#nothing can change that he’s still human | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

signedaiko · 2 days ago

Note

Hi do you mind if I please request a oneshot where tfp Wheeljack thinks that the human reader is uptight and just no fun, but that's only because she goes adult mode around the kids especially in dangerous situations, but she's actually a total nerd and very chaotic. And he develops a crush on her.

Seasons Changing

Wheeljack X Reader [Prime]

In which Wheeljack finds you're just like every other strict bot, until he gets you alone.

Song - September by Sparky Deathcap

Reader is: Female | Cybertronian | Autobot. Romantic.

Hidden beneath the crumbling red rocks of Jasper, Nevada, a bot that'd spent the last few decades racing across space as the war came to a dwindling and depressing close found himself bunkered in with a conglomerate of Autobots.

Some he knew well, some he'd never heard of.

"Wheeljack! Watch where you're stepping!" Once again, you'd turned from your datapad that had your servos practically dented into it from many months of use just to nag at him.

Another Autobot gone soft; all you did now was read Earth fiction, old Cybertronian articles, and tell him off since he'd landed here.

"Yeah, yeah, the kids aren't stupid. They can dodge, too." He groaned under his breath before sitting down away from the kids, resulting in a whine from Miko, who'd been trying to teach him to play some rock on her new guitar.

"Kids shouldn't be dodging anything; they're kids." You corrected him before setting your datapad down in between the two of you to get up.

Wheeljack glanced down to catch a glimpse of whatever you were reading, finding some pre-war article on quantum engine engineering. He never got how someone so annoying could be interested in cool things.

Ushering the humans back onto their elevated space so they wouldn't be in danger of moving mechs, you took the chance to apologize to Miko for interrupting her lessons.

Normally Wheeljack would be out for a mission, but the boss insisted he stay back with you in case you were needed elsewhere.

Ratchet was also busy working on one of their larger projects: expanding the range of the ground bridge. It meant they needed someone to distract the kids and watch them as much as possible, and so the two of you were left alone.

Well, as alone as you can be with a bunch of teens and Ratchet.

"Hey! You and Wheeljack still at base?" Arcee's voice broke in through static, likely interference from the base, lighting up your comms.

"We are. Need something?" You pressed a servo to the side of your helm to respond, standing up to alert Ratchet you may need to use the groundbridge.

"We found some locations worth investigating. Our team is splitting into two, but we need you and Wheeljack at the third. Prepare for anything." Your comm beeped, informing you of some coordinates, just as she hung up. Somewhere in the snowy mountains of Northwest Territories, Canada.

"Looks like we're needed elsewhere, Wheeljack. Let's get going." You turned to wave him over, which resulted in him getting up with a groan. You couldn't think of the last time you saw him do anything but frown.

With a few digits punched into the machine and Ratchet calculating the rest, the green and purple swirls of the ground bridge ignited into a vortex, which you led the way through.

Your temperature indicator quickly dropped by the double digits, from 35C to -20C in a matter of a few minutes. As cold as you remembered space being, you'd been subjected to such a warm environment for so long that it took a while to adjust.

Wheeljack, on the other hand, had only been in Jasper so long and immediately pushed past you into the several feet of snow, nothing but tall pines and thick brush surrounding the two of you. Any trees had their branches thick with ice and snow, making them look as pure white as the rest of the landscape.

It was so quiet you could hear your own spark pulse.

"There should be a strong energon signal somewhere around here. We're looking for some kind of mine." Wheeljack had already pulled out the signal detector while you slowly warmed your engines up, hot steam escaping your mouth in an exhale.

"Yeah, I'm picking up a few right now. Looks like they'd even defend a place as desolate as this." Wheeljack turned the reader off so no one would pick up on its signal either.

If there was defence, the longer you were out here, the longer they'd have to notice your trace energies.

"What are we waiting for? Let's break in!" Much to Wheeljack's surprise, you ran ahead of him, sword in hand, as you sliced through branches to clear a path.

"Whoa! Wait up! What are you doing?" Wheeljack yelled out after you as you charged ahead in the direction of the signals, watching as you broke into a con-made clearing where two Vehicons guarded the entrance to a dugout cave.

