#just like they’re rebooting everything else

[brklynbxby]

Something about the way Luna moved through this op unsettled Azriel—in a way that gnawed subtly at the edges of his concentration. Not because she was reckless. Quite the opposite. Each step mirrored what he’d asked for, executed without flourish or defiance. Obedience wasn’t what he’d expected from her. He wasn’t sure if she finally understood what this life demanded, or if something in her had simply shifted. Whatever the reason, it was working. Her voice came through the comms, low and clipped, confirmation steady: thermal body matched Henry’s location. No visual on restraints—but the boy hadn’t moved. His mind logged it with cold efficiency. Then came the part Luna wasn’t built for. Emotion bled into her cadence—faint, but there. Her heart was surfacing, wrapping itself around her words like ivy through brick. That was where she might break. Where she might lose clarity in favour of feeling. “Stop,” Azriel cut in, voice a breath above the storm, taut with urgency but not unkind. “Listen to me.” A pause. “I’m not shutting you out. I need you—just like you need me us. But you’ve pull it together. I need you.” Fingers curled around the earpiece, not like he was adjusting tech—but like he was holding her. Imagining her close enough to touch, to catch her chin between his fingers and lift her eyes to his. “Remember that girl I met at the club?” he murmured, voice softening just slightly at the memory. “The one who slapped me like she owned the damn air between us? I need her.” Across the lot, her silhouette was dark and sharp against the glow of a broken streetlamp. Rain danced down in shimmering sheets, cloaking her in a halo of motion, but he could feel her presence as if she were standing inches from him. Could see her even through the dark. Still with him.

Then Harry’s voice bled in through the interference. “I’m in.” A pause. The faint tap of keys. “Initiating blackout loops now. Should scramble their network for three, maybe four minutes if they don’t reboot. It’ll buy us enough time.” Azriel’s jaw flexed as he watched the building, its windows flickering with the dull amber glow of old bulbs, “Visuals?” “Only one internal feed still running,” Harry confirmed, fingers flying across the makeshift terminal set up in the back of his SUV. “They’ve rerouted everything to the front entrance cam. Probably watching for her.” Luna had made them twitchy. After wandering across the front entrance, they had obviously began making a plan for infiltration from the front. Cameron’s breath fogged against the screen of his phone as he traced the blueprint’s brittle lines with his thumb. “Crawlspace runs under the west quadrant, right where she said Henry’s at. Maintenance shaft. Four feet high. Was never sealed after the reno budget fell through.” He glanced up at the silhouette of the building. “That’s our breach.”

“Back exit’s still chained,” Jonah’s voice cut in, clipped but steady. He was a shadow against the alley’s mouth, rifle at the ready. “I’ve got it covered. No way they’re slipping past me without snapping steel.” But it didn't seem like they were planning on it. Only two ways out now. Everything else was concrete and silence. “Guard’s pacing on a thirty-five second loop,” Cameron added. “Starts at the southeast stairwell. Finishes back at the vending machine facing the foyer. No patrols upstairs.” Another pause. “They’re jumpy. Shuffled some furniture toward the entrance. She spooked them.” A beat of silence. Azriel didn’t respond right away. Just exhaled slow, eyes scanning the facade—each brick, each flicker of light. The shift in posture. The change in their enemy’s tension. All of it told him the same thing. “We keep to the crawl,” he said finally. “Jonah moves first. I’m behind him and Luna you stay behind me. Cameron kills the lights when I give the go.” Harry chimed in. “You’ll have forty seconds to cross the hallway before the blackout loop resets. It’s tight.”

“No shooting unless we have to,” Azriel reminded. “We go clean.” And then silence again—brief and brittle. The kind that sits right before a fuse is lit. Somewhere above, thunder grumbled across the sky. Rain slipped down the metal like breath over glass. Time was a wire now. Taut. Trembling. Waiting. "Luna go round the back, pass Jonah and meet me here then we'll go in, okay?"

The moment Luna dropped beside Olly, her breath mingled with the rain—shallow, sharp. She didn’t need a greeting. Didn’t want one. That glance, that nod, was enough. She wasn’t here to be coddled. She was here to work. The cold bit at her bones, her clothes clinging like a second skin, heavy with water. But she didn’t flinch. Couldn’t afford to. Then Azriel’s voice came through the comms—clean and carved, slicing straight through the static like a blade to the gut. Her name. She tilted her head, listening. Letting the words settle into her bloodstream like orders branded into flesh. Location. Mid-level. Same wall. Her gaze cut across the building, “Yes,” she replied, low and sure, barely louder than a whisper. “Mid-level. West quadrant. Tucked behind that wall with the old support beams—they’ve covered it with shelving, but I saw it. That’s where he is.”

A beat. Her knuckles whitened where her hand pressed to the concrete. “I couldn’t see restraints,” she said, voice tightening. “But he wasn’t moving. He’s either hurt… or scared out of his mind or they have sedated him." Another pause. "Azriel I have a bad feeling." The storm hissed around her, thunder growling distantly. Her voice stayed calm, controlled—Azriel’s cadence reflected in her own. Not because she was mimicking him. But because that was how it had to be now. She flicked a glance up toward the building’s jagged silhouette, rain running down her temple like a second pulse. “If there’s another kid in there…” she said slowly, jaw clenching, “we have to safe them too.” Her tone didn’t leave room for argument. Not now. Not when there might be more than just Henry. Her voice softened just slightly, cracking beneath the steel for the first time. “But if it’s only him—then let me get him out. Let me be the one he sees when the door opens. I need him to know he’s safe the second we get in.” She looked down at her hands for a brief moment. They were shaking. She curled them into fists. “I’ll follow your lead. Just… don’t shut me out now. Not when we’re this close.” And then, quieter still, barely breathed through the rain: “I can handle it. Whatever happens—I can take it.”

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧬👻 “You Think You’re You? That’s Adorable.”

You’re not even fully human. You’re a haunted meat golem with Wi-Fi and anxiety.

ACT I — The Lie You’re Living

Ah, yes. You wake up. Brush your teeth. Sip your coffee. Scroll your phone. You feel like a real person with thoughts, memories, preferences.

Cute.

Because here’s the punchline, sweet summer child:

You’re not even 100% human.

ACT II — What You Really Are

You’re a walking, talking orgy of multiple species. Part human. Part bacteria. Part fungus. Part virus. Part ancient ape. And 100% confused spaghetti code pretending to have a soul.

The human body? A biological group project between evolution, gut microbes, parasitic DNA hitchhikers, and ancient mitochondria that used to be their own species.

Your body contains:

More non-human cells than human ones.

Bacteria that outnumber your own cells 10 to 1.

DNA from viruses, ancient fungi, and unclassifiable “dark genome” segments that we literally do not understand.

You are not a person. You’re a biofilm with opinions.

ACT III — You’re a Colony. Not an Individual.

Think about this:

Your thoughts can be influenced by the bacteria in your gut.

Your moods are affected by your microbiome.

Your decisions can shift depending on what fungus you inhaled that day.

Your attraction to people? Might be chemical signals from your skin flora.

You ever get a “gut feeling”?

That might literally be your intestinal bacteria whispering strategy into your brain.

And you thought you were “making a choice.”

ACT IV — Are You Even There?

Let’s go deeper:

You don’t control your heartbeat. You don’t control your dreams. You don’t control what you forget, or when you cry, or what triggers your trauma. You don’t control the timing of your thoughts.

So the question is:

Who the f*ck is actually driving this meat suit?

Because neuroscience doesn’t know. Religion argues. Philosophy hyperventilates. And physics just stares blankly into the void.

ACT V — You Might Be a Ghost. Or Just a Glitch.

You’re either:

A consciousness that’s somehow haunting a nervous system

A chemical puppet with enough complexity to simulate free will

A hallucination of self generated by accidental electro-meat fireworks

Or, worst of all:

A network of sub-selves constantly arguing while pretending they’re one “I.”

Shocking Truth?

Science has no consensus on what consciousness actually is.

Nobody knows if it’s:

An emergent property

A soul

A quantum algorithm

A shared delusion

Or a horrifying accident we’ve decided to romanticize

ACT VI — Logic Tests That Will Wreck You

Ready to lose sleep? Try these reality-breaking diagnostics:

🧠 Logic Trap 1: “When Are You?”

Your brain processes input with a delay. What you’re experiencing right now actually happened a few milliseconds ago. So… if you’re always behind the present… Where is “now”? And who’s watching it?

🧠 Logic Trap 2: “The Ship of Self”

Every 7 years, your cells have completely regenerated. You are literally not made of the same matter you were as a child. If your body changed… and your thoughts changed… What stayed the same? Who’s left?

🧠 Logic Trap 3: “The False First Person”

What if every time you go to sleep, the “you” that wakes up is a copy? You remember yesterday… but so does the copy. Are you just a rebooted save file that thinks it’s original?

🧠 Logic Trap 4: “The Brain In The Room”

The only proof you have that anyone else exists is sensory input. You could be a brain in a jar, hallucinating all this. Can you prove you’re not?

FINAL VERDICT — You’re Not “You.” You’re Just a Temporary Pattern.

A mind is not a soul. It’s a self-updating hallucination stabilized by hormones, trauma, diet, genetics, and luck.

And when you die?

That pattern ends. And everything you called “you” dissolves into meat, memory, and microbial decay.

The ghost leaves. The flesh rots. The world keeps spinning. No refunds. No backups. No explanations.

🔁 Reblog if you’ve ever felt like something else is steering. 👁 Comment if you’ve questioned your reality since age 9. 🧬 Follow if you’re ready to peel back your face and find the universe staring back.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is intended as philosophical commentary, not psychiatric advice. If you’re spiraling, eat something, touch grass, and don’t take your thoughts too literally. If you feel like nothing is real… congrats. You’re officially more qualified than most philosophers.

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

In response to some people expressing interest in the tags of this post, here’s an explanation of what I’m calling my Poltergeist AU.

Basically, during Rebooted while fighting nindroids Jay gets shot straight through his forehead. Him and Cole were arguing, distracted, when it happened. Everything goes the same that season, minus the added grief and tension because of Jay’s death. Zane still dies killing (most of) the Overlord.

The team breaks up like in canon but on angrier, more bitter terms. Cole stays in the city instead of running off to become a lumberjack. He feels like he can’t leave, the catatonic guilt, and rents a shitty, ratty apartment alone. Both Kai and Nya are angry at Cole, Lloyd kind of blames him too but isn’t as angry and more worried about every one. Cole isn’t talking to anyone, really. He’s wrought with constant nightmares and flashbacks to the moment and generally not doing good even before the “haunting” starts.

