#i'm mentally okay i guess

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

happiness is a butterfly

(gif credit to junkfoodcinemas on tumblr) :-)

cooper adams (trap)/f!reader (5.5k wc)

summary cooper keeps his promise to return your security clearance card after escaping police custody

content warnings smut, unsafe sex, morally dubious main character, mentions of murder and violence, guns, not really cheating but still kinda cheating i guess, dark i guess but everything is consensual

i know that this is like a twisters blog but i needed to get this off of my chest i don't have any other blogs sorry to everyone who has my post notifications on i'm in love with josh hartnett fun fact. i actually giggled out loud in the movie theater when he took his shirt off it was kind of humiliating. this is named after the lana del rey song, but has notes of velvet crowbar and dark but just a game too.

When you and everyone else you worked with were informed that Lady Raven’s show was going to be used as a rouse to catch The Butcher, a man who had been keeping everyone you knew awake well into the night for quite some time, you weren’t so sure that you were equipped to handle the responsibilities that you were being given.

Most people, when asked to picture a security guard, didn’t picture you. You weren’t intimidating, physically or in terms of your personality. You were rather disarming, but that unassumingness made you an asset because you were equipped to handle threats, you could fight back if need be, and you knew that most people would feel comfortable enough around you to not worry about doing something wrong like they would around a big, strong man.

That was the whole point of your role at the arena, you were undercover security. If you needed to take someone down, you were able to do so. If you needed to call something in, you were able to do so. It wasn’t exactly a unique position, plenty of security personnel worked in plain sight. Up until that meeting, you weren’t even so sure why so many people in your life were so concerned that you were putting yourself in danger. 

You’d claim that it’s ‘really not even more dangerous than being a secret shopper at Target’, and for the most part, you never really got put in super dangerous situations. You were allowed to escort people off the premises, and if someone did get a little aggressive, there was often a way for it to be handled without you getting hurt. There were so many procedures in place that you were never worried. 

It was difficult to not be worried when you were told that you were going to take part in taking down a serial killer, someone who you knew was killing people indiscriminately. Someone who you were being told was partially your responsibility, as security detail. When you were given your card, you felt as though it was going to play a part in your life in some way. You were just under the impression that way was something simple, though. It was important because it was going to be there during a day that you could tell your family about for years to come, surely?

Not so. 

He was tall, charming in an awkward way, devilishly handsome, and one of the best sexual encounters that you had ever had in your life. You couldn’t forget the way that he pressed you against the wall, the way that he touched you wherever he pleased but wouldn’t let you even get a taste of him beyond one fleeting kiss when you agreed to lend him your card for the day. He had promised that he would get it back when he was certain that he was safe, and at the time you were too charmed by him to actually process what you were doing - who exactly you deemed it appropriate to get finger-fucked by at your job in return for him taking your one-way ticket throughout the arena. 

The promise that he made you to return your card was never fulfilled, and when you saw on the television that The Butcher had been apprehended, you knew that it never would be. 

There was a sick feeling in your stomach. You knew that you had willingly helped The Butcher, Cooper. But it didn’t really matter, did it? He was apprehended, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else, and the young man that he had kidnapped had survived the encounter. Lady Raven never made it to her second show, the one that had sold out to begin with, but even she had made it out alive.

Still, that sick feeling grew - because you were almost disappointed. 

Not disappointed that people had survived, it wasn’t that you thrived on chaos and wished to see more violence. You were disappointed because you wanted more from that encounter, you wanted to feel more than just his fingers, you wanted him to fulfill that promise that he had made to you to return his card. That promise had come with a lot more implications than just returning something that you weren’t going to need for work anymore now that he was caught. It made you feel sick because you knew who he was, what he was capable of, and you still found yourself wishing that you could feel his fingers digging into your hips again. You wished that you could touch him, at least once. It was so very wrong to wish something like that about him now that you knew who he was - but did you not know before? 

Glancing away from the glow of the television in your dark room, you raised the fabric of the tank top covering your upper torso. His fingers had dug into your skin harshly, it almost felt like the ghost of them still existed on your skin even though you knew that couldn’t be possible. 