In a moment, you were on top of one with your sword, plunging it into their chassis.

Wheeljack had no choice but to engage as the other one aimed in your direction, slicing its gun in half, which resulted in the explosion blowing its arm apart. You were already off the Vehicon and running into the cave, which forced him to kick the vehicon he was attacking down and slice its helm off in one swift sweep.

His mask engaged, covering his mouth as he chased you into the cave, muttering under his breath. Just a moment ago you were as calm as ever, and now you were running ahead of him with no regard for the dangers.

This was when Wheeljack didn't do the buddy system; bots are just too complicated.

When he caught up to you, you were in the main chasm of the dugout hole, surrounded by stashes of energon, though they varied in colour from mostly green to blue.

More vehicons, which appeared to be working, turned to the two of you, and before he could react, you were already running at the two closest to you.

The wrecker had worked with many before, but not many that'd throw themselves into a fight as casually as you did. Even as he bashed two vehicons helms together while making a sword swallowing act out of the third, his optics kept glancing your way.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say you were a wrecker at some point, too.

With your combined efforts, you were able to pile the vehicons into a corner and tie them together with some chains, left to the cave on your own.

"Arcee, we're all wrapped up here. What do we do?"

It took a couple of minutes before you got a reply, which Wheeljack spent looting the corpses for anything good.

"Jeez, already? You two comm Ratchet and get as much energon back to base as you can; we'll see you there in a bit."

Looking to Wheeljack, you pointed to the blue crates of energon, which he offered a thumbs up to. With his mask retracted, you could see his frown was a lot closer to a smile, which was the first of its kind.

You were able to contact Ratchet, who opened up a ground bridge for the two of you, and Wheeljack got to lugging through crates while you took to collapsing in the cave entrance.

You wouldn't want humans to find any evidence of this or for the wildlife to interact with the toxic substances in the crates.

As you two grabbed the last few crates, Wheeljack stopped you before you went back to base for good.

"Hey, what was up with all of that?" He gestured with his helm back to the pile of vehicons, to which you shrugged.

"I mean, why act out like that? Aren't you supposed to be Miss-Don't-Do-That or Miss-Wheeljack-Stop-Screwing-Around?" You took a moment to consider what he was referencing before laughing in realization.

"Oh god, that's right! You've only seen me at base!" He only stared at you with narrow optics, which eventually softened; he'd come to like that laugh.

"No, Wheeljack, this is me. I just really want the kid to know they're safe. Can you imagine how scared they are, surrounded by a big wad of sentient metal as a small, fragile organism?"

Thinking about Miko, Raf, and Jack had you worrying again, and you pushed forward to the portal.

"If you want to know more, you'll have to stop begging to go on missions alone." You disappeared into the swirling lights, leaving Wheeljack on his own in the cave.

"Yeah, right." The mech mumbled under his breath. He could take this crate of energon, get on his ship, and leave anytime he wanted; no femme was going to change that.

Yet, he found himself chasing you through the portal, without a second thought.

Author's Note - I tried so hard on this you don't even want to know! I hope its what you were looking for <3

Words - 1,405

#aiko writez #transformers #oneshot #transformers oneshot #x reader #transformers x reader #tfp #transformers prime #tfp x reader #tfp wheeljack #wheeljack x reader #reader insert

58 notes · View notes

kiryoutann · 2 days ago

Text

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: detailed description of: violence, scars. mentions of: domestic violence, overdose, infant death, family death. a man's way of thinking.

[Please read while listening to this.]

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Once, a horrible man, with breath tainted by the acrid stench of tobacco mixed with the remnants of a newly drained liquor bottle, said to Simon. Bloody ‘ell, the amount of shit that came out of that bastard’s mouth, acting like he was some kind of philosopher instead of a wife-beating alcoholic who made his sons’ lives a living hell.

Young Simon didn't understand what it meant; he couldn't think much other than that his father was telling him to burn himself alive. Something he would do, something he would find temporary pleasure in until he stole the next alcohol money his wife earned during her 12-hour nursing shift.

Entering his teenage years, he didn’t think much of those words anymore, thinking of them as just another addition to the incredible amount of shite that came outta that bastard’s mouth.

