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deakyjoe · 9 months ago

Text

Pattern Breaker

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (afab)

Category: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love

Summary: A love confession turns to more once Bob knows you’re interested.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), protected p in v sex, f receiving oral (pussy eating king), vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, handjob, kissing, groping, scratching/marking, Bob fucks, love confessions, fluff, talks of bad dates, reader described as having hair and being shorter than Bob (but nothing else), swearing/cursing - let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 7.1k (it kinda ran away from me)

A/N: My humble contribution to the Bob Fucks Agenda 🫡

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bob Floyd was head over heels in love with you.

Yet he had no idea what series of mistakes had landed him here. In the Hard Deck. With you. Sat next to him. In a tight booth. Your thigh pressed up against his. Tracing patterns with the tip of your finger on the back of his hand. Many would argue that this didn't seem like a bad thing. Why would something so intimate with someone he was in love with be a mistake? Well, the issue was that you were doing it in a totally platonic way.

You were doing it mindlessly too, as you engaged in idle conversation with Phoenix opposite you, which almost made it worse. Bob Floyd's brain was whirring at a million miles per second over something you were doing without even thinking about it. It took every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from moving. Closer to you or further away, he didn't know. But he tried to stay still. So very still. Just so you'd keep doing it.

He was also desperately trying to pay attention to the story you were telling Phoenix, about the latest bad first date you'd been on. It appeared to be a regular thing with you. A string of first dates where you knew before you'd even ordered the entrées that they wouldn't be the right guy for you. And you always had valid reasons, at least in Bob's opinion.

"He told me he doesn't like sunsets." You groaned. "Like, who doesn't like sunsets?"

Bob personally loved sunsets.

Phoenix frowned at you. "Did he give a reason why?"

Bob imagined that Phoenix was feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. After all, she was the one who'd set you up with this guy. But he was thankful for it. He didn't know what he'd do with himself when you finally managed to find the right guy and it wasn't him.

"Something about the day ending and having a mindset about being on the grind I think, I don't know." You sighed, pausing your finger's movement against the back of Bob's hand for a moment before carrying on. He almost had a heart attack when you pressed your cheek into his shoulder and started leaning against him as well.

"Sorry it didn't work out. I can find you another guy maybe, umm..." Phoenix trailed off with a thoughtful hum.

But you waved her off. "No, it's okay. I think I'm done with blind dates for now."

Bob's head snapped towards you. Oh?

"If you're sure." Phoenix started to rise from the table, pressing her hands into the wooded surface. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. See you two tomorrow."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." You smiled at her, nudging Bob with your elbow when he stayed silent.

He flinched away from you. "Ow! What? Oh. Yeah, goodnight."

Phoenix's eyes flicked between the two of you, an amused huff leaving her mouth before she gave you both a mock salute and left the bar.

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment as you relaxed against Bob's shoulder a little more.

"What about you? Ready to call it a night?" You asked, turning to rest your chin on his bicep so you could look up at his face.

He glanced at you briefly, turning away again when he realised how close your faces were in that position and cleared his throat. "No, I'm good here for a little longer. If you are?"

You nodded and sat up, extracting yourself from his touch completely. Bob almost sobbed at the loss of contact.

"Yeah, I'm good." You paused to take him in, how he wasn't looking directly at you. He did that sometimes. You always figured he was just a little awkward about eye contact. Which was a shame considering his eyes were your favourite shade of blue.

Bob did flicker his eyes towards you then, wondering why you were staring at him silently. "Are you okay?"

You shrugged. "I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" He turned to face you properly, knees angled towards you to show that you had his full attention. "What about?"

You looked at him for a few seconds too long, enough to make him anxious and you think that maybe you'd given something away with your eyes. "You know how when we met we just clicked?"

Bob was surprised at that question. But he knew exactly what you meant. So he nodded. "Yeah."

You scrunched your nose and looked away from him for a second. "Well, I'm not clicking with any of these guys I'm going on blind dates with."

He knew that, you’d said as much. So he really didn't know where you were going with this. "Okay...”

"I just wish it was as easy as it was with you. Like we just work together so perfectly, I don't even feel like I'm trying with you."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking sideways at you. "Uh-"

Your eyes widened and you were quick to clarify, hands held up in apology. "And not like I don't put any effort into it with you but just like I don't feel as if I'm constantly trying to make it work, y'know?"

He nodded again. "Sure."

You sighed frustratedly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say here, Bob?"

"Not really." He shook his head and gave a weak, apologetic smile.

You chuckled. "I'm trying to say that I've never clicked with a guy like I have with you."

"Right." He straightened up.

"But we're just friends." You said slowly.

He hesitated. "Mhm."

You squinted at him. "To cut it short I'm trying to say that I think I'm in love with you."

Bob could have fallen out of his seat.

"Oh!"

Now, that caught him really off guard.

"Well, I'm trying to figure out my feelings for you. Because they're certainly more than friendly!" You laughed quietly. "Which isn't really fair. To me or to you. But it's gotta be done because I'm sick of not clicking with men and being on dates where I'm just constantly thinking of how much easier it would be if I were sat across from you instead."

Bob ignored most of your rambling, fixating on one little statement. "Why's it not fair?"

Your face crumpled momentarily. "It's going to make it awkward for you if I am in fact in love with you. And it's unfair for me because I might be in love with a guy who only views me platonically."

Bob looked at you for a moment, eyes wide and almost pleading, and uttered your name softly.

You frowned. "What?"

He gave you a meaningful look.

"You do view me platonically, right?" You leant backwards. "Right?"

He glanced away from you before looking back, giving a short and sharp shake of his head. No.

The world shook around you.

"But- but you never made a move. I thought that you..." You trailed off into distressed thought.

"Oh, I made moves. Just not very obvious ones apparently." He cleared his throat with a quick cough, scrunching his face momentarily in embarrassment.

"Why did you never just say?"

"I guessed that you weren't interested since you never seemed to reciprocate my- my moves." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the thought of his moves.

"But I'm all over you!" You exclaimed. "I'm so touchy!"

He froze and turned to you stiffly. "I thought you were just like that. With everyone!"

"Have you ever seen me touch another human being half as much as I touch you?" You said monotonously.

"Well..." He thought about it. He hadn't. You gave hugs, sure. But you certainly didn't stand with your head resting on anyone's shoulder, arms wrapped around their bicep like you did with him. You didn't sit next to anyone, legs resting over their thighs, like you did with him. You definitely didn't trace patterns on the back of anyone's hand like you had been with him earlier.

You let him think about it for a few moments before interrupting his thoughts. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you just say?"

Bob looked deep into your eyes, recognising the look of regret he could feel within himself. "By the time I had the courage to... the friendship was already solidified. And I thought it would ruin it."

"Oh, Bob." You smiled widely at him. "You should've said something. I had a huge crush on you when we first met."

Have a huge crush. Have.

He perked up slightly. "You did?"

No. Do.

"Yeah! I buried it after a while because I figured you weren't interested. And now I'm realising that I'm probably in love with you anyway." You found it almost funny how the two of you seemed to be in the exact same situation and yet had no idea how the other was feeling.

He decided to be honest. "It would certainly brighten my day if you were."

You had a thought suddenly. "Walk me home?"

Bob felt a sense of whiplash from the rapid change in topic. But didn't question it. "O-okay."

You grinned at him and motioned for him to get up, following him out of the booth and grabbing his hand once you were stood next to him. Not having to worry about closing out a tab with Penny since you'd been paying for drinks each time you ordered, you didn't hesitate in dragging him behind you out the back door of the Hard Deck and onto the beach.

You took a glimpse at Bob next to you, finding him already watching you. "Figured we could do the moonlit beach walk on the way back to my place."

He just nodded, not missing the way you were still grasping onto his hand as the two of you started walking in the direction of your home. The moonlight beach walk wasn't an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. You'd done it countless times before, in fact. It was just a nice thing to do that happened to involve some nice views that you both enjoyed. It just felt different this time, Bob thought to himself.

He had to ask. "Your last blind date, did he really not like sunsets?"

You looked at him, delighted by the seemingly random question. "Yeah. How off-putting is that?!"

"Very." Bob mumbled. "Y'know... I really like sunsets."

Ah, you saw what he was getting at.

"I know." You chirped. "I'll never forget the sunset on the day we met when you explained that the reason they're so colourful is because of the way the light scatters through the atmosphere. It was very purple that night."

His eyebrows shot up. He'd forgotten he'd told you that. But you were right. It had been very purple. He'd watched you take about thirty photographs of the sky. And knew then that he was in trouble.

The rest of the walk back to your place was quiet, a few passing comments made between the two of you as you pointed out a cute dog and Bob showed you where new flowers were beginning to blossom on a tree you regularly saw. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole time, swinging gently between your bodies.

It was easy. Just how it should be.

Silence shrouded the two of you as you approached your front door, wondering what was supposed to come next. Bob was still hung up on your sudden abandonment of your conversation back at the Hard Deck as you stopped at your door. Why had you dropped it?

The question escaped him as you suddenly tugged him a lot closer, so your chests almost touched, and lowered your voice.

"Come inside."

It wasn't proposed as a question, or even a request, but as more of a statement. Like you were telling him that he should follow you into your home to find out what happens next. Because of this, Bob could only reply with one thing.

"Okay."

There was no turning back now.

You beamed at him and rushed to unlock your door, flicking on a light switch once it was open and ushering him in behind you. Bob had been to your place countless times before, even crashed on your couch once or twice after nights there had run a little too long, but this time felt different. Just like the walk on the beach had.

He supposed it was because of what the two of you confessed earlier that night. But he still couldn't shake the thoughts about the fact that the conversation hadn't carried on to a point where he knew what was going to happen next between the two of you. Bob wanted answers. And he guessed that they were hidden in the depths of your home.

You guided him to your kitchen, offered him a drink which he politely declined, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the room to turn on your heel and look at him.

"Do you know why I asked you back here?"

He stilled a few paces in front of you. "Honestly? No."

You smiled at that. "Because I decided that I am."

Bob was even more confused. "Am what?"

You barked out a laugh like you suddenly realised you'd left out half of your sentence and that what you'd said had made no coherent sense. "In love with you. Absolutely head over heels. One hundred per cent.”

He said nothing in reply, sensing that you had more you wanted to say. He was right.

"And I wanted to be able to explore that possibility for us without prying eyes. In the privacy of my home." You huffed, slightly frustrated. Bob took a single step towards you. "I don't- I don't know how to say this."

He closed the gap, hands resting on your arms to reassure you. You'd never struggled to tell him anything and he certainly didn't want that to start now. "It's me. You can say anything to me. You know that. It's okay."

When you met his gaze again, your eyes were slightly glassy with tears. But you blinked them away. They were angry tears at yourself for taking this long to get to this point with him. It should've happened so much sooner.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. Bob knew what that meant, he was feeling it himself, but wanted you to say it.

Letting out a slightly shaky laugh, you composed yourself. "You might need to let me spiral and talk for a minute."

He smiled softly, surprised he wasn't doing his own spiralling and talking in this situation. "That's okay."

You nodded and sighed. "Okay, so. I don't want things to change between us. Well, I do. But, like, not everything. I still want us to be us. I still want to be able to tell you everything and have easy conversations and just go for walks on the beach and talk about meaningless things and have you explain stuff to me that you think I'll find interesting and sit close to each other just because we can not because we have to."

You stopped for breath and Bob felt like he was having to restrain his heart from bursting out of his chest.

"We'll still just be me and you and things will be easy between us. Like they always have been. But now... instead of sleeping on my couch after late nights, you'll- you'll sleep in my bed. And we'll kiss and, god, have a lot of sex I hope."

Bob chuckled at that and you joined him, happy to see that he wasn't freaking out at everything you were saying.

"We'll still be me and you but just... evolved. Right?"

Bob had started the evening knowing he was head over heels in love with you. He couldn't believe the night was ending with that love somehow growing even more, combining with yours to create some force that defied the laws of nature. The room was practically swimming in it, he could feel it prickling at the surface of his skin and taste it on the top of his tongue.

He nodded firmly at you. "Me and you but evolved."

You visibly relaxed under his hands and smiled giddily up at him. "Great, can you kiss me now?"

You didn't have to ask Bob twice.

The kiss started off sweet, almost innocent. A few, slightly open mouthed, pecks as the two of you giggled against each other. It was something new for the two of you. So even thought it felt right, it was still new territory to explore. But it didn't take long for it to take a turn. As soon as you opened your mouth fully to lick gently against Bob's lips, it was like something in him snapped.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you flush against him, chest to chest, and his other hand tangled in the back of your hair. His nose crammed into your cheek, his glasses falling slightly askew, as he licked into your mouth hotly with his head angled down to meet you halfway.

Your head whirled with the thought that he was good at this. Bob Floyd was an extraordinarily good kisser. Why hadn't you done this sooner?

You let out soft moans to encourage him despite him not even seeming shy about the idea anymore. In fact, Bob had no sense of restraint left in him. He'd waited so long for this, for you. And now he was lost in the feeling of your skin against his and the sounds you were making in reply to what he was doing. Which is why he let his hands drift across you more, not anchoring his touch to any specific place.

You felt like you were on fire, no time to breathe as breaks for oxygen were mere fractions of a second long. You'd never imagined him being capable of making you feel like this so quickly. Your lower abdomen burning with desire and your panties already practically soaked through. And he hadn't even touched you intimately yet. You could only hope that you were having half the same effect on him.

Bob's hands lowered themselves slowly, tracing along your ribcage, circling your waist, gripping at your hips, before he tentatively let them rest on your ass. You hummed in motivating appreciation and pushed yourself up even more to kiss him impossibly harder. He took that as a good sign, fingers digging into the flesh beneath them and rocking your pelvis towards his. Where you found that he was hard.

A noise rumbled in your chest, leaking out as a high pitched whine directly into his mouth.

Bob pulled away with a slight look of concern in his eyes which now held almost no trace of the blue shade you'd come to adore, pupils blown wide enough to engulf his irises. "Is this too much? We can slow down."

You shook your head, slowing down being the last thing you wanted. "No, I'm just surprised that you're so... handsy. I always thought you were a gentleman."

"Oh." He blushed a deep red, the colour reaching the tips of his ears. "I'm just eager, I guess. We can wait. I mean, I can wait. If it's too much."