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts, but you were certain nobody should be knocking at this hour. Leaning forward, you opened the drawer of the coffee table and grabbed the small gun from inside of it, work-issued, something that you really weren’t supposed to fire when you weren’t on the clock. They should understand if you were about to be potentially murdered, right? 

Standing up, you peered through the peep-hole only to find the one person who you were certain couldn’t actually be there. But he knocked again, and you were almost sure that he had somehow made eye contact with you through the hole in the door.

“How did you figure out where I live?” You asked, opening the door and letting him in before anyone could see what was happening. “And how are you here? I saw on the news that you were in custody.” 

“Well, I was in custody.” He held up a small metal object, it looked like one of the spokes from a bike that he had bent. “I got out.”

“And my address, how’d you get my address?”

“You left your wallet sitting out, figured I’d return it to you.” 

You watched as he pulled a wallet out, and it was unmistakably yours. How had you not noticed that you didn’t have your wallet? It must have been the chaos of the day. When the concert ended, you were all briefed and asked to go home, but you knew that there was more that needed to be done once it was over. You were supposed to return for the second concert once they had done a sweep of the building to make sure that nobody was hiding out in there, but that had never happened. 

“I shouldn’t have let you into my house.” You acknowledged, taking the wallet from his hands and tossing it behind him onto the coffee table. “But I did.”

“You did. Why?” 

“You made a promise, I figure it would be the gentlemanly thing to do to keep your promise.” 

Cooper hummed in agreement, pulling the small white card out from his pocket and holding it out for you. Just as you went to grab it, he pulled it back. “I’ll give this back to you, but I want something in exchange.”

“What’s that?” 

“How much did the news actually tell you?”

“Just that you were apprehended, that you have a family.”

“It was my wife who turned me in, I can’t go back to that house. I can’t hide away with my children, I can’t even see them again.” He looked angry, you could see that, but his anger wasn’t with you. “I can’t run away because they’ll just look for me, but you…” 

“Cooper…”

“They won’t suspect that I’m with you, they don’t even know that I know you.” 

That much was true, he had pulled you into an area with no security cameras. You had already been there, and even if they questioned you, you doubted that they were actually going to be able to figure out that you’d been working with Cooper in any capacity. Still…

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Well, I don’t have any clothes in your size, so I’d have to buy those. I don’t have enough food for two, or anything for you to shower with. It would look really weird if I all of a sudden had a bunch of ATM withdrawals or mens clothes on my bank statement since they have you entering a room I was in on camera.” 

“I’ll give you cash.” 

“Alright, fine. But what if they come here?”

“Why would they come here?”

“At home visit. This is the FBI, they’re thorough.” 

“They’re not going to come here, I walked into a lot of rooms with a lot of people. I doubt that they’re going to interview everyone, and there were no identifiers on the card you gave me.” 

Glancing back over at the card, you knew that he was right, but there were still flaws.

“You’re going to get caught, and then we’re both going to be put in jail. Someone gave you a card, they know that much.”

“No, they knew that I had a card. I could have stolen that from anyone, I stole a clearance pass from someone - is he under investigation too?” He stepped forward, holding the card out for you. There were a lot of different ways he could have played this, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that he actually liked you as a person - this man just wanted to lay low and survive, even though you had been told that he wasn’t the type of person who really wanted to survive to begin with. You could only imagine that he was driven by pure spite, but by god were his manipulation tactics working. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You can see that I’ve kept my promises to you.”

“Yeah, with conditions.” You replied, but you doubted that he was going to kill you. Unless something randomly snapped in him, you had done nothing to provoke him and he, technically, needed you. He couldn’t go out in public, and he really needed to lay low. Killing you would cut off any resource he has, and he would have to come up with some way for your neighbors to not get suspicious. Cooper wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill you even if he wanted to, since you were so willing to comply with him for some reason that you couldn’t quite figure out. “What do you gain from this?”

“I live, I fuck Rachel over just like she did to me.”

“The anonymous tip was her, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” 

“Right.” 

Sighing, you fought with yourself in your mind for a few moments. This was wrong, incredibly wrong. This man was a serial killer, he had done awful things. You had a gun and you could kill him, he couldn’t fight back in time when he had nothing to protect him. At the very least, you could incapacitate him and call police. It would be the right thing to do, the moral thing to do. Yet, when he looked at you, you couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his hand on your hips, of his fingers inside of you, of his brief and taunting kiss. You wanted to do the moral thing, but you couldn’t do it.