But it returned when he joined the military. He thought that's it—that “burn” his father spoke of was the passion to serve, to protect. To combat the injustices that had lingered since the dawn of time. He wanted to be the one to make at least one change, a difference. To be the best. It served him well, that fire, all through his rookie training.

Or was it fury?

That white-hot rage that burned his gut, driving him forward as the soil crumbled and leaked through the planks of his coffin. It was that very rage that kept him alive, even when he was condemned to suffocate in his own grave. The spark coursing through his red blood cells, filling his fingertips as he dug with someone else’s jawbone for thirteen hours.

It was his unbridled fury that had stayed steadfast by him when he pledged his vengeance for the blood of his family. It was fury that had carried him out of Roba's burning mansion—another one to add to his record of outwitting the Grim Reaper.

Simon went on with his life thinking that that was it—he needed to stay angry to survive in this world. Nothing else matters but getting out, getting vengeance for every cut, every drop of crimson on the dirty tile beneath his combat boots. He had nothing left to fight for—no family, no home to protect anymore. So, fury had to be the answer. Simon just had to stay an angry man.

And he grew rotten. A stray dog always baring his canines. Ill-suited for domestic life, dropping in only when he needed sustenance—something, anything to hold between his teeth to chew and tear.

Those fingers were corrosive—fluoroantimonic acid in human form, but he did his job even better than he had when he was Simon Riley. Perhaps it was his identity that held him back. Now that he was just an old soul in miraculously intact flesh, there was nothing chaining his feet.

Simon is given three primary roles: hunter, judge, executioner.

Meeting his towering figure means never going home again—any poor bastard who has crossed paths with him is presumed dead. For he has grown rotten; sometimes more corrosive than fluoroantimonic acid, even. He gets the job done, quick and clean.

Simon Riley walks through this world in fury. He is fully conscious, with a dying heart that still beats, filled with deep, deep envy for those who don't have to be angry all the time. Because as much as he needs to keep burning, this is not something he does willingly. It leaves more harm than good. But men like him never have a choice.

Because the pain reminded him that he was alive.

With every blow of the gunstock to the back of his head, he was reminded again and again. As his fist swung at the other guy and the knuckles beneath his gloves connected with a jaw, he was reminded again and again that he was alive.

Simon still hadn’t decided whether he was the luckiest or unluckiest bastard alive.

To be tortured, only to realize that he had survived worse—that he would survive this one and would have to live through the aftermath. And so on until it created a never-ending loop of hell that felt like some twisted form of divine retribution.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

It was just one of the many bollocks his father spouted. The old man probably wanted to leave some grand, motivational words—to leave a mark. But the truth is, he didn’t need to do that. He’d left enough on him. Like all the times Simon stood in front of the mirror, shaving cream around his jaw—almost scared the shit out of his own mum, thinking he was his father.

And he despised that—the fact that he would be reminded of that pathetic excuse for a father for the rest of his life. That even after years since his father left home to lie in the hospital, counting his days from that bloody cancer, his mother still had the same fear every time she saw his father in him.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

He needs to burn.

He needs to…

Burn.

The burning ember at the end of the cigar flares up as Price takes a deep drag of it, holding it in the cave of his mouth before exhaling the remaining smoke and mixing it with the alcoholic aroma of a London pub they visited to “celebrate” another successful mission.

As if this was anything close to a celebration. Though Gaz and Soap were indeed deep in their pints and laughing like a pair of drunken fools, the way the Captain and Kate Laswell bend close together tells him that they have already begun discussing some hints about the next op.

Simon massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the unfamiliar emptiness where his hard-plate mask would usually dig, but instead he found wire beneath the polypropylene. He tapped his fingers boredly on the aged wood, feeling the itch to hold a cold glass in his grasp but having decided not to order anything—there was no point; he wasn’t really planning on staying for too long anyway.

Instead, he tried to find a distraction by doing what he did best – people watching. He watched the bartender serve some fancy cocktail to two birds at the end of the bar, probably those fruity, overpriced drinks that made his throat sore.

