushed.

From that long explanation; that was what he had taken from it?

"Were y-you even listening to me?" I grumbled, hating the stutter that seemed to have returned.

He chuckled.

"I was and that's what I heard and by the way," he added his tone becoming more serious as he turned to look at me.

"I really don't think you're weak for taking the medicine. I didn't before your explanation and I certainly don't after it."

I looked back out the window after studying his sincere face for a few moments.

"Okay," I mumbled.

I wasn't used to him being soft or sincere.

He was usually mocking me or teasing me or being angry at me.

The gentleness threw me into a state of flux that I didn't know how to react to.

I prayed we would reach my house sooner rather than later.

Thankfully sooner arrived in no time.

The bodyguard, Marcus, also known as Cicero's new best friend pulled into my driveway five minutes later and turned off the engine.

I turned to Pierce to thank him for all he had done but was surprised to find he was already opening his car door and stepping out into the late afternoon sun.

What time was it?

My stomach growled.

I was starving.

The IV had helped with my blood sugar but I needed real food soon, very soon.

Cicero did, too.

I was about to open my car door when Marcus did it for me and red faced, I stepped out apologizing for having taken so long.

Pierce was standing nearby with Cicero on his leash.

He was frowning at me.

"I bet you're hungry," he said with what sounded like concern.

"We should have stopped for something on the way home."

"It's o-okay," I assured him, putting my hand over my stomach as it screamed at me again to nourish it.

I didn't think Pierce had heard but Marcus's knowing chuckle and glance down at my belly clued him in.

I quickly withdrew my hand and walked with determined steps towards Pierce to grab Cicero's leash.

If I acted like I was fine then he would think I was fine and he would leave.

At least that is what I hoped.

I should have known Pierce had other plans.

[crashingearth]

Daichi looked away when the solar beam hit his brother, the hiss making his heart tremble, and shaking the city once more. Why did they have to fight? Why couldn't they just give this up? Go back to how it all used to be. Marea, happy and with his family. Daichi on his own, ever so jealous of the connection his brother had achieved.

It had all been jealousy, hadn't it? The prophecy making him feeling inadequate and weak. Marea, they youngest brother, growing up faster than Daichi himself. Always better of the two. Always the one worth of praise.

( How long had it been since Daichi resented the other? )

Lost in his thoughts— possibly a fatal mistake, the muddy water attack had been successful against him. The mud sticking to his face, making his vision worsen, and a panic settling in. Taking steps back as he violently wiped off his face, making it worse, a pained groan left him.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT? I WOULD DIE IF MY SKULL WASN'T THICK?" Daichi retorted, unsure why his brother was bringing that up. Traversing the underground and lava-coated depths required his bones and body to be durable!

The origin pulse, with how preoccupied Daichi was—still trying to get the mud off his face but an impossible feat without water, caught him off guard. The beams of energy from the god of ocean hit him repeatedly, throwing him against the wall while more was coming. Another earthquake born out of his pain was unleashed on their city, from deep within.

"It's hard to fucking listen" —Daichi finally kept his footing and rose the ground to shield himself from the rest— "when you are attacking me, asshole!" His form had cracks formed on the skin, the hair glowing and heavy like red, hot basaltic lava flow, the tips going all black and ash grey, slowly spreading.

"The fuck you mean 'more than just her'?" Daichi knew he should attack and provoke the other to get done with it, but he stood there, peeking from the shield he made for himself. Eyes wide and expression almost childish. He did not get it.

Aaaand there was no explanation. Of course. His smart brother did not care for him to understand and catch up on the meaning.

"THAT WAS MY LINE. Just... Fucking stop this. All your suffering is due to losing her, is it not? I can't do shit about that. But you have your descendant and other friends, don't you? You always have friends. Everyone loves you. You are... You are the best of us. Why won't you see how perfect you are? I hate that you don't realize. If I were you, I would boast all the time about how smart and loved I was! Which, I can't even imagine how that fucking feels."

Daichi flattened the earth before him, tilting his head. Sadness ran through him.

"I don't want to fight... Loki already scared the shit out of me. They will come for you. You do not have much time. You need to stop this."

The city stilled as Daichi gained control back over his powers, but the human body he had made for himself was weak and wobbly on his feet. Most of his HP was gone, and his breathing was strained as he looked at the other.

"I only wished I was more like you. You are the reminder of everything I am not."

The cave vibrates from the other, though it barely does much. At nose, Marea shifts his feet slightly to better ground himself, thought now the confines area felt much too warm for his liking as the heat evaporated the rain he created within these walls. Everything that his so called brother did was to squash him beneath his foot—Marea believed that the other wanted him gone—that Groudon would not be the one to die…

But Kyogre would, instead.

His eyes widen slightly as the solar beam comes towards him and his arms are brought up to block it; though his skin burns from the heat that comes from it. A hiss leaves him as water moves around him once more; though it seems to be picking up the dirt particles from the cave floor; mixing within before his arm reaches out and it shoots towards his brother.

MUDDY WATER: The user attacks by shooting muddy water at the opposing Pokémon. This may also lower their accuracy.

“WHY DO YOU REFUSE TO GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!?” Marea’s voice booms again; it’s getting harder to keep his form as the dark colour trails further up his skin; now being seen are watching along his feet and framing his pale face; vein like marks stopping at the edge of his face and near his eyes. Hands glow a light blue before he gives out another roar, paying no attention to screaming outside from the earthquake. The beams from his hands move quickly towards Daichi—though if he’s not careful, Marea would tire himself out at the rate he’s going.

ORIGIN PULSE: The user attacks opposing Pokémon with countless beams of light that glow a deep and brilliant blue.

“It doesn’t MATTER. You--You do not LISTEN—“ tears prick the corner of his eyes as the beams continue to project their energy towards the other; jaw so tight that it could threaten to break sharp teeth.

“WHEN WILL YOU REALIZE THAT IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT MORE THEN JUST HER!?”

Suiji was the one who picked up the pieces; the one that returned his self worth to him after the resentment of his brother. But before he had his wife; he had someone else just as special—someone who he felt was ripped away from him and replaced by the creature before him with Brutish nature and harsh words that tore the water god down & down until he was nothing.

“It matters not. I have given up on you…If you want me to stop, then end my suffering and KILL ME, GROUDON!”

[cryptiql]

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.