#like do you see how this doesn't make sense????

[spicy-apple-pie]

Swearing is weird in Wayne Manor. Especially before Jason dies.

Alfred was taught that swearing is impolite and implies that you have a small vocabulary or are dumb. So when he’s in charge of Bruce he, of course, applies those same principles. Once Bruce hits the age where he knows what swears are and how to use him, he introduces a swear jar. Which he thinks is very lenient because he used to get a wooden spoon to the butt at Bruce’s age. Bruce, being a tween, is pretty upset with this, but accepts it as he grows older.

Fast forward and Dick is adopted. Dick’s parents (and the circus in general) swore like sailors, so they didn’t really see the need to limit his use when it’s just them. But when interacting with children, they teach him not to use those words. When he asks why, they shrug and say that some times people don’t like those words, and you can’t tell who’s okay with it and who’s not. So make sure you use those words when you’re with someone who is comfortable with them.

And Dick thinks to himself how much it would suck to have to watch your language with someone 24/7.

Cut to Alfred bringing the swear jar back because Dick is swearing too much for his taste. And Dick is pissed. Because he wants to say whatever he wants, and his parents always let him swear. Alfred allows him a little grace, but for the most part, he will ask that Dick put a dollar in the jar for anything worse than crap or hell.

But Bruce remembers how frustrating it was, so he lets Dick swear as much as he wants when Alfred wasn't around. Even though the swear jar isn't for him, he still doesn't want to risk Alfred going off on him. So long as Dick isn't swearing in school or in front of Alfred, he can say whatever he wants.

But Jason is another story. Because Jason swears in almost every sentence, but the swear jar gives him massive anxiety because of his financial insecurity. Alfred tries to get creative and assigns chores for Jason to do. But Jason is like, not too upset by the idea of taking the trash out, or vacuuming. Until he realizes that it takes time away from his reading. But since Dick is an adult now, Alfred has no say in what kind of language he uses, so he's swearing more often. So eventually Alfred gives up but still doesn't approve.

After Jason dies, all sense of normal is thrown out the window. And with Tim and Cassandra, it's hard to discipline them for different reasons. Tim technically isn't Bruce's child, so it feels a little weird to impose a swear jar on him. Luckily, Tim doesn't swear too much to begin with, because when he was little is mom and a few nannies would wash his mouth out with soap when he swore. Alfred is not happy when he hears that, but again, not Bruce's kid. Cass is just learning to talk with them so she doesn't know a lot of swears. When she does learn them, Alfred really can't get made because it just shows him how much progress she's made.

So thanks to Tim and Cass, swearing in the manor is free reign. Dick and Jason are a little jealous of their sibings that didn't have to get lectures about swearing tho...

[cordycepsfem]

I'm not preaching, which is what you seem to be doing with your appeals to emotion. I told you there are sources out there to find and they're all perfectly accessible. Khelif, like all people with DSDs, is not related to trans issues at all, so I don't really see much point in continuing with that avenue of conversation. It seems to mean a lot to you, so please by all means go find the sources that you're demanding I find for you.

If people didn't have it out for trans gals, why is the worry about getting estrogen an issue? Why is getting puberty blockers an issue?

"Trans gals." Yuck. You sound like a 45-year-old autogynephile.

Maybe there's a worry about getting estrogen because people tend to catastrophize. Or because men (and women) don't actually need to take cross-sex hormones, because it's not proven to help gender dysphoria or accompanying mental health conditions.

Maybe getting prostate cancer drugs - aka "puberty blockers" - is an issue because children should not have their puberty blocked, lest they end up with osteoporosis, emotional and mental stunting, and under-grown sex organs, an inability to ever orgasm, and further mental health issues not cured by the magical drugs shilled by gender clinics.

But that might just be me.

Gender doesn't mean ANYTHING in the purely literal sense.

Great, so why are you trans?

It's some idiotic concept someone came up with eons ago. But then why should you care how people identify within that social construct?

I see my thoughts about selfish and uncaring people taking away spaces and rights from women and girls made 0 impact on you. Unsurprising.

Gender is not something "someone came up with." It is a societal structure that has always benefited male individuals and left female individuals oppressed. Because of gender, women are thought to be weaker, dumber, less deserving of education, unable to own property or have their own money, get jobs, or even in some places, unable to be around males without wearing full-body coverings.

I don't care how people "identify," because I know that "identify" means "isn't." If you have to tell me you "identify" as a woman, okay, great. What are you identifying with? Which woman are you identifying with? Women are adult female humans, and while we're all different, the one thing we all have in common is being female. So what exactly is there to "identify" with?

You're right. Gender was (possibly, I haven't done enough research to verify) created to keep women down. That's despicable.

Yes, you're very definitely 14.

And now gender is "despicable" - great, so why are you trans? Seems weird to want to play directly into the hands of a social construct that oppresses women and was literally just described as you by "despicable."

And if you stand with us, you can help make sure that someday, gender means nothing more political or oppressive than a name, or a haircut. Or you can stand against us, and reinforce the idea that gender is the measure of someone's worth. Someone born a girl, in the truest sense, isn't any less of a person than a boy and doesn't have any less potential. So then why should someone born a boy not be able to stand with her sisters and try and make the world a better place, one voice at a time? Birth conditions isn't what makes a person. It's what comes after.

Radical feminists believe that gender is immaterial, because biological sex is how women are oppressed. Women can have any haircut or any name - being female is how "gender" oppresses. I don't believe gender has any worth. I don't believe in it.

Someone born a girl "in the truest sense" doesn't have any less potential than a boy, but around the world that girl is more likely to be aborted before she's born, left to die once she's born, have her genitals mutilated, married off to an adult male, never learn to read, die in childbirth, have to avoid males while she menstruates, face rape and domestic violence, and have her rights voted away by males. So no, it's not anyone's "gender" that determines their potential - it is oppression on the axis of sex.

Birth is literally what makes a person. I know you thought you killed it with that line, but you literally need to be born to be a person.

So Miss @cordycepsfem, please stand with your fellow sisters, cis AND trans, and help us make the world a more livable place for an woman. I believe in you.

Males aren't my sisters. You want to go all out for trans rights - have a ball. Fix everything for trans people. It's noble and you'll definitely have my support.

But it's not women's job to make the world more palatable for males of any kind. Feminism is not the "all rights matter" movement. It is for women and girls, and it will be the means by which the world is made safer for them.

"Trans women are actually women for real, not in a metaphorical sense, not in a "anyone can be anything" sense, but genuinely actually make more taxonomic sense to classify in the category of women than any other group" is a position you'll find is pretty radical even in queer spaces

[libraryofgage]

so i wrote this yesterday and now it's become a whole thing

basically: Steve is actually smart but nobody realized it until he just fixes their various STEM related problems

anyway this is Eddie's very first experience with how smart Steve Harrington actually is

also please don't call me out if my physics explanations are wrong. just suspend your disbelief, i'm begging you lmao

also also, if you see any typos, no you didn't

---

"You're going to fail my class, Munson."

"Gee, no need to sugarcoat it," Eddie mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding Miss Chester's gaze. His eyes land on one of the posters behind her desk, a cat hanging off a tree branch. Maybe it would like to trade places.

Miss Chester sighs, looking pointedly at the desk closest to hers. She waits until Eddie sits on it, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm serious," she says. "You're going to fail, Eddie. I don't want you to, but there's just some...disconnect happening here."

He appreciates that she's not totally blaming him. Most of Eddie's other teachers would've been berating him for his laziness by now. This, among other things, is why Eddie likes her class even if he can't wrap his head around physics at all. "I don't know, Miss. It just doesn't make sense."