Turning his gaze to the far corner, he saw a couple sitting in awkward silence. Looks like some first date gone wrong—judging from the bloke's fidgeting and the lass staring down at her drink, not saying a word. Bloody painful to watch.

Simon glances out the window, watching the steady stream of more people passing by. London is always busy, no matter the time of the day. A city of millions, with each person having their own life, their own stories—the things they wake up to and go to sleep to.

Often, he compares it to old, half-dead Manchester for familiarities, something that might help him blend in with this city. But it’s always the same ending—the differences far outweigh anything he recognizes. The bright lights, the bustling streets, the life—all of it foreign. Seems like the gritty, depressing streets of his youth still suit him after all.

For an hour, he sat there before feeling himself growing more and more restless. Finally, he pushed himself up, ready to make his escape. Soap and Gaz protested, which he ignored before he gave a nod to Price and Laswell, who didn't question him further, already knowing him well enough by now whenever he wasn't in the mood for socializing.

Simon made his way towards the door, stepping out into the soaked streets of London. The rain is coming down hard, and judging from the dark clouds hanging low, it's only going to get worse and more gloomy. Finally, something that reminded him of Manchester.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked beneath the raging sky, trying his best to stay under the awnings and overhangs whenever he could. Droplets of water began to wet his leather jacket, but he kept walking, deliberately letting the rain soak him to the bone.

Self-preservation kicked in as he turned the corner onto another block; Simon was about to try to flag down a cab. However, his eyes landed on a lone figure, almost blending into the shadows, standing under the awning of some shop, trying to stay dry.

Simon knows he wasn't a good man, sure as hell not a gentleman. So is this sudden surge of concern some sort of sympathy, or is it because of all the times he's played the hero—saving countries from missiles, taking down terrorists, all that stuff—that now he can’t turn it off? He walks, long strides stretched out without hesitation even when he knows he’s more likely to do her harm than good—as evidenced by the growing fear in her eyes, her whole body tensing up like a frightened rabbit.

“Nasty night.” He said, being first for the sake of a conversation. That's new.

“Uh, y-yes, quite a storm,” she stammers out, those big doe eyes of hers flickering up to meet his for just a moment before darting away again.

And bloody hell, if that doesn't just about do him in. The way she tried so hard to act innocent, as if she hadn’t just snuck a glance at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Sweet little thing. It’s enough to set his blood on fire.

“Subway, yeah?”

“Yes, the subway. Though it may be closed by now with the weather.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. The familiar burn and taste of nicotine soothed his nerves, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was so bloody on edge in the first place. He had planned to avoid any socializing tonight—that’s why he left the lads so quickly, trying to get back to his blessed silence.

And yet, here he was, in the middle of a storm, talking to a strange bird he didn't even know.

It wasn’t like he was looking for a quick fuck or anything like that—he really wasn’t in the mood for any of that tonight. So why? He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. Do you enjoy playing savior, Simon? To make sure she gets home safe and sound before a bad man comes?

And who’s to say he’s not the bad man in question?

“Subway's closed, like you said. No sense waiting in the wet.” He threw his cigarette butt into the gutter. “Come on then. Pub's the best place for now.”

The woman shook her head, managing a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I'll be right here. Best not to trouble you further on such a night.”

Smart girl, he admitted. Turning down offers from a sketchy-looking man like himself—she has a good head on her shoulders. But as he watched the rain pouring down and the wind howling louder, he couldn't help but wonder if her self-preservation only applied to men and not to the bloody storm and the fever she's definitely going to get if she keeps on insisting on staying here.

“Really, I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to force a laugh. “The rain can’t last forever.”

And he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at her refusal. But there was a crack in her answer—the way she wasn’t entirely sure, the uncertainty clear as day. He knew the kind like her, the ones who needed someone to turn their back on them and walk away to make them think they’d made the wrong choice.

It’s just how some humans operate, and he’s eager to test that theory.

“Suit yourself, love,” he said, watching her eyes widen slightly. "But you'll catch your death waiting in the rain."

Simon started to take a few steps away, counting the seconds in his head. One, two, three…

“Wait!”

When he heard it, he felt a victorious feeling swell up inside. Pausing like some considerate, concerned bloke, he turned to face her, waiting for her to speak.