“I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you’d make the right choice.” Taking the card from his hand, you glanced it over before setting it down. 

“Do you want something to drink? I have water, lemonade, whatever. Make yourself at home, I guess.” Glancing toward the living room, you moved to turn the television off, figuring it probably wouldn’t be advisable to have the news on anymore. Flicking the light on, you pointed toward the hallway. “I’ve got a small house and I live alone, you can sleep on the couch. My room’s back there.” 

“I’ll take a water, and the couch will be just fine.” 

Nodding, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed him a bottled water, but the couch couldn’t be right, you wouldn’t be comfortable with it. “Couch isn’t fine, you can sleep with me.”

“What’s wrong with the couch?”

“I have a giant sliding glass door, I’m shocked you didn’t just break in.” He finally turned to look at it, it was very close to your couch. “I’ll work on covering it up, but you’re just going to have to sleep with me.” 

“My pleasure.”

Your heart beat sped up for a second, but you brushed it aside and handed him the water, your fingers brushing his for a second. You couldn’t have sex with him, not tonight anyway. You wanted to, desperately, but your mind was running a mile a minute and you were certain his was too, considering. Everything about this felt like a fever dream, you were harboring a serial killer fugitive in your home for what reason? Because he was hot and good with his fingers? It was shameful, sinful, but not enough that you could stop it from happening. 

“Promise me again that you’re not going to kill me.” You said, walking him to your room and opening up the drawer where you typically kept your gun at night. Though you lived in a relatively safe area, you were always rather cautious. Supposedly. Maybe it wasn’t very cautious to let a known serial killer lay low in your home. 

“I promise I’m not going to kill you.” He stepped closer to you, his thumb on your chin as he tilted your head so you were looking into his eyes. There was a coldness in them that contrasted the naturally warm brown color that his eyes had, it probably should have turned you off. You were pretty sure it was impossible for you to be turned off by him, though. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe that you kinda need me for at least a little while, so yes.”

“That hurts.” He replied, and for just a moment you wanted to smile - he was kind of funny, but you weren’t sure that he was trying to be funny. 

Cooper’s movements were swift, it was as though he was sealing his promise with a kiss just as he had the last one. But this one was deeper, much longer than the kiss that left you yearning for more in the supply closet where you had forgotten what you were even looking for. The feeling of his hand on the small of your back urged you to move closer to him, his taut frame pressed against yours in a way that made you forget every pesky worry about safety and morality. Cooper’s hand ventured lower, a gasp escaping your lips upon feeling him squeezing your backside. 

But he pulled away, and he actually had the nerve to laugh at you for pouting before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re gonna need to strip, you’re not sleeping in my clean sheets in your outside clothes.” 

“These aren’t even my clothes, I took them.”

“That’s even worse. I’ll get you new clothes tomorrow.” 

“Are you sure you don’t just want to see me strip?”

“I do want to see you strip, but no. Please?” 

The rest of the evening was… uneventful. You should know, since you were awake for most of it. 

Despite having the assurance of your gun being beside you, and knowing that logically there really was nothing this man could gain from killing you, you also knew that this was a terrible idea. He needed you for now, and probably for a little while, but were you just delaying the inevitable? People were going to assume he fled the country after a couple of months, and were you really even capable of laying that low for a couple of months just so he could kill you when he no longer needed you? But would he even want to kill you? He had the option to earlier in the arena, he had no idea at the time that it would have been shooting himself in the foot if he did. He knew that you would figure out who he was, and somehow he knew that you weren’t going to turn him in. 

Even with the belief that he, at the very least, wouldn’t kill you for a while - was this right? Surely, no. He was a serial killer, he was surviving predominantly so he could kill someone who had wronged him. This wasn’t someone who was at large for robbing a bank to feed his family, this was someone who was at large for murdering people and who was hoping to kill one member of his family. Still, it struck you as interesting that it was only one member. He seemed to care about his children in a genuine capacity, you had seen him with his daughter. At the very least, he had a capacity for human emotion, but did that simply make him more dangerous than he already was?