Speaking of that, so he starts to realize he’s being stalked. Someone—or something— following him, leaving dirt and bugs all over. Someone following him, he’s feeling watched even all alone in his apartment. Other stuff happens, like his apartment seeming infested with bugs (roaches, spiders, maggots) and constant flickering lights and half the stuff he touches keeps zapping him. He gets horrible nightmares and feelings like he’s hallucinating (this will get worse!!) He eventually starts seeing a figure literally following him and eventually figures out it’s Jay.

Jay himself is half-alive, definitely a corpse but cognitive and half-himself. The overlord infection is quite literally like an infection rather than a possession. Like a wound left to fester, it’s corrupting him. He’s angry and blames Cole like (most) everyone else, he’s bitter. He wants someone, Cole, to hurt about it.

Short story is they’re both obsessed with each other in very doomed ways. Jay wants him to hurt, Cole just wants him back.

SO! yeah that’s the explanation for now, I’m still ironing out most it. It’s pretty horror-esc and the imagery I have in my head is pretty dingy, darkly colored, and bug-y.

(Tagging @short-sapphic @wyrmswears and @razzle-zazzle since y’all seemed interested)

[transformers-spike]

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding. 

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[wayfayrr]

This is the last set of headcanons for my 200 followers event! these are for @h4wari and they're for a reader asking the links for affection <3 I hope you'll enjoy them! writing them going soft for affection was so fun to write <33

[masterlist]

✦ After the initial meeting with the chain, once you’ve gotten comfortable with them enough to in your eyes gain a close relationship with them and close enough for them to fall. If you’re the one to initiate affection? They’re going to fall so much deeper into their obsession, taking it as you reciprocating their twisted love whether that’s your intention or not

✦ Some are far more than willing to give you it in public than others, not saying that they won’t love giving you affection they just don’t like all the looks they’ll get in public. Asking them then means you’re just gonna have to wait a moment longer before being spoilt with more affection than you could’ve bargained for. 

✦ Twilight would jump at the opportunity to give you affection, from even the smallest things like holding your hand or giving you a light kiss on the cheek. If you gave him the go-ahead to smother you? Yeah, you’re not getting away from him for a long while. He’ll give you the warmest hugs, if you really want to fluster him though just ask for anything by leaning close to him and whispering it into his ear. It’ll turn him redder than Legend’s tunic. 

✦ Time would be willing to always give you some kind of affection, unlike Twilight though he won’t always bring you into a bone-crushing hug not because of not wanting to, he just feels like it’ll be uncomfortable for you when he’s in full armour. Twilight’s strength does come from somewhere so he’s just as capable of it. His favourite thing instead of hugs, when he’s in his armour, is to pepper you with feather-light kisses all over your face. 

✦ Wild gets flustered at the idea you even possibly like him back so you asking for anything? He’s just falling even deeper for you every second you’re close to him and you don’t even know that you’re making him so much worse. Every single time you ask for something as small as holding his hand in his mind you’re telling him that it’s okay for him to press his luck further because if you’re like that then surely you aren’t bothered by the reports of villagers going missing. If everything he’s doing only pushes you closer together then… why should he ever stop? Besides that though one of his personal favourite things to be asked is to cuddle while the both of you sleep, you’re asking him to hold you when you’re most vulnerable? Sign him up.

✦ It takes the captain a little bit to get used to being affectionate with you, he’s petrified of how Cia will react if when she sees the both of you together and it absolutely kills him to turn down your requests for any. After a trip back to his Hyrule however, most of that discomfort is gone like he’s stopped considering her an issue little do you know that she won’t be bothering either of you ever again.  

✦ You don’t have to ask wind for anything, the kid is constantly hollering for your attention, whether that’s playing a game or having him ramble to you about anything and everything. The rare chance you ask him to play or if he wants to know about your past he’s literally bouncing on his heels. He gets that his older sibling might want focus more on the others seeing as they’re all significantly more touchy with you compared to anyone else, so for you to want to be with him? Your little brother, over any of them? He’s ecstatic.

✦ Hyrule turns into a flustered mess whenever you ask for attention. He just seemingly shuts down as his brain tries to come to terms with the fact that you want him over the others just doesn’t make sense for him. When he does reboot though he’ll give you the gentlest kisses as he does whatever it was that you decided he would be the best to go to for, one of his favourite things to do is slow-dancing with you, swaying together in a field as he hums a light tune? He would die for it.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Anyone else scared they’re gonna do a time jump in All Creatures? 😬

1) There was apparently a casting call for baby girls for a ‘popular series set in North Yorkshire’ that would require twin girls to be available throughout the stretch of time that ACGAS is filming in, suggesting they may be skipping ahead to James and Helen having Rosie.

2) Set photos of Siegfried’s car show that the black out lights are absent from his headlights, which could mean that they simply hadn’t been put on for the take yet… or it could mean the war is over.

3) In a group I’m in on Facebook, someone posted the aforementioned set photos that they took, and a commenter asked if Tristan’s lack of military mustache meant this was post-1945, to which the photographer alluded that it “could well be” with a wink emoji. (EDIT: They also responded to someone pointing out the lack of black out lights with the question of the war being over by saying “good spot” with another wink emoji.)

I… do not want this. At all.

I’ve loved following every aspect of their lives through the war. Especially because the original series did have time skips (and I get why, it’s not like they had any notion of returning full-time), most notably including the entirety of the war, it’s been so, so nice to sit with them through it and actually see what they’re doing and how everything affects them. It always stressed me the heck out when the original did it, because it felt like I’d missed out on so much each time and I didn’t like the feeling of being out of touch with where they are in their lives. Suddenly James and Helen have a kid, suddenly they’re gonna have another, suddenly Siegfried is gonna get married, suddenly he has his own kids we never get to see, suddenly Tris is going to work for the Ministry, suddenly Jimmy and Rosie are preteens, etc etc… it kept making them all grow up, literally or figuratively, faster than I wanted. It is what it is, and you got used to it, but it was still jarring, and I loved that the reboot was NOT doing this.

Seeing the war years and really keeping up with them through everything has been absolutely wonderful. I love not having missed anything significant and feeling like I’m always caught up with my friends. Especially when it’s felt like they are my friends amid bad health struggles this past year that have thrown me way out of the loop with my real friends, it’s been really nice to have ones that I don’t feel I’m missing anything with.

I feel like it would also just be really sudden at this point to just… have the war be over? We’re only just really getting into the big developments of that time period. Season 5 built up more of what’s going on in the community and how each individual feels about things and what they’re starting to do about their circumstances, and it feels like we’re just at the start of the most important stuff. I don’t want to skip the goings-on in Darrowby or the struggle of the war or the relief of the eventual victory, I don’t want to lose out on pieces of Jimmy’s childhood again, I don’t want to miss all of the little family moments among them all, especially each of them being so adorable with Jimmy as he grows, and I really don’t want to miss whatever developments (however small) would have happened between Siegfried and Audrey in the years that have passed. I don’t want to just jump forward and rush to any of it. None of these things would feel as earned to me without actually spending that time with them.

It’s not looking good, but… please no. 😬

[pinkiemachine]

hey!! i saw some of ur posts on my feed, and im just wondering, what is the gotham files series u have going on? is it like a recap of the storyline or something else? :3

So Batman: Gotham Files is the name of a tv show pitch of mine. Basically, if Warner Bros. came over to me and said, “Here’s the DC franchise, go nuts,” I would then begin to create a new DC Animated Universe, starting with Wonder Woman: Heir to Olympus—Wonder Woman’s first ever animated tv series. At first, it would have two seasons, and then we’d move on to Dawn of Superman, which would also go for two seasons, before finally reaching Batman: Gotham Files. It would also go for two seasons, and then we would launch Justice League: Heroes Rising for one, maybe two seasons as well, and then The Mighty Teen Titans for two seasons. From then on, it gets very complicated, because not only are we going to continue making seasons for DoS, HtO, Gotham Files, Heroes Rising, and TT, but we’d also kick off a Flash show, a Green Lantern show, and possibly an Aquaman show, but I’m still figuring that one out at the moment. Not to mention, there would be mini series too. Like, Supergirl’s Lost in Space years, and Red Hood and the Outlaws, and then there’s Young Justice as well. I’m still in the process of making a detailed timeline that tracks everything and keeps the ages and events straight, but it’s coming along.

Why am I doing all this writing? Well, let’s put it this way: I walked into this big, old Victorian Manor, and it was full-to-bursting with junk. There’s a lot of really good, really cool stuff in there, but it’s over-crowded, there’s mold growing, there might be some rats, and it DESPERATELY needs to be cleaned out. This is a metaphor. This was me when I tried to walk into DC. A normie, just trying to enjoy the franchise. I looked at the comics… and they’re a mess of conflicting timelines, retcons, reboots, world-ending events, changing backstories, and so many characters that it is dizzying. Then I looked for something more digestible, like the tv shows or movies.

…

I did not like the movies.

I like the OG Teen Titans cartoon…

That’s basically it.

I’m trying to watch Justice League, the animated series right now, I’ve seen the original Superman film from the 70s, I’m starting to watch the live action Lois and Clark show from the 90s, I want to get into Batman the animated series, but 1: a lot of these shows don’t feature all the characters from the comics, especially the ones I’d like to see depicted in a show, and 2: they’re all disconnected from one another, with conflicting backstories and different takes on different characters.

I am tired. It is so much work to just try and get into the DC fandom. Let alone stay there.

So I took it upon myself to perform a public service. I told myself, I would roll up my sleeves and write a new DCAU from the ground up. One where even the most normal of normies could jump in and learn about these much-beloved characters and enjoy them. One where the timeline was untangled and there’s a proper beginning, middle, and satisfying end. I will tell the most complicated interwoven story in the history of television just to appease my need for organisation in this forsaken franchise!

…

I feel passionate about things…

Anyway, hope this clears everything up :)

Gotham Files post 1 👇

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

guys I have an idea for how it would got if house of mouse came back

@orchestra-of-demonic-screeching @champmorado @x0stormie0x @anemoia42 @thisismisogynoir

Imagine the house of mouse starting off with Mickey announcing to the gang that he’s rebooting the show, this time inviting not only the new Disney characters in store, but also the Pixar characters!

There’s the Toy Story gang, the Bug’s Life gang, Monster’s Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Cars, and everyone else in the Pixar studio is invited to join this new show in the House of Mouse. The new Disney characters such as those from Wish, Encanto, Frozen, Tangled, Moana, etc is also invited.

That includes…the villains.