"So I'm noticing." Miss Chester leans back in her chair, her finger tapping against her desk. Eddie immediately recognizes it as the drum beat from a KISS song. "You know you'll probably be held back if you fail, right?"

"Not the first time."

Miss Chester waves off his words, looking deep in thought. "What do you think about tutoring? I think you'll do better in a one-on-one setting. If you understand the concepts better, I can start grading you based on the work you do with the tutor."

"It wouldn't be you?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly. He's not sure he wants some random geek tutoring him. Not that he has anything against geeks, of course, but he's never known one to talk in a way he can understand. They get all...technical and Eddie's eyes glaze over whenever he overhears their conversations.

"No, I don't have the time. But don't worry," Miss Chester says, smiling reassuringly before pulling her roster close and looking down the list. "The student I have in mind probably knows more than me, if I'm being honest. He should be able to answer any question you have."

"What student?"

"His name is Steve."

Of course, Eddie immediately thinks of that Steve. King Steve. Steve "The Hair" Harrington with his blinding smile that's always looked a little strained in Eddie's opinion.

He then dismisses Steve Harrington as a possibility and reviews the other kids named Steve at Hawkins High. There's Steve Paulson, Steve Meyers, and Steve Barns. Maybe it's Barns? He's the only one that Eddie could imagine being somewhat good at physics.

"Are you open to tutoring?" Miss Chester asks. "For one session, at least?"

"Yeah, sure, one session. Won't help, though."

Miss Chester smiles like she knows something Eddie doesn't. Which, to be fair, she does. She knows a lot more than Eddie in terms of physics, at least. "I'll set it up. Just come by tomorrow after school."

--------

On his first day at Hawkins High, Steve realized two things.

One, his parents weren't kidding when they'd said public school would be vastly different from the private group tutoring he'd received up to that point.

Two, if he wanted to have a good high school experience, he needed to be cool. And being cool, it seemed, meant not being smart. He didn't need to be dumb, but he couldn't breeze through his classes, either.

He's done a good job of it so far. He's bored beyond reason in most of his classes, sure, but he's also popular. Nobody bothers him or tries to copy off of him, and it's great. He can even swallow down the weird surge of frustration and annoyance and guilt whenever his classmates assume he's too dumb to be a good project partner, or when his parents ask why he isn't enrolled in AP classes, or when his teachers give him confused looks after he aces tests for a unit he seemingly didn't pay attention to.

Anyway, he almost rejected Miss Chester's request to tutor a student from a different class period. He was just about to say he didn't have the time when she leveled him with a look so profoundly hopeful that he just couldn't. So, Steve said yes and now he's hesitating outside the physics classroom.

What if the student inside uses this against him? Steve thinks he could play it off, maybe convince his friends that the kid is lying, but he's not sure. Nothing dire would happen, but Steve would have to reorient himself to a new place on the social ladder, and that sounds exhausting.

"Just get it over with," he mumbles. Then, before he can chicken out and just leave the other student hanging, he opens the door and steps into the classroom.

Miss Chester isn't there. Steve knew she wouldn't be. She'd said something about a department meeting that would take her time but leave them with the classroom to themselves.

The only other person in the room is Eddie Munson, bent over a notebook and furiously scribbling on the page. He looks up when the door opens and freezes at the sight of Steve. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eddie breaks the silence by asking, "What, get lost on your way to the locker room, Harrington?"

Steve blinks, frowns slightly, and takes a deep breath. Okay. Fine. Eddie Munson it is. "Nope. Miss Chester asked me to tutor you," he says, because that's the only reason another student would be in this room after school has let out.

Eddie laughs. He nearly falls out of his chair with how hard he laughs. He's wheezing and clutching the edges of the desk by the time Steve moves another desk to face him and sits down across from him. "Are you done, Munson?" he asks.

"Holy shit, you're serious," Eddie says, his voice slightly strained and his face red from laughing. "No fucking way Steve Harrington is here to tutor me in physics. You probably don't even know what two plus two is!"

"It's four. Do you know what 12 times 40 is?" Steve asks, watching as Eddie blinks.

"I'm not a fucking calculator, man."

"No, you're not. It's 480, by the way."

"You could've just memorized that."

Steve sighs and reaches into his bag, digging around some before pulling a calculator out. He places it on Eddie's desk and says, "Ask me something."

Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head but still pulls the calculator closer. "1,239 plus 378."

"1,617."

He watches Eddie use the calculator, feeling smug when his face twists into confused disbelief. He then puts the calculator down and frowns at Steve. "So you can add, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can teach me shit about physics."

"Won't know until we try," Steve says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his palm. "So, what don't you get?"

"...All of it. Just assume I don't know shit."

"You don't know Newton's laws?"

Eddie snorts, looking back down at his notebook. "There's that motion one and the reaction one," he says.

"Right. Newton's first law and his third. What about the second?"

"It's just...some equation or some shit."

Okay, Steve is starting to get an idea of where things stand. He thinks for a moment before asking, "What kind of stuff do you like?"

"What?"

"What do you like?"

Eddie looks so shocked by the question that he doesn't really think before answering, "Heavy metal. And, uh, D&D, too."

Steve knows heavy metal is music, and he could work with that but the D&D Eddie mentioned might be better. "What does it involve? The D&D?"

"It's a fantasy role playing game. Like, using your imagination to go on adventures with friends and stuff. Needs dice to work."

Oh. Perfect. "Do you have dice with you?" Steve asks. After another brief pause, Eddie nods and pulls one out of his pocket. He passes it over and watches as Steve turns it between his fingers. "Oh, an icosahedron. Cool."

"A what?"

"Icosahedron," Steve says, looking at Eddie. "It just means a twenty-sided polyhedron."

Eddie still looks confused, and Steve is about to explain it again when Eddie says, "Just call it a D20, dude."

"Oh. Sure. Anyway, let's use this," Steve says, rolling it between his fingers before letting it clatter to the desk. It bounces a few times before settling, a 17 facing up. "Do you know what made it stop moving?"

"The desk. I'm not an idiot, Harrington."

"I didn't say you were, Munson," Steve replies, leaning back slightly. "Just...yes, the desk stopped it. This is Newton's first law. If the desk wasn't there, it would have kept falling until it hit the floor. It stopped bouncing because it lost power each time it hit the desk. An object, the D20, will stay in motion, falling, unless acted upon by another force, the desk."

"That...kinda made sense," Eddie says, blinking a few times.

"Great!" Steve says, unable to help the bright smile at knowing Eddie understood him. "Okay, for the second law, the equation is mass times acceleration equals force. Basically, the movement of an object depends on how much it weighs and how much force you apply."

"Aaaand ya lost me," Eddie says.

"Okay, uh, you fight things in that game, right?"

"Yeah, kind of the whole point."

"Right, yeah, and the stuff you fight comes in different sizes, right?"

"Well, an orc isn't gonna be as big as a dragon, is it?"

Steve isn't really sure what an orc is, but he nods anyway. "Right. So if you want to move a dragon, you need to land a stronger hit than you would need for an orc."

"Duh. You're not gonna fell a dragon with a basic cantrip."

"Not sure what that is, but yeah. For this example, moving, or defeating, an object, or a dragon that weighs more than an orc, relies on how much force you apply, which is the strength you use."

"Oh. So, because an orc weighs less, I don't need as much force to defeat it," Eddie says, grinning as he fidgets with his pencil. "This doesn't really sound like math, though."

Steve shrugs. "We'll get to the math part later. Right now is basics. You need to understand those to do more complicated stuff. So, the third law, this is the action-reaction law. Music might be better for it. What happens when you strum a guitar?"

"It...makes a sound. Because it's an instrument."

"Well, yeah, but do you understand how the sound is being made."