Sleep didn’t come easy for you. If it wasn’t a worry that the man beside you was going to turn on you on a dime and kill you two months down the road, it was your moral arguments about how you shouldn’t have even let this man into your house - how the right thing to do would be calling the police now that he was asleep beside you. If it wasn’t that, it was thoughts of how gruesome the murders had been, and a morbid curiosity about why he had done what he had done and what had driven him. You’d heard the profile, you knew that it had a lot to do with how he was raised and the issues that he had with his mother, but you wanted to know more - you wanted to hear from his own mouth what it was that drove him to do the things that he did in the manner that he did them. 

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep. Not that you slept for long, because just the slightest stir beside you caused you to wake up. But you did get a few hours of sleep, and those few hours translated into a sluggish day where you picked up men’s clothing and foods that you wouldn’t normally eat and hoped beyond all hope that someone you knew wasn’t going to be there. You were lucky that the arena was closed until further notice - with pay, thankfully - since it was still considered an active crime scene since Cooper was still at large. 

When you returned back, he was still right where you left him and seemingly relieved to change into something that didn’t belong to someone else. While he took care of himself, you took care of dinner. It was odd enough cooking for two people when you were used to just being alone, but it was even weirder knowing what the person who you were cooking for was capable of. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually question if what you were doing was morally okay or not - it wasn’t. It was not morally okay, you had ample opportunity to turn him in without worry of being killed for doing it and you chose not to. And why not? Because he was hot? Because you wanted to have sex with him? What kind of reason was that? At some point, you really just got tired of arguing with yourself in your mind and focused instead on whether you were actually going to have sex with him.

Sure, he fingered you one time, but he did that so you’d do him a favor. Sure, he’d kissed you since then, but was that just a thank you for helping him? And, sure, he was driven to kill Rachel - but it wasn’t like he was technically divorced. Killing his wife was probably a lot more severe and permanent than divorcing her, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was looking to have sex with someone who he had just meant. At some point, you had to consider your own morality in ensuring that - if that happened - it wasn’t solely because he wanted somewhere to stay. 

Once you had finished cooking, you took the opportunity to install the curtains that you had purchased while you were away. It was true that you had a fence in your backyard, but it was also true that you were still worried that - being that you were on camera in the same room as Cooper - you were being monitored, or at risk of being monitored. You’d intended on getting curtains for the glass door anyway, some sort of worry about people peeping through the glass. Of course, you hadn’t accounted for purposefully letting the danger inside of your home and deciding to look past the amorality of it. 

“Need some help with that?” 

“I’m good.” 

“Looks like you need some help with that.” Cooper moved with such ease, adjusting the curtains so they were installed in the right place. He was incredibly tall, and had no qualms with leaning so closely behind you that you could absolutely feel him pressed against your back. It sent a shiver up your spine, but that only made him lean just a little bit closer. 

When he was finished, you would expect that he’d move away. Instead, you felt his large hands move down to your hips, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched his reflection in the glass. He could see you, he was looking right at you, and you wanted to stop him and remind him that you made dinner, but the feeling of his lips against your neck had you forgetting anything else that was lingering in your mind. 

“You don’t have to have sex with me just so you have a place to stay, you know.”

“I had other ways of getting your help, I’m not looking for a favor.” He replied, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. “Unless you don’t want to… but I feel like you do.” 

“I do want to,” You replied, but turned around to face him anyway. He left his hands on your hips, not bothering to move away from you. He was so close to you, you could smell the soap that he had just used in the shower on him when you looked at him. “After we eat, I spent extra money on food for two.”

“After we eat, then.”

Cooper leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you had a difficult time controlling your body’s unavoidable attraction to the man. Wetness still lingered on your neck from his mouth, and all you could focus on was how badly you wanted to look down and confirm that he wanted this just as badly as you did. But he pulled away, giving you exactly what you had asked for and joining you for dinner. 