You leaned back in closer to him, lips brushing across his. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

He did.

Somehow the second round of kissing was even more searing, almost consuming, than the first. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand gripping tightly onto his hair and tugging occasionally. Bob didn't let up squeezing at your ass after he'd realised that the sound you'd made previously was one of pleasure and not pain, rocking your hips into his a couple times more for good measure.

When his lips moved to trail a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, your eyes practically rolled back into your head. This was too good to be true. You were stood in your kitchen, at almost midnight, and Bob was sucking a hickey into your neck. How was this even real?

You realised that if you didn't move soon then the two of you were going to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. And whilst you weren't totally against the idea, you figured you should at least offer him the comfort of a bed for your first time together.

"Bedroom, Floyd. Now." You gasped, grasping his hair to pull him away from your neck. But when you got a good look at him, you almost abandoned the idea completely. His hair was ruffled from where you'd been pulling at it, his glasses sat crookedly on his nose, his face was flushed a rosy pink, his lips were swollen and kiss bitten, and his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. He was a sight to behold.

You snapped back to reality, fixed his glasses so they sat correctly on his face, clenched your legs together, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to tug him behind you towards your bedroom. Bob, of course, had no complaints about this and followed you very happily. After watching you kick off your shoes as the both of you scurried down your hallway, he did the same. Not many thoughts were occurring in his brain at that moment, not any clean ones anyway, but one thing was certain as he looked at you: he'd never wanted someone more.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him and before he had the chance to take in any of his surroundings he was pressed up against it and your lips were on his again, your hands desperately clutching at the bottom of his shirt to untuck it from his pants.

"Why- do- you- always- wear- your- uniform?" The question was asked between fiery kisses. Not that you were complaining. You loved to see him in his uniform. But he always looked so formal.

Bob waited until you were too distracted trying to unbuckle his belt to kiss him so he could get his answer out fully. "You once told me I look handsome in it."

You paused and tilted your head up to look at him. Taking in his open expression, you could tell that he was being honest. "God, I fucking love that you listen to me."

He laughed momentarily before his jaw snapped shut and he swallowed thickly as you began fumbling with his belt buckle again. "Your hands are shaking."

The observation was simple but had you freezing anyway. "Care to help a girl out then?"

Bob could tell that you were getting anxious, nerves suddenly overruling the initial excitement and lust. He could understand. He was currently running on the high of you dragging him to your bedroom. Maybe you also needed something like that to keep you going.

He glanced over your shoulder towards your bed and nodded towards it. "Lie down."

Bob watched as the fire quickly re-ignited in your eyes and you did as you were told, bouncing on the mattress as you sprawled yourself across it. Undoing his belt completely, he took a few steps towards you until he stood between your open legs.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him eagerly. The mattress dipped as he knelt on it and crawled across it until he was hovering over you.

You hummed quietly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Hmm, I like this position."

He leaned in close, as if going to kiss you. "I thought you might."

His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest. It was a tone you'd only had the privilege of hearing a few times before. During late nights when he was tired and could barely keep his eyes open as you continued to talk his ears off with meaningless nonsense but did so anyway just so he could listen to you talk. When he'd held you close to him during crowded nights at the Hard Deck and spoken directly into your ear so you could hear him over the sounds flooding the place. Moments that were intimate between you both but you'd been too oblivious to see as more than platonic.

It was the voice that Bob Floyd used to flirt with you.

You pulled back, wide eyed, to get a good look at him. "Oh, my god. You have made moves."

His brows scrunch for a moment, a confused laugh bubbling out of him. "Yeah, I said so earlier."

"I know but that voice." You poked his chest accusingly. "It's your flirty, sultry, bedroom voice! You've used it on me before!"

"It's not my-" He paused, thinking about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Oh, yeah. Maybe you're right."

"I like it, it's hot. Do it again." You giggled when he rolled his eyes, reaching your hands up to start unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"And what would you like me to say?" His voice dipped back down to the low tone and you had to suppress a shiver.

"Anything. I just like hearing you talk." You reached the last button and helped him slide the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a white undershirt that you knew always resided underneath. The brown uniform shirt was discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"How about how I think it's time for you to start removing some clothes? Since my shirt's off and my belt is unbuckled." His raised a finger to trace along the neckline of your t-shirt.

You whined. "Not fair. You're not even showing any skin yet. If I take my shirt off then all I've got is a bra on underneath."

Bob chuckled, low voice lost for a moment. "Is my white t-shirt not the equivalent of your bra?"

You pondered it for a moment. Maybe he was right. "Depends if you like the way my tits look in this bra as much as I like the way your biceps look in that white shirt."

He took a quick glance at his arms which were caging you into the bed, hand planted on either side of your head. "My biceps, huh?"

"A weakness of mine, I admit." You shrugged and sat up, pushing at his chest to give you some room. "Have to stop myself from biting them when I rest my head on your shoulder."

"For the record, I'd totally let you."

With a laugh you took Bob's hands in yours and guided them to the hem of your shirt, giving him a nod of confirmation. "You would now but let's be honest, it would've been a little unusual of me to just suddenly bite you before."

He tried desperately to keep eye contact with you as he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have said a word of complaint."

"I'll remember that for the future." You paused and noticed his frozen stare. "You're allowed to look, y'know?"

He knew but he was holding himself back with the knowledge that he'd probably go feral once he saw you without a shirt on. Just below his eye line he could tell that the bra you were wearing was lacy and pretty much see-through. He took a deep breath before looking properly and let out a very low groan when he saw that your nipples were hard and very visible through the fabric.

Bob's dick twitched in his pants at the sight. He feared he wouldn't last very long once the two of you actually got going.

You leant back on your hands and watched him look over you. It was kind of entertaining and certainly a confidence booster for you. "Like what you see?"

His eyes met yours again. "Shut up. You know I fucking do."

That sent a ripple of heat through you. Despite knowing him for so long, you'd never heard Bob curse. He'd let out the occasional damn at big inconveniences but never anything more than that. You figured it was part of him being such a gentleman and the fact that he loved to point out that his mother raised him right.

"Careful, Floyd. That dirty mouth will get you in trouble." You flattened your back onto the bed again, pulling him down on top of you by a handful of his shirt.

"If by trouble you mean with you underneath me then I'm willing to take that risk." His voice somehow got lower, a raspy edge being added to it. It's like he knew exactly how to break you.

You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him down to kiss you again, you'd gone too long without feeling his mouth on yours, and you revelled in the grunt he let out against your lips.

This was a whole new side to Bob that you were seeing. And you were loving it. Somehow it was still so easy, the two of you continuing to just bounce off of each other and the sexual chemistry was luckily just naturally there as well. You thought it may have been slightly awkward between you but you'd never felt so confident about sleeping with someone in your life.

Bob realised he should probably check something before the two of you got any further so pulled away momentarily. "Do you have a condom?"

"Oh, yeah! Wait, hang on-" You slid away from him, hanging over the edge of the bed to rifle through a drawer in your nightstand. Producing a small box, you waved it triumphantly at him.

"Hoping those blind dates were going to be successful, huh?" He teased, reaching out to grab your waist to drag you back underneath him. He was relieved you had the box but if you didn't then he knew it wouldn't have stopped him from doing other things to you until you were able to buy some condoms.

Your jaw dropped. "No! Just never underprepared."

"I applaud your readiness. I'm sure if the apocalypse hits then we'll be thankful for your supply of condoms."

"If the apocalypse hits then we'll be tasked with repopulating the Earth and have to have lots of unprotected sex to do so." You bit back playfully, glad to see when his eyes fluttered shut momentarily at the mention of doing it raw. "Oh, you like that thought, huh?"

"You caught me. Guilty." He raised a hand in surrender before gesturing at you. "Now let's get naked so we can have lots of protected sex."

You had to fight back a surge of laughter but let a few giggles escape when you found Bob looking at you with an amused look of his own. You were glad that the two of you were still able to joke and be you even in an intimate moment like this, relieved that it didn't suddenly become serious.

Clothes were discarded and quick kisses were exchanged as the two of you inched closer and closer to where you both really wanted to be. After your bra had been unclasped and thrown into the void with every other item of clothing, and Bob had thoroughly explored your chest with both his hands and mouth, you fell back onto the bed with him on top of you for another round of kissing. It's like the two of you couldn't keep your lips separated for longer than necessary.

His bare chest pressed into yours, a sheen of sweat gliding between you, as he rocked his hips against you, grinding his hard length into your clothed pussy.

If you'd told Bob at the beginning of the evening that this was how his night would end then he would've laughed and told you he didn't believe you. But now that he was here, he couldn't have imagined it any other way. That's what made him realise that enough was enough.

He suddenly broke the kiss and sat up again, kneeling in between your legs. Hooking two fingers into the waistband of your panties, he made eye contact with you. "May I?"

You nodded vigorously.

Bob shook his head. "Words."

You could've orgasmed right there and then. "Yes, you can."

He took that answer and started to slide your panties down your legs slowly, helping you to lift your hips to get them off easier. Once they reached your ankles he plucked them off and cast them aside, planting a quick kiss on your calf before lowering your legs either side of him again.

You reached for the condoms to pass them to him, aware that you were only the one step of removing his underwear away before he'd finally be inside you.

But he pushed your hand aside, choosing instead to slide his palms down your thighs. "In a minute."

"We haven't got forever, y'know. Get on it." You laughed, curious as to what he was doing.

"Gotta get you ready first." He mumbled, pushing your legs apart so he could see better.

Oh? "I can assure you that I'm plenty ready and wet and would like your dick inside me now please."

"So polite." He hummed with a smile on his face. "And I can see how wet you are. Just gotta make sure that you're relaxed enough to take me."

"Somebody's confident about their size, huh?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "Would you rather me not go down on you?"

As much as you were teasing him not to, you very much wanted him to. "Fine, if you insist." You replied with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Bob almost chuckled, but when he looked up into your eyes again he was met with an angelic vision. You were stretched out on the bed, naked, for him. All for him. He reminded himself to thank the universe at some point. But, before that, he needed to thank you by making you come.

He shuffled back on the bed, moving your legs over his shoulders as he did so, and laid flat on his stomach before you. And got to work.

Bob practically devoured you.

You writhed underneath his grasp, one of his arms thrown across your stomach to keep you in place, as he licked and sucked at you. Your clit throbbed against his tongue as he flicked it from side to side over the sensitive spot. One of your hands flew to tangle in his hair as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

"Oh- oh, my god." You panted, chest heaving with laboured breaths. You looked down at him to see that his glasses had fogged up. You let out a slightly strangled laugh at him as he decided to slide a finger into you at that moment.

"Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasped and collapsed back onto the pillows.

Bob moaned into you and you let out a cry at the feeling of the vibrations running through you. His finger pumped in and out of you. Slowly at first before he increased the pace and then, once you were somehow even wetter, introduced a second finger.

And with two of his fingers inside of you, bending slightly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, along with his tongue making tight little circles on your clit, it didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower abdomen and then suddenly explode through you. Your body shook with pleasure, a tidal wave of profanity and primal noises escaping your mouth.

Bob gave you no time to rest though, surging up your body and kissing you again, giving you a taste of yourself which had you moaning into his mouth. When he pulled back again, you smiled. His glasses were still foggy.

"Can you even see through these?" You asked, reaching up to take them off of him. Wiping gently at the lenses with your bedsheets, you awaited an answer.

"Not really. I usually take them off for this kind of thing. But I forgot. In the excitement." He looked away from you, embarrassed. Funny how he could still be shy despite having just eaten you out like no one else had before.

You hummed quietly, taking his face in your hands to direct him to kiss you again after you'd placed his glasses down on your nightstand as you wrapped your legs around the backs of his and bucked your hips up towards him. "Are we going to do something about you now? Because I know you've been hard since we first kissed."

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed how quickly that happened." The low, raspy voice was back and you felt yourself melting a little on the inside.

"Difficult not to when we were practically dry humping in the middle of the kitchen." You trailed a finger down his torso over his, extremely sculpted, abs and stopped at the waistband of his boxers, hooking the tip of your finger inside.

He watched what you were doing. "I did get a little carried away there, granted."

You paused, asking him the silent question of approval to carry on, before slipping your hand into his underwear and grabbing him. His skin was soft and velvety under your palm and, before you even had the chance to start stroking him, his dick twitched in your hand. "Mmm... so sensitive, Bobby."

He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You reached for the box of condoms again, realising this probably wouldn't last very long if you did much else with your hand, and pulled one foil wrapper out. Quietly uttering his name to get him to open his eyes again, you pushed the condom against Bob's chest. "Put it on."

He didn't reply, didn't need to reply, just followed your instructions and did as he was told. Straightening up again into a kneeling position, he flailed around a little in an attempt to kick his underwear off. You tried not to laugh. When he succeeded, he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself in one smooth motion. And then he positioned himself over you, notching the tip of his length at your entrance.

He looked down at you for confirmation to go ahead.

You had one last teasing comment. "Your confidence in your size was warranted."

He huffed out a laugh. "I'd be insulted in your lack of confidence if I didn't love you so much."

Warmth bloomed through your chest. It had been implied several times throughout the night but hearing the words come out of his mouth meant so much more. He loved you.

You beamed up at him. "Glad to know that your love for me overrides any possible offence. I'll be using that to my advantage in future. Now please fuck me, I'm going crazy here."

Bob adored the way you were able to flip a conversation so easily. But he was glad you'd said it as he was beginning to experience his own temporary insanity being on the brink of having sex with you but not quite being there just yet.

He pushed into you slowly at first and then all at once, not being able to hold himself back. Once he'd bottomed out he paused for a moment, a choked groan leaving his throat. You whined at the stretch, glad for the previous orgasm prepping you for this.

"Just- just give me a second." Bob warned you, hanging his head as he took deep breaths.

Patiently, you waited.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to get a grip of himself as he eased out of you before slamming back in again. You gasped at the sensation. He set a pace, a steady yet almost brutal one. The loud sounds of sex filled the room and you hoped your neighbours were long asleep.

Bob buried his face in your neck, using his elbows to keep himself from smothering you. The noises he let out into your skin were heavenly and you were thankful that they weren't too muffled. You clawed as his back, making scratches that you'd have to apologise profusely for the next day.