But we’ll get to them later.

anyways, Mickey and the gang feel overwhelmed with how many more guests there are now, with Mickey especially feeling like he isn’t doing enough and isn’t being grand enough for the “much more advanced and futuristic characters”. But Minnie reassures him and over time this inner conflict is resolved with great payoff. This will also connect with the second conflict of this:

The Pixar and Disney heroes not getting along. They have their tensions during the opening episode, but there’s a moment in the climax of it where they start arguing with each other about everything due to a big moment enacted by the villains.

Oh by the way, let me bring up those villains again!

Similar to ‘the House of Villains’, this time, The Evil Queen, Maleficent, Jafar, Chernabog along with Auto, Syndrome, Hopper, and Lotso lead the Disney and Pixar Villains into a total overthrowing of the house of mouse, getting all the protagonists kicked out while the antagonists and villains reign free in the house. We could have a little gag here where when the Disney villains are singing and they point to the Pixar villains, they just go “oh we don’t sing sorry lol” and they have an “ok whatever” moment and continue.

This makes the tensions between the Pixar and Disney characters that were previously established reach its peak. It starts off with one of the Disney characters saying that it was the Pixar characters’ fault for not stopping them since they’re so much more advanced than the Disney characters. It then blows off from there, and, at least for me, I’d wanna see a moment in this huge argument where someone shames mater for being just an idiot tow truck, with lightning defending his best friend by saying “oh so dopey and goofy are allowed to be silly but mater can’t? Give me a break!” Or maybe something where lightning or mater respond but this time making fun of the early disney princesses for just being damsels in distress who sing with animals, with the princesses gasping in shock and the sidekicks of snow, cinderella and aurora being like “how DARE you!” (Especially grumpy because. He’s Grumpy). You could only pick one to keep the consistency but both are funny ideas for this.

This argument ends abruptly with Mickey yelling “ENOUGH!” which leaves everyone silent. He starts talking about how all the fighting they’ve been having is not only pointless, but extremely damaging to any chances they have at taking back the house. He goes on saying that the Pixar and Disney villains were able to cooperate and they become stronger, and if the protagonists couldn’t do the same in time then they’d be letting the villains take over everyone’s worlds. The other Pixar characters such as (but not limited to) woody and buzz join in as well as other Disney characters talking about their stories and how they’ve had to grow to understand others to get to their goals and more importantly to not let evil prevail. There’s a little heart to heart before Carl from Up interrupts saying “well, how are we gonna defeat them together? We can’t just believe in the power of friendship to do this!” and then Mickey gets an idea. And the training montage starts.

Mickey and his gang along with Woody and his gang of friends are the leaders of the operation, and they decide to use the magic of Disney and the technology of Pixar and mix them together. Thinking of Antonio from encanto leading the bug’s life characters into battle, miguel and moana getting an epic team up with maui as they fight against tamatoa, and some other cool stuff with other characters but the thing that I’m thinking about the most (because I’m a die hard cars fan and since this probably won’t happen I don’t have to worry about the other characters) is the idea of LIGHTNING MCQUEEN MATER AND THE OTHER CARS CHARACTERS DRIVING WITH TINKERBELL’S PIXIE DUST. LIKE IMAGINE LIGHTNING ZOOMING BY AND ABSOLUTELY BESTING CHICK IN A RACE WHILE FLYING WITH TINK’S PIXIE DUST AND MATER BEATING UP THE LEMONS WHILE A BUNCH OF GLITTER IS EMITTING FROM HIM OMGGG

Also like tinker bell teaching them how to control themselves while flying with her little bell voice and them learning how to steer and stuff and lightning stumbling a bit in the beginning omggg

but the final act comes from sorcerer Mickey. There’s a moment where the villains are weakened where Maleficent decides to transforms into her dragon form as a way to finish the battle quickly. Mickey shows up in his wizard attire and they go in a final battle which ends with Mickey winning, and saying that the villains are allowed in the house of mouse, but ONLY if they don’t pull a stunt like that again, which they reluctantly agree to.

This ends the opening episode for the new house of mouse, and with the heroes from Pixar and Disney being closer now.

Now here’s some ideas for other episodes in this new house of mouse. Keep in mind this is all cars related because I am a massive fan of cars, and I’m not really thinking of the other franchises for this as it probably is not gonna happen. If you have any ideas for the other characters though, feel free to share them in the notes!

here’s the first idea:

Lightning and Mater enter the house of mouse, with lightning talking about how great Cruz has been in training and in her races, as well as both of them just being glad that they’ve found the time to be in the house of mouse again. But then, we focus our attention to the evil queen from Snow White, who has a new magic mirror after her old one quit to work as Walt Disney’s co-host (my headcanon btw LMAO). She asks her iconic question and it shows that MATER is the fairest now, due to his naturally optimistic and kind personality and how everyone enjoys his company. She then decides to try and kill mater, first using some poisoned gas to try and kill him. Lightning, who knows exactly what’s going on, kicks the can of gas away before mater can consume it. We get a whole montage of the evil queen in her hag form trying numerous ways to kill mater but failing as the episode progresses while the different cartoons are played, only with the hag having a breakdown after not being able to kill him. Mater asks what’s wrong and the queen replies saying that she just wanted to be the fairest in the land, which mater says he can help with, since “that’s what a tow truck does!” The episode ends off on a comedic note, kind of similar to that one 2013 Mickey Mouse cartoon short, where despite still being an ugly hag, the queen is much happier than she was before, and mater being proud of himself for helping someone out (while lightning is slightly uncomfortable but still happy for his best friend).

now here’s the second one:

Here we have lightning and mater in the house of mouse again, this time with lightning remarking that he hasn’t been spending much time with Sally, especially since he’s started training cruz. He goes to look for her with mater only to find her hanging out with…the Disney villains! She’s seen sitting at a table and laughing with all the female Disney villains, such as Maleficent, lady Tremaine, cruella, madame Medusa, the evil queen, and more. Lightning shows up to the table asking her why she’s hanging out with the villains of all people, with her replying that yeah sure they may be a bit eccentric, but they’re actually fun to hang around. The episode progresses with this conflict and Lightning realizes that because he has been neglecting time with Sally, she actually feels a little hurt because of it, even though she knows racing means a lot to him. Lightning convinces Sally to not hang with the villains and apologizes to her for not giving enough love to her, which Sally forgives him for. This one isn’t as strong in my head as the first one but if I think it through it can be decent.

hope yall liked this train wreck of a post though! I might add more who knows lol

[mistakesandtragedies]

The Static Between Us - James Marriott X Will Lenney’s Sister

Title: Static Between Us
Genre: YouTube RPF, Romance, Slow Burn, Secret Love, Angst with Fluff
POV: 3rd Person Limited (mostly from Will’s sister’s perspective)

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: The Reunion

The group chat had been chaotic for weeks. Every five minutes, someone was sending cursed memes or half-baked plans for the weekend, most of which were promptly ignored. But somehow, against all odds and flaky YouTuber schedules, it all came together.

Will’s house was full of noise—laughter, clinking bottles, the occasional screech of a chair dragging across the hardwood. His sister leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her drink and quietly watching the chaos unfold. She didn’t know all of them that well—George she’d met a couple times, Jack seemed nice, and there was someone else she hadn’t seen yet. Someone she definitely knew.

She didn’t want to seem weird about it, but James Marriott had a very specific energy in his videos—brooding, dark humor, weirdly hot in a way she’d never admit to her brother. Seeing him in person was… jarring. Taller than she expected. Quieter. Something about the way he stood just outside the main circle, observing before jumping in, made her stomach buzz.

And then he looked at her.

Not like a full-on stare—just a glance, a flicker of eye contact—but it was enough to make her immediately look away and pretend to read the ingredients on a bottle of lemonade.

“You good?” Will asked, suddenly appearing at her side. He looked exhausted already and the night had barely started.

She shrugged. “Yeah. Just people-watching. Your friends are feral.”

Will snorted. “They’re not my friends when they start wrestling in the living room. You’re the one who wanted to come.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wanted a night off. I didn’t know it’d be WWE: Creator Edition.”

Will laughed and wandered off, distracted by whatever fresh chaos was happening. She was about to disappear upstairs to take a breather when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“You survived the kitchen invasion,” came a deep voice, dry and slightly amused.

She turned around and there he was—James. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, drink in hand, looking effortlessly disheveled.

“Barely,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “I was considering retreating to the pantry.”

“That’s where the true introverts hide.”

She smiled. “Good to know. I’ll set up camp there next time.”

They stood in silence for a second. Not awkward, exactly—more like… charged.

“I’m James, by the way,” he said, holding out a hand.

“I know,” she replied before she could stop herself, and then immediately wanted to dissolve into the floor. “I mean—I’ve seen your videos. Will talks about you.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “All good things, I hope?”

She hesitated. “Mostly. He said you once made a three-minute video out of spite.”

He looked proud. “Ah. The classic.”

And just like that, the tension eased a little. He didn’t seem thrown off, and neither was she—at least, not visibly. But inside? Chaos. Full system reboot.

They kept talking, and the party around them blurred into static. James asked about what she did, what she liked, if she’d always been into music or if it was just a phase. His voice was low, steady, like everything he said was half a secret. She didn’t notice how close they’d drifted until someone yelled for a group photo and the spell broke.

As everyone gathered in the living room, she caught James glancing at her again. Not obviously. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But she did.

And later that night, lying in the guest room staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his voice dipped when he said her name, or how his fingers brushed hers when they reached for the same bottle of water.

It didn’t mean anything.

Probably.

Chapter 2: Side Glances

Morning came in with grey skies and the smell of burnt toast. Someone—probably Jack—had decided to make breakfast and clearly did not possess the necessary skills. Will’s sister padded downstairs in an old hoodie, still half-asleep, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with anyone until she’d had caffeine.

James was already in the kitchen, of course. Hair messy. Hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Mug in one hand, phone in the other, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just haunted her dreams all night.

“Morning,” he said, without looking up.

“Hey,” she replied, voice scratchy from sleep.

She grabbed a mug and started pouring herself some coffee, pretending like her hands weren’t slightly shaking. She hadn’t stopped thinking about their conversation from the night before. Every line replayed itself in her head like a voice memo on loop. Every little glance. Every pause.

“You survived the pantry-free sleeping arrangement?” James asked, giving her a half-smile.

“Barely,” she said. “No emotional support snacks.”

He chuckled into his mug, then nodded toward the table. “We’re doing the kind of breakfast where no one’s really awake enough to speak, if you’re interested.”

“I live for that vibe,” she said, following him over.

The rest of the table was a zombie lineup. Will was scrolling his phone with one eye open. George was slumped against the wall. Jack was happily munching on something vaguely resembling toast and humming to himself. No one really spoke, and she was grateful for it.

Except James kept catching her eye.

Little things. Like when someone made a joke and he’d look to see if she was laughing. Or when their hands brushed again, and neither of them pulled away quite fast enough. He didn’t say much, but his presence was constant. She could feel him without even looking.

Will didn’t notice. Too tired. Too distracted. Which was good, because she didn’t even know how to explain it—this thing that wasn’t a thing. Not really.

Later, when the weather cleared up, they all went for a walk through the woods near Will’s place. James ended up walking beside her without planning to, just slightly ahead sometimes, like he didn’t want to be too obvious. He made sarcastic comments under his breath. She laughed more than she should’ve.

At one point, someone behind them tripped, and everyone turned around. She didn’t see who it was—because James instinctively reached for her arm, steadying her before she could stumble too.

It was a quick touch. Casual. Probably nothing.

But her heart didn’t get the memo.

They kept walking.

And when James looked over his shoulder at her a few minutes later, eyes soft, lip twitching into the smallest smile—

Yeah.

She was in trouble.

Chapter 3: Late-Night Talks

The house was quiet in that strange post-party way—like all the energy had burned out and now everyone was recovering in their own little corners. Will had passed out on the sofa mid-FIFA game, Jack was upstairs editing, and George had muttered something about a Discord call and vanished into the Wi-Fi void.

She couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe it was the fact that every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—the way he looked at her like he knew something she didn’t. Like he was waiting.

She grabbed a hoodie and tiptoed downstairs. The garden door was open just slightly, letting in a breeze that carried the faint scent of smoke.

He was out there.

James stood near the back of the garden, leaning against the railing of the deck, cigarette between his fingers, face lit faintly by the glow of his phone screen. His hoodie was zipped up to his chin, and for a second, he didn’t notice her.

Then he turned.

“Oh,” he said, surprised but not startled. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, hugging the sleeves of her hoodie. “Too much going on up here.” She tapped her temple, then hesitated. “Mind if I join?”

He gestured to the spot beside him. “Garden insomnia club’s open to new members.”

She stepped out onto the deck, the cool air biting at her skin, but it felt nice. Calmer. They stood there in silence for a moment, the smoke curling lazily in the air between them.

“Didn’t peg you as a smoker,” she said softly.

James glanced down at the cigarette like he’d forgotten it was there. “Just now and then. When the brain won’t shut up.”

She nodded. “Relatable.”

He exhaled slowly, not looking at her. “You’re not what I expected.”

That caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Will’s always been very… Will. Loud. Fast. Unfiltered. I assumed his sister would be the same. But you’re—”

He paused, searching for the right word. She turned toward him slightly, curious.

“Quieter,” he finally said. “Not in a bad way. Just… I dunno. You listen before you talk. You notice things.”

Her heart did that annoying stutter-step thing again. “I think I’m just better at blending in than standing out.”

James looked at her then—really looked at her. “You’re not exactly blending in.”

It hung in the air between them, soft and unexpected. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just stared at her shoes for a minute.

Then he said, quieter, “I’ve been trying not to be weird.”

She blinked. “Weird how?”

James flicked the ash off the cigarette. “I don’t know. It’s just… you’re Will’s sister. There’s a whole unwritten rulebook about that, isn’t there?”

Her chest tightened. “Do you think he’d care?”

James gave a humorless laugh. “Will? Absolutely.”

There was something about the way he said it that made her heart sink. Not because he was wrong—but because it meant he’d already thought about it. Which meant he’d already considered the thing she hadn’t even dared say out loud.

“I just don’t want to screw up the dynamic,” he added. “Not sure he’d be thrilled if I started getting… distracted.”

“Are you distracted?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He looked at her again. This time, the silence stretched.

“Yeah,” he said.

Just that. One word. No follow-up. No clarification. But it was enough to leave her breathless.

The cigarette burned down to the filter. He stubbed it out on the edge of the railing and tossed it in the bin.

“I should get some sleep,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “You coming in?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… a minute.”

He paused like he might say something else, then turned and disappeared into the house.

She stayed outside, heart pounding, air cold against her cheeks.

Distracted.

So was she.

So badly it hurt.

Chapter 4: Glitches

The next day was slow. That lazy, in-between kind of day where no one really wanted to leave but also no one knew what to do. Will had resorted to organizing a makeshift “content brainstorming session” just to keep people from melting into the sofa.

It was chaos. Someone suggested fake beef. Someone else tried to pitch a mukbang but got shouted down. James just sat on the armrest of a chair, sipping tea and quietly roasting everyone in the group chat.

Will’s sister stayed quiet for most of it, half-listening, half-scrolling through her camera roll. She hadn’t realized how many random pictures she’d taken the night before—some blurry, some candid. She was halfway through deleting duplicates when she hit play on a video she didn’t remember taking.

And there it was.

A 12-second clip. Just a quiet pan across the living room, probably from when she’d been recording something dumb. But her phone had lingered—just long enough to catch James in the background.

He was looking at her.

Not just looking—watching. Everyone else was laughing, distracted, but James was focused, eyes soft, jaw tense like he was thinking something he didn’t want to say out loud. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t exaggerated. It was... real.

She held her breath as she watched it again.

And again.

And a fourth time, because she hated herself.

Then she did what any self-respecting emotionally confused person would do: she deleted it. Immediately. No backup. No cloud. Just—gone.

And of course, as soon as she did, regret hit her like a freight train.

“Everything alright?” James said quietly beside her, and she jumped.

“Jesus—sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, locking her phone like it was holding national secrets. “Yeah. Fine.”

James raised an eyebrow, not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You looked deep in thought. Existential crisis, or just regretting your life choices?”

“Little bit of both,” she muttered.

He smiled.

And then Will called out, “Oi, lovebirds, we filming or what?”

She froze.

James didn’t.

Without missing a beat, he rolled his eyes and shot back, “You wish, mate.”

The group laughed. She didn’t. Her heart was hammering too loud.

It wasn’t like Will knew. He was just being Will. Loud, dumb, joking Will.

But suddenly, the line between pretend and real felt thinner. Like if she wasn’t careful, it’d snap.

That night, she lay in bed, replaying the video in her mind. Even though it was gone, she could still see it clearly. The look in his eyes. That quiet little moment no one else noticed.

And she wondered—

If he saw it too.

Chapter 5: Avoidance Tactic

It started the next morning.

She came downstairs to the sound of a kettle boiling, hoping for another casual “insomniac garden chat” moment. But James wasn’t there. Just George, humming tunelessly and microwaving leftover pizza like it was a perfectly normal breakfast choice.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

“‘Sup,” George said, not looking up. “James already dipped. Said he had editing to do.”

That made her pause.

Editing? At 9 a.m.? After staying up till 2?

Weird.

But she brushed it off. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe the late nights were catching up to him. Maybe she was reading into everything like a walking Tumblr post.

Still, it kept happening.

At lunch, James sat at the opposite end of the table.

During filming, he paired off with George without saying anything.

When she passed him in the hallway, he smiled politely—too politely—and kept walking.

It wasn’t cold exactly. It wasn’t even rude. It was just distant. Careful.

And it hurt.

Not in a dramatic, romcom-heartbreak kind of way. More like… a steady little ache. A dull pinch every time he didn’t look at her. Every time he made a joke that wasn’t meant for her to hear. Every time he chose silence over connection.

She tried not to let it show. Laughed at everyone’s jokes, kept her voice light. But inside, her brain was screaming:

Did I imagine it?

Did I scare him off?

Was it just a moment? Was I just a moment?

She caught him watching her once. Just once. She turned too quickly and their eyes locked—only for a second. And he looked away faster than she ever thought possible.

By day three, she was officially spiraling. She told herself it was fine. That it didn’t matter. That it was just a silly crush, and she was being dramatic. But every time she caught a piece of his voice from another room, her stomach twisted.

Eventually, she cornered Will in the kitchen. He was trying to open a jar of something aggressively red and failing.

“Hey,” she said, casual. Too casual. “Did James say anything to you?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“I don’t know. Just… he’s been kind of quiet.”

Will gave her a look. “He’s always quiet. It’s his whole thing.”

“No, like—different quiet.”

Will smirked. “You got a crush on him or something?”

She nearly choked. “What? No. Obviously not.”

“Relax,” Will said, laughing. “Just asking. You’ve been weird.”

You’ve been weird.
He’s been distant.
It’s all weird.

That night, she didn’t stay up late. Didn’t go outside. Didn’t try to catch his eye.

Let him avoid her.

It was easier than hoping.

Chapter 6: Jealousy Game

The group decided on drinks that night—proper pub energy. Not content creation, not forced fun. Just pints, playlists, and pretending they weren’t all chronically online.

She hadn’t planned to dress up, really. But something in her snapped when she caught James, once again, ducking her gaze at breakfast. If he was going to pretend like the garden didn’t happen, fine. Let him.

She put on eyeliner that made her eyes sharper, lips a little glossier. A cropped black jacket over a strappy top. Something that said, I’m fine. Thriving, even.

James didn’t say anything when she walked downstairs. But he saw. She caught it—just a flick of the eyes. A blink too long. Then he turned to George and started talking like she wasn’t even there.

Fine.

At the pub, things got messy fast. Jack was making rounds like he owned the place, and Will had somehow ended up in a heated argument with a bartender over crisps. She found herself at the bar next to someone not from their group—a friend of a friend, apparently. Ollie. Cute. Tall. The kind of smile that made you lean in.

So she did.

And maybe it wasn’t entirely innocent. Maybe she laughed a little too loudly. Maybe she leaned on the bar just right when Ollie complimented her jacket. But it worked.

Because James looked.

Not just a glance—he watched. From across the room, pint half-raised, face unreadable. Like he wanted to say something and was fighting himself not to.

She tried not to show how much she liked that. The power of it.

But then Ollie leaned in too close—just to ask about her drink—and James stood up and walked outside without a word.

She followed him five minutes later, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to break its way out.

He was leaning against the pub wall, hands in his jacket pockets, breathing visible in the night air. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside him, like they were strangers again.

“You okay?” she asked finally.

James let out a sharp breath. “Are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turned toward her. “You know what it means.”

She folded her arms. “So I can’t talk to someone now without it being a thing?”

“That guy was practically climbing over you.”

“Oh, now you care?”

James flinched.

And there it was. The thing she wasn’t supposed to say. The truth he hadn’t been ready to face. But it was out there now, hanging between them like smoke.

“I’ve been trying not to,” he said, voice low. “Care. It’s not easy.”

She looked at him. Really looked.

“Why?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

James shook his head. “Because it’s you. Because it’s Will’s little sister. Because I don’t want to be the guy who screws everything up.”