It was tense and somewhat awkward to sit down at eat with him, but it also seemed like something was was awkward for him, too. Not because he was thinking about you, or because he was even thinking about being on the run, but because he was used to eating meals with his children. Regardless of who he was, regardless of what he was capable of, it was inarguable that he cared about his children. You were certain that his mind was simply lingering on them, on what they were doing and what they were thinking of him at this very moment. Despite knowing that he was The Butcher, knowing that he really didn’t deserve much sympathy since he had made the decision to dow hat he had done, you still felt bad to see a man so desperately yearning to be with his children again. A yearning that you both knew was never going to be fulfilled because, even if he could find a way to get in contact with them again, it was unlikely that they were going to want to be in contact with him knowing what he had done, what he planned on doing to their other parent in an act of revenge. 

By the time you were finished eating, the only thing you could think about was how badly you wanted the man sitting in front of you - and how badly you were sure he wanted to distract himself from whatever thoughts were lingering in the back of his mind. Trying to wash the dishes lasted about two seconds before he was behind you again, and this time you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than give in.

“Finish cleaning.”

“But-”

“Finish cleaning or we won’t do anything.” He responded, but made no effort to make it easier on you as he pulled your hips against his, the rather apparent evidence that he wanted this as badly as you did pressing against your ass as you tried your best to continue washing the dishes that were in the sink. “Good girl.”

“You’re a tease.”

“Just organized.” 

You knew he was organized, you knew it bothered him if things weren’t clean and tidy. Each of those things were discussed during the breakdown of the profile of the man, so you doubted that he was going to be much different from that while living under the same roof as him even if it was only temporary. You had no qualms with washing your dishes and keeping your house clean, you simply took issue with it when you were trying to do a chore and had his mouth against your skin.

It took you all of two minutes - a personal record - to have everything cleaned and to have him turning you around and lifting you onto the dry part of the cupboard. You knew that he was strong, how else would he have been able to effortlessly lift the people that he was kidnapping? It wasn’t a shock to you that he would have no issue in placing you on your own cupboard, but you simply whined out a complaint along the lines of ‘I just cleaned in here the other day’. 

“You can clean again, I’m feeling impatient.”

“You really should help me clean since you’re not paying rent.” 

“Sounds fair.” 

Cooper seemingly was being honest about being impatient, wasting no time in pulling your shirt over your head and undoing the bra that was hooked at your back. He had a lot more ease with that than even you did sometimes, but you chose not to think too hard about it as you felt his lips against yours. He pressed himself in between your legs, spreading them a bit wider than was entirely comfortable for the muscles in your thighs, but that slight apprehension was entirely forgotten the moment you felt his hips grinding into yours.

A sigh left your throat, his hands complimenting the feeling nicely as he brought one to your chest, his thumb pressed against your nipple. He had quite large hands, but considering his overall stature, you weren’t very surprised by that. Your own hands got a bit adventurous, moving to undo his pants while he moved back slightly so you could do what it was that you wanted to do. Cooper helped you remove them, but you noted that he didn’t allow his pants to fall to the floor - that must be something that bothered him.

“Please take your shirt off.”

“Since you used your manners, I’d be happy to oblige you.” He responded, taking the shirt of but very neatly setting it down beside you. Your eyes locked on his, that familiar darkness still lingering in them as he looked at you. Bringing a hand up, he let you explore his torso, the warmth of his skin contrasting the coldness in his eyes - even when he seemed to be doing something intimate, there was never much warmth behind them. Not when he looked at you, anyway - you’d noticed that he looked very warmly at his daughter during the concert, it was something that made him stick out to you in the first place. 

“I really need you to fuck me.” 

Cooper huffed out a laugh at your bluntness, but wasted very little time in helping you get your pants undone and pulling them down your hips along with your panties. You watched him as he set them into a neat pile with his shirt, the coolness of the counter underneath you making you move a little bit closer to him. But any coldness that you still felt was gone soon thereafter. The head of his cock pushed against your clit first, a whimper leaving your lips as you felt him teasing you. 

“So fucking wet, have you been thinking about this all day?”

“I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday.” You admitted, but you were certain that he knew that. 

“I have too.” He responded, pushing inside of you a moment later and giving you very little time to process what he had said. Leaning forward fully, Cooper supported your body so you could press against him. He set a brutal pace, giving you very little time to adjust to the stretch of the size of a man of his stature. It was painful at first, but that pain was soothed by the feeling of his mouth against yours, by the sound of his moans filling your ears and reverberating against your lips. 