And when she does, shame leaks from her voice. “I'm coming with you.”

On that stormy night, Simon ends up sitting opposite the skittish bird in a pub, her eyes sweeping around the room with a mixture of curiosity and unease. She looks like she doesn't belong here, probably the first time she's ever set foot in a place like this, judging from the way she keeps glancing at the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar.

The stranger ordered “something light,” and while he gives in and orders bourbon, his drink of choice for as long as he can remember—a therapist he once saw told him it’s some sort of control thing, the need to stick to the familiar, not the kind that appreciates changes.

As he took a sip of his bourbon, the woman started making small talk. She gave a name. Sweet girl asked about his job and apologized before getting an answer, saying she didn't mean to pry, that she was just making conversation.

Too sweet, he thought. Worrying about small things like that.. How do you manage to get any sleep at night?

Simon says he’s in the military, leaving out details about which part of the military he’s in. She feels obligated, then tells him she’s a ballerina—and he wonders if she sees the differences between them. The stark contrast between her delicate, graceful world and the dark, violent one he’s used to.

It's a shame that you have to cross paths with the likes of him – a man like Simon Riley, who's no better than a stray dog with the need to hold something between his teeth.

Worse still, he's a sweet tooth, too.

And so, Simon managed to fuck you on the second meeting.

Fucking hell… His tongue flicked against your swollen clit, bringing you to climax, tasting your juices against his taste buds. But nothing could compare to when he was finally inside you—the tightest cunt he’d ever had the pleasure of defiling. A virgin – the thought of being the first to breach that delicate, untouched flesh—the faint crimson around his condom like lipstick stains—set his blood on fire.

Tears in her eyes as her nails dug on his naked back. Pretty girl tried to play tough, trying to hide the searing pain as the head of his cock continues to press into you, walls fluttering in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. Lips parted in a cry that turned into a moan. Then, his name is uttered in the most vulgar way.

“Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon!”

Something snapped inside his mind—but Simon didn’t have time to care, not when he was buried deep in your warm flesh, watching himself slide in and out of that wet hole like cinematography. Your smaller form flushed and glowing, hair spread in a halo above your head. He held back another growl as you pulsed around him, only to follow with a climax that burned through his entire body.

When it was over, he shouldn't even think about coming back. That's not how he operates; after all, he's the type to jump from one body to the next, never looking back, never a second time.

But the second time happens anyway.

Straight to London after deployment, driving his truck like he has an absolute purpose, like he doesn’t hate the city. He parks in front of a grand Neoclassical building and leans against the door, pulling out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket. He lights it up and waits. He doesn’t know your exact schedule, doesn’t know if you’re coming to work today, and doesn’t know anything about your life outside those two nights. But still, he waits.

As the minutes ticked by, his cigarette began to shorten, the smoke swirling around it. Something wet touched the back of his palm.

“Fuck.” He looked up at the sky, realizing it was starting to drizzle.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a rushing shadow. Simon turned around just in time to see you emerging from the building, coat wrapped tight around you as you sneezed. He saw you walking, so rushed, like you got somewhere to be. What's got you so worked up, sweetheart?

You walk fast, as if on a single-minded purpose, eyes ahead but mind elsewhere. And that’s when he sees it—a car barreling towards you at an alarming speed, and you still don’t realize it until the blinding headlights catch the corners of your eyes.

Without a second thought, Simon rushed forward, pulling you out of the road before the red image in the back of his head became a reality. The car blares its horn, and the driver shouts a string of curses before speeding off again. He felt the cold air seep into his airways too quickly, painting him dry inside yet his body wet with a mixture of sweat and rainwater.

“Christ, pay attention will ya?”

At the sound of his voice, you finally look up, snapping out of whatever nearly cost you your life. Simon watches your eyes widen like you’ve just seen a ghost—some sort of apparition that’s just materialized out of thin air.

Someone who shouldn’t be here, and he can’t help but think the same way.

In the second instance, Simon has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, his hands nomadic on your skin, feeling every rise and dip of your body. He groans as your warm, raw walls clamp down on his cock longingly. Once you’re both sated, he slings a wet towel around your inner thighs, and you return his gentleness with a bottle of bourbon you pour into two glasses.