"Fuck, harder please. Please harder." You didn't think it was possible for him to go any harder, the way he pounded into you already making the headboard shake, but you begged him to anyway. And somehow he found a way.

Your skin prickled with a burn where he slapped against you, one of his large hands sliding down to grip harshly at the flesh of your ass in order to pull you impossibly closer to him. He continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling. The pressure was steadily building in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with every thrust of Bob’s hips.

You clung onto his shoulders tightly as you plummeted off the edge, your thighs locking in on either side of him to lock him in place. Bob paused his movements for a second, feeling you clench around him as your throat formed a silent scream that came out as a gasp, and only started up again when you relaxed beneath him.

He pulled away from your neck to look down at you, finding a giddy smile on your face. He kissed you, all teeth and tongues, as he pumped into you a few more times before spilling into the condom. And then he collapsed on top of you.

The two of you stayed there for a couple of minutes, both catching your breath.

“I’m glad you had so many failed dates.” Bob whispered into the glistening skin of your chest.

You laughed quietly. “Me too.”

He eased himself up slowly, pulling out of you with a hiss, to dispose of the condom. “Do you think Phoenix purposely set you up on bad dates so you’d admit your feelings for me?”

You thought about it for a second. “Probably. She knows I’ve had a crush on you for forever. And I can’t think of any other good reason that she’d set me up with a sunset hater.”

Bob pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for you to get in, crawling in beside you. “Can’t believe that guy.”

“I know!” You laughed and turned on your side to look at him. “Wished she’d done it sooner then we could’ve been doing this for a lot longer.”

He joined in on your laughter. “Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time now to be doing this a lot more.”

You smiled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled back. “Me too.”

You scooted closer to each other, limbs tangling together into one big mess, softs words of love exchanged between you as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

A/N: this is the longest thing I think I’ve ever posted as a single thing… hope you enjoyed!

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venerawrites · 2 months ago

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helloo! back to humbly ask for more content for him hehe but this time I wanna add for his brother as well!💜

how they'd react to their s/o sacrificing themselves to save them/for their sake? how they are in their last moments together and how they handle the aftermath? I love the Uchiha boys being soft but i cant resist the angst sometimes 🫣

thank you again! adore your work as always!

author's note: I am in an angsty mood right now, so I literally RUSHED to my drafts, so I can finish this request! Thank you so much for sending it and I really hope I did it justice! <3

➤ Sasuke

The death of his s/o would be one of the two things: either the birth of the greatest villain to ever exist or the end of the 'ninja path' for Sasuke Uchiha.

It really depends on WHY did they sacrificed themselves for him or more importantly WHO took their life.

I think no matter when Sasuke has met them (before or after the war), he would take them as granted. He didn't even want to think about a scenario where they would not exist or be part of his life, let alone accept it.

So when they fell in front of him, a giant hole in their chest, his immediate reaction was shock.

This could not be happening... This should NOT be hapenning!

His whole body would be frozen and he would stay in place for at least a few minutes, till your weak attempt to mutter his name brings him back to reality. He immediately rush by their side, cradling their face in his hands while he kept muttering the same words over and over again.

"No, no, no... Don't close your eyes, you are fine! Don't... don't do this! Please!"

(the first and last time he ever said the word "please" to his s/o)

Once the realisation that there was still a battle going on hits him, his rage would erupt like a volcano. He would make sure that whoever is responsible for his s/o being gone would suffer not only painful, but also a gruesome death.

Now like I said above, why did his s/o sacrifice themselves for him and who was on the other side of the attack would be KEY details in shaping Sasuke's future.

I think if it happens way after the war (let's say 10 years+) and his s/o sacrifices themselves for him during mission or during an attack by foreign ninjas, he would most likely retire as a shinobi and seek quiet life somewhere outside Konoha.

(he not only looks like John Wick, but he also follows a similar path... 👀)

He would no doubt contribute their death to him being a ninja and I don't think he can accept the idea of continuing being one, knowing it has costed him so much. He lost EVERYTHING to that lifestyle and now all he had left were memories.

If his s/o, however, died during the war or shortly after, and have the fate to be killed by a Leaf Shinobi there is NO GOING BACK for Sasuke.

Full 100% Villain Mode!

I have no doubt that he will put all his effort, time and energy in avenging his s/o or even worse - try everything to bring them back to life!

Would wage a fifth and even a sixth world war if it means that he will finally find a way to destroy the villages, especially Konoha once and for all.

➤ Itachi

The idea of death never scared Itachi.

He was responsible for countless deaths, including the ones of his own parents, and he himself was clearly seeing the upcoming end of his own life.

Yet the idea of his s/o dying was not one that ever crossed his mind. He has always imagined that they would live many, many years after him, having a beautiful family with someone who can give them everything he could not.

I imagine his s/o would die either during the fight with Sasuke or shortly after.

Just like Sasuke he would be in disbelief and shock at first, but instead of just staying frozen to the place, he would rush toward his s/o and catch them before they hit the ground.

"No... What have you done? You should've stayed away, you should've listened to me!"

Itachi is usually calm and collected, but this may be one of the few times he actually loses control (or maybe even the only one?).

If his s/o was killed before that battle by some other enemy, he would kill his enemy the same way as Sasuke - slow and gruesome, leaving the battlefield a bloody reminder of what an Uchiha is capable of in the name of love.

If Sasuke was the one that took his s/o life, he would not hold back and unleash all his power, despite his weakened state.

He would forget all his initial goals and feelings when it comes to his little brother, and would use every attack in his arsenal with the sole purpose to kill.

However, in that instance, I do think there will be a moment where he will get some clarity before the end of the fight and he is immediately filled with guilt.

If his s/o has never met him, they would still be alive. The fault was not Sasuke's - it was only his.

This would be the key moment when he loses all determination to fight and let's his younger brother take his life.

With his s/o gone, he actually looks forward death. Because maybe someday, somewhere, in another life, he would have a chance to make things right.

That moment when Zabuza died next to Haku... yep, that is Itachi next to his s/o.

He would use the last remaining energy in his body to crawl over to them and slip his hand in their cold one.

(I think I may have made myself accidentally cry with this one... :( )

cc artwork: Karine Vilette

#sasuke x reader #itachi x reader #sasuke headcanons #itachi headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #naruto requests

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ryin-silverfish · 6 months ago

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LMK S5 Fix-it: the Four Divine Beasts

My feeling on LMK S5 has stayed pretty consistent after first watching the Chinese dub: "nice character moments, but what even is this worldbuilding?"

And personally, the Four Divine Beasts/Guardians/Symbols are the biggest symptom of S5's worldbuilding problem.

Namely, they feel more like plot devices that are just there to die and cough up the Color Stones, and as a result, 4/5 of the "Find the Color Stone" plotline felt like a worse version of S3 and the Samadhi Rings, but with even less flavor.

Now, I'm aware of the 11-minute episode constraint, as well as the pressure the studio change might have created that contributed to the overall feeling of rushed-ness.

However, my criticism here is about the writing and worldbuilding, not the animation quality——things that, in my humble and uneducated opinion, could have been done a lot better even if we were sticking to the "Find the McGuffins" plotline.

Thus, this post. As always: very lengthy, very Chinese-mythos inspired.

Four Guardians & Five Phases

A brief Google Search on the Four Symbols, aka Sixiang, will tell you this: the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermillion Bird and Black Tortoise are divine beasts in Chinese mythology that watch over the four directions, each associated with a color and one of the Five Phases.

(An old post of mine briefly talked about their origins as personifications of four big constellations that occupy a quadrant of the sky each, and their relations to the 28 Lunar Mansions)

And S5 certainly paid homage to their elemental associations, however brief and surface-level it is.

The Vermillion Bird's ability to use fire and its flaming temple is the most notable example, but this screenshot of the seal that appeared at the temple entrances also shows five symbols:

From middle left, going in the clockwise direction, these appear to be the characters for Wood, Water, Fire, Earth and Metal in Oracle Bone/Bronze Script.

Which begs the question...why would you spend so much effort on the tiny visual details, yet not show most of their elemental association through the narrative itself?

Like, suppose you are a foreign audience that knows nothing about Chinese culture and legends, who have just finished watching S5, and I ask you "What elemental powers do each of the Four Symbols have?"

Apart from Vermillion Bird = Fire (the obvious one) and the Black Tortoise = maybe Earth (which is not mythos-accurate, btw), can you honestly answer it, based only on what the show has given you?

Which leads me to my biggest gripe: their random-as-hell placement.

Even the Samadhi Rings have a map, however vague it is, but with the Color Stones, the gang basically just wandered all over the place in the hope of eventually running into one of the divine beasts——and they did, somehow!

Like, I'm not asking the writers for an entire mini-arc that's just them piecing the clues together. But will it be too much to let SWK or Tang make an off-hand comment like this?

"Well, legends said that the Four Symbols watch over the four directions and their respective elements. So if we wanna find them, we just gotta go real far in these directions, toward places with the most of that... elemental stuff! Right?"

And that brings me to the actual fix-it part. The Vermillion Bird can stay where she is, but the placement of the other three should also logically follow their elemental associations.

Oh, and though there's limited space for their characterization, they should at least get some individual characterization apart from "wise ancient guardians".

Xuanwu, Black Tortoise of the North

The fact that Xuanwu, or rather, it's snake half, can transform into stone at will might lead you to believe that its element is Earth.

Well...no, not traditionally; the Black Tortoise and the North correspond to Water in the Five Phases system, and I'm gonna both stick to that and build my fix-it off this foundation.

Instead of cosplaying a stone statue in the middle of nowhere, Xuanwu is gonna be residing on one of the islands in the North Sea, where dark tides and huge snow storms rage endlessly under the sunless sky.

So Sandy, being the water travel specialist, is gonna head out there on his boat. Mei would go to her great x N granduncle, Ao Guang's place, to see if he has any clues on, well, this big blue dragon that's also of the East.

Pigsy and Tang would head west, classic JTTW style, towards the mythical Mt. Kunlun where Queen Mother of the West resides (based on one of Tang's books that said the White Tiger was her emissary), while SWK performs an all-round search everywhere on his somersault cloud.

Which leaves MK: his dilemma is not about some random divergence in the road, but which of his friends to follow. Like, what if he goes with one person, and something bad happen to the others in the meantime?

In the end, even though he reluctantly goes with Sandy, he is still constantly distracted by his worries about everyone else, which segments nicely into the meditation training of S5E3.

But since they are doing it on a boat, there can be an external storm to go with the internal storm, causing further distractions for MK and also forcing them to seek shelter on the nearest island.

An island that, strangely, seems to be coated in a thin layer of ice. It isn't just the earth that's frosted over: all the plants, a few unfortunate multi-headed (???) seabirds, and a snake have also turned into ice statues...

Wait, snake? How does a reptile survive this far out in the north?

They have a bigger concern, however. The ice is slowly but steadily spreading, over the beaches and the surrounding seawater, and if they don't finish the search soon, the ice might get too thick for the boat to break.

So MK dashed off to do a grid-by grid search, then circled back to the place with all the frozen statues...and found the snake missing.

Cue, peak paranoia moment, and going on a wild-goose chase for the missing snake that might or might not be an ice-wielding demon waiting to ambush them.

In fact, the snake almost seems to be taunting them, seeing how they run into several "frozen snake statues" that turned out to be made of actual, solid ice. Sandy keeps reminding him to stop and think, while MK finds it harder and harder to put the lessons to practice.

By following the trail of ice statues, however, they eventually arrived on a little island in the middle of a frozen lake, where the real snake——the one half of Xuanwu lay coiling around the Blue Color Stone.

Just when MK is about to dash out and grab it, the snake comes to life with a hiss, and they barely dodged the ice spikes rising up from underneath their feet.

"Begone, foul spawn of Hundun! Return to thy conniving master, ilk of the Floodbringer, before I freeze every single drop of thy tainted blood!" "Um, I-I think you've mistaken me for someone else? I'm the Monkie Kid, and I'm here to collect your Color Stone so I can save the world——" "Doth thee mistake me for a fool, too?" The snake bore its fangs, rising its head high up into the air. "I can feel the flames of dear Lingguang on you, murderer, ripped straight out of its rightful owner's chest! She would not have perished without a fight, nor shalt I!" "Enough, Zhiming."

The tiny island itself begins to shake, revealing the other half of Xuanwu, the Black Tortoise itself. The snake still manages to half-encast Sandy in ice, before the Black Tortoise traps it inside a ball of flowing water.

She briefly apologized for her twin's hostility——whereas the strain of keeping the world together affects her body in the form of visible cracks, her other half has not been in his right mind ever since the Vermillion Bird's fall, living in the distant past and rarely able to perceive the present.

(The whole conversation is punctuated by the snake's psychic screeches in the background, which alternates between accusing her of betrayal and stating she must have fallen victim to the "poisonous blood of the enemy".)

Which makes the upcoming trial even more necessary. No, it's not "mercy-kill her twin". Yet. MK needs to prove his ability to control his body and mind, that his psyche will not break like her other half here under the tremendous pressure.

Thus, the trial of meditation. And he needs to act fast, for she cannot hold the snake back for long, as made evident by the slowly creeping ice inside and outside his watery prison.

"If you are truly worthy, then vanquish your fears, and stand before us in your true form. Brandish Lingguang's stone, so that we may be released from our watch in the long night."

MK succeeded, like he did in canon, with a small difference: his mastery of the monkey form is required for, and enables the limited usage of the stone's power.

So, holding the Red Color Stone, he unleashes a wave of fiery light that melts away the ice on Sandy and finally brings the snake back to his senses...somewhat.

He only managed to say the Vermillion Bird's name in a wistful voice, exclaiming "How I missed thy warm flames!" before melting into a puddle of water.

The other half of Xuanwu soon followed after giving him the stone, disintegrating into a mass of snowflakes that is swept away by the wind, but not before dropping one last bit of foreshadowing:

"Trust not the Floodbringer's Emissary."

(Sidenote: I think it'll be neat if the Four Symbols refer to each other using their IRL Daoist titles. Vermillion Bird - Lingguang, Black Tortoise & Snake - Zhiming, Azure Dragon - Mengzhang, White Tiger - Jianbing)

Azure Dragon & White Tiger

...And I thought Xuanwu's placement was random.

No, seriously, why is there a random music festival that just happens to be Azure Dragon and White Tiger themed that just happens to be near the actual place the two divine beasts are at?