The pain melted away into pleasure rather quickly, fingers absentmindedly roaming his body before settling on his forearm. 

“You’re taking it so well, honey, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” Whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind were quickly forgotten as he pounded into you, and any remaining apprehensions in your own head were gone just as quickly as his were. “If I had time yesterday, I would have bent you over in that supply closet. You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck- I would have-”

“You’re sick for fucking me, you know that.” He was taunting you now, and he seemed to be getting off on it - in a weird way, you were too. 

“I know.”

“But you love it anyway.”

“I do- feels so good.” 

“I know, I know it does baby.” His taunts faded into coos, but his tone was still teasing and his hips were still snapping against yours with reckless abandon. Everything felt overwhelming, him inside of you, filling you more than anyone else ever could. His hand squeezing that part of your hip again, his hot breath against your lips - your breaths and moans fading together, and the feeling of the friction against your nipples as your chest was pressed tightly against his. It was all too much, but somehow not enough; you really couldn’t get enough of him. “But now I can have you whenever I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes-” You let out a squeal at a particularly harsh thrust, a coil building in your stomach as you felt one of his hands roaming down your skin before he pressed a finger against your clit. “Whenever you want.”

“Such a good girl, I think you deserve to cum. You’ve been so accommodating, so sweet.” 

“Please-”

Cooper’s finger sped up against your clit, your eyes shutting and your head falling against his chest as he brought you over the edge. He let you ride out your orgasm before pulling out to finish against your stomach, bringing his fingers down to collect the cum on your skin. Your eyes felt clouded over as you opened them, gazing into his that were also still blown out with lust. He watched as you took his fingers into your mouth, his own lips slightly ajar as he took in the sight of you taking the taste of him onto your tongue.

“Let’s get you into the bath.”

By the time that you had finished your shower - a shower that was riddled with mistakes as your legs were just a little bit shaky, he had placed all of your clothes into the washer and had seemingly dug through your drawers to find you some pajamas. It was definitely not the polite thing to do, but you weren’t sure what you expected from him.

This issue with him was, as you got back into bed with him and let him hold you - which, you weren’t sure if it was more for you or for him - was that he was so normal. You knew there were things wrong with him, but he appeared so normal and tame that you were almost able to forget them. But you knew about them, you knew what was wrong with him and you knew that you were just as bad for hiding him from the police, for allowing him a place in your life even though you were well-aware of the awful things that he did, the awful things that he was planning on doing in the future. 

Yet, as you felt his fingers brushing through your hair and the warmth of his body against your own, there was no part of you that wanted to change the decisions that you had made regardless of the risk and amorality of it all.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[softpine]

can you please, please relate? i’m not holding up

[transcript]

[beastblade69]

well that's fucking awesome. all of the damage russians have done to our electric infrastructure can be repaired in one year minimum. IT'S GONNA TAKE MORE TAHN ONE YEAR TO REPAIR ALL OF THE ELECTRIC STATIONS RUSSIANS HIT WITH THEIR MISSILES. AND WE AIN'T EVEN TALKING ABOUT CIVILIAN OR ANY OTHER INFRASTRUCTURE. ONLY ELECTRIC ONE. MORE THAN ONE YEAR. AND WE ARE STILL NOT STRUGGLING ENOUGH IN ONLINE PEOPLE'S OPINION. FUCK OFF

[papaiyatree]

today i repeat that you can enjoy a bad villainous or a morally vague antihero character without "defending them" and just liking them because they're interesting

[torchickentacos]

Swinging a bat at a hornet's nest, but I keep seeing the opinion go around that it's insensitive to say that we'll make it through the next 4 years because so many people didn't the first time around. Which, I guess I see the point, but like... do you expect all of us to just be like this for the next 4 years???

I totally get why some people can't feel hopeful, but insinuating that someone else is in the wrong for being able to stay optimistic just isn't productive or, in my opinion, a reasonable expectation. We all react to stressful times differently and not only is that okay, but it should be encouraged that people work through this however they personally need to and in whichever emotional state they end up in.