Simon heads out in the morning, but not without letting you help him find his missing device. The damn thing was hiding in the cushions of your couch. He shoves it into the pocket of his jeans, and that nagging, controlling voice (the one that despises changes and relies on familiarity) keeps reminding him to leave no trace, just like he had done with every previous one-night stand.

Against the itch in his brain, he didn't even bother deleting his number from your log afterward. Instead, he let you save it in your contact list.

(The wandering stray dog froze when the door of a house opened.)

“Will you at least call? Or text, if you can. You have my number now.” You say.

(Warm light seeps out from within, bathing his brown eyes in a goldish hue. That stray dog of his has stopped its roaming, has stopped its restless pacing. It loosens its jaw, saliva dripping down its chin. The tension in its body starts to mellow. Something delicious inside. He should have known better than to get carried away—the last time he did, someone kicked him in the shins and hung him by the ribs.

The last time he did, his house was transformed into a gruesome showcase of all he held dear, ending in a bloodbath. His olfactory receptors still remember the scent of iron. Little Joseph’s socks soaked in crimson.

You're just a rotten mongrel, Simon.

But-

That sweet, intoxicating scent spreads like pollen carried by anemo. And before he could stop himself, his legs moved towards that warmth—)

Simon ended promising a text, then disappeared behind your door.

(—like a moth to a flame.)

The pretty girl takes him to a family event—your cousin’s wedding in the picturesque countryside of England. He finds himself surrounded by happy people—people who don’t need to be angry to live. They simply love and are loved, their smiles, laughter, and kisses genuine, fueled by the bonds of affection and not by selfish pursuits.

You introduce him to your cousin—the bride—named Sabrina, then to your aunt, Joyce. For people you call a family, you look pretty wound up tight, sweetheart.

And then, just as he thinks that, your mother comes strolling into the conversation, all smiles and pleasantries. But, he doesn’t miss how the tension in your body skyrockets, your smile turning into something more forced.

Simon knew that. Because he’d been there himself, growing up with a father who was more interested in the bottom of a bottle than he was in his family; the father who taught him to laugh at a dead prostitute because he thought she deserved it—“She’s jus’ some dumb whore, a drug addict. She was hell-bent on a bad end.” Nothing good in that man, and nothing good in your mother either when you throw up everything you’ve eaten after a conversation with her.

Funny how he used to react the same way. Until something changed, that is. The fear and the shame morphed into something else. Fury. Rage.

“Ye need to burn to survive in this world,” and maybe for once in his detrimental, too-long life, the bastard was right. And as much as Simon despised staying angry, he stayed angry because it saved him.

When the big day arrived, Simon stood in front of the mirror and stared at a reflection he didn’t recognize. Dressed in that damn suit he hadn’t worn since God knows when, the jacket clinging to him like a skin that just didn’t fit right. He fidgeted with the cuffs, trying to loosen them a little.

It's like Tommy and Beth's wedding all over again, back when he was his brother's best man. Everything smells just as sweet and flowery as it did then, and it's making him sick to his stomach.

“All set then?”

Simon turns his head at your voice, watching you walk out of the bathroom, your hair styled and your makeup done in a dark and smoky way that suits you so well. Christ, the way it makes him feel.

You spot his tie on the bed, then pick it up and approach him, closing the distance between the two of you. As you stand in front of him, so near that he can feel your breath on his skin, something begins to creep up his chest. It settles beneath his ribs, burning, spreading like a wildfire. But, it's unlike the fury and rage he's familiar with. This one leaves a warmth, a pull towards you that makes him ache to touch you, to hold you.

Simon couldn't take his eyes off you, watching the way your fingers worked in and out to tighten the knot. The way you bit your lip in concentration.

When you ask him to lean down a little so you can reach the back of his neck, he’s made even more intoxicated—the mix of shampoo and soap you’re devoted to, the delicate yet familiar fragrance of your favorite perfume that always trails after you. Sweet, but the kind of sweet that leaves him wanting more, like a wild animal who's just discovered a gourmet feast.

It’s a hunger, a need, to plant kisses on the pillar of your neck and feel the thrumming pulse that lives beneath your soft and supple skin. The ache to hold you, to keep you within his orbit. Something grips his heart—and before Simon can register, he’s leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a fervent, greedy kiss. He guides you towards the bed, his bulky frame poised to envelop your smaller form.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Made to cry, his pretty girl, by the woman who brought her into the world.

In this world, there are many kinds of mothers. The ones like his, all smiles and kindness, baking good pies and forgiving, perhaps too forgiving. And then, there are the ones like yours—all faux smiles, pretending to be an angel of a mother when he knows full well she’s the reason you turned out the way you did.

Dependent, easy to manipulate, always trying to please everyone. You thought you could maintain a distance from others, but all it takes is a single act of kindness to dismantle them completely—the seemingly impenetrable walls were actually brittle.

A kitten masquerading as a lion, only to purr and melt at the slightest touch.

It annoyed him sometimes, because he knew you deserved better. But it’s also the reason he stayed, he thought. Because he loved playing the hero, especially to a woman who didn’t know any better.

(Something, anything to hold between his teeth for him to chew and tear.)

As you wait in the car, he hurriedly gathers the last of his things, shoving them carelessly into his duffel bag. The embers of anger still simmer within him, but Simon chooses to be the wiser—getting you out of here as soon as possible is a priority.

“I know men like you,” the devil behind him spits. “You think you’re protecting her—you think you’re saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you’ve grown bored.”

And Simon stops. It strikes a chord within him, punches him right in the gut.

Though, he doesn’t say anything. He wants to lash out, to defend himself and his intentions, but doesn’t. What’s the point? He thinks it would be a waste of time, and you’ve been waiting for him in the car for too long. It would just be a waste of breath.

Yet, another part of him knows the real reason.

That she might be right. That she might be right, and he did not like that.

It was always easy to turn away from reality. He pretended to be the wiser man, leaving pointless conversation for good reasons. But the voice in his tainted head always reminded him of what he was made of, what was left of him. He was a rotten man, selfish. Full of desire without the consistency to commit—

Pretending to stay when he knows he is nothing more than a stray dog who loves to wander.

Simon slashes, rips, and kills men as sport; feasting on the raw hearts of women like his own personal dinner, collecting their teardrops like diamonds on his crown. And yet, he has the bloody nerve to think he can keep something as soft as you in his calloused hands without laying a wound.

(A predator wearing the skin of a man.)

A voice in the back of his head began to whisper, telling him to let you go, to walk away before his teeth sank in too deep and caused you even more pain. Before he became too ensnared, too intertwined.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Not when you're sensually rolling your hips on top of him, your jaw slack as those pretty, plump lips make sounds that cause his cock to twitch in his boxers. The sight of your puffy eyes, the soft curve of your lashes, and the furrowed brows. He groans as you grip his thighs, anchoring yourself to him.

The moans you let out—oh, love, what is this? Why does it feel holy when they're sinning? Like some kind of ablution. He is reborn. He is being sent to heaven, and it is between the plush of your thighs—the divine liquid dripping down your folds.

You drag your fingers across the raised tissue of his skin, and he is blessed. He observes as your eyes glide over every part of his body, recognizing the differences between the scars he bears—guessing how they were created. Fire, knives, hooks.

And fuck, angel.

That sickening clench clutches his chest again as he gazes upon your tear-streaked face. This perfect creature is mourning his scarred flesh, once burned and healed, textured. Your lips quivering as you sob.

What are you grieving for, pretty?

Probably thought he was some sort of good guy who didn't deserve this. So consumed by her turmoil, she forgot that every cut and burn meant he survived; he won and survived. Can't say the same about the other guy, though. Not that Simon would—no.

He's too selfish to share your attention.

Because what if mentioning others who died in his hands makes you pity them instead? Something a sweet thing like you would do.

“Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” You ask, and Simon answers in his mind: Why wouldn’t they? “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

“Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,”

Simon was given three primary roles: hunter, judge, and executioner, but you didn’t know this. Nor did you know that the bastards who had caused these scars had long since died in the slowest and most gruesome way possible. That house fire he