To stay within the show's time constraint, I will not be giving White Tiger his individually themed placement, and instead try to come up with something that is appropriate for the pair as a whole.

Since Azure Dragon's associated element is Wood, it makes sense for him to have plant powers. Namely, whereever the divine beast resides, floras and faunas will flourish, no matter how out of place with the local geography and climate.

Once Mei learned that from Ao Guang, theoretically, it becomes quite the easy find: the mythical oasis city in western China, one that shows up multiple times in historical travel records yet has never been found by archeologists.

And the reason will soon become clear, as Tang and Pigsy make the drive from one desert city to another on their way to Mt. Kunlun (joined by Mei after she returned from the Samadhi Fire side-arc).

Namely, it's like a magical version of the famous Peach Blossom Spring of Chinese literature: an entire city that has been glamored over by the power of the divine beasts, occupied by people whose way of life hasn't changed since the Tang dynasty.

But as the guardians' powers fade, so does the illusion that veils it from the outside world, and the elemental magic that sustains this paradise.

Instead of a music festival, the gang finally discover the city that, according to the locals, has appeared out of thin air a few days ago, while it is in the middle of an archaic ritual procession.

The atmosphere is a lot more solemn, and it isn't hard to see why. Not only has the illusion vanished, exposing them to a profoundly alien world, the foliage of the oasis are growing and dying in rapid succession, clogging the streets with fallen leaves and yellowed petals.

An opera play is going on atop a nearby stage. It sings of a teal-robed immortal who rescued the refugees of a long-forgotten war, who turned desert into fertile soil with the help of a mighty divine general, concealing their existence from the greed and malice of the outside world.

The people in the procession knelt down and pleaded to the immortal for aid, to not abandon them in their hour of need. And their prayers are, indeed, answered, just not by the divine beasts in person.

The 14 Lunar Mansions that belong to the Azure Dragon and White Tiger descended from the sky, summoned by their masters, though they seemed to have been given different orders.

Namely, the Azure Dragon 7 spread out to guard all the major city gates, letting no one enter or leave, while the White Tiger 7 are ordered to round up all the residents and start setting up a teleportation formation.

Soon afterwards, Nezha arrived in the midst of the chaos. He is just as clueless as to what was going on as the Monkie Kid gang, but the moment he caught sight of SWK and friends, he's after them in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, Li Jing is not happy about the Lunar Mansions suddenly acting without his orders, and commanded them to stand down or be arrested for insubordination.

"With all due respect, Devaraja Li——" Before the Moon Fox Star could finish her sentence, another stellar beast stepped forth, his tiger tail swishing behind him. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Results: most of the Azure Dragon 7 get sucked into his pagoda, but while they were fighting, the White Tiger 7's formation activated, teleporting the majority of the city residents to god knows where.

While shit was hitting the fan, Tang hurriedly teleported the gang away, right into the sanctuary of the divine beasts——an underground temple.

"It's over, Mengzhang. Now that the Harbinger is on our doorsteps, and your pet mortals are safe at the cost of our loyal warriors, will you finally rest easy?" "Not...yet. There are still...stragglers, left behind." "Stragglers you have doomed yourself! Their fate is sealed the moment you cast your mirage over their ancestors and create this little utopia, frozen in time." The cracks on the tiger's body widened. A thick layer of condensation began forming on the metal reliefs, as if the very walls of the temple were weeping. "I should have never agreed to stay and help." "Yet you...still did. And I'm so glad you are here."

Yep, in this fix-it, I decide to use the Azure Dragon & White Tiger for some thematic parallels, with them basically repeating Nvwa and the Pillar of Heaven on a smaller scale.

The former created a garden city in the middle of the desert, while the latter uses his power to provide the water source that sustains the city (because Metal births Water).

As the end approaches, however, they are faced with the problem of ensuring the city residents' safety, since, upon their death, the entire oasis will revert to a desert overnight.

The White Tiger feels like there's no point in trying anything, since their death means the Harbinger will fulfill his destiny soon and give the world a reboot.

But the Azure Dragon insists on channeling his power into the land until the very last possible moment, so that the people's last memories will be a mundane, peaceful one.

Besides, they know very well that Fate and Destiny are no longer ironclad, when the very laws of reality are breaking down. How, then, can he be sure that the cycle will end and the world will be reforged as Nvwa intended, seeing that its premature beginning is already an outlier?

After a long argument, they had reached an uneasy compromise. Thus, the chaotic arrival of the Lunar Mansions and the hurried evacuation of the residents.

"You will understand, won't you, Harbinger?" The dragon looked into his eyes. "Even if you know it's selfish and futile, that you can't keep them safe forever, you are still going to give your all, just so their happy days will last a little longer..." "It is easy for Brother Jianbing to say, let go, face your end with honor. For Metal is the clashes of blades, the unforgiving axe of executioners." "I? This old fool just saw lives. Of men and women, children and elderly folks. And I cannot stand by and watch them wither."

MK nodded quietly, feeling Mei's worried, "are you not telling me something" glance on the back of his head. He reached out a hand, and the two divine beasts press their foreheads together.

The dragon faded away in a rain of falling leaves and petals, and when the Purple Color Stone hit the ground, nothing remains of the tiger but a thin layer of silvery, metallic sand on the floor.

Appendix: Inside the Pagoda

The fix-it is mostly over at this point, so the following is just me adding some additional worldbuilding and foreshadowing to MK's solution in E10, to make the whole "giving powers to everyone" thing a little less out of left field.

In the previous section, it was mentioned that a bunch of Lunar Mansions end up inside Li Jing's pagoda too. And when MK and friends run across them, they are in a pretty bad state.

Namely, the same cracks they see on the divine beasts are now appearing on the Lunar Mansions' bodies too.

"Isn't it obvious? Our masters are no more, so we now bear the brunt of the weight that was once on their shoulders..." "And are on our way of being crushed to a pancake." "Very tactful, aren't you?" The one-horned man sighed. "But yes. Lord Mengzhang is a stellar beast too——the greatest of all. He is a constellation, while we are merely the stars that make up the dragon's body, embued with a tiny fraction of his power." "And when the very sky of the East has fallen..." "How can the stars remain unscathed?"

After that, they basically exit the scene to fade away offscreen. But the information they revealed plants the seed of an idea in MK: specifically, that the Color Stones' power (and burden) can be shared between multiple individuals, like what happened at the end of E10.

Also, tiny fix: instead of MK learning the circlet spell outta nowhere, he's gonna tap into the power of the Color Stones during his fight with SWK, just like he did during Xuanwu's trial, to buy enough time to make his sacrifice.

#lego monkie kid #lmk season 5 #rewrite #fix it au #kinda?#chinese mythology #four symbols #sixiang #lmk mk #azure dragon #white tiger #black tortoise #vermillion bird #lmk critical

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sapphic-agent · 6 months ago

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I feel bad for Mitsuki. She has a parent's worst nightmare to raise, and people are legit calling her abusive because she doesn't worship the ground at Bakugou's feet.

Maybe I'm a bit biased, because she reminds me of my stepmother. Her family spoiled her son rotten (he was never as bad as Bakugou, but he did have some severe behavior problems that alienated him from a lot of people), and she was the only one trying to instill rules and discipline in his life, which made her the bad guy in many people's eyes.

Someone tried to make the case that Mitsuki and Katsuki (calling them both by their given names for this ask) are both horrible and abusive and I'm like no way José.

Compare Katsuki's introduction to Mitsuki's. One of them is inherently painted to be more cruel and callous and it isn't Mitsuki. In fact, I'd say that Mitsuki is actually a lot more friendly. She didn't get hostile until Katsuki did. Calling her abusive from what we've seen when she did it in front of his teachers and they didn't say a damn word is so... Disingenuous? I don't even know what to call it.

A playful tap on the back of the head is not physical abuse. If her intention has been to actually hurt him, this would be a different story. But it isn't. She wasn't even upset during the first hit, so what about that screams abuse?

I'm not averse to saying that Mitsuki could be verbally abusive. But even then for me, it's more like she's careless with her words than intentionally cruel. Like when she says, "Oh hush. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't gotten kidnapped and caused all that trouble." I sincerely doubt she actually means, "It's your fault you got kidnapped." To me, it's more like, "You were careless and other people are suffering because of it so get off your high horse."

Because as much as I agree that the LOV's actions (and UA's negligence) are not on Katsuki, he very much was careless and that contributed to him getting kidnapped and putting his classmates in danger. Which also was the reason everyone had to uproot their lives and move into the dorms. I think Mitsuki is trying to make him more humble and aware of how his actions affect others by saying this. I don't agree with how she communicated that, but I sincerely doubt her intention was to be cruel.

The problem is that Katsuki stans take one scene and run with it. But they also somehow miss the part where Mitsuki thanks Aizawa for sticking up for him and humbly asks him to make him a good hero. She even playfully ruffles his hair and he doesn't pull away. An abusive mother wouldn't care so much about her son's dream.

This same scene also implies that she regrets letting adults feed Katsuki's ego because she knows it made him worse. That's probably why she's harsher on him now, because she's aware that the temper of a 4 year old and a temper on a 16 year old are two different things and doesn't want him to continue to be violent and temperamental into adulthood. She's doing damage control the best she can.

That's probably why you relate her to your stepmother (who sounds awesome btw). Because you see a woman who's getting hate for trying to correct her violent, bigoted son's behavior before it escalates.

(Female Katsuki stans are such boy moms. No one can say or do anything to their precious Kacchan and nothing is ever his fault because he's just a poor child who doesn't know any better so who gives a fuck about his victim)

#anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugou stans #mitsuki bakugou #mitsuki bakugou defense #ask

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galvanizedfriend · 10 months ago

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KC Wip Wednesday

This is my humble contribution to WIP Wednesday! It's a scene from the rewriting of TVD S5 - Yokan's version. In it, The Originals never happens, most of the Mikaelsons remain in Mystic Falls and Klaus and Caroline are kind of a thing, but nobody knows (for sure). Remember that moment where Katherine locks herself up in a safe with Stefan to "cure" his PTSD? It's that, except it's Klaus, not Katherine. This alludes to a very Klefan past, btw. Be warned if you're not a fan.

Also, this is for @definedareasofuncertainty, who wanted me to write her Easter Klefan. 🤧 There you go, friend! And you know, not beta'ed and all that.

Klaus lies on his back, takes a calm breath as the heavy door is closed with a thud, engulfing them in absolute darkness. All in all, he'd say a metal box is hardly the most uncomfortable setting he's found himself in. He prefers the comfort of first-class accommodations, but he's traveled in worse. The grown man beating about beside him does make things rather unpleasant, though.

"Stop! Caroline! Get me out of here!" Stefan screams, smashing his fists against the iron safe's indestructible structure. The more desperate he gets, the more uncoordinated and weaker his movements become, thus making the effort completely useless, however accomplished in making the experience all the more miserable for him.

It's embarrassing how incapable Klaus is of saying no to Caroline whenever she asks for a favor. Locking himself up in a box with a traumatized Stefan has to be an all-time low. The things he won't do when she bats her eyelashes and says please.

"Oh, stop it," he remarks in a bored tone as he shoves Stefan aside. The old safe is rather spacious, but definitely not enough to comport two men, particularly if one of them won't stop bloody writhing like a worm in hot sand. "The more you scream, the more breathless you become." The more I want to tear your vocal cords to shreds.

"Get me out of here, Klaus, get me the fuck out of here!"

"Relax, Stefan. I'm here to help," he says. "I'm what you would call a greater agony to alleviate the smaller pain you feel being trapped inside the box. It's reverse psychology, or so Caroline read in a book. What do you think of a little werewolf venom high to speed up the process?"

"You're psychotic. You're fucking insane!" Stefan starts pounding on the box again. "Caroline! Caroline, open up! Open it now!"

"I'm sorry, Stefan!" comes her muffled apology. Even through the metal barrier she sounds thick with guilt. It was her idea, but already she's cracking. That bleeding heart of hers… "I'm sorry, I will -"

"Do not touch that box, Caroline," he commands with his full authority. "Leave it."

There's a long pause, the sound of Stefan's heart hammering away inside his chest in the box as they wait to see what she'll do. A beat goes by before she mumbles a final sorry and scurries away, likely to avoid the temptation of putting poor Stefan out of his misery.

Klaus' lips pull into a grin. "Good girl."

Stefan starts shaking beside him, his breath becoming even more labored. "I can't breathe," he gasps. "I can't - I can't -"

"You don't need to breathe, Stefan. It's all in your head," Klaus reminds him pointedly. "A vampire having a panic attack, honestly. When you think you've seen everything…"

"You're not fucking helping!"

"Pardon me. My bedside manners have gone a little rusty since the last time you've experienced them." Klaus casts Stefan a glance, sees the way his eyes widen in horror, his body growing stiff as a rod, and he can't contain the self-satisfied smile that draws across his lips. "We did once find comfort in each other's company, didn't we?" Stefan makes another panicked sound, smoothing his hands across the cold metal door above them, trying to find a way out. Klaus chuckles. "Don't worry, mate. Caroline can't hear us. Your sordid little secret is safe with me. It's just us here, alone under the cover of darkness. Nothing we haven't done a dozen times in the past. Ahh, the 20s…" he speaks around a dramatic sigh. "It was the roaring years, indeed."

"What are you doing?"

"Making conversation."

"I don't want to talk to you, I especially don't want to talk about that." Stefan nearly chokes on the last word, inching as far away from Klaus as the confined space will allow, as though the mere idea of touching him fills him with utter revulsion. Klaus knows better; it's the way he remembers exactly how it didn't what terrifies him.

Anybody who's met this watered down, colorless version of Stefan would never be able to tell how much of a free spirit he used to be. He was fun. A far cry from the shivering man beside him now. Tragic, really.

"I know you like to pretend it never happened. Frankly, you've become quite an embarrassment of your former self, so I wouldn't proudly advertise it either. This bunny-eating, crying in the dark skin you're wearing these days is someone is wouldn't be caught fraternizing with if you were the last human being on earth."

"Then leave me the fuck alone already."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not here for you," he snaps back. And then, putting a leash on his rising temper, he continues, "But since I have to be… I can recognize that there was something about that time we had together that suited us both, more than just for the obvious reasons."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. I was a tool for you."