[deancrowleycas]

guy who forgot how to draw attempts drawing once more

[chainsawprophecy]

what's crazy as fuck to me is that the bad kids literally went through kipperlily's therapy notes and everyone's falling over backwards to justify that but god fucking forbid someone who lost her best and only friend in the world has anger issues. you bitches would not have survived the vriska trenches.

[lestappenforever]

Just in case nobody's told you yet:

It's okay if you don't enjoy going to the gym. Even if you go regularly, it's okay if you still hate every single second of it.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[moe-broey]

Actually genuinely fucked up that Mimikyu tried to be just like Pikachu to be as beloved and always fails to do so and here I am. Pikachu is okay but I love Mimikyu because it's a ghost that hides in a plushie and it's creepy AND cutes. I don't have time to elaborate but I'm gonna trhow up

[lord-squiggletits]

Speaking of Tyrest. A lot of people forget that he treated Pharma with absolute disdain, not only using him as a test subject for a clearly painful mass murder machine, but talking to Pharma like he saw him as nothing but some henchman to order around that was nothing more than a 'diseased cripple' if Tyrest hadn't come to rescue him.

Like it really is an interesting background dynamic with some curious implications, but when you look at fandom posts from around that issue/the years after, for some reason people just saw "Pharma worked with Tyrest" and concluded Pharma is a card carrying bigot ksjfnskxkd. Like yeah Pharma didn't do anything to stop Tyrest but it seems his main beef with the Autobots was with Ratchet in particular and maybe a general disdain for his ex-comrades. As well as continuing to hate Decepticons which like, not even the "good Autobots" are immune to (even in Pharma's introduction, First Aid says in his journal something like "yeah we all hate Decepticons, but Pharma REALLY hates them"). And despite what fandom likes to construe there's really no evidence in IDW1 that Autobots and Decepticons are different "races" or "types" of Cybertronians, so Pharma hating Decepticons really isn't a bigotry/robot racism thing. And instead probably has something to do with, idk, the 4 million year long galaxy-spanning blood feud war, or maybe being blackmailed and tortured into insanity by the Biggest and Most Decepticon-y of Decepticons.

Tyrest treated Pharma like trash, the other Decepticons working for Tyrest (how come no one ever brings that up btw) also hated him, so if anything it seems that Pharma was more of a rogue element only staying with Tyrest bc he was his best option and probably had no way to even escape.

I'm glad that at least in recent years the fandom has acquired a keen reading eye and good taste to finally recognize Pharma as the (accidentally) complex character he is instead of making him some posh, racist Starscream clone SHSJDGSGDH

[tazmiilly]

you know how the need to deep clean your living space comes so rarely with things like ADHD that once it actually hits you you're like "okay i gotta start on that before the timer in my head runs out and I can't even THINK about doing it for another 2 months!!!"

[palimundo]

This week I had to be out of the house four times for social interaction. That's four more than I like. But now it's finally over and my brain can go back to its regular wiring.

[emmodii-mode]

In my defence, what was I supposed to do? Leave their corpses to rot?

[designedparadigm]

Also the more I think about it, the more I realize I really don't want to lean into anything fluff/gentle/fix-it with Ghost. It's just not inherently his character to me and I just? Don't fuckin care for it. I lose my interest in it so fast and I can't pin why I just know it's not up my alley for him. His journey is not one that gets a happy ending. He's damaged, broken beyond repair, and it's about acknowledging that and learning to live with it. Some things are too late to be repaired. There are other ways to live and still live up to the fullest. There are people with jagged edges that fit his jagged edges. It's bloody and it's rough and that's what he needs. He lives and breathes a bloody and violent existence, he needs someone to slot that back in with.

There are like one or two exceptions I've had to the rule but... I mostly find myself struggling to connect if it goes too mushy with him. Wherein Ghost himself would pull back and push against it. Not want it. Because it's foreign. It's? Disgusting to him in a way. It's not him, it feels like a perversion of what he is. To think he wants that in any way has him curling up his lips, sneering. It's not him.

So I think I might? Lean more into going through that arc and journey with him. His was never a healing story. And it never will be. It's coming to terms. Finding your way around that. Flaws that are cemented, flaws that someone else can work with.