“You’re not screwing anything up,” she said, softer now.

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the pavement like it held all the right words.

Inside, she could hear the muffled bass of whatever bad pop song the pub had queued next.

“Do you like him?” James asked suddenly.

“Ollie?”

James nodded, not looking at her.

She waited a beat.

“No,” she said. “I just wanted you to notice.”

His eyes met hers, sharp and sad and honest.

“I always notice,” he said.

But then the door opened, and Will stuck his head out, drunkenly yelling something about kebabs and cabs and where the hell they’d disappeared to.

And just like that, the moment vanished.

James stepped back into the noise. She stayed there a second longer, pulse roaring in her ears.

He noticed.

She wasn’t sure if that made it better—or worse.

Chapter 7: The Song

Two days after the pub, the house was quieter again. Everyone was too hungover or emotionally scorched to do much. Will had disappeared to film a collab, Jack had taken George into town, and for once, it was just the two of them.

Her and James.

The silence was awkward. Not thick, exactly—more like a space carefully padded around the truth they weren’t touching. They moved around each other like chess pieces, like everything was about to tip one way or another.

She ended up in the spare room, where Will kept an old electric keyboard. Mostly as a joke. Mostly for George to mess around with when he was bored. But she sat down in front of it, ran her fingers over the dust-flecked keys, and let herself play.

Soft at first. Just chords. Gentle, moody, unresolved. Then something started forming—a melody she hadn’t planned. Her fingers knew what she was feeling before her mouth could admit it.

She didn’t even hear James come in.

But she felt him. In the doorway, arms folded, just watching.

“You wrote that?” he asked, voice low, almost careful.

She didn’t look up. “It just… happened.”

James stepped in slowly, like he was afraid he’d ruin the moment. “It’s sad.”

She finally looked at him. “It’s honest.”

He nodded, came to stand beside the keyboard. “What’s it about?”

She played one chord again—soft and uncertain. “You.”

It was a risk, saying it out loud. But at this point, pretending was exhausting. She couldn’t keep bottling it all behind half-smiles and late-night glances.

James didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he sat down next to her. His shoulder barely touched hers. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Play it again?” he asked.

So she did.

This time, she added more. Let her voice come in, barely above a whisper. Lyrics that weren’t planned. Just… felt.

“You don’t say it, but you mean it
You don’t look, but I still see it
Caught in silence, stuck in scenes
Where I’m everything
And nothing in between.”

The last note hung in the air.

James didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just breathed.

When she finally turned to look at him, his expression had cracked open. No jokes. No walls.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he said.

“Then don’t.”

That broke it.

His hand reached for hers on the keys, fingers curling just barely, like he still wasn’t sure he was allowed.

She looked down at them. His hand over hers. Warm. Real.

It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t some grand gesture. But it was more than silence. More than fear.

The song still echoed faintly from the keyboard, unfinished.

So were they.

But for the first time—

She didn’t mind.

Chapter 8: A Line Crossed

The next morning felt different.

Not dramatically. Not like the whole world had flipped upside down overnight. But something in the air had shifted. Charged. Fragile. Like a wire pulled just tight enough to hum.

She saw James in the kitchen before anyone else was awake—again. Same hoodie. Same mug. But this time, he looked up and didn’t look away.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she answered, voice softer than usual.

She stepped in, grabbed a mug without breaking eye contact, and stood beside him like they were tethered to the same unspoken thing. He didn’t touch her, didn’t even reach out—but the space between them felt owned now. Marked. Changed.

“You alright?” he asked.

She nodded. “You?”

He smirked. “Trying not to overthink a song.”

“Too late for that.”

They shared a look. Quiet. Knowing. Sweet in a way that made her chest ache.

Then Will’s voice boomed from upstairs, shattering it like glass.

“Kettle better be full or I’m suing someone!”

James stepped back immediately, like a reflex. Like the moment had teeth.

And just like that, the wire snapped.

By the time Will thudded down the stairs, James was halfway across the room, mug in hand, back to his usual self.

Will barely noticed, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Why are you both up? Gross. Go back to bed like normal people.”

She forced a laugh, but her pulse was thudding.

All morning, James kept his distance.

All afternoon, they barely spoke.

And that night, after everyone had gone to bed and the house was dark, she heard a knock on her door. Soft. One beat. Hesitant.

She opened it to find James standing there.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered.

She stepped aside without a word and let him in.

He didn’t touch her at first. Just stood in the center of her room, jaw clenched, like he was holding something in with every fiber of his being.

“I feel like I’m hiding in my own skin,” he said, voice shaking. “I don’t know how to be around you and not want more.”

“Then stop pretending,” she whispered.

He moved then.

Just one step. Then two. And suddenly his hand was in her hair and his mouth was on hers and the world shrunk to this.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate.

It was slow. Careful. A hundred unsaid things passed between them like sparks.

But it was also real.

And real meant consequences.

Afterward, when he rested his forehead against hers, she whispered, “What now?”

James didn’t answer right away. His fingers were still wrapped in hers.

Then: “I don’t know. But I’m not letting you go.”

She closed her eyes.

The line was crossed.

And there was no going back.

Chapter 9: Slipping

They didn’t talk about it the next morning.

James left her room before the sun came up, like a ghost—quiet footsteps, no creaky floorboard missteps. She lay in bed after the door closed, staring at the ceiling with her heart still thudding in her ears.

It wasn’t regret.
It wasn’t shame.
It was fear.

Because it wasn’t just a kiss, or a moment. It was a shift. And once something shifts, pretending it didn’t becomes exhausting.

Will was already awake when she came downstairs. He looked up from his cereal like he’d been waiting to interrogate someone.

“Morning,” he said slowly. Suspiciously.

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You’re being weird again.”

“I just woke up.”

“You’re blinking weird.”

“I—what?!”

Will pointed his spoon at her. “I know you. Something’s going on.”

She deflected. Rolled her eyes. Made a sarcastic comment. It worked. He dropped it—for now. But the seed was planted, and she knew Will well enough to know he’d water it until it bloomed into full-blown investigation.

The next few days blurred.

Little things started to slip.

James made her tea the exact way she liked it. George raised an eyebrow.

She laughed too hard at a dumb joke he made. Jack looked between them, suspicious.

James sat next to her on the couch, knees brushing, and didn’t move. Will narrowed his eyes.

She could feel it unraveling.

The secret. The tension. The space they’d built between glances and soft words—it was slipping. Cracks forming. Pressure building.

Late one night, she caught James in the hallway. Just the two of them. Lights low. Everyone else asleep.

“We’re not being subtle anymore,” she said.

He leaned against the wall, looking wrecked with want and caution all at once. “I know.”

“They’re going to figure it out.”

“I know.”

She hesitated. “Maybe we should tell him.”

James exhaled, long and slow. “You think he’d take it well?”

“I think he’d take you by the throat.”

“Fair.”

They stood there for a beat. The weight of it pressing in from all sides.

Then James said, “I’d risk it.”

She looked at him.

“What?”

“I’d risk it,” he said again. “Will’s friendship. The fallout. All of it. If you said this was real.”

She stepped in, barely breathing.

“It is real.”

James didn’t kiss her that time.

But he reached for her hand.

And held it like an anchor.

Still slipping—but together.

Chapter 10: The Discovery

It happened in the most cliché way possible.

Will walked in without knocking.

One minute she and James were sitting on her bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching dumb videos and trading those slow, lingering glances they had no business sharing. The next minute—door swings open. Will barges in, hoodie half on, holding his phone like he was about to show her a tweet.

And then he froze.

James jumped up. Like literally jumped. Her laptop slid off the bed and landed on the floor with a dull thud. She just sat there, completely still, like her soul had momentarily left her body.

Will’s eyes flicked between them. Once. Twice. Then they narrowed.

“...What the fuck is this?”

Silence.

“Are you kidding me?” Will’s voice climbed, low and sharp. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

James opened his mouth. Closed it.

She stood up slowly. “Will—”

“No, no, don’t ‘Will’ me,” he said, backing toward the door like the room physically repelled him. “You—” he pointed at James, “—are my friend. And you—” his voice cracked slightly when he looked at her, “—are my sister.”

She felt it in her chest like a punch.

James finally spoke, his voice rough. “We didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

Will laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh, sick. You’re in love, aren’t you? You’ve been sneaking around behind my back and now what, I’m supposed to congratulate you?”

James stepped forward. “I didn’t want to hide it from you.”

“But you did,” Will snapped. “Both of you did.”

She tried to reach for him, but he stepped back.

“I told everyone you were off limits,” he muttered. “I trusted you, man.”

James didn’t look away. “I never saw her as some off-limits rule. She’s not a possession.”

That didn’t help.

Will’s fists clenched. “Don’t talk to me like you’re noble.”

She stepped in, voice calm but shaking. “Will, I didn’t plan this either. It just… happened. We tried to ignore it. But it’s real.”

Will stared at her for a long, long time. His jaw tightened. Then he said, quietly, “I can’t even look at you right now.”

And then he walked out.

The silence he left behind was loud and cruel.

James looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe go after him.

But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

She sat back down on the bed. Stared at the spot where Will had stood like it might still echo.

Everything they’d tried to protect—the secret moments, the careful glances, the soft songs—it had all led to this.

Discovery.

And now came the fallout.

Chapter 11: Fallout

The house was quieter than it had ever been.

Not the comfortable quiet of late nights or lazy mornings—but the heavy, brittle kind. The kind where no one knows what to say, so they say nothing. Even the floorboards seemed more cautious.

Will didn’t speak to either of them the next day.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t explode again. He just… shut down. Detached. Walked past her in the hall without looking up. Answered James with single-syllable replies if he had to answer at all. Otherwise, it was like they didn’t exist.

George and Jack noticed immediately.

“You two fight?” George asked, tone light but eyes sharp.

“Something like that,” she muttered.

Jack, who’d never been subtle, raised an eyebrow at James across the kitchen later that day and said, “You piss off the big man?”

James didn’t answer.

The day dragged.

No one filmed anything.

No one joked around.

And Will stayed holed up in his room, editing, gaming, ignoring every knock on his door—including hers.

By nightfall, she couldn’t take it.

She stood outside Will’s door again, fists clenched at her sides, then knocked softly. “Will?”

Silence.

“It wasn’t a game,” she said through the wood. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. But I’m not going to say sorry for falling for him.”

Still nothing.

She sighed. “You can be mad at me. That’s fine. But I need you to understand this isn’t just some fling. I love him.”

That last part hurt to say out loud.

Not because it wasn’t true. But because the person she needed to hear it the most was the one least willing to.

A beat of silence.

Then: “You should’ve told me,” Will said. Quiet. Muffled. But there.

She leaned her forehead against the door.

“I know.”

“I could’ve dealt with it,” he continued. “If you’d just told me. But instead you lied. For weeks.”

“I was scared,” she whispered. “Scared I’d lose this. You. Everything.”

Another pause. Then: “You still might.”

That cracked something inside her.

She didn’t cry. Not yet. But she felt it building. Like a storm waiting just beyond her ribs.

Back downstairs, James was waiting in the living room. Sitting on the floor, head leaned against the wall, eyes closed like he hadn’t slept in a year.

She sat down beside him, slow and quiet.

“He spoke?” James asked without opening his eyes.

She nodded. “A little.”

They didn’t talk for a while. Just leaned on each other in the dark, letting the weight of it all settle between them.

“We broke it,” James said eventually. Voice raw.

She took his hand.

“Maybe. But I don’t think it was fake enough to stay hidden forever.”

He looked at her.

“You still think it’s worth it?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

Even with the silence. The guilt. The hurt.

Especially with the hurt.

Because nothing that real comes without a cost.

Chapter 12: The Ultimatum

It took two more days before Will finally cracked.

They were all in the living room, pretending to watch something none of them were actually watching—some chaotic group video Jack had picked purely to fill the silence. James was stiff beside her on the couch, arms folded, legs angled away like he wasn’t trying to take up any space.

Will sat in the armchair, hood up, scrolling through his phone with surgical disinterest.

No one spoke.

Then Jack said, casually, “So when are you two gonna stop pretending we didn’t all figure it out already?”

She froze.

James blinked.

Will looked up slowly. “Are you serious, mate?”

Jack glanced around. “I mean, c’mon. It’s been awkward as hell for a week. George literally placed bets yesterday.”

George raised a hand. “Still think Will punches James before the end of the month.”

Will stood up.

Not storming. Just… done. The quiet, dangerous kind of done.

“I can’t live in the same house while this is happening,” he said flatly.

Her stomach dropped. “Will—”

“I’m not saying you don’t feel something. I’m not even saying I don’t get it. But this isn’t a movie, alright? You’re my sister. He’s supposed to be my best mate.”

“I still am,” James said softly.

Will turned to him. “Then why didn’t you act like it?”

No one said anything.

Finally, Will exhaled and looked at her.

“You’ve got a choice,” he said. “You can have him. Fine. I won’t stop you. But if that’s what this is… I need space. You need to move out.”

She felt it in her chest like a free-fall.

Move out.

As in leave.

As in no more late-night films, or chaotic group dinners, or music spilling through walls while George remixed TikToks in the next room.

James sat up straighter. “She doesn’t have to do that. We’ll figure something out—”

“No,” Will cut in. “You don’t get to make this easy.”

Then he left the room.

Just like that.

The quiet afterward wasn’t awkward anymore.

It was devastating.

She didn’t look at anyone else. Just stood slowly and walked upstairs, one step at a time, until the walls felt like they were pressing in.

James came up a few minutes later. Found her standing by her window, arms crossed tightly around herself.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered. “Not really.”

“I’ll leave,” he said. “If it makes this easier for you.”

She turned sharply. “No. Don’t do that. This isn’t about who leaves. It’s about what we’re willing to give up.”

James nodded, jaw tight. “So what now?”

She looked at him. At his eyes, his hands, the way his presence always grounded her, even in chaos.

Then she said it—clear, certain:

“We stop hiding. And we find a way to make this work, even if it means starting over somewhere else.”

James didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’m with you.”

And just like that, the choice was made.

Not easy.
Not painless.
But real.

Chapter 13: Leaving

It rained the morning she packed.

The soft, misty kind that made everything feel slower. More final. James helped in silence—folding clothes, unplugging chargers, stuffing vinyls and notebooks into boxes like he was afraid one wrong move might break her.

Will hadn’t spoken to her again since the ultimatum.

George offered to help, but the look James gave him made him back off fast. Jack lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching like it physically hurt him not to make a joke.

“This is so dramatic,” Jack muttered eventually. “Feels like a Netflix original but with more hoodies.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll survive.”

Jack gave a mock salute. “Only just.”

The car was small. Barely enough room for her things. James crammed the last box into the back seat while she zipped her jacket with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.

She turned for one last look at the house.

Every corner of it was memory-soaked—late-night snacks in the kitchen, singing with George in the hallway, arguing over film edits with Will, that first accidental touch with James on the stairs. The garden. The keyboard. The song.

All of it.

Then she saw Will standing on the porch.

Arms folded. No expression.

She met his eyes from across the driveway. For a long second, nothing passed between them. Just rain.

Then he gave her the faintest of nods.

Not forgiveness.
Not approval.

But maybe—maybe—a truce.

She blinked hard and turned away before the tears could fall.

James didn’t speak until they were on the motorway.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. But I will be.”

They drove in silence for a while. The rain streaked down the windshield like punctuation marks in a sentence neither of them could finish.

Finally, she looked at him. “You sure about this? About all of it?”

James glanced at her. “I left a lot behind for this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached across the gearshift and laced his fingers with hers. “And I’d do it again.”

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

Their silence finally felt like something safe.

Like a promise.

Chapter 14: The New Normal

The new flat was smaller.

Two rooms. One cracked window. A living room that doubled as a studio if James moved the coffee table. No George snoring on the couch. No Will yelling about bad takes. No chaotic kitchen battles with Jack’s questionable “culinary experiments.”

Just them.

It was quiet.

But not in a lonely way.

James thrived in small spaces. He strung fairy lights across the ceiling. Set up his mic stand next to her bookshelf. Left his socks absolutely everywhere. And she let him—because it meant he was there.

They got used to each other in new ways.

Waking up tangled in the sheets. Grocery shopping while arguing over crisps. Cooking meals that were sometimes disasters and sometimes perfect, but always theirs.

Still, she missed it. The house. The noise. Will.

He hadn’t reached out.

Not directly.

But she caught him liking a photo on her Instagram—the one James took of her sitting on the fire escape, hair tangled, laughing at something off-camera. She’d stared at that like for ten full minutes.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

James noticed, too.

“You gonna call him?” he asked one night.

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He nodded. Didn’t push.

Instead, he went to his mic, flicked on the switch, and asked her, “Wanna hear something I’ve been working on?”

Always. “Yeah.”

He started to play. Something soft, familiar.

It was her song.

The one she’d played on Will’s keyboard weeks ago—except now it had layers. Strings beneath the chords. A low harmony she hadn’t known it needed. His voice, gentle and raw:

“You were a whisper in a room of noise
A quiet maybe wrapped in choice
But I’d cross every line I drew
Just to stand in this silence with you.”

She closed her eyes.

This was the life they had built. Not loud. Not perfect. But true.

She walked over as he finished the last note, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

“You wrote that for me?”

James turned in her arms, smiling against her hair. “I wrote it with you.”

They stayed there like that for a long time.

Not needing to speak. Not needing to fill the space.

They were the quiet in the chaos now.

They were the new normal.

Chapter 15: Homecoming

It was Will’s birthday.

That’s what did it, in the end.

She wasn’t planning to go. She’d even told herself not to. Too messy. Too soon. Too much that hadn’t been said.

But when the group chat blew up with plans—Jack’s terrible cake ideas, George threatening to DJ, the invite extended to both of them—her heart stuttered.

And then came the message.

From Will.

Just two words.

Come through.

She stared at her phone for five solid minutes before showing James.

He raised his eyebrows. “You want to?”

“I think I have to.”

So they went.

Back to the house. Back to the kitchen with the dodgy drawer. The living room full of memories. The creaky stair that gave them away once. Everything felt smaller somehow—but warmer, too. Familiar in that way only a first home after heartbreak can be.

Will answered the door.

They all froze for a beat.

James cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Will stared for a moment. Then stepped back. “Get in here before I change my mind.”

It wasn’t forgiveness.

But it wasn’t nothing.

The night buzzed. Drinks poured. Music played. George did DJ, and somehow it worked. Jack’s cake was an abomination, but it was eaten anyway.

And then, later—quiet again.

She found Will in the kitchen, staring out the back window like he was watching a memory.

“Still hate him?” she asked gently.

Will exhaled. “Depends on the day.”

She smiled. “That’s fair.”

Another pause.

Then he looked at her—really looked at her.

“You’re happy?”

“I am.”

Will nodded. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

It hit her harder than she expected.

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him. And for the first time in what felt like years, he hugged her back properly.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I missed me too.”

They laughed. Soft. Healing.

Later that night, when she found James in the hallway, he looked up like he’d been holding his breath since they arrived.

“Well?”

She smiled.

“He’s not gonna punch you.”

“Relief,” James deadpanned. “I like my jaw how it is.”

They left together, hand in hand, into the soft night air.

No more secrets. No more slipping.

Just love, hard-earned and fully known.

And for the first time since it all began—

It felt like home.

Epilogue: One Year Later

The video was unlisted.

It didn’t drop on a Tuesday. No premiere. No clickbait title. Just a soft thumbnail of two intertwined hands resting on a piano.

She clicked “upload” with shaking fingers.

And waited.

It wasn’t for subscribers.
It wasn’t for clout.
It was for him.

And for them.

The video opened with her voice, barely above a whisper.

“I never planned to fall in love with my brother’s best friend.
But I did.
Quietly.
Fiercely.
Secretly.”

Then the music started.

James’s song—their song—played underneath clips from the last year. Grainy shots from the flat. Her laughing in the kitchen. James asleep on the floor with a guitar across his chest. Train rides. Rainy walks. A blurry, accidental photo of Will hugging her outside a café, both of them laughing too hard to breathe.

No edits. No flashy cuts. Just truth.

The final frame faded to black, and her voice returned.

“We risked a lot. Lost things we didn’t want to lose.
But love doesn’t wait until it’s convenient.
And when it’s real—you fight for it.

This is us.
Quiet. Messy. Loud in all the right places.
And somehow, still standing.”

Then the title screen.

“Secretly Yours — A Love Story We Lived”

She didn’t look at the comments.
Didn’t refresh analytics.
Didn’t need the numbers this time.

Because behind her, James wrapped his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“You’re really brave, you know that?”

She leaned into him. “Took me a while.”

He kissed the side of her head.

And then Will walked in holding two coffees and a croissant between his teeth like a dog with a prize.

“I assume that’s for me?” he asked through a mouthful, eyeing the video screen.

She laughed. “You watched it already, didn’t you?”

Will shrugged. “I might have cried a little.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I laughed. But, like, emotionally.”

They all collapsed on the couch, limbs tangled, hearts lighter.

No more hiding.

No more waiting.

Just love.

And a story that—finally—wasn’t a secret anymore.

[bunnyboilovessookie]

YHS headcanon (warning: yapping)

Introduction: Lemme start yapping. I like to think that all 4 of Sam’s best friends throughout both YHSs have/had a crush on him (which is very funny considering we’re talking about Sam). And this is me rambling about how each of them views him/their crush on him. But I do need to say that I last watched YHS two years ago and, while I’m currently rewatching it, I’m only at episode 5 right now, I never finished watching Tokyo Soul and barely remember it and have not watched the YHS reboot at all, so all of this comes from what I remember of YHS/TS + things from fanon content, and only things from fanon content in the case of the reboot so this might be out of character but it’s how they are in my head right now and I need to get the brain worms out. Also because I haven’t watched the reboot, the sections from Taurtis and Grian will be longer than the sections from Coolment and Owl. Oh yeah, I also haven’t watched Yandere either so I have no idea how the OG trio met.

Taurtis: Taurtis views Sam as his best friend, and they’ve lived together for a long time, so they’re very close. I don’t think he ever realises he has feelings for Sam, it’s not like suddenly he likes him, it’s a long process and by the time he’s absolutely smitten he has no idea. He knows he feels all warm and comfortable around Sam, but he thinks that’s just a friendship thing (doesn’t help that he also has a crush on his other closest friend). He is fully aware he wants to date Sam, he knows how he feels, he knows he fantasises about kissing him, he just doesn’t clock that’s because he likes him, to him, that’s just something his brain does. Even after Sam goes crazy, he doesn’t really care, it’s still Sam. He probably realises it’s a crush after telling someone (probably Grian) about it and getting told “yeah, that’s a crush”. He’d be like “ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that explains a lot lol”. He doesn’t pursue a relationship with Sam though, because he’s happy just being friends with him. He wouldn’t mind dating him, of course, but to him it doesn’t really matter what they are, as long as they’re together.

Grian: Grian fucking hates Sam. And he also hates the fact that he has a crush on him. It makes him irrationally angry whenever he gets all flustered over Sam doing anything. Especially if that thing is hurting someone (because obviously that’s bad but, man, does he look good when he stabs people). He hates the fact that he thinks Sam’s rabbit traits are adorable, he hates the fact that he knows the exact number of freckles on Sam’s cheeks and nose bridge, he hates how in love he is with a fucking psycho who has caused him more trauma than he has anyone else. He tries to bottle up the feelings because he really doesn’t want to end up actually dating Sam, that’d be the stupidest thing he’d do in his life. And yet, sometimes, he can’t help but let himself go. They’ve definitely kissed before. And Grian cherishes those memories but also prays they never happen again because if he gets just a little more he might just completely shatter. He doesn’t want to feel like this but no matter what the crush just doesn’t fade. And sometimes, he finds himself just hanging out with Sam when he isn’t being an absolute menace and thinks “why can’t we be like this all the time?” but he knows the answer. It’s all just wishful thinking. It’s better to just leave.

Coolment: Coolment, from the little I’ve seen of him, reminds me a lot of both Grian and Taurtis (which I could write a whole essay about, Sam’s new best friend being a mix of his old ones is just peak material). He likes Sam in a way he can’t really describe, but he just wants to do everything in his power to make Sam happy. He follows him everywhere, always helping him with his antics, no matter what they are, just to see him smile. His therapist has 100% told him that he shouldn’t be doing that but he thinks seeing that smile is more beneficial to his mental health than anything else ever could be. He doesn’t want to date Sam, he doesn’t even think about that being a possibility, because he’s certain Sam views him as below himself, so there’s no way there could ever be anything between them. Sometimes Sam kisses him, or acts in a loving way towards him, but he can tell Sam’s doing it because he misses someone else, he’s thinking about that other someone the whole way through. (I do think Sam has feelings for Coolment as well, but oughhh my polytrio angst,, he misses them and uses Coolment as a replacement :(( ). But he doesn’t really care. He’ll take what he can get. Just as long as Sam is happy.

Owl: Owl, I think, is the only one that doesn’t really have a chance with Sam (bro’s totally gay, you cannot convince me otherwise). She knows this and she doesn’t really care. The one thing that makes her the happiest is the fact that Sam is very comfortable around her, being vulnerable in a way he isn’t around others. He loves angrily ranting about his problems and making them everyone else’s problems, but when there’s something that’s truly eating away at him, something that he doesn’t want to tell anyone else, he goes to Owl, and she listens to him and she comforts him and she never tries to come up with solutions for the problems because she knows that’s not what Sam needs. If he’s there, it’s because he’s already thought about everything he could do and has come up empty handed, and feels like he just can’t get out of this situation so he goes to the one person he knows will always let him cry on her shoulder while she holds him close and reassures him that, not matter what he’s going through, she’ll always be there for him. She takes pride in that, even if no one else even knows he does that. She wants to help him as much as she can, she wants him to get better. She knows he’s never going to go to a therapist, so she tries to be his therapist the best she can. The very few times Sam is actually sweet to her, acting gently and trying to be as kind as possible, she almost feels like crying. She knows that’s hard for him, she knows he’s making an effort to act like that just for her. She might’ve cried happy tears once or twice because of that. I imagine at some point Sam tried to help her preen her wings (which he knows how to do because of Grian, but of course, he doesn’t tell her that) and she was scared at first because her wings are very delicate and, with how much of a brute Sam could be at times, she thought she was gonna end up in pain, but he was very gentle, and she felt the closest to him she’s ever felt in that moment. And still, she keeps quiet about her feelings, because she knows they could never amount to anything. It’s still a nice thought tho.

I yapped more than I thought I would. I might make a part two talking about other characters that, either canonically or just my own headcanon, also had feelings for Sam (Yuki, Invader, Dom…), but for now this is all you get.

[why-am-i-simping-for-a-train]

Hi sorry if this is weird but you seem pretty cool and almost nobody likes StEx AND The Lost Boys and that automatically makes you really cool-

Anyways I gotta ask, what are your thoughts on the upcoming Lost Boys musical?

Oh boy do I have so many so I’ll condense the main ones into a short-ish post

I’m actually realy excited for it for three reasons.The first is that I love reboots, remakes, retelling, i just love seeing other peoples interpretations of a peice of work. And number two, I’m a huge music nerd. And honestly most of my excitement for this musical is for the music. Like even if everything else sucks, I am very excited for the actually songs and score. The third is that it’s been reported that they’re going to use vampirism to explore “sexual awakening, and identity experimentation” so I am very excited to see how they handle that.

And I am just hoping and praying with all my heart to see Star be an actual active charcter..Dear god i love her to death but she is basically a cardboard cutout in the film.

And if Dwayne doesn’t have the entire flag of the Soviet Union just chilling in his back pocket. I’m walking out.

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

Alright, I’ve avoided talking about this design for long enough.

This design sucks, but not for the reasons you think.

Allow me to explain.

People rightfully give Viv shit for having every character be super skinny, so Mammon’s design should be a breath of fresh air right?

Wrong, his design sucks because Viv played it too safe.

I get that it’s hard to design a greedy character, because you don’t wanna accidentally come off as antisemitic or fat phobic, but everything about Mammon’s design is just lazy.

It feels like it was designed by committee, or ChatGPT.

“He’s super greedy, so he’s gotta be overweight and his outfit has to be green because that’s the color of money.”

Yes, I’m sick and tired of Viv’s “Super skinny gay twink.” character aesthetic, but wouldn’t it have made more sense for Mammon to be a handsome tech bro?

Think Mark Beaks from the Ducktales reboot or Ivo from My Adventures With Superman, just a pompous asshole who cares more about making money than anything else.

But a character like that would require Viv and the rest of her team to put in some actual effort when it comes to the writing/world building, and fuck knows they’re incapable of doing that.

[myehm228]

Sorry if you've answered this before, but why do you hate the reboot so much?

well, actually, I’ve already talked about this several times here

I hate him because it ruined everything for me. I’ve been in the fandom for quite a long time and it’s not just a fandom, it’s already become my home, it’s one of the few things that makes me happy, that can bring me good emotions, I had it during the terrible periods of my life, I’m very close to the show and the characters, I love this very much, I can’t take it any simpler, I just can’t. I built so many things, I had so many ideas, I thought about the holes in the plot and in the lore, about the characters, about what could have happened before and after the canon, taking into account almost everything that was said in the canon, I really tried to do everything logically and as best as possible. and now that this has come out, everything I’ve done all these years has become worthless in an instant, I don’t know what to do now. previously, no one cared much about my ideas and creativity either, it was almost of no interest to anyone, and now even more so. people only like the reboot, they don’t like anything else, they don’t always like the original either. I don’t like it, I don’t want it this way, and it’s everywhere, I can’t even hide from it, it’ll get me everywhere, everywhere they will shove it at me, everywhere they will equate my headcanons to a reboot, everywhere they will call my designs peri and irep, and they will be surprised that I use the original canon, wow. I can isolate myself from artists or writers that I don’t like, but I can’t with this, it makes me sick, I want to bang my head against the walls.

and in general, the reboot itself is pretty mediocre, let's be honest. it may not be downright terrible, but it’s pretty boring and mediocre, and it’s only being singled out for its beautiful graphics (and even then, computer animation doesn’t suit the style and it looks bad). if it weren’t for all this, I simply wouldn’t care, but I really don’t understand how people can lick this so passionately, and also say that this is a masterpiece and much better than the original, well, excuse me of course. they forgot about the canon, if you are making a direct sequel in the same universe, as reboot are very fond of repeating all the time, then can you at least, I don’t know, normally review the original cartoon? seriously, there's a change in how Cosmo and Wanda met, well guys, I wanted to cry. it feels like everyone who created this didn’t watch anything other than season 9 and half of season 1 (and then only with one eye and background), otherwise I don’t know how to explain these huge holes and illogicality. and the fans are also good, they’re sitting there, they haven’t even watched the show and are already proving something to others and doing something, well, are you serious or what. how many fans of the reboot will cry if I say that fairies canonically cannot have children not from fairies, but how can that be, but what about the children of perirep оh how did it happen🥺🥺🥺 and the fact that Cosmo and Wanda should be fairies of Timmy's children and not on some vacation and with Hazel, because it corresponds to the time, well, who cares about stupid original. and this is not an isolated case.

and also, simply because I didn’t like the reboot (at that time I didn’t hate it yet, I just didn’t love it), so much shit was thrown at me than I had ever seen in my entire stay in the fandom. I was called a racist simply because I don’t like Hazel and I think that she’s not an interesting character, well, because after all, we know that everyone who doesn’t like the reboot is racist, really, yes yes, that's the truth. and also in response to criticism of the reboot, they told me to grow up, touch the grass and that I’m toxic, oh how cool, and after that it��s me who’s bad, it’s me who needs to be cancelled, I DARE NOT TO LOVE A N*W W*SH OMG, that’s how it works yes.

I have enough reasons not to like the reboot and its fans, especially after what happened to me. I really feel bad watching this, it ruined my whole summer, it was terrible, it was so terrible, if they release a season 2, I don’t know how I’ll live, I don’t think I can stand it. I don’t want, I don’t want to see this, I want the fandom to die again, I feel bad, it’s killing me from the inside.

ой достали меня эти омерекосы все вам объяснять надо😑😑

[bugeyedfreaks]

While I would be interested in a darker reboot of the PPG, I think it would be more on the level of Mystery Incorporated or Batman the Animated Series (dark but ultimately uplifting). Where exactly is the idea that the series should go into Grimdark coming from? Is it just edgy teenagers, or is it from older fans forgetting all the silly stuff?

Mystery Incorporated, yes. Possible! It definitely still had an undercurrent of humor. BtAS… I dunno, that’s skewing too serious for my own tastes in most cases.

From my own experience, I usually (though not exclusively) see calls for excessive gore or ultra dark content from what I like to call The Internet Edgelords. They are annoying and span young and old alike. 😆 Despite that, I mean, they can obviously like the show and everything, and enjoy the gorier/darker aspects of it. One of the things that I truly love about the show is the fact that it was essentially made for everyone regardless of age/gender/whatever else, but there are multiple things that make it good! It’s a super funny show with heart and humor that also happens to very occasionally have a lot of very cool action sequences and intense fights in it.

But it’s interesting that, for every person who claims that the show was made “for the girls” and want to erase most of the violence from it, there are fans who claim it’s solely “for the boys” and, therefore, must be stripped of anything that could be heartfelt or silly and should just be bloody fights 24/7. There isn’t anything wrong with loving all the cool fights in the show (because, hey, I love them too!) but it’s like the inverse of people reducing the show to be about little girls who very rarely use their superpowers: in this case, they’re seen as superheroes who very rarely act like the little girls they are.

…sometimes it feels like that almost translates to some of these people like “superheroes who are soulless killing machines and just so happen to be trapped in little girl bodies…” 😬

[storygirl000]

okay genuinely what is with some of the complaints for mh g3 because at this point it just sounds like y’all hate it for existing and nothing else.

"ewwww the outfits are so ugly!!" gee, it’s almost like popular fashion trends have changed over the years. there’s a difference between "this outfit is ugly" and "i greatly dislike this outfit"; i personally think a lot of the outfits look pretty cool, but i’m not gonna default to calling the ones i don’t like "ugly" just because i don’t like the style.

"everyone’s personality has changed for the worse!!" because it’s a reboot of the franchise; of course they’re gonna change things to keep things "fresh". besides, i honestly think the personality changes got me more invested in certain characters compared to g1 – frankie and lagoona in particular are characters i didn’t care all that much about in g1, but i’ve loved their g3 characterizations so far.

"it’s racist because they toned down clawdeen’s blackness!!" i am admittedly as white as can be so i don’t know how well i can comment on this, but i feel like people who use this argument have a tendency to sound more bigoted than they claim mattel is. i have both g1 and g3 clawdeen dolls; they have pretty much the exact same skin tone, so that complaint only really applies to the live-action movie. the arguments about her personality being "less black" sound like they’re turning into "clawdeen is less of a sassy black woman stereotype and i hate that". and all the complaints about her being mixed race (and thus "less black") now just sound bigoted against actual afro-latina people. and that’s without getting into how this old argument keeps being used while they ignore that there’s a wider degree of racial diversity in the line, that clawdeen actually has a black va now (light-skinned black, sure, but still an improvement over having a white va do a "black" voice), and that some of y’all made fun of the new venus for looking different when they gave her implicitly black facial features.

and on that note, "you’re just sucking mattel’s dick and ignoring everything bad because there’s more diversity now!!" so people aren’t allowed to be happy that they’re being properly represented in their favorite doll line now? so plus-sized people aren’t allowed to be happy about plus-sized catty? so south asian people can’t be happy that abbey is now properly south asian-coded instead of weirdly russian? so i can’t be happy that one of the characters is explicitly autistic? sure, a story should have more than good diversity if it wants to be truly good, but every time i see this complaint get brought up it’s phrased like we shouldn’t be happy about the increased diversity at all.

"this is just as bad as g2!! why don’t you hate it like g2?!" because it’s not like g2 at all. g2 suffered from a combination of budget cuts that led to cheaper doll designs and marketing unsure of whether or not it was connected to the original g1 continuity; g3, while not perfect, definitely has a better budget and marketers who’ve learned from their mistakes and made it more clear that this is a full reboot.

and all of these complaints seem to carry an undercurrent of "g3 is the only option available and it’s bad" which...just isn’t true. g1 fans still have stuff like the boo-riginal creeproductions, the reel drama dolls, and so many special dolls that hearken back to g1 aesthetics and designs. mattel’s still paying attention to them.

tl;dr stop using increasingly flimsy arguments to justify complaining about people liking something.

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 21 - Vows

Warnings: nil

Word Count: 1k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint and Natasha try and write their vows

A/N: a short one today. This is a lead up to the endgame, so whilst the surface is quite fluffy, know it’s a lead up. Ty again to everyone who’s been following the story each day, liking and commenting. It makes the whumptober marathon easier. <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

No, Clint thinks. I don’t want to.

He’s never been one for displays of emotions and he’s not one to start now.

It feels too vulnerable, even amongst those he knows and loves. Selfishly, he feels those emotions are only for Natasha.

“No,” Clint says, out loud this time.

Natasha shrugs.

“Fine by me,” she agrees.

Pepper groans.

Maria sighs, heavily.

“You’re still going to marry us right?” Natasha asks Maria.

The only one of their friends with a celebrant license, Maria had agreed immediately.

When asked why she had one, she had shrugged, commented about a mission in Arkansas and not elaborated.

“Without vows?” Maria asks, “I just think you should do it. Say something in front of everyone that commits you both.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, the movement exaggerated.

“Yeah, cause that’s what we are known for, deep expressions of emotions in front of each other.”

Pepper looks at both of them. Looking like a disappointed teacher, she peers over her glasses.

“You’ve sorted the venue, and everything else, why not just write something down? You don’t have to share it with us, maybe just with each other. And then what about choosing one line each to say?”

“How long is this going to go for?” Clint asks, looking to the door.

Natasha kicks him under the table.

“I don’t mean this, here, I mean the wedding? Like how long do these things go for?”

Maria smirks, “the way you two have set it? Maybe like twenty minutes in ceremony and the rest as requested will be at the beach.”

Clint nods.

“Twenty minutes? You’re sure?”

Maria holds the papers and goes through the things she has to say, Natasha changing some of the wording for commitments and religion and Clint nods along.

“Now this is the part you say vows, something; anything, to each other.”

Handing them both pen and paper she finds in the desk, Pepper frowns.

“Go write, find a sentence each, talk to each other about it and then come back and tell us. We’ve got everything else sorted, okay?”

Maria calls after them, “it might be the week before Christmas but it’s also the week before your wedding,” she reminds them.

Clint follows Natasha into the elevator.

“This was a bad idea,” he groans.

“We just needed one of them and now, everyone is coming here for Christmas, so we can all go together.”

Natasha agrees silently, in two minds about just how difficult this would be.

She loves her friends, loves that they’re around, but hates the fact they all have opinions on how things should go and how things should be.

The vows, just seemed another tradition that they didn’t want to participate in.

Clint steps out, and grabs her hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, “grab a bag and things you need. We’ll come back for Christmas Eve and to meet with Yelena and Gus when they get here, but let’s go.”

Natasha kisses him, almost runs into the room and grabs a bag.

“Five minutes,” she calls.

He nods, not answering, gathering his phone charger, and a hoodie, stuffing them into a bag.

“Jarvis, if you tell the others, I will give the tower an EMP and make you reboot from the bottom up,” he threatens.

There’s no response.

Ready, Clint finds Natasha with her backpack on, hair in a braid and a grin on her face.

“Let’s go,” she smiles.

.

Natasha opens the widow, airing the apartment out. Since staying at the tower, her apartment was empty, and despite the amenities and ease of the tower, she feels herself in her own place.

Clint sticks his head out and holds up his phone.

“I’m just ordering Chinese, what do you want?”

Natasha sits on the couch.

“Just some dumplings - the ones I like.”

Clint disappears again and she hears him ordering so much food.

The pencil and paper that Pepper had handed to them taunts her and she picks it up, wandering after Clint.

“Fifteen minutes,” he tells her, setting an alarm on his phone, “then we can get it.”

He sits at the kitchen bench and sees the paper in her hand.

“No,” he whines, “don’t tell me you’re listening to them.”

She shrugs, “I know it’s stupid, but maybe it is a line we need.”

He takes the pen off her.

“Google it,” he laughs.

She laughs too, opening her phone and looking at what the results.

“No…” she groans, “look at this - ‘I never knew that life could be a dream until I met you.’”

He laughs, “it’s true though, right?”

She scrolls further.

“This is stupid.”

Clint passes her the keys for her motor bike.

“Let’s eat and then talk about it?”

She nods.

.

Her bed is cold, but Clint is warm.

“We didn’t do it,” she mutters, sticking her cold feet into his legs.

He squeals and pushes her.

“Whyyyy? I was warm,” he groans.

“Fine,” he says, “give me one thing you love about me,” he challenges.

She thinks.

“You inspire me to be better,” she says on a whim.

He freezes, hearing the weight of her words.

Natasha feels the tension and her face goes red.

“Your turn,” she mutters.

“You taught me the meaning of brave,” he says quietly.

It’s the truth in their words that fall heavily on each of them.

“I love you,” Clint says, turning to her, “whatever that means to both of us.”

She turns to face him too.

“I love you too.”

“Do we say that in front of our friends?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think so,” he replies, “maybe we can just say ‘I do’.”

Natasha nods, “I’ll think of something.”

He kisses her and turns back around.

“Night Nat,” he says quietly, both their thoughts loud.

.

A large boom wakes them, an aftershock earthquake pulses through the city, and Natasha is immediately on her feet.

“What was that?” Clint asks, alert, his gun in hand next to her.

“The tower,” she says, uncharacteristic fear in her voice, “someone’s blown up the Avenger’s Tower.”

.