"A tool for self-destruction."

Klaus huffs out a disdainful breath. "I was a balm to your tortured soul, Stefan, even at a time when you embraced your true self. I indulged you because you amused me, but at the end of the day, when we were together, it was all rather transactional. It wasn't about sentimentality or a shared appreciation for extravagance. It was about the hollow inside us. The fact we were always desperately seeking to fill it with… Anything, really. Whatever we could find. Passions. Pleasure. Violence. Cravings. But it never lasted, did it? Those things lack a purpose. They're all flitting in their essence, an immense explosion of satisfaction followed by… Nothing. We were both hungry, and we kept trying to find the thing that would sate us. You had lost your mind; I had lost my home. Like drawn to like." Klaus turns his face to Stefan, finds him staring back, eyes glinting with an emotion he can't quite read in the gloom. He always did fancy Stefan's eyes, though. There is something raw about them, something honest for a change. A little opening to the truth in his soul he tries so hard to hide from the outside world. "That's what the darkness is, Stefan," he continues. "Loneliness. It's what restrains us. The monster we cannot outrun. When it all stops - the laughter, the liquor, the hunger - and everything goes quiet around us, that's when we feel it. The curse of eternity. The weight of our years, deep in our bones. And the inevitable loneliness that comes with it. You had your names on the wall, I had my letters, but when all was said and done… We were both stuck in infinite darkness. Except for a few glorious stolen moments, in that repulsive room of yours." The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile. "I was the bigger monster you needed in order to humanize yourself. Whatever you were, I was worse, and so I assuaged your guilt. Much like me being here right now. But then of course you found religion!" He laughs, closing his eyes and facing forward once more. "Your spiritual path towards the light. Elena Gilbert." He enunciates the name like it's coated in something toxic. His general distaste for Elena goes further than the fact she has thwarted so many of his plans. It's the boring saint act he cannot get over.

"Yes," Stefan says, his voice rough. "And then I lost her."

"Right. Because she chose your brother." Klaus chuckles. Stefan shifts uncomfortably beside him, the urge to hit him palpable in the air. It only spurs Klaus on. "How so very tacky. No taste, that one. Personally, I think there's no amount of blue eyes or good sex that can make Damon tolerable. What a wanker. I just want to bash his face against a wall whenever he opens his mouth."

Stefan scoffs. "Get in line."

"It's ironic, isn't it? You were at your absolute best behavior, weeding out all of your instincts, everything that made you fun and interesting in order to fashion yourself into a fairy tale prince for her, and what does she do? She chooses the dullard bad boy. Typical." Klaus shakes his head. "Ungrateful little -"

"Shut up."

"Martyr," he finishes with a smirk. "She probably thinks she's going to fix him, doesn't she? I bet he encourages it. But that's the difference between you and Damon, isn't it? Even with all your valiant efforts, you know creatures like us cannot be fixed. We're beyond salvation."

He gets a sudden twinge in his chest, an image flashing in his mind. A smile as bright as the sun. Hair the color of wheat. He sees her shifting under his sheets, feels the warmth of her touch, the brush of her rosy lips against his skin. It ignites a sense of joy inside him unlike anything else, a sense of possession, of belonging, of having found something that is far more precious or rare than any of the hundreds of treasures he's collected over the course of his life. But along with it comes the ever-present fear. Of loss. How long before he ruins her, like he's ruined everything else he's ever cherished? How long before he hurts her, even if he doesn't mean to? Before his darkness tarnishes her and kills that smile? Before she decides he's not worth it?

"How do you make yourself worthy?" he asks, the question tumbling out of his as though of their own accord. "How do you earn the affections of someone so…"

"Good?" Stefan finishes for him, reading his thoughts. "With sunshine and rainbows shining out of their eyes? Someone like, say… Caroline?" Klaus goes quiet, all his humor bleeding out of him in a second. "You don't," Stefan answers his own question. "You'll never be good enough for her, Klaus. Just like I was never good enough for Elena. Not really. The truth is they deserve much better than the two of us." He sighs, deflating with resignation next to Klaus. "I guess we did make quite a pair, you and I."

"Then perhaps we should die together," he says with an edge of aggression, his mood taking a sudden downturn. He's suddenly irritated. With Stefan, with this ridiculous situation, with himself for agreeing to that. "You and I, in a box, at the bottom of a quarry. Over and over again, drowning in suffering for all our sins and the women we don't deserve. How about that?" Silence stretches out between them, absolute. There's no response from Stefan, but there's also no pounding pulse, no disgruntled breaths. "Oh, look," he says dispassionately. "Someone's not having a panic attack anymore. Congratulations. You've conquered your fears. All you had to do was remember there are worse things than dying."

Klaus gives one violent kick on the door, sending it flying off its hinges. He pushes himself up, stepping out of the safe.

Caroline comes whooshing in, eyes wide as she takes in the state of the safe, the way Stefan is still down, cowering from the sudden burst of luminosity.

"What did you do to him?" she demands.

Klaus' mouth inches upward into the barest hint of a grin, no mirth whatsoever. "I fixed him."

#klaroline #klefan #yokan writes #wip wednesday #this is a very klaroline rewriting though you probably can't tell from this one scene #i'll probably never write this but i liked the idea #SIGH

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just-some-friendly-fun · 14 days ago

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✦ ꜱᴏɴɢʙɪʀᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇꜱ

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴀ ɢʟɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɴʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ

current, next chapt

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: News often travels fast within the energon mines between every miner. It's become a personal community of sorts. So when news catches wind of a new figure in the mines, D-16 ends up being the last to find out about this matter. And much to his surprise, D-16 comes face to face with the new bot!

■ ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Cursing, brief mentions of death, pre-exile/pre-canon, oc x canon

✎ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4,972

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N (if needed): Helloo, so with this there might be some inaccuracies? Maybe? It's more of just language-wise and term-usage. I think I might js bounce back and forth with using cybertronian and just standard English-terms for things. I don't want my readers to be bouncing back and forth on the transformers dictionary constantly as much as I did 😭. ALSO, you do NOT understand how many times I had to watch the movie to check how accurate I was on their MINING??? Anyways, enjoy <33

▶︎ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴄᴄᴀʙᴇᴇꜱ

D-16 considered himself to be one of the more well-informed bots down in the lower sectors when it came to information.

Sometimes.

That is, if you consider the conveniency of how close he accidentally ends up being to one of his fellow peer or two when they've begun to spun up a little rumor-- that just happens to catch his interest, even if a little.

Whether it'd be mentions of a collapsed tunnel, the loss of another miner to said-collapsed tunnels, someone getting promoted--fired--hired, anything really. He'll have heard it, just as much as anybody else had in the operations below ground.

Information was as valuable as it was freely given sometimes, unconditionally--to the ones who humbled themselves as the "non-nosy" type and those who drank every word to the slightest sliver of the news temporarily unheard.

Someone would say something and suddenly, everybody down in every sector would know about that--something.

There wasn't really much to blame though with how rapid news spread about down in the mining operations.

None of the miners really went up to the upper levels, much less to be around in Iacon City, if at all--save face for a few, or if special arrangements and events were being taken place that allowed for the low-caste bots and miners to attend too.

But generally, heading up to the upper sectors was... Almost a privilege in a way. Visits up to the top, were rare and few. Some of the miners he'd known for most of his life cycle had only been outside of the mines solely for work-related measures, and even then it was brief--save space for Orion who'd disappear occasionally to chase after something that'd reprieve his boredom.

Naturally, the question on whether--"is this necessary and/or contributing to work?"--was constantly hardwired into their processor to think on every waking act. And if it wasn't?--Whatever action or initiative was going on should be promptly halted, work in the mines must always come first, that was simply just protocol. (Even if unsavory and neglecting of their own personal wishes and wants to see the floors above, ones devoid of the same faces of work peers, rocks, lifeless machines churning away at the belts, and ore-filled carts.)

So to hear of information often revolving around the mining operations was a rather common practice rather than to hear about anything up on the above ground level, lest it came in the form of a live transmission from Sentinel Prime himself.

And besides, whatever happens in the mines usually stayed down in the mines only, for better or for worse.

Not that anybody from the above ground level cared to pay much of a mind what happens down below, so long as every bot got their energon. They don't bother to ask how the process is done, it's only when do they get it and whether they can at all.

D-16 grunted, his tool struck against the stone, and sparks decorated the space that surrounded. His drill began to pummel its way through the stone in search of ore. The chisel of his drill ate away at the rubble, carving into it and demanding for its very own passage around the designated space until all that came loose in the end was am energon ore, raw and yet to be refined. The jackhammer he bore slowly came to a halt, a soft hiss escaping with his sigh of relief. it was slowly resorting to an idle position once his digits came free from the trigger. He reached forth to collect the bounty, nudging aside loose pebbles and dust to pluck up the cube and examine it.

It was fairly sized, small if anything but it would do. Anything to count for his fair share of the workload... And most of Orion's, as D-16 swept his helm left and right and even spun around to search for the bot but when his eyes scanned no sight of the familiar red and blue mech (even under the darkness of the cave). D-16's optics dimmed in realization that his mining buddy had fled off elsewhere for the time being to avoid the work shift for now, making a mental countdown on how long it'd take before he'd get his skid-plate hauled back into line. It'd been the fourth sudden take-off this month alone.

D-16 started to walk back and lazily chucked his ore in with the rest within the cart, an audible clatter resounded before the pile welcomed the new piece. The mech circled on back to where he first found the ore, burrowing through more of the space in hopes that one small pebble could lead to a bigger vein within.

. . .

Hours had gone by since his grueling search and so far, D-16 had only managed to find two underwhelming veins that lead to a moderate sized deposit. It was easily cleared out and thrown to the rest within the pile, that was now being pushed right back up to the entrance of the opened channel. He grunted and took to the rear position, having denied the initial assistance from most of the other miners to haul the load back to the entry point for refining.

Despite the heavy weight of the energon, there was also the weight of pride that lingered in his chassis somewhere. In his processor, he knew well that the heavier the cart, the more efficient and productive he'd been today! Which... Sparked some form of happiness in his endeavors, a trickling taste of enthusiasm for the day's accomplishment that would lead him to getting promoted, hopefully... One day, but it was a thought, nonetheless.

D-16 would tell himself the same thing day in and day out, punch in, get as much work done, refuel, and then hit recharge, wake up, repeat, and eventually it'll have been all worth it for something. Whether it was a shiny pin and a promotion to the upper levels, or mere praise from his supervisors (which came very rare to nobody's surprise). It gave him something to work hard for--motivation--an incentive, and with Sentinel Prime's constant emphasis in the importance of their work as miners, it gave him a sliver of motivation. (And perhaps it left D-16 exploring on the dream that maybe one day, he'd be able to hear Sentinel Prime say it himself to D-16 on how proud they were, personally, for his work. His efforts alone. It was a far-fetched idea, but an idea he entertained--embarrassingly than once but he'd never let that secret touch daylight).

It was a thankless job, but through the thick of it, D-16 had to persist. For Iacon, he thought, and if not, for Cybertron.

Soon enough, the cart managed to reach the open entry point and he raised his helm once the cart was taken off of his servos to be guided onto the conveyer belt, a quick "thank you" exchanged here and there. Before he turned around, ready to dive back into the channels until the sounds of a virtual beeping came overhead, and an intermission crackled from the speakers, "All mining units, cease operations. You've got an hour of intermission, refuel, recharge, and then return to work," a gruff voice resounded, before a crackle emitted as the intermission promptly ended with no further regard.

A symphony of relieved sighs could be heard once the announcement ended, and then, a steady line of miners began to pour from the open maw of the tunnels, flying on and marching out in rows. Steady and idle chatter began whilst D-16's shoulders drooped, he'd hoped to had gotten in one more round back in the tunnels but, a break was a break and who was he to deny to that?

After all, with the audible creak that came from his stiff joints and the tension in his wires. D-16 thought it would do him some good to begin some self-maintenance, and refueling sounded quite appealing at the moment.

His yellow optics searched for Orion Pax amidst the traveling sea of helms and workers departing as he slowly merged into one of the lanes, loosely calling out in hopes that the mech had returned from his endeavors, "Orion! Orion where are you??"

No response, yet.

Determined, D-16 continued to pass through the walls and lines of moving bodies, "S'cuse me... Pardon me... I'm so sorry-" Left, right, behind, was where he whipped his helm nearly spinning it while, gently pushing his way through to find his companion, monitoring through the waves that slowly diminished and began to sift itself out as workers broke off to go to their recharging stations, refueling hubs, or anywhere else really. He couldn't care less at the moment, more eager to find Orion Pax at the moment, so long as he hadn't already ran off to indulge in another one of his personal escapades.

He carefully navigated his way through the crowd, keeping his audial receptors and optics peeled for just one particular red and blue bot, picking up most of the conversations here and there:

"... Hey did you hear? There's a new bot down in the mines..."

"... Really? Is it a new miner?... Or just some lame old boss bot like Darkwing?..."

"... Shhh, careful. He might j'st be right behind ya..."

"... Heard she's not from Iacon..."

"... I don't even think she's meant to be down here..."

"... Who'd want to come down to a place like this? Must'a gotten some sort of malfunction up in their processor to-"

Suddenly, something clapped onto his shoulder-plates and pulled him back abruptly, the audible clang nearly ringing into his audial receptors, startling D-16 from his focus as he appeared to have gotten himself too focused on the passing current of whispers, reeling back to reality. The catch of rumors stowed away into the back of his processor. D-16 staggered, then twisted around, meeting to a set of familiar blue optics and a brightened grin. D-16 sighed and shook his helm, "Orion..." He began, almost with a breathless sigh from the near spark-attack, a slight chide in his tone far too exhausted to stand alone in his voice, but relief filled his tired gaze.

"Dee! Hey! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Orion Pax exclaimed, throwing an arm over his shoulder-plating and nudging him closer.

"Looking for me? Pff--I've been looking everywhere for you," D-16 insists after rolling his optics, gently pushing him back, "where the hell were you?"

"Ohh, wait until I tell you this!--" He said, holding D-16 by the pauldrons, suddenly guiding him elsewhere once Orion's blue optics spotted something behind D-16. And before the mech himself could catch a glimpse on what his close friend had seen. He was hurried off in another direction towards the refueling hubs, merging with the bundle of bots nearby.

Most of the miners had been used to Orion's antics, D-16 being the most well aware of them all, and like many would suggest.

Trouble always happens to find Orion more than he found it, and now? One could only guess that the trouble was currently sweeping the working grounds for Orion at the moment, leaving D-16 to place an arm around the back of Orion's neck to play his role of getaway, silently ushering him to move faster.

"C'mon! I wanna get some energon first, and then, I'll tell you all about it, It was crazy!" Orion spoke, lowering his voice as if it'd make them any less suspicious.

"Crazy, huh? No less than usual?" D-16 shook his helm and quietly laughed, looking over to the bot, "Got into some trouble again?"

"Ooh!... You bet, and big time," He said.

"I just hope I don't have to bust my skid-plate to pull you out of it this time..." D-16 noted, a slight drag to his tone, mentally counting just how many times he'd already done just that already--within a week or less so far. Orion Pax chuckled on and guided his mining buddy off down the path, offering little to no reassurance that this wouldn't happen again, but for now?

D-16 indulged to it, looking back every now and then to make sure they hadn't been tailed by any angry-looking bots.

. . .

The intermission came to a close, and eventually each bot was sent back into the mines. So with that, D-16 took to his drill once again and went down with the rest of the mining crew into the newly opened channels. The very minerals that made up the caves parted far them, presenting open pockets of ore that peaked out from the earth between, to which they went at within the first sight of it with starved drills and cutting edges. Buzzing and minerals chipping away filled the atmosphere around, with the occasional shouts and requests here and there for assistance. The hours dragged on, rolling by within the blink of an eye. Every passing minute was punctuated by the clatter of ore filling the cart until the metal wailed along the journey back up to the exiting point again, only for another to replace the cart soon enough.

D-16 was off on his own occupied chase, drilling into the minerals with desperation, a droplet of coolant ran down the side of his face. He had spotted a trace of a vibrant blue glow pulsating between the crevices and struck down with determination, breaking away the minerals as it forced through the stone, gutting and burrowing deep until he had reached the fruits of his labor, a large chunk of energon became exposed to the open air. It was larger than his last initial findings, nearly around half his frame, "This should do..." He sighed, leaning back for a moment to wipe the condensation off of his forehead, before chipping away at the massive chunk down to sizable halves before leaning his drill to the side to haul it back in his arms. He grunted, lowering for a moment before tossing the chunk over the wall of the cart and then repeated with the other. His success coming off in the sound of harsh crash of chunks and rocks, watching the pieces roll to the edge with a dull thud before it settled.

He dusted his servos off and nearly resumed back to work, only pausing as he collected his drill off from the stone wall to look over to the space beside him, "Hm?"

He paused in his work and glanced over, noticing to a bot who'd been struggling for quite some time, using to the same tools he did but with... Less efficiency, and expertise.

He wasn't sure if they had realized it, but they were holding their drill... Upside down, somehow managing regardless to maintain in using it and scoring a few measly pebbles and a few pieces capable of fitting into a servo, out of shear luck or spite somewhere. He was impressed by the odd sight in a way, nearly speechless.

He continued to stare on for a moment longer, merely marveling at how this bot was even managing as he watched them. They stood in the dark, devoid of using their headlamp, but with gritted teeth and determined optics that pierced the dim lighting around. She persisted.

. . .

The femme pulled back and for a moment, took to a deep sigh, her digits nearly loosening around the trigger from the coolant build-up, making her palms all slick and gross much to her internal protests and grimaces. She loosened her hold on the item and it settled--or rather slipped onto the ground beside her with a gentle "clunk!" and her shoulders drooped, looking to the fruits of her labor.

She nudged a few crumbled bits of rocks with her digits, trying to check whether any was "good enough" but, the femme hadn't really spent enough time before down below, looking at unprocessed energon ore to know a thing or two on what counted as "good" or "bad", nor the worth.

After a minute or two of fishing around between her remains, all she could find was supposedly one light shard of energon ore and a hundred littler... pieces... pebbles? She shortly estimated their worth to be rather appealing enough to skip across an oil stream at best, watching the pieces fall between the gaps of her fingers.

"... Slag," She whispered, so maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew.

Regardless, she threw her pieces up into the cart above, landing one and losing a couple from a few misses (to which she proceeded to chase and pick up again in mild embarrassment) before spending her time pinpointing accuracies on the arch of her throws. Once done, she steadily returned to her work, wiping the coolant off her palms against her skirt-plate, collecting dust and dirt that clung stubbornly. She huffed at the sight but found it to be useful at least, now that her hands were no longer leaving her tools to slip free from her fingers even if it was a little gross...

Okay, maybe not just a little--very, very dirty and gross.

The femme took to the drill and hoisted it up, accidentally pulling down the trigger for a second and scaring herself halfway to death once it struck against the rock and rattled loudly, leaving her to squeak in surprise. She remained frozen and embarrassed herself once again, internally smacking herself in the processor, before fixing her grip on the weapon and then hurriedly looked to her sides in fretting hopes that nobody had noticed her slip-up.

Once safe and certain, she was about to return to the task, sucking in a breath until, a hesitant hand came into her line of sight, followed by a stream of light.

She paused, looking over to follow the white lighting emitted before meeting to the source, standing in silent shock once she met gazes with a pair of bright, yellow--almost orange optics.

The yellow lenses stared back at her and for a moment, the hue deepened and she found herself lost in watching the rings of their optical lense spin slowly--her own silently responding in turn to take in the light.

And for a moment, all she could think of was how pretty they looked, under the dim lighting and soft, contrasting, blue, darkness that surrounded. She could never quite recall the last time when she'd seen a bot outside of her own family, carry optics such as these.

She lingered in her awe, holding her gaze and softly gasping once she realized she'd been staring too long. The monochromatic mech's servo retracted back at her sucked in breath, just as equally fretful of the idea of spooking her.

They both lingered in awkward silence, before he reached out again, keeping his digits distant from her own. The mech pushed his words out first, hastily before he'd become interjected, "Here, uh. Let me help you," He began, and at her tensed silence.

He reached out and carefully laid his servo over her own, guiding it when she had released the death-grip around the handle. He glided his fingertips along the steel and briefly persuaded her into forfeiting the drill on over to D-16 who rotated it around and handed it back to her. She gazed over with confusion riddling across her expression, the inner rings of her optical receptors glowed and rotated to adjust in the sight of the tool's rotation. She held to it and ran her gaze over what she could, squinting and forcing her optics to brighten a little further to see.

At this point, D-16 grew to notice that the femme before him didn't bear any kind of mining light upon her helm, and leaned forward slightly to focus his helm on positioning the lighting over the handle of her drill so she could see. He awkwardly shuffled close to her back and side to help lift the drill up, taking her servo into his own and securing it around the trigger. He made careful gestures to make sure at the very least not to push down the trigger from gripping her servos too hard,

He could feel her frame stiffen briefly against him and with that he tried to reassure her, "I-It's okay, I just... Need you to hold it like..." He trailed off, lifting the end of the drill up over her shoulder and guided the tip to touch into the slight hole she made earlier during her personal scare. He fixed her servos positionings with his own and she watched to him carefully, nodding with every silent lesson he gave and watched every point he gestured with, "This." D-16, now firmly making sure her position was secure, pulled back to give her a bit of room, and pointed to the back of the equipment.

"The end of the drill's gotta... go here, hovering just over your shoulder. I don't recommend resting it completely onto there unless your servo's off the trigger. It sometimes leaves scratches from the impact and from the intense, repetitive motions... a little," He informed, slowly finding his words, and to that she nodded slowly, glancing to her shoulder-plate to make sure she hadn't suffered that mistake yet and resumed to the position he guided her to take, breathing out slowly. She eyed at the placement in the stone, noticing to the bare glow beneath.

D-16 monitored her, and walked back to retrieve his own drill, marching back once she began to carry her drill with confidence, before pulling the trigger and digging back into the earth,

He watched the sparks fly and with that, he pushed for conversation to help loosen the atmosphere even more, "... First time using it?" He asked.

She anxiously shifted between watching where her drill went and to the mech beside her, giving a meek nod before eyeing back to the cracking stone, "... M-mh, yeah, actually." The femme responded.

D-16 nodded and struck to the sight of a glowing energon ore peaking out on his side, letting his own drill bury through and pursuemthe trail. In the meantime, he wanted to at least get to know the new face beside him as recollections of the rumors he had heard before hand began to resurface at the top of his mind. His optics scanned over her for a moment. Her frame was darkened all over, making her nearly one with the underground environments she was within. Her lack of helm-lights was odd initially, but upon further inspection. She bore no jetpack either.

How was she meant to escape a potential tunnel collapse?--maybe she forgot it up at the surface?

But that's dangerous and unaligned from safety protocols!

Nonetheless, he kept calm with a twinge of concern for the newbie, his expression scrunched, "... First time... Down here in... General?" He asked, tilting the word on his glossa slightly, biting back in cautious hopes he hadn't offended the femme if she wasn't new.

The bot paused in her drilling, and looked over, before avoiding his gaze with a slight purse of her lips, "... Is it... that obvious?" She pushed back, almost defeated, as though her act had already crumbled before it could begin.

"Oh no, not at all. It's just--I-I don't think I've ever seen you around down here before," D-16 said, hoping to ease the defeated look in her optics.

Her lowered optical ridges raised up, and lessened into a more understanding expression, bobbing her helm slowly. Her grip on the implement readjusted once again, raising it up, until D-16 held out a servo to stop her. She froze and looked beneath to where her drill pointed to and hurriedly scanned the area for any mistakes. D-16 lowered his drill again and wandered over, guiding the edge of the drill into the ground and gestured her closer, "Here," He advised, before taking to his own drill to provide example.

"You have to hit it at an angle like--this--so it kind of sinks in properly," He informed once more, pulling back and pointing, "there's nothing wrong with the way you're doing it, but if you want it to stay still a little easier and maybe not carry as much of the weight then, it helps." He shrugged, before stepping back once again to give her some space. She nodded and narrowed her optics, searching for a designated spot to test out the method.

"Hit here," D-16 pointed, tapping the front of his drill against the stone to light a few sparks so she could see it, "and try to go for kind of a slightly tilted angle instead of keeping it directly vertical or straight, maybe like a light degree in-between,"

She bobbed her helm lightly, steeling herself once again and struck into the targeted area, pulling the trigger as it began to fill the air between them with an audible "rat-tat-tat!" sending small stars and sparks up from repetitive collision of steel to stone, as well as dust and pebble.

Moments later, the ore loosened from the stone, crumbling away enough for her to scramble and retrieve to the reward of her achievements with brightened optics and a smile that stretched from one audial receptor to the other. She dropped her drill for a moment and reached down to collect the material, curling her arms around the hefty chunk, a soft "hmmf!" escaped her as she strutted back to the cart, dipping into a crouch to amplify her jump and throw, pacing back and forth until all the ore she had mined out was finally cleared.

The femme looked up happily to D-16, the look of gratitude came in the form of her sparkling optics before the words had even yet to settle, a slow smile mirroring onto his lips from her own. He chuckled and reached down to pick up his own finds, wandering over to the cart to dispose it with the rest.

He looked over to the femme beside him and smiled, "see? All you needed was a little help with your technique. Now you don't have to struggle as much and you'll use less energon while at it,"

She hummed in acknowledgement, hastily nodding, “… T-Thank you kindly,” she remarked, a soft accent tucked beneath her words that tried to hide itself. The need for assistance wounded her sense of independency, but it was warmly welcomed nonetheless. She'd have preferred the help over making herself look like an even bigger fool than she was being mere moments ago. She clasped her servos together, digits entwined and folded formally before her, fidgeting “I-I don’t know how to repay you, stranger,” She admitted truthfully, averting her gaze for a moment, only for it to to light up when she noticed D-16's drill drew nearest to her side, retrieving to it and strutting right back to him.

He tilted his head slightly while he watched her return his tool. He chuckled a little more and crossed his arms, amused by the shy gestures, "you're welcome, though you don't need to pay me back really if that was your intention. I just wanted to help. What's your... Designation, anyways?" He asked, taking to his implement from her servos, leaning it on his shoulder for the time being.

“Silversong…” She replied, finally looking back to D-16. Silversong smiled with her optics, the very edges of her eyes slightly raising with the gentlest pull of her cheeks to perform the warm expression, “… And you, stranger?”

He smiled at her in turn, his expression a little worn out but it didn't stop him from offering a gentle expression back. His optics softening at the sight. He then placed his hand to his chassis, introducing himself, "I'm D-16. Nice to meet you, Silversong."

A trickle of humor ran through him and in the moment. He kept his hand to his chest and bowed his helm, nearly dipping the front of his frame in a regal manner.

Out of surprise, Silversong softly chuckled at his little bow, amused by the rather friendly gesture. She raised a servo to conceal her lips and thought for a moment. She wanted to continue talking, maybe longer if she could but the moment was severed into two and the reminder came in the form of another bot who had arrived, clapping D-16 on the shoulder-plate with a loud "clang!".

Silversong had nearly forgotten that there was work to be done, and internally deflated once the moment of reprieve slipped from her. But still, she persisted in her idle expression, watching the interaction. D-16, in his confused state twisted his helm to listen to--who she assumed was a friend of D-16.

"C'mon, Dee! I just found a rich energon vein over here, if we mine this, we'll probably be able to take the rest of our shift off for the day!” Orion Pax exclaimed optimistically, almost dragging D-16 away, unaware that he was talking to someone.

D-16 stiffened and felt his pedes drag a couple inches into the ground as Orion seemed determined to show him this energon vein, looking up to Silversong, who only bid him farewell in the form of a slow wave and a reserved smile. He would've returned the gesture, but by then she had already looked away.

D-16 slowly turned around to right himself back onto his pedes and fell into line beside Orion, looking behind him before, shaking his helm at Orion's blind optimism. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd hope that Silversong didn't think of his sudden departure as rude or anything... Stealing another quick glance back and--she was gone.

His lips pursed and his optics dimmed, sighing. He looked over to Orion and recovered his expression to an exasperated smile, rolling his optics, "Yeah, yeah..." D-16 cracked his knuckles and briefly went back to pick up his drill, dragging it along.

"I hope you're not just lying so we don't have to mine as much. Let's just just hurry and get this done with,"

#oc #original character #oc x canon #transformers #tf oc #maccadam #macaddam #tfo #tf one #transformers one #Songbird in The Mines #d 16 #d16 #Silversong (oc)#orion pax #tfo orion pax #tfo d16 #fic #still learning how to tag most of this tbh

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spot-the-ableism · 4 months ago

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to set the record straight, as I have zero things to hide.

[IMAGE ID: a tumblr post by user crippled-peeper, it is a reblog chain of 3 posts. It reads “accuses me of “race faking” because I talked about being a refugee from Katrina checks my bio again first line: white man” next reblog reads “idk what’s more fucked up, that these bloggers are named “spot the antisemitism” or “ spot the ableism” or the fact that they are so racist and ableist they think the only way a white person could be a refugee is if they’re making it up” next post reads “ “you can’t be a refugee and disagree with me!!! Everyone knows that I am the arbiter of who is and isn’t a refugee as someone who lives in a gated community in the USA !!! Don’t you know I RUN A BLOG?!?!?” The tags read “#I’m so glad other people are im agreement that these kids are actual clowns not to be taken seriously at all” END ID:]

I never said or insinuated that you were not a climate refugee, nor that you were a racefaker

above is proof, I have not edited the posts nor want to. You have the reblogs to prove I in fact did not edit anything.

the things you are claiming I “did” were things that spot-the-antisemitism did and said.

intracommunity ableism is still ableism, hate speech against both Jewish and other disabled people is not okay, you can be both completely totally right to call out spot-the-antisemitism’s ableism and commit hate speech against random Jewish and disabled people. You can do both, nuance exists.

me calling you out on harmful behaviour and inciting hate speech is not a bad nor immoral thing I’d hope you would do it to me.

Link 1

Link 2

Link 3

Link 4

if you are mad at me swearing at you may I remind you that you have committed way worse acts of hate speech and yet I gave you benefit of the doubt. People are allowed to swear at people.

i have said you may be having a horrible time right now due to medication troubles and that people should not harass you regardless. And that they should keep in mind that you have been through a lot and do not want harassment. I do also humbly apologise for swearing it was wrong of me to and not conducive to anything helpful.

if anything I have been way too forgiving, what you have said to many well meaning and non-ableist/normal disabled people has been utterly vile and yet do I use that against you? Yet do I say those same things towards you? Yet do I mean to hurt or harass you? No.

I live my life, you live yours, I care about you enough to actually call out people who do wish to hurt you. I shouldn’t, but I do. If you return my very calm and sincere response with the same energy and hatred that you usually do it is not in good faith.

you are having a hard time, a hard time always. And I do not wish to contribute to that. But I cannot stay silent and let others be hurt by what you do and you say. Words do effect reality, there are people behind these screens and I am one, and I am writing this sincerely.

again why am I ableist when I was the one to in fact call out and hold spot-the-antisemitism accountable, and explain why it was bad? I spotted the ableism, simple as that.

I am no wimp, or coward if you wish to call me horrible things I am proud to Bare it.

As I do with all things.

sincerely a disabled person who was told way worse things than this over the course of my childhood.

if you do say "KYS" or any variation of it I will be reporting you.

as that. is. hate. speech. and violent speech which. is. not. legal.

I have not discriminated against you nor malgendered you, I have only sweared at you at the worst (and called out that fakeclaiming and spewing violent hate speech is unacceptable), if anything I have been on your side on most of this.

this comes from a place of love, not hatred.

#ableism #cripplepunk #spot-the-ableism | important info #The crippled-peeper saga #context and my thoughts #if you wish to say something about me I would rather it not be swears #I am already at my wits end due to real life things. and will not accept any violent or hateful speech.#I am not a “zionist” I am not a “genocidal murderer who hates brown refugees” I am not anything.#if you wish to take it up with me I will be getting the moderators involved.#thank you. I know my rights.#not screenreader safe

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eldritch-spouse · 8 months ago

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holy shit nebul the love of my life the apple of my eye i don’t want him to make me better we can be worse together!!!! and it had me thinking just a little bit…….. what would he be like with a pearl with bpd? i could only think about how he could feed much more due to my heightened and frequent negative emotions, yet get the best of my undying loyalty and affection towards him!!! sure, i’m emotionally volatile and would be given to him as mentally stable as a train with broken wheels but, he can fix me right? or make me worse, either way i’d be glued to nebul like a leech

[Anon. I have a very loose grasp of how BPD actually works, so I don't feel confident to answer this. But I'll generalize.]

TW: Psychological abuse; Weaponizing a disorder.

Nebul is bad for you.

Well, he's bad for everyone, but someone with borderline disorder will suffer perhaps twofold in his hands. Feeding off the lows you can very easily sink to is like a guilty pleasure for the wraith, he can't help but intentionally trigger episodes of instability within you simply to create a snacking loop from time to time.

The undead sure likes to think he can "fix you", and truly, he can. Disorder or not, Nebul doesn't rest until you're the epitome of the perfect pet, intensifying desirable qualities like loyalty and unhealthily intense infatuation as well as dependant tendencies while trying to weed off possible aggressive responses in moments of volatility.

The wraith won't try to "remove" the BPD from you, but he will make sure that your own condition contributes to keeping you trapped into your new subservient role.

As usual, there's always an element of manipulation involved. You're currently broken, he says to you calmly, you're hard to fix, at any moment you may fall apart again and Nebul will have to restart his meticulous work. But he'll do it anyway, because you are his pet, and he cherishes you like any good master does. Aren't you thankful that he puts up with you? That he's so benevolent? No one else would care to help you, save you. And frankly, with the attitude you give him sometimes, the wraith can understand why. Maybe you should be a little more humble, no?

#Nebul oc

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drdemonprince · 7 months ago

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autistic anon here again, thanks for fielding my question, you're a real one for not all toxic positivity on it. i guess i should've formulated things better, because i didn't mean to imply being completely wrapped up in decision paralysis to the point of doing nothing. that's a mental hurdle i've cleared a long time ago, so shit gets done. i have a few emails sitting in my inbox of fundraisers i helped with that closed out, and it;s making me emotional just thinking about it.

there's a weird disconnect between knowing that you're just one person (and that's something i actually like, i'm no-one special, that's a very freeing thought), and fully feeling it. because somewhere there's always a nagging worry i could do more. as true as it is, reminding yourself you're doing what you can feels like a convenient self-soothing lie when you're in the pit of a bad night. probably the calvinist whispering poisons in your ear. (being afraid of falling in the trap of slacktivism or just reposting everything as a signal boost and patting myself on the back for a job well done, amongst them. which is BS, but knowing isn't believing.)

i mentioned the autistic part for a reason, because community is something i've never quite experienced and only understand in the abstract. like those fundraisers i helped with many, many other people, that's a community effort and i'm proud i could contribute my little bit. translating that to in-person efforts has been a big ??? though. it's not very parseable or approachable to me.

i hadn't quite grokked this as all being part of shame, i have your book sitting here and have read it a while, probably should reread it.

Hey, thanks for writing back! I hear from people of all levels of engagement, from having never done anything to like dedicated black bloc hard core mother fuckers so it's hard to gauge from a single message what someone's particular situation is.

It sounds like you are already doing a ton, choosing actions to take, following through on them, reflecting on the impact of your tactics, and then regrouping to do more and to try things differently where you can. Yet you still feel like shit sometimes and as if you're not doing enough. What to do about those feelings?

Well. Consider those feelings aren't a problem you have to fix. They're just a thing that will happen. Because of cultural conditioning and endless exposure to alarming messages and imagery online they're just gonna come up. Those feelings can just exist while you keep doing the damn thing.

You've already got your behavior on lock. You're doing what you can and not succumbing to choice paralysis. You're hopefully not burning yourself out. It doesn't sound like anything needs to change, maybe other than you not consuming too much online bullshit that's making you feel even more guilty needlessly.

You say: "there's a weird disconnect between knowing that you're just one person (and that's something i actually like, i'm no-one special, that's a very freeing thought), and fully feeling it."

Yeah, you might not ever fully feel it. As long as you keep acting like it's true, you're good imo.

i feel like the most evil selfish unlovable human being alive most days. it doesn't really matter that i do. it sucks, but that's just a fact of how my life has been. i can keep picking myself up and doing what i have decided is right for me to do anyway. i do what i can to avoid triggers that make that feeling worse, so that it doesn't become a barrier to action, but otherwise i just... keep on living, with terrible emotions and terrible thoughts. and i focus on my actions.

As for the community piece, I hear you, it's really fucking hard. I think it's very humbling work that is so worth doing though. Often it involves showing up to the work that a group is doing and living with the fact that you won't know what the fuck is going on and looking inept for a while. it's a necessary distress tolerance building exercise, getting more comfortable with just being there and rearranging the chairs and setting up the food and feeling like a dumbass who has nothing to contribute.

being able to sit with those feelings and keep showing up and not having an ego about it is enough to earn a lot of trust and foster deeper connections, I find. so many people fail to be able to even do that in most organizing/activist/volunteering spaces. I understand it feels mortifying but it is another one of those situations of getting over oneself in a way that's ultimately so freeing and beautiful. when you can accept that people want you around even if you never have anything to say and do nothing but bring paper cups and take out the trash. it's a real object lesson in how not being all that important can be a wonderful thing and make it possible for us to find love and acceptance.

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pinketine · 2 months ago

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My #1 fear is probably Kendrick going out sad like Kanye

Isn't that anyone's fear with their fave lol? Luckily I don't think that'll happen because Kanye's downfall is the result of many different traits and circumstances that Kendrick simply doesn't have/hasn't experienced. They both started from relatively similar backgrounds but they have different attitudes to life and shit.

More under the cut because I really got into psychoanalysing these grown men I don't know

The biggest reason for Kanye's downfall is his own ego. He's an unbelievably talented person who's influenced other equally talented people, and his name is permanently cemented in music history, and he knows this all too well. And he's never taken the time to properly humble himself. Kendrick Lamar is equally aware of his own talent and skill, but he's introspective, and takes time to check himself. Kendrick "Kendrick is not your savior" Lamar would not make I Am A God. Like I do love Kanye's introspective songs but he never takes a good long hard look at himself for too long. He just assumes he's right, and surrounds himself with people who think the same, pushing away practically everyone who criticises him. This circle of yesmen and sycophants is how we got Vultures 1 and 2. Literally nobody says "no" to that man anymore. Hell, his own fanbase even contributes to this effect. Kanye fans can be damn near brainless sometimes with how much they don't want to criticise him because he made music they like or something. (Or because they're neo nazis.)

They also have incredibly different public personas. Tying into his aforementioned ego, Kanye is brash, and loud, and never hesitates to say what he's thinking for better ("George Bush doesn't care about black people") or worse ("There's A LOTTT of things I love about Hitler"). And this ego makes it so he's stubborn to a fault, never backs down properly even when he's wrong because he thinks he's enlightened or some shit. Kendrick, in heavy contrast, is more reserved. That isn't to say he hasn't had his controversial moments (the one I can think of best is when he brought up that white girl to rap with him), but even then, he clearly reflects and learns on it. Part of Kanye's downfall is his various controversies over 20 years, as they prompted many people to distance themselves from him, and Kendrick just wouldn't do even close to half of them. When Kendrick feels like someone's been snubbed, he talks about it on a song (Killer Mike mention on Hood Politics). When Kanye feels like someone's been snubbed, he storms the stage and takes the mic from the winner.

Speaking of controversies. I should probably elaborate on Kanye's worst controversy. They obviously have VERY different political beliefs. Kendrick Lamar talks about watching the daily news and hoping the 2016 election results weren't true on LUST. Kanye wore a MAGA hat. That alone pretty much tells you everything about where their heads are at. While Kendrick is very much a leftist, Kanye had been spending several years going down the alt right pipeline (I once heard someone say he'd actually been on the antisemitism shit since Yeezus era, but don't quote me on that. Would explain the New World Order mention on New Slaves). So while Kanye's views used to be more left leaning, they definitely no longer are. That isn't to say there isn't antisemitism in leftist spaces, like there absolutely is, and that isn't to say Kendrick hasn't said questionable things before (him calling himself an israelite on YAH.) but definitely not to the extent Kanye took it. He recognises that his own bigotry can't slide just because he's black, like on Auntie Diaries. And of course, Kanye hasn't really properly backed down. Hence, the several questionable Jewish lines on Vultures. He's so convinced he's right.

So PR wise. Kanye clearly doesn't have a PR team otherwise they would've killed themselves a long time ago. And Kendrick is at an all time high right now, in a way Kanye never was really.

So let's talk music. On his AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM remix feature, Kendrick criticises AI, and it's clear he isn't fond of it at all. This is to be expected, this man doesn't even like rappers having ghostwriters. He's passionate about his music, and he wants it to be his, and from him. I think Kanye's lost pretty much most of his passion for music. Like don't get me wrong, he's delayed albums before (several albums have been delayed by either close to, or over, a year!) but it was clear he had a vision, and he put a lot into them. And even the ones that were imperfect upon released he went back and tweaked (The Life of Pablo and Donda). He cared deeply, constantly experimenting and pushing his sound to its limits. Vultures 1 was... simply bad. For a Kanye album. It might've been alright for another artist but put it up against the rest of his work. Does that shit sound My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy quality to you? Or I guess, Kids See Ghosts since it was also a collab album. Either way, incredibly lackluster.

And Vultures 2... WELL. I've mentioned it before but I'm on a Kanye discord server and the day it dropped people begged me to not even bother listening to it. On. A Kanye server. Made up of fans of his music. People begged me to not listen to Vultures 2. And there's like no surprise, the album sucks shit. It's badly mixed, and Sky City got dug out of Yandhi's desecrated corpse and had AI slapped on it. Ye-I (or KanAI) has pretty much been haunting Vultures 2 because the album is already sloppy but using AI is an incredibly cheap trick, especially when it's of Kanye himself. Like what? Are you too lazy to rap your own shit now? Like yesterday 530 (a song that was half fucking mumble upon release) got """updated""" to have AI in it as well when there was already a finished version he performed at an LP. It's genuinely just pathetic, and not something Kendrick would do without serious compromise of years long established values.

I should probably also mention Kanye's... instability. For lack of a better word. I'm gonna preface by saying this clearly his mental health isn't making him do this shit like some evil puppeteer, but it has an incredibly strong influence on him. As we all know at this point, Kanye has been diagnosed with bipolar (although he has gone on record to say it was a misdiagnosis fabricated by "them" (guess who "they" are...) to silence him, and actually he has autism. Not sure to make of the autism thing.). And while Kendrick has talked about struggling with mental health, Kanye's been fighting a pretty depressing to watch war against his (he's literally had a mental break live on stage before). His life is basically ruled by instability thanks to it (and his grief due to him losing his mother way too early) in a way that Kendrick's simply isn't. Not to mention his several addictions. None of those things make Kanye a bad person, or the sole cause of why he does the shit he does, but mixed with his already egotistical personality, it causes a lot of his beliefs to be compromised (for such a devout Christian he ain't very Christ-like) a lot of the time.

And I just don't think Kendrick would spiral in a similar way. If I had to guess, he'll just bow out gracefully by retiring.

TL;DR They're two incredibly different people with incredibly different artistic visions. Kendrick's probably gonna end up with a damn near flawless discography by the end, which Kanye could've also done if he retired at Donda the way God intended.

#autism tweaking like crazy round these parts #do i make sense? do i sound incomprehensible?#kanye west #kendrick lamar #oh i guess this also counts as #yzyszn #505 hotline

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rayday-mayday · 3 months ago

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Just going to post this real quick to my blog to ward off a specific type of person rq: I don't support transid.

Never have and never will. Argue with a wall if you want to change my mind cuz you won't atp. I've tried to understand where yall are coming from, but can still find faults in your logic + ways you're genuinely harmful.

[ Rant under the cut about why I don't support transid. Fair warning: It's kind of really long ]

I don't care what justifications you have. If you genuinely feel dysphoria over not being abused, traumatized, disabled, a terrible person, or whatever else, then that's something you take up with a professional.

I am strictly anti-harm, anti-abuse, anti-violence, and just anything that causes harm to anyone at all. Even people I hate.

Transid inherently has a percentage of people in their community that want to transition, and considering that it has identities such as transnazi, transabuser, transgroomed, transPTSD, etc, I just can't support it.

You don't plan to "transition" yourself? Why aren't you calling out people who do? Just idly standing by when your community has a really harmful problem is also contributing to the problem. Your silence is a statement, especially if you're extremely active in a specific community.

Even if you don't support "transition" when it comes to harmful identities, where do you draw the line on what's harmful? I'd like to argue that transautistic is harmful. You cannot transition into being autistic. Full stop. Same with being ADHD, actually, but I won't get into that since I don't know much about ADHD personally.

But even if I don't know much about ADHD, what I can say is that both conditions are abnormalities in the way your brain functions and develops. And with that I mean the way it physically functions. You cannot wish your brain into developing at a different rate than an allistic, nor can you wish it into genuinely reacting differently to certain stimuli, or whatever other differences there are.

You also can't take any type of hormones/meds to change how your brain fundamentally develops, processes external stimuli, and/or processes the chemicals your brain is subjected to.

And just to prove that autistic brains in specific are different from allistic's: Here's a study just to prove my point.

That means that you cannot transition into being autistic no matter what, and attempting to do so will be nothing but pretend. And no, you can't liken this to transphobia. Gender is a social construct, unlike autism + your physical sex is malleable due to your physical sex being determines by what hormones your body produces and/or whatever genes you have (mutated or not.)

Then there's identities such as transnazi and transabuser or whatever. I don't care what dysphoria you have, you shouldn't have the want to harm people, and if you do then fucking seek support and professional help so you don't harm others.

Same goes for any type of transabused, transeatingdissorder, transPTSD or whatever else. Wanting to go through worse trauma is a normal reaction to having been through "mild" or ignored trauma, but actively identifying as having gone through "worse," or worse: actively trying to "transition" ( become more traumatized ) isn't okay, and only causes harm to yourself and others.

And no, bringing up BIID isn't valid either. Them having their limbs removed to cope with their dysphoria is a controversial stance/action even in professional spaces. Usually people with BIID get cognitive behavioral therapy, other types of therapy in general, or similar treatment. At most they'll suggest VR to live without having a limb, or suggest using things like crutches, but that's it.

Professional usually want to avoid a healthy limb being amputated, and similarly you shouldn't jump to "transitioning" if you struggle with any type of actual transid-related dysphoria.

There's also transrace, which I won't speak on too much since I'm very much white, but I can say that, in my humble opinion, it borders a little too close to blackface, yellowface, or whatever else. When it comes to POC wanting to transition into being white, maybe talk to a professional cuz there's most likely some trauma causing that urge.

And no, just because race is a social construct does not mean it falls under the same category as gender. Race is usually based off of physical characteristics that labels you as fx. black, asian, white, whatever.

While gender, on the other hand, is also based off of physical characteristics sometimes, but that isn't everything. Gender is more based on aesthetics you attribute to your identity, and includes abstract concepts such as certain colors (pink/blue fx.) being for girls/boys, glitter being seen as more feminine, while mud and that type of stuff is seen as more masculine etc. It also changes more drastically over time fx. men used to wear skirts/makeup/wigs a while back, but now those things are more so seen as feminine.

Even transage is problematic. Not because of predators or anything. While, yes, that is a problem, I have a different reasoning as to why I think it's problematic. And that's cuz it includes kids truly wanting to be treated as adults, and adults wanting to be treated truly as kids. Sure, adults can be treated as kids to some extent, but kids cannot be treated as adults, or as equals in general by adults, due to the fact that actually being 10, and feeling like you're 10 years old while being idfk 20, are two very different things.

Kids being treated as actual adults can lead to harm on their psyche, which they often cannot fully comprehend due to being younger. You know, since kids don't have enough life experience or impulse control to truly know what they're consenting to, what they're doing, etc.

This doesn't only apply to sexual activities and being in sexual communities, but also in regards to viewing violence, having adult responsibilities, etc.

Either way, If the plurality community, the agere community, and autistic community can understand this, then you should too. I'm mentioning autistic people due to the fact some autistic people are often seen, if not outright are, mentally less mature in some cases. But even then, we still shouldn't be outright treated as kids since we're still adults, and if we interact inappropriately with kids, then we shouldn't be excused either due to being "mentally younger."

Sorry if I was incoherent during this rant. I just wanted to shout into the void about my stance on this while also warding off transid people. Cuz honestly? Seeing people support transid frustrates me due to all the harmful things mentioned above.

#Tbh my rant went on for longer than intended but eh idc #anti transid #anti radqueer #×discourse×#discourse

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heart-of-copper-dog-training · 6 months ago

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Purebreed vs Rescue

A common debate among the dog loving community is purebred dogs vs rescues. Several things contribute to this and of course I'm going to talk about my own opinion on them.

First, I'm going to say that while there is such a thing as a bad breeder, there are also ethical breeders who genuinely care about the health and welfare of their dogs, as well as the temperament and purpose of the dogs they are breeding. To buy from these breeders is not a bad thing if you know what you need in a dog, have a specific purpose in mind, or simply want to know the most likely temperament and health from puppy to adulthood because it is much more controlled. I also contend with certain breeds of dogs being bred to more and more extremes (french bulldogs, bulldogs in general, any dog with high health issues due to their need to conform to "standard") because these are NOT ethical. They may be well cared for and have a certain temperament, but I can't support dogs that can barely breathe and often have expensive surgeries and/or die due to aesthetics.

Buying from an unethical breeder is something I will never agree with. I'd say your average dog owner knows what a puppy mill is, but many don't understand why a backyard breeder is not much better. Supporting those who breed simply because they have two dogs that are technically purebred (getting an akc registration is actually easier than you'd think) is supporting over breeding, even if the dogs are well cared for. These dogs are at best minimally medically tested with random temperament, and at worst, simply purebred with no testing in any way. Please do your research before buying.

Pet shops carry unethical dogs. Whether fad breeds or "rare" colors (i.e. nonconforming or not even possible colors like a silver lab which is a mix of a Weimaraner and a Labrador), an ethical breeder will not supply these shops.

Fad "breeds" are also something I struggle with. Many of these doodle mixes have become a bane on the dog world. They are cute and adorable, but often mixed with breeds that cause incompatible drives leading to heavy behavior problems being bred into them right from the start. Doodles are worse off due to their cuteness and being marketed as "great beginner dogs" which often translates to new owners as "needs minimal to no training/socialization". While doodles do bring in clients, I would rather they not. Same goes for many of these "purebred" crossbreeds, such as shepskies, pitskies, etc. These dogs are selling for high prices with breeds that should not mix and can cause at best challenging but high drive dogs and at worst a bit of a nightmare for most dog owners.

All that said, I support ethical breeders. I support buying a dog for a specific job (service, sport, search and rescue etc). And I support new owners looking for a more predictable dog with the lifelong support a breeder will bring to that dog. Buying responsibly is not a bad thing, and is what keeps some of these breeds alive.

Now, let's talk rescues. Rescue culture is interesting. Back when I was younger, we just called dogs from shelters/streets/oopsie litters mutts. Sometimes we got lucky and got a purebred from a shelter, and we'd say that was a lucky find (by the way, there are purebreed rescues and many dogs in shelters are purebred, often due to guardians not knowing the demands of a breed or overbreeding). The culture around mutts has shifted to become a more positive one. Now we say "rescue", seemingly referring to any dog that is not directly from a breeder or pet shop is a rescue. I have personally rescued dogs off the street. This is not a humble brag, just a statement of facts. Of those I picked up, several were in poor health and needed medical treatment, and many were just a little dirty and skinny in need of a bath and food. Of these, I kept none, but rehomed all of them.

I'm not here to gatekeep the term rescue, but to put some context into it. While I support adopting from shelters, there is a new culture of calling all dogs in a shelter a "rescue" even if the dog was born there, an owner surrender, or never in any medical/physical/mental trauma to begin with. This culture shift was to aid the shelters in moving dogs and encouraging guardians to "adopt not shop" wasn't enough. They needed to have people feel good about their dog in a way that was more than just "I didn't buy a puppy" so they shifted to calling all dogs rescues. I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing, but it leads to a ton of misconceptions.

Shelters are a traumatizing environment for dogs. Many dogs who are in a shelter long enough suffer mental trauma and can appear as though they were abused. It's very easy for a shelter or future guardian to talk about their dog in a way that personifies them (again, sometimes helpful, sometimes not) and paints a tragedy around a dog who probably was never abused but actually just needs help working through the trauma of just being in a shelter.

Why is this a problem? Well, it's because I meet guardians who assume nothing can be done, that this is "just the way she/he is" because "they were abused". They "hate men" so therefore "a man must have hurt them". So while they love their dog, they never seek the proper help for their dogs' mental state and the dog carries that trauma with them. But they do get to carry that badge of honor saying they "rescued" a dog, whether or not any abuse took place.

I have met puppies from a breeder (I actually have a client right now with this issue) that started from a breeder but was (in this specific case a covid puppy) undersocialized. These puppies turn into adult dogs that are fearful, skittish, and scared of things they weren't ever exposed to in a positive way. Things such as men in hats, tall people, people who are not in the household. These dogs duck and cower and bark. These dogs would appear to be "abuse cases" if they appeared in a shelter (and many of them do, because these behaviors can become overwhelming and guardians can feel too ashamed to return the dog to the breeder or worse, got it from an unethical breeder). Maybe their temperament was poorly bred, too, which compounded things. These dogs would end up in a shelter with a sob story and probably be adopted by kind hearted individuals who want to save the dog and tell everyone they rescued the dog.

This weird culture over having a "rescued dog" badge of honor leads many guardians who really would do better with an ethical breeder to adopt a shelter dog instead. And, as much as this pains me to say, shelter dogs (abused or not) are not for everyone. Shelter dogs can be a huge challenge. They have trauma, whether from the environment or the past, whether they are undersocialized or oversocialized. They will often come with behaviors that are not for the feint of heart, and certainly not for first time guardians. But people feel guilty buying from an ethical breeder and feel the need to defend their decision.

Marginal dogs are often adopted out to inexperienced guardians. Even going to an experienced guardian or trainer can cause rescue burn out. A family feeling the pressure of adopting and "rescuing" rather than getting a dog that is more practical for their lifestyle will adopt these dogs and sometimes get lucky, but often times end up with a dog they have no idea what to do with and may quickly return, leading to a revolving door for some dogs which adds to shelter trauma. A family who gets enough behavior problem dogs from a shelter without knowing where to find proper help ("this is just how they are because they were abused") WILL burn out and WILL make shelter dogs look like "all shelter dogs are bad dogs" and "all shelter dogs have behavior problems".

Shelter dogs are a big, beautiful unknown. They can be diamonds in the rough, or they can be a new learning experience for an upcoming dog trainer. They can be the inspiration for some to LEARN about training and behavior in dogs. They can be a therapy dog (Copper, who inspired my namesake, was such a dog), they can be a service dog, a sports dog, a working dog. They can be an anxious dog, a dog with separation anxiety, a dog with aggressive behavior towards certain triggers. They can be beautiful or funny looking (in the cutest ways) and graceful or clumsy as Scooby Doo (looking at Pancake right now). They can have past health issues that come back to haunt new owners or be more healthy than most purebreds.

So what does all of this mean? Who's better, purebreds or rescues?

I think the more important question is: what do you want in a dog, and what are you prepared to handle? Once you know that answer, you will know who is better for YOU.

Stop shaming ethical breeders. Stop shaming shelter dogs who have behaviors their guardians don't have the knowledge or resources to handle. Stop shaming those who bought from an unethical breeder unknowingly because they were never given the chance to learn. Stop shaming guardians who turn to breeders after having a bad experience with a shelter dog.

Educate. Show sympathy and kindness. Show them resources for any of these guardians. Why are huskies a challenging breed, and what can guardians do with a shelter dog that needs more help?

Dogs are dogs, and we love them. But we are doing a disservice by simply slotting them into "breeder vs rescue". We are ignoring the nuances of what these terms mean and we are not educating those who need it most to help those dogs who need it most.

We need to focus on our mutual love for dogs and educate those who do not have the knowledge, background, or resources to find it themselves.

As always, be kind to yourself, to your dogs, and to others. It is free to be kind.

#dog training #dog trainer #positive dog training #dogs #behavior modification #dog reactivity #cute dogs #dog #mutts #bichon frise

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