"By...strumming it?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. Sounds are vibrations in the air that we can understand. If you touch your throat while talking, you'll feel your voice box, your larynx, vibrate to make the sound of you talking."

He waits as Eddie does exactly that. While holding his fingers to his throat, Eddie says, "Didn't know it was called a larynx. Oh, fuck, yeah, there are vibrations."

Steve nods, waiting patiently as Eddie hums for a few minutes before looking back at him. "So, vibrations. Instruments make sound because playing them causes vibrations. When you strum a guitar, the strings rapidly move back and forth, and that movement is translated into notes."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm following you."

"So, the action of strumming a guitar creates the reaction of the strings vibrating. That action of the strings vibrating creates the reaction of air rippling, and those ripples create the reaction of audible noise. Did that make sense?"

"Yeah. It did," Eddie says, his voice soft as he stares at Steve like he's really seeing him for the first time.

Steve shifts uncomfortably, unused to this aspect of himself being known so well by someone at school. He's almost tempted to end things now and apologize to Miss Chester for walking out halfway through a tutoring session. Steve is practicing the apology in his head when Eddie says, "Hey, by the way, sorry for earlier."

"What?" Steve asks, trying to blink away his confusion and failing.

"You know, earlier, when I laughed at you? Pretty shitty of me to do. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve stares at Eddie for a few seconds before his shoulders relax. "It's fine. I'm not exactly known for being smart."

"Why not?"

"It's just...easier to let people think I'm dumb. Most of our classmates look at me and think I'm just, you know, a typical jock. They don't expect more from me than that, and I don't expect them to look any deeper."

"Does anyone else know, though?"

"My parents and the teachers. And you."

"Well, don't worry, big boy. Your secret's safe with me."

"Big boy?"

"Don't like it? Would you prefer Stevie?" Eddie asks, grinning as he leans in and exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve can't help snorting at the sight. "Whatever. Just call me what you want, Eddie," he says.

He tries to ignore the weird swooping in his stomach when Eddie's smile gets wider and he says, "You better not regret it, Stevie."

[yuukirita]

With how the high guard is with baby bee… what do you think is their first reaction to meeting the sparkling? While Orion pax, D-16 and elita were knocked out??

Cause like Shockwave said, they didn’t knock out a sparkling and… I was wondering how it all went down with baby bee and the high guard

(hi! … do you want a sunflower? 🌻 or.. a different plant?)

"Is that a-" Shockwave sputters out as Soundwhave nods in both concerned and wonder.

A simple order is given "Don't hurt the sparkling" Didn't even need to be said really. The high guard was a lot of things. Powerful. Scary. Vindictive. Vengeful. Intense. But one thing they also were: protective. Especially of their young. It was part of their duty to protect the future of Cybertron, and that brought a deep sense of care towards sparklings.

They had been cut off from that part of the job for much too long.

The other bots came down easily. Out in a flash. The pink one went down first- they saw as the silver mech react quickly and wrap himself around the sparkling to protect him. Honnorable, but useless.

Sending a sparkling to find them was a sin and fuelled their anger towards Sentinel further than they even believed possible.

"Dee! Wake up!" They heard the small one cry as he wormed his way out of his presumed caretaker's hold to shake his shoulders "Dee! Orion! Elita! Please wake up-" Each plea is like a tear directly into their sparks.

Sorry little one.

They land, quickly. They're surprised to find no fear in the sparkling as they approach- But determination. He puts himself in between his caretakers and them. Ready to fight if needed- and then theres recognition and that hits them even harder.

"You're- You're the Cybertronian High Guard!"

The yellow sparkling gawks at them- then looks at his fallen friends. Conflicted that his apparent heroes just knocked out his best friends.

He doesn't need a lot of reassurance other than 'we won't hurt them' and the sparkling is- well he's adorable and the high guard can't get enough of him. He keeps talking and talking and talking- and asking them for stories and-

They all draw straws to know who gets to hold the sparkling next- but Soundwhave has first pick since he must absolutely give the sparkling a medical check- he doesn't like how malneurished he is but tankfuly he always had energon threats on him.

Still they all get a turn at dotting on him and it feels right. They are warriors but they're also protectors- carers. It's good to be with the very reason you fight for- they also try to get information from the sparkling but... well he doesn't seem to know anything...

The queu is out of the window the moment Starscream sees the sparkling and hogs the baby- of course he does... selfish.

The fun has to end eventually and they try to make B-127 understand they need to look scary and intimidating to interogate his... companions (possible kidnappers- seeing as none of them were his caretaker)

"B-127, you must keep quiet." Starscream can see the kid really does try his best but he can't be quiet for more than a few seconds- endearing but a bit of an obstacle at the moment.

"We can tape his mouth." say Shockwhave... yeah they're not going to do that... weirdo...

"Solution: treat" Soundwhave picks Bee from Starscream and gives him a treat. "Can't talk if his mouth is full." and the kid needs the energon anyway.

[pankowperfection]

His to Keep

Warnings: slightly dark JJ, branding, oral (f receiving), possessive JJ, 18+

A/N: haven't written anything in a while so please be nice. Unedited

You'd hurried to keep up with him as he ran away from the council meeting, the intent to cause some trouble clear in his eyes. You knew you shouldn't leave him alone which is why you found yourself standing idly by, watching in equal parts awe and horror as he took his rage out.

You'd never seen him like this, so reckless and angry. You hated to admit it but a very small part of you was extremely turned on at the sight of him losing control.

After what felt like hours you had finally convinced him to head to your secret hide out, the perfect spot to lay low until the heat died down.

He was pacing back and forth, clearly still extremely upset about what had gone down.

"I am just so sick of this shit y/n. I never get to keep anything, it all always manages to slip right through my fingers."

He still had that wild look in his eyes. Sweat coating his tan skin, hair perfectly messy. He'd honestly never looked sexier.

"That's not true J and you know it," you attempt to reason with him. "Just look. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere."

He gives you a dark chuckle, shadows dancing in his blue eyes in a way that makes him look nothing like the care-free surfer boy you were used to dealing with.

"Right. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before you leave too. Everyone always does."

He turns his back to you, leaning into the window frame and watching for any signs of trouble below. The way his shirt is clinging to his muscular back has your thoughts racing, desperate to find a way to calm him down.

An idea starts to form in the back of your mind, the image of him with the flame from the lighter dancing in his eyes flickering through your head, reminding you of the heat that had flushed through your system while you watched him take his own twisted sense of justice.

"I'm not going anywhere JJ. Let me prove it to you."

You quickly walk over to him, fishing around in his pocket before finding the lighter. You can see the questions dancing through his mind, wondering what you could possibly be up to. You hold it up between the two of you, knowing what you need to do to prove your loyalty.

"Mark me. Brand me with your ring so that everyone knows that I belong to you. That you own me. Permanently."

His pupils dilate, the black almost overtaking the blue as he scans your face for any kind of uncertainty. When he doesn't find any you watch the hunger take over. His lips are on you in an instant, tongue tracing the seam of your lips before demanding entry as he walks you back to the couch.

He quickly comes down on top of you, one hand tangling in your hair to angle your head just how he wants. His mouth leaves a blazing path down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking deep bruises into your skin. You know your panties are ruined, a few kisses from JJ and you could already feel the band tightening in your core.

"Fuck J, feels so good. I need you."

You feel him smirk against your skin, making quick work of your flimsy crop top to continue his handiwork. Each breast gets equal attention, teasing licks and kisses over your nipples before he sucks harshly, bruises forming instantly from the intense pressure. The build up has you babbling nonsense, begging him to please do something.

"Such a good girl f'me y/n," he whispers into your ear, his ringed fingers slowly climbing up the sensitive skin over the inside of your thigh. The cool metal makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading as he starts to slide down your body. Your knees part for him on instinct, hips arching up in search of the friction you desperately need.

He peels your shorts and panties off in one smooth motion, settling onto his knees between your parted legs. His broad shoulders pin you in place, not a single chance of getting away which only makes you wetter. You're unable to look away as his mouth trails up higher and higher, his warm breath tickling your aching pussy.

Without breaking eye contact he slides his signature ring off his finger, holding it with the end of his shirt before holding it in the flame from the lighter. The sight itself is enough to have you clenching around nothing, the warm colors from the flames bathing his tan skin in an orange glow.

"Eyes on me sweetheart," he commands, leaning down to lick an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Your body trembles at the simple touch, bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your pussy.

He wastes no time getting to work, his skilled tongue knowing just how to drive you crazy. The flattened surface of his tongue flicking over your clit has your eyes threatening to roll, legs starting to shake with how close to your release you are already.

At the exact right moment he presses the hot metal into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand joins the mix, two fingers roughly thrusting into you. The pleasure mixed with the pain sends you right over the edge, falling apart with a scream as you watch him brand you.

The way his eyes are glued to his mark on your skin is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. His breathing is almost as ragged as yours, the tent in his shorts a tell tale sign of just how much he enjoyed marking you as his. By the feral look in his eyes you knew the night was far from over, hoping you had enough energy to show him just how devoted you are to being his.

[pink-ivy-vines]

what it honestly feels like they did was take the concept of native rivaini people stealing their culture before the rich andrastian nobles could and then turned that on... every other culture? like, it makes sense that rivaini pirates are stealing their own history before it could become a showpiece for some asshole chantry bootlicker who approved of the dairsmuid circle being annulled in 9:40 dragon. and it makes a little bit of sense for the qunari ones because rivain is the only country in thedas that had a peaceful qunari settlement. it does not work with the elven artifacts.

my first playthrough of the game was as a lord of fortune, and i liked it a lot, but there is this really weird disconnect between what taash thinks is happening in the lords and what rook sees in the lords. rook acknowledges that they're thieves. that they steal things. in fact, one of the most interesting moments of the game for me was rook trying to connect to taash through being a lord and taash shutting it down by saying "we're not thieves" and rook saying "UM. yes we are?" then gives a very pointed example about said thievery. because the lords do steal things. sometimes they do it just because it's funny.

but taash doesn't recognize this? or doesn't believe it and sees it through these rose-tinted glasses? with every other faction i've played you're able to connect to the other character from that faction in some way. you chat with them, talk to them, and your shared history comes up often.

that does not happen with a lords of fortune rook. in fact, the only time i've ever actually seen rook uncomfortable is talking about the lords of fortune to taash. because rook tries really hard to connect with them about it and then is clearly shut down at the get-go due to their vastly different viewpoints on what the lords actually do. it's almost as though both of them have wildly different perceptions about what goes on in the lords and this is fascinating and interesting and also never brought up again.

sure, it's hinted at; isabela does not take taash on anything remotely political, doesn't bring them into dragon hoards, and tends to have taash there only for advice on dragons. rook was much more involved in the 'delving into temples and ruins' and has a much closer relationship to isabela than taash does.

some part of me actually thinks that taash's storyline should have been about realizing that the lords aren't exactly the goody-two-shoes that were presented to them. that they do commit crimes and maybe that can be good in some ways (in regards of fighting against the chantry in their country) and bad in others (like stealing and selling elven artifacts).

of course, all this also just exemplifies the problem that you bring up; which is that the lords do have good things that they're doing as well as some bad things. they're in a weird situation where they're fighting to help people, but rivain has been the subject of so many genocides and massacres that they are trying to survive the only way they know how; through piracy.

yet the only person you can talk to in a meaningful way sees them as a weird abstract painting of themselves and when you play as a lord of fortune it still never gets resolved or pointed out. it just becomes more obvious.

I got a party banter between Bellara and Taash about how the Lords of Fortune steal elven artifacts. And then Taash clarifies later that they have a Dalish expert on the team so they can check to make sure the Lords don't sell something culturally important and instead return it to the elves.

Like. I get it. You want the Lords to be fun swashbuckler Disney pirates and Robin Hoods instead of actual pirates who steal and plunder. Because we're only now in Western society realizing that stealing from indigenous groups is, uh, bad. But like. Writing really uninteresting factions for your "dark" fantasy (tho lbr Dragon Age hasn't been dark fantasy since DA2) isn't gonna solve real-world neo-colonialism, ya know? The Lords not stealing priceless elven artifacts and returning them to the elves doesn't signal to me that the Lords are total rascally good guys, it signals to me that BioWare itself is trying really hard to seem morally conscious. "See? We know stealing from other cultures is bad!!!"

And man. Not to be a "political correctness has poisoned media" grifter on main (tbh it's less political correctness itself and more the commodification of real-world activism) but I couldn't help but imagine how this convo would've played out in earlier games, potentially even Inquisition.

You could've so EASILY made this interesting while giving the Lords and Taash and Bellara a lot more depth, while also making it clear that stealing from indigenous groups is wrong.

Just have the Lords, yeah, actually sell those artifacts. But also establish that the Lords take in and help elves from all walks of life. That they free slaves, or collaborate with alienages. Then you could have Taash defend the practice by saying to Bellara that little orphaned elf kids being sold as slaves probably don't give a flying fuck about some artifacts they're never gonna see, but the money from selling those artifacts goes to buying them food. And have Bellara fire back that preserving elven culture is also part of its survival, and that there are Dalish clans that would be willing to pay for them or offer something in return. Or have her say that the Lords are doing charity for the sake of recruitment rather than actual altruism. And then Taash responds that those high and mighty Dalish elves don't do shit to help abandoned city elves, just because those aren't part of their correct elven subculture, and they care more about reclaiming old glory than helping the people that exist here and now.

Then you could have side missions or at least codex entries that describe maybe some Lord recruit being conflicted about what they're doing. Maybe a few of them are collaborating to hijack a deal or steal back an artifact. Have implications that some high-ranking Lords are, in fact, using those artifacts for their own gain, despite claiming otherwise. Have some Lords genuinely trying to help, and believing that gold and trinkets don't matter as much as people's lives, so they sell them in exchange for safety for refugees or slaves or some other helpless group.

But no. Instead it's "hey do you steal from my people?" "nah lmao we have a cultural advisor don't even worry about it" "oh wow so cool and woke of you!" And then that's it. No need for any further discussion. No conflict and no complexity. No bad actors and moral quandaries.

Weh.

[peppermintquartz]

stuck in an elevator

Someone with a sick sense of humor must be writing my life, because a benevolent God sure as hell would never plan this, Tommy thinks in his bitchiest mental tone. Then he snorts. As if anyone would be interested enough to write a single paragraph about him.

The other occupant of the elevator pointedly does not look at him. Evan Buck keeps his tone so neutral, it's almost robotic. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I mean, of all the places in Los Angeles to visit on a day off, we end up at LACMA together. And now we're stuck in the same elevator. What are the odds?" The ludicrously serendipitous nature of this encounter is keeping Tommy from other, less-pleasant thoughts, namely being trapped in a space without a view of the outside world. His pulse is starting to race.

They tried calling 911, but the signal in the elevator was poor. Thankfully the emergency intercom did connect to the museum's operations office, who has contacted emergency services.

"I should've taken the stairs," Tommy grumbles. His skin itches with the need to feel fresh air.

"With that boot on your ankle? Then you're dumber than I thought you were." Evan Buck finally glances over, his blue eyes scanning him from head to toe. "How did you injure yourself anyway?"

"Tripped when I was getting out of the bird," Tommy replies honestly.

Evan Buck scoffs and shakes his head, but his expression softens. "You doing okay otherwise?"

There are so many ways Tommy can answer. He can pretend he is perfectly okay. Somewhat okay. He can claim that he misses Evan Buck, but he wants to be friends, just friends. He can be flippant. Make it funny, keep things superficial.

But this is Evan asking him.

"I miss you like a heartbeat" is what comes out instead. And it's true - Tommy feels like an automaton, moving through time, his routines carrying him along from dawn till dusk.

Entire days going by without a single text from Evan Buck feel empty and pointless. The bedsheets need to be laundered but Tommy doesn't want to lose the final traces of the last time they slept in the same bed. There are books Evan Buck brought over to read when Tommy wants to watch a movie.

And now they are stuck together, in an enclosed metal box, and Tommy is trying not to think about that while also trying not to think about how much he wants to kiss Evan. So he vacillates between a bone-deep phobia and a bone-deep yearning.

"I'm sorry. That was too heavy to lay on you like that." His fingers are clammy where his palms are on the mirrored wall. Licking his lips, he says, "But I don't want to lie to you. Not about anything. But I'm good otherwise, Evan."

"I'm not." Evan inhales deeply and blows out his breath. "I'm... I'm baking every time I think about texting you or calling you. The loft smells like a goddamn bakery. And still, still I can't forget the way you smell, the way you sound, the way you fucking taste. I want - I want so badly - to turn back time, figure out what I said wrong that made you run from me. Maybe I wanna be mad at you. I don't know. But I'm not good, Tommy. I'm not gonna be good for a long time."

"I'm sorry," Tommy begins, but Evan cuts him off.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he snaps, and to Tommy's shame, his eyes well up with tears. "I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want... I want us, together. That's what I want. I don't wanna be good, I don't want you to be sorry, I want us to be happy together, that's all I fucking want!"

The silence that falls between them is thick as concrete.

His hands and feet are cold now, and he thinks he is a little dizzy. Gulping down a breath, Tommy says, "I shouldn't have run. It was... I was afraid. That... that you'd see me and everything I'm not."

This is when Evan sighs and turns to face him. "I should've chased after you. I was afraid too. I moved too fast, I know now. But you running away and ghosting me after was a dick move."

"I guess we both have a lot to work through." Tommy manages a tight smile. He is starting to feel lightheaded, and his breathing is picking up pace despite his best efforts to stay calm and distract himself with Evan's presence. His hands are clammy and he tries to wipe them dry on his jeans. "Evan?"

"Tommy?"

"How long before 911 arrives?" Tommy's mouth is dry. His vision sparks and he is valiantly trying to hold on to his composure, but he feels like he's boiling in his dark blue henley; he needs air, he needs the sky, he needs space to flee-

"Tommy!" Evan is right next to him, keeping him from collapsing and hurting himself. His touch grounds Tommy in the present moment, and his face this close blocks out the sight of the metal coffin they are stuck in. "They'll be here soon, okay? It's all good, they'll be here soon. Breathe for me, come on, inhale , two, three, four; hold, two. three, four..."

Evan talks him through the breathing exercises, holding him up and against himself, all the way even after the elevator lurches back to life and delivers them to the next floor safely.

After he's helped out of the elevator, Tommy wretches and vomits all over the floor, some of the sick getting on Evan's nice shoes.

"Sorry," says Tommy, eyes tearing from the force of the nausea, his big frame trembling.

"They're just shoes," says Evan, soothing a hand along his spine. To the attending paramedic, he says, "He has mild claustrophobia. Not usually a problem, but we were in there a while."

Tommy follows the paramedic - Jefferson - to a bench, accepting a quick look-over. To his surprise, Evan stays with him. Jefferson doesn't see anything wrong other than shock and leaves them with a blanket when another call comes in, about some old man and a broken hip.

Tommy finally recovers after about twenty minutes. He smiles wryly at Evan. "Sorry. You don't have to stick around, there's a lot to see in LACMA."

"Tough luck chasing me off," says Evan. There's a determined set to his jaw.

"Evan, I mean, Buck, surely you have other places to go."

"First of all, I hate hearing you call me Buck. Second of all, I'm not going anywhere. I know exactly what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know what you want."

"Yeah? What do I want?"

"To be my forever," says Evan. He looks Tommy in the eye. "And I know enough about myself and relationships, a-and love, to say that I want you to be my forever too. So. Hah. I'm sticking around. Sucks to be you."

Tommy huffs out an amused and exasperated breath. "Still a brat."

"Yeah? Well, you can either put up with me, or you can do something about it." But there's no hiding the curl of his lips.

[kiemiu]

things matt does that makes you question your friendship | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. unestablished relationship headcanons wc 618 (library) + (request)

best friend!matt who's so attentive to your needs. he's always checking in on you, especially when you're out together. he'll rest his hand on your back before leaning towards your ear to whisper and ask how you're doing. during dinners with friends he'll look over at you and raise his eyebrows in question, waiting for your signal. if you're ever uncomfortable, he has no qualms about gathering all of his things and dragging you away from the chaos. your comfort is always above everything.

best friend!matt who adds love songs to your shared playlist. you both update your joint playlist pretty frequently, sometimes even sending the songs to each other beforehand. matt often will send a song with an attached message like 'this song reminds me of you' or 'i think you'll like this, just added it to our playlist'. you didn't notice it at first but once you started looking at the lyrics of the songs, they always mentioned love, infatuation, unrequited love, and more romantic topics.

best friend!matt who created a nickname for you that only he can use. he gets incredibly upset when someone uses the nickname he gave you, and even more upset if you let them. he made it up and reserved it specifically for you while making it known that you're the only person who has that privilege over him. he'll be giddy if you create your own special nickname for him, and will ignore anyone who addresses him by it if it's not you.

best friend!matt who doesn't correct people when they think you're dating. it's happened plenty of times, the way the two of you cuddle up to each other in public and have animated conversation that only the both of you can hear, anyone with eyes would think the two of you were dating. and whenever someone assumes, before you can interject to deny their claims, matt quickly throws out a 'thank you' with a smile before pulling you away and avoiding your question of why you didn't correct them.

best friend!matt who unknowingly seeks out your approval. after he makes a joke you're the first person he looks at, just waiting to see your smile and hear the familiar sound of your laughter. it always gave him a sense of pride when you paid attention and recognized him, even if it was for something as small as laughing at his crappy jokes.

best friend!matt who takes candid photos of you. it's always when you least expect it, building a lego set in the tranquility of his bedroom and you'll randomly see a flash out of the corner of your eye. at first you used to poke at him about it and beg for him to delete it, but it happens so often now that you can only grow a flustered smile, wondering just why he takes so many pictures of you. not realizing he has a photo album dedicated to just you with a matching wallpaper to prove it.

best friend!matt who can't get you of his head. he's surrounded by you, your face on his homescreen, the last hoodie of his you wore resting on the back of his chair, your hair ties on his nightstand, while one of your favorite childhood tv shows play in the background..he sees you in everything he does and everywhere he goes, and he makes it known. always sending you a small update text when he's thinking about you and sometimes a picture of what exactly reminded him of you. 'watching your show, made me think of u :) ❤️'

best friend!matt who is so utterly obsessed and in love with his best friend.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @chrispleasure

[hellaarknight]

Nsfw drabble with Chuuya and needy Reader. Enjoy. MDNI I had to repost it

Being away from your boyfriend was painful enough. Being away from him for weeks was excruciating. Being away from Chuuya when you were ovulating was the worst.

Honestly, the plane you were on wasn't flying fast enough. Everything was too slow to your liking, the flight attendants, the other passengers who were getting way too long to board. Your mind was filled up with Chuuya and how he was going to wait for you at the airport when landing. You missed him, his kisses, his lips on yours, his hands on your body, his tongue on your cli... Enough, you squeezed your thighs together and tried to distract yourself with something else than Chuuya. You were on your ovulation phase of your menstrual cycle and the only thing you wanted was to feel yourself filled up by your boyfriend. Only thinking about his handsome face made you get wet. It's going to be a long flight.

Once landed, you sprinted up and passed the security checks going right through the arrivals doors. You wanted to see Chuuya, you needed him to fuck you dumb right there. When you saw the ginger waiting for you with a beautiful bouquet of roses, you lost it and threw yourself at him.

"Wow, wow, someone missed me" He chuckled, catching you and leaving the flowers hit the floor. He captured your lips in a deep longing kiss and was pleasantly surprised to notice your hunger for him.

" Chuuya, in the car, now. I don't care where we are going, I need you like two hours ago."

Chuuya raised an eyebrow and looked at you. Your pupils were dilated, cheeks tainted pink and you continued to bite your bottom lip. He asked cautiously, concerned:

" Are you on drugs?"

It took you a few seconds to realize what nonsense he blabbered. You punched him in his chest half angry, half annoyed.

I'm horny, you idiot"

His lips formed a silent Ohh. You both stayed looking at each order for a while until he came to his senses and grabbed your wrist pulling you after him.

"You say it doesn't matter where?" He asked over his shoulder, dragging you through the parking lot towards the car. You nodded frantically. All you needed was him inside your aching cunt.

Chuuya started the car and started driving, exiting the parking lot and going around on the street that gets you to the city, while one hand was rubbing your thighs.

"Chuuu, please, I can't wait until we get home, please."

His eyes concentrated on the road, but his hand moved up under your skirt, painfully close to your core, but way too far at the same time.

"I know, I know, give me two minutes. Fuck. "

You squeezed his hand between your legs and left out a loud moan. You were almost desperate for his touch so you started whining when his hands only caressed your clothed pussy. The car suddenly stops, in a secluded area. Chuuya pushed his chair back, to give you more space so you could get on his lap. You did not wait for an invitation, you just hopped on his lap, raising your skirt up your ass.

"Someone's needy" Chuuya chuckled, touching your cunt through your panties with his gloved hand, the action sending you shivers on your spine and making you moan.

"Shit, doll, you're fucking drenched, did you really miss me that much?"

You just pitifully nodded, rubbing yourself on his hand.

"Please Chuu, please, I need you, I really do, please it hurts."

His gaze softened, and even if he was tempted to play with you a little bit more, to see your pretty face beg for him, to hear your cute whimpers, he couldn't deny you right now. You weren't the one to usually ask him so openly, so he would indulge you this time to give you exactly what you needed. He unbuckled his belt, lowering his dress pants and taking his now hard dick out of his boxer, much to your delight.

"You're sure that you don't want me to prep' you a little more doll? I know you're soaking wet, but…”

You shook your head and kissed him, while positioning yourself over his tip, pushing the panties out of the way. You left yourself slowly sinking in on his cock, making both of you moan. Chuuya squeezed your ass and once you were fully filled up, your pussy clenched around his cock. Chuuya hissed, the sensation of him being inside your walls again being pure beatitude. You only bounced twice before coming undone on him, your body shacking, breath unsteady. You put your head in the crook of his neck, trying to regain control over your body, the orgasms hitting you hard.

Chuuya rubbed your clit slowly, guiding you through your orgasm.

" That's it, good girl. Very good. That was quick, wasn't it? You must've been so lonely without me" He teased, making you blush even more. He kissed your forehead, then raised your face to capture your lips. After a minute of making out, with him still inside you, Chuuya broke the comfortable silence.

"Welcome home, sweetheart. But I hope you know that's not how this day ends" He started thrusting making you welp. "It's my turn to show you how much I've missed you, doll."

[bumblebeem]

But he didn’t recognise Elita-1 when he met her....? “Who is that bot, are they crazy?” or something similar is what he says about her when they meet on the train. I don’t have the movie itself or a script to hand so I'm going off of my memory, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t say anything to suggest they’ve met before.

This is what he says (again, according to my memory, so apologies for any mistakes) about the new shift manager: "We have limited access to the waste management area but the new shift manager there does NOT like distractions. No... No, they prefer we stay here, on the task at hand."

If he had left his work area recently enough to have "met" Elita (even from afar/without speaking to her), he surely should have recognised her on the train, right...? Elita also does not recognise B-127. I'm positive she would have remembered him if they had met and spoken before that point, considering how overly talkative he is - and the way she dismisses him when he introduces himself. If she'd been through that with him before, she wouldn't have been shy about letting him (and the audience!) know, I'm sure.

Whether the new shift manager is actually Elita-1 or not is unknown because she's reassigned to "waste management" (i.e. managing waste). It doesn't necessarily mean she is a manager there, and we also see her alongside other workers loading crates. Is that manager behaviour...? Besides, it makes sense any shift manager in that place would "not like distractions" because one slip-up could bring the Quintessons down on them. The workers there are unknowingly loading those trains with energon (not toxic waste). Even if the shift manager isn't privy to that information, they're probably under pressure from somewhere above to run a tight ship because it would be disastrous if the wrong crates were loaded onto those trains.

As for B-127, I think it's more likely he has overheard somebody else outside of his work area refer to a new shift manager (and the fact they don't like distractions/prefer bots to stay on the task at hand). That could have been as recently as Elita's demotion, or days or weeks ago. For all we know, the shift management position could have a high turnover rate on account of what is actually going on down there. The less bots who know about the energon/toxic waste switch-up, the better for Sentinel, surely.

Anyway, we know Bee didn't speak to anybody because he is pretty clear about his situation: "I just haven't had a lot of company since they put me down here in sublevel 50...", and he states, "sometime between a long time and forever" when Orion asks him how long he has been down there.

My guess is the most company he gets is leaving his designated work station (taking advantage of the "limited access" he has to the waste management area beyond his post), hoping he'll be able to speak to somebody else, only to be immediately redirected.

His emphasis on the "does NOT like distractions" is what is most interesting to me though. Because best case scenario, he's heard those exact words from a couple of bots he's eavesdropped on (desperate for company, but not actually able to participate in the conversation...) and is just regurgitating them verbatim for D-16 and Orion to make it sound like he's clued-in and knowledgeable, or worst case scenario he's had a bad experience at the hands of the "new" shift manager (one who predates Elita's arrival, whether as a worker or a replacement manager depending on what you believe), so he knows through personal experience just how much they do not like distractions, and this is his subtle, light-hearted way of communicating that...

Or it could just be a writing inconsistency, I guess! Maybe a scene got cut, and Bee had met Elita-1 down in the waste management area in a prior draft but they removed the necessary scene and kept that line about the "new shift manager" in anyway.

Otherwise, “new shift manager” is maybe just meant to tell us bots down there don’t last very long and the last one had to be replaced for some reason... Knowing more than they should, perhaps...?

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Hello first timer here. May I please request for The 4 LADS with a selective mute MC wherein MC finally says their names for the first time ever

Hello to my first ever request!! ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ Very interesting, I have never tried this one before! I did some research and hope I can do it justice ^^

HCs under the cut for Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus

Content: SFW, fluff, mild canon spoilers in Zayne's part (main storyline released thus far), reader is MC, gender neutral MC, use of petnames for MC, selective mutism (which also means a slight canon divergence), early stages of a romantic relationship, no "y/n"

Sylus's is a bit different as I think his and MC's relationship would look the most different in the early stages since there's the whole "can't resonate with you if I despite you" angle, which wouldn't at the very least be *helped* by MC's condition pfft.

If you see any mistakes contradicting the above info, or if you find this disrespectful in any way, please let me know!

LADS LIs with a selectively mute MC

Xavier

Xavier, who isn't very talkative himself, falls in sync with you quite fast after you meet. At first you are wary of his intense gaze and the extended silence it carries as he observes you from a comfortable distance. But one day, you begin to look back at him, if only out of defiance, and that's when you start noticing.

Small head movements to question or to confirm, taps on the table and later on your arm or shoulder. Text messages with lots of emojis, shared playlists for different moods. And if all else fails, a gentle squeeze of your hand, to let your Evol do the talking for you.

He has been listening all along.

In comes one of those days. The mission goes well, but you are left dead tired, barely able to make it to your apartment. Xavier escorts you home, and as he wishes you goodnight, you grab his sleeve. Whatever emotion is showing on your face is enough to make him melt, and he turns back around, petting your hair.

"Got it, got it," he chuckles and lets himself be led to the couch, where you snuggle against him after putting on a random cartoon on the TV.

He is warm, and his hoodie is soft against your cheek. You listen to his slowing heartbeats as his eyelids begin to droop, his arm a solid anchor around your shoulders. At that moment you realize that this is how you want all of your missions to end: in this safe, comforting warmth.

"Xavier?" you call out, twiddling with the pullstrings of his hoodie. He stirs against you and lets out a questioning hum. You lift your head to look him in the eyes, and see them shining with something you dare to hope is adoration. He tightens his arm around you and patiently waits.

"Thank you," you finally decide to tell him, knowing that he knows it's about much more than today's mission.

"Think nothing of it, starlight," he murmurs and rests his forehead against yours.

Zayne

You forgot that Zayne knows. Of course he knows, that man doesn't forget anything, annoying as it may be sometimes. During your first appointment with him you try to bring it up, hoping that your old familiarity with him would help ease the tension. It doesn't, and in the end you have to resort to gesturing at your chart, cheeks burning in humiliation.

"I remember," Zayne tells you, his voice quiet, "don't worry about it. Just find a way that's comfortable for you."

On a rational level, it makes sense. He is a dedicated, renowned doctor who must have had first-hand experience with others like you beforehand. But on an emotional level you are on your toes for a good while. Zayne has a tendency to scold you about your heart condition, your recklessness on missions, your bad eating and sleeping habits. You just kind of... assume that this would be next on the list.

But the insistence never comes. Instead, there is a notepad and and a pen on his desk one day. The pen has a tiny snowglobe at the end that glitters prettily when you write with it. Zayne makes no mention of it when you come in, nor when you pick the pen up and start writing.

Afterwards you take that notepad everywhere you go with him. You write down your comments to him, your observations of the world around you, your feelings that are too precious to send him over text messages. You revel in the tiny upwards curl of his lips when he reads everything over, the hint of mirth in his hazel eyes that makes your heart flutter.

"Care to show me what you have written today?" he asks you one night as he is driving you back home from a restaurant. The car is standing still in traffic, and you are finishing your notes on that night's menu selection (the chocolate pudding had been especially delicious). You lean back on the passenger seat and look at his handsome profile, smiling to yourself.

"No, but I can tell you, Dr. Zayne."

You see his eyes widen in surprise and he glances at you, but before he can reply the traffic lurches forward. Zayne returns his eyes on the road, and reaches out to grab your hand in his. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles and your stomach does small flips as you see him smile.

"I'd love that."

Rafayel

"Not one to talk? That's okay cutie, I can manage for the both of us."

And that he does. At first you aren't sure if the eccentric artist even wants or needs you to talk; Rafayel can talk circles around just about anyone, rightfully smug about his captivating voice and demeanor. You find yourself being envious of his natural charm, sure that you could hardly measure up to him in this regard.

But the more you spend time with him, the more you observe his mannerisms when he talks to you (yes, to you, not just at you): the glances over his shoulder, his body turning towards you as his hands punctuate his speech. The way he cocks his head to the side and studies your face with that easy smile on his lips, reading your expressions and hums as he does. Resting his fingertips on the pulse point of your wrist and gently tucking your hair behind your ear as you fight a petulant blush under his curious eyes.

Bodyguard, bah. You aren't sure Rafayel really knows, or cares, what that job actually entails. Then again, it's not like you had to stay, yet you did. There is something mesmerizing about Rafayel, his eyes as deep as the oceans and brilliant as the galaxies, and in between scoffing at his antics or bickering with him through texts, you find yourself being pulled in further and further as if lured by a siren song.

"Do you want to learn how to paint, sunshine?"

This time he doesn't give even the slightest pretense for the date. You have long ceased to care, feeling warm but bold standing in his studio as he guides the brush in your hand across the canvas. It's raining outside, the pitter patter mixing in with the gentle swishing of your brush and his bare feet padding against the tile floor. Time seems to fly by as you recreate the azure sea in front of you.

As the rain starts to ease down and the clouds part just enough for you to see the waves again, you step in front of the floor-length window and gaze out. As you watch swaying seas, your eyes suddenly widen.

"Rafayel, come look! Dolphins!"

You don't have time to be surprised by your own reaction as he strides next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile.

"Now isn't that a nice surprise," he says, "I wouldn't mind this happening again."

You nod, the words failing you once more, but he is so close he must feel your answer in your heartbeat.

Sylus

If Sylus could take it back, he would. He would destroy planets and steal stars to redo your first meeting. He wouldn't assume anything, wouldn't take out his frustrations on you, wouldn't push and push until the truth screams in his face.

Because your eyes remain vacant of any recognition, any warmth he grew to know so long ago, and he only made it worse: he forced your voice out of your mind when your mouth refused to cooperate. He took it as defiance, a personal challenge, when it was anything but. It took an outsider to tell him to stop hounding you, and he hasn't been able to forget since.

Through what can only be described as trials you finally make it to the auction and beyond, and with Sylus's help you get your hands on the Aether Core. He does not know what you see in the vision the Deepspace Tunnel shows you, but whatever it is, it creates an opening. It lets you resonate with him, lower your guard and accept his help. And Sylus holds onto that chance like a drowning man.

From then on out, every day is dedicated to making up to you. Even if his words are rough, there is now softness lacing his features whenever he looks at you. Tenderness, the origin of which you do not recognize, and yearning that makes it hard to stay mad at him.

He may not beg for forgiveness out loud, but it is there in every question, every request, every wish.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight, sweetie?"

I'm sorry I treated you like that. I didn't realize. I should have.

"Mephisto brought you two necklaces. Show him which one you prefer."

I'm sorry I expected more than you could possibly offer. It isn't your fault you don't remember.

"Text me when you get home. The roads are slippery today."

I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.

If you only knew how I adored you, little dove.

Your phone plays a familiar tune and you pick it up to see a video call coming from Sylus. It has become a habit of his whenever you are back in Linkon. He tells you he doesn't mind to be the one talking: he just wants to see your face.

"Hello sweetie, thank you for picking up. I called to say I'm sorry for missing our movie night. Some fool tried to blow up the armory in the north and I had to oversee the clean up."

You roll your eyes and sigh in mock exasperation. Sylus smiles back at you.

"I promise to make it up to you. Just tell me what you'd like."

"Anything we do together is fine, Sylus," you tell him and watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows raise and mouth freezes mid-sentence. "And stop... stop apologizing so much. Okay?"

It's not often the leader of Onychinus is rendered speechless, and you can't help a small giggle escaping your lips. It is your time to adore him, just for a moment.

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[hadesoftheladies]

Because yes, you DO think women are too dumb to not fall for the EEEEEEVIL social conditioning put on them.

You see the thing about socialization is that it literally constructs your sense of self and happens to everyone regardless of intelligence level. Not a single human being in the world has been immune to it. It is literally part of the process of self-formation from as early as we're born.

Femininity (like masculinity, both of which are called gender) is also literally and foremost a patriarchal institution. I never said heterosexuality is bad. You're once again not reading (or comprehending) my response because you prefer arguing with a straw man version of me that just hates women. Het marriage and femininity are established patriarchal institutions. Literally look up the history of marriage and all its traditions (i.e. dowry, honeymooning, romance, etc and see how horrific it was for most of history) lmao. Or just call me a dumb radfem with internalized misogyny, that would be easier, I'm sure.

And I'm having a lovely day, thank you :). Just had the most delicious spiced grilled potatoes.

which most of ths planet disagrees with because they are actually by and large good things.

appeal to the majority doesn't make something right (i.e. nazism, slavery, capitalism, patriarchy). also, majority of the world is patriarchal . . . so duh.

what women hear when I criticize femininity: this woman is so stupid and should be treated like the baby she is by not allowing her to make decisions

what I actually mean: the desire for male validation is beneath you

what women hear when I criticize dating/marrying men: these dumb hoes are too dick-addicted to make proper decisions

what I actually mean: the desire for male validation is beneath you

[sabakushusband]

i didn't want to talk about this but oh my god people really love being ableist? im shocked

this video. did we already talk about how ableist this is? all the comments defend the creator and oh my god?? no everyone defending them uses the argument "but its fictional and the crew had little suplements!! thats why they drew him like that!!" pony express didn't give them a fifth cryo thing, do you fr believe they would give them DOG talking buttons? are we really comparing disabled people to PETS? for me, this comment says it all

a GOOD example of helping curly communicate is @/nakakabaliw 's comic, just like the creator of this video, they added angst, and didnt low curly to a animal. im sorry for ruining my blog's mood and throwing this in the tag, but its horrenduous how people see this and defend it

its so frustrating how people are so quick to infantilize and dehumanize disabled people. the video itself doesn't even make sense, as it would be extremely harmful for curly since his nerves are completely eposed and pressing down on them would hurt even more. im sure there are 100other ways the creator could have drawn his idea and not humiliate and dehumanize him like this. the creator ignored disabled people, as far as i know didn't apologize nor took down the video, yet people come with the "the creator is a person too" so are disabled people. its literally specified on the video title, DOG toys!!

so, summary, it doesn't make sense, is very condescending, i found more than 5 disabled people saying its uncomfortable for them.

just because mouthwashing is a horror game doesnt mean you can do horrendous stuff too

[redr0sewrites]

Cuddling with Touya is a must during the winter. He's soo warm

-B3an

🎀A/n: bean. ily. this made me giggle and cackle like a FREAK hes so silly ☹️

🎀Cw: none, just fluff !!!

you are so sosososoos sooooo right !!! Touya is genuinely so cozy to cuddle with, for a multitude of reasons. i headcanon that his hands and limbs are always really cold, but his chest is really warm, so the best way to warm up is to snuggle close. he also loves putting his cold hands under your shirt to warm them up, and just ends up pressing himself as close to you as possible

because of this, he's pretty clingy !! even when he isn't intending to, Touya always ends up gravitating towards you in search of both body heat and comfort. he's definitely very touch starved and is unused to gentle affection, so it takes him a while to let his guard down. probably very much against touching you early on in any sort of relationship with you, but overtime becomes more inclined to touch as he trusts you more

i wouldnt say he's self conscious per se, but he's definitely aware that his rough scars and piercings may make him a bit uncomfortable to hold. even if he swears it doesn't bother him, please reassure him that you don't mind :( it definitely eases some of his apprehension about touching you

i also think he's simply not used to non-violent physical touch as a concept. Touya grew up with Endeavor as a father, and i just don't think he received enough affection in his childhood or adulthood to be comfortable with it, so it definitely takes some time to adjust. obviously this transfers over into cuddling, so he has a hard time asking to cuddle at first. he will probably just act indifferent about it but in reality he desperately wants you to ask him to cuddle so he can say yes,,,

Touya is one of those people who will say that they're cold, and then physically be warm if that makes sense. like he could be shivering and whining about how he's literally freezing.... but then you touch him and he's burning up!!! as we know from his childhood, his body supports freezing temperatures, and so he's better at handling being cold than warm, but it still pisses him off because he's CONSTANTLY cold !!!!

likes when you play with his hair, it makes him really sleepy

also ??? expect him to absolutely melt if you kiss his scars or praise him when he's feeling vulnerable enough to cuddle. there aren't many times where you can see behind his facade, at least at first, but this is the quickest way to do so. as previously mentioned, he's horrendously starved for affection, and really enjoys your praise

no matter your size, Touya prefers having you lay on top of him. it both allows you to rest against his chest and for him to hold you close, which is optimal for both of you, especially at first when he's still getting the feel of physical touch. it allows him to be in control and feel secure, while also giving you the affection you need as well.

another pro of getting to lay on his chest is listening to his heart beat. especially if its post war Touya, he knows that listening to his heartbeat and knowing that he's still alive and still here is reassuring to you. this also helps him as he gets nightmares or night terrors a lot, and just listening to your breathing and knowing your safe and staying with him helps calm him down.

this is another personal headcanon, but i think once he trusts you enough, Touya would secretly prefer to be the little spoon rather than the big spoon. he really wants to be held, and like i said, likes when you play with his hair, but most of all... neck kisses. he adores them. you press a sweet little kiss to the back of his neck while cuddling?? boom he's yours forever

he does enjoy holding you though, and i feel like he'd tap your body or rub little messages into your skin subconsciously. maybe i'm just projecting my own neurodivergent stims onto him, but i truly think he's also neurodivergent in some way and would be super touchy in the sense that he'd tap out little patterns on your skin, rub his name onto you as he holds you, stuff like that. most of the time he doesn't even realize, he just needs something to do with his hands. definitely rubs your hand with his thumb while holding hands too,,,

huge fan of pda- Touya wants everyone to know that your together. when your cold in public, he literally just slides a hand under your shirt or skirt or anything he can reach, and warms you up with his quirk. to onlookers it looks more risqué then it actually is, but that's the best part in his eyes

Touya isnt a very deep sleeper, he has nightmares and night terrors a lot and overall it takes him a while to fall asleep. when it's chilly out this is especially amplified as he CANNOT sleep when its cold, so he loves sleeping and cuddling with you because A) it warms him up and B) it soothes his anxieties

overall, Touya both loves and hates when your cold. he hates it because he can't stand when your uncomfortable,,, but also loves it because it means he gets to cuddle with you !!!

"why are you so far away?" you grumble, reaching out in search of your lover. Touya lets out a disgruntled whine as an arm snakes around his waist, pulling him up against your body. his tension involuntarily melts as you brush away the small hairs at the base of his neck, before pressing a small kiss to the now exposed skin and watching his ears redden.

"you're so cold... s'too cold. must've pulled away in my sleep. 'sorry babe." he mumbles, and you let out a giggle at his sleepy tone.

"s'ok Touya. y'know, i have to get up soon.."

he immediately perks up, squirming in your grasp until he's facing you, before wrapping is arms around your waist and burying his head in your hair.

"no. it's too cold to even go out."

"Touyaa!"

"stay here. we have to make up for lost time, since i didn't get to lay with you as much.. besides, missing one day of work/school isn't that bad, right?" a scarred hand creeps under your sleep shirt to caress your chilled skin.

"besides," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as he speaks, "you deserve the rest."

☹️

maybe this is ooc but idc i love him sooo much AND im picturing postwar!Touya so,,,, shh. pls send in more Touya asks. hes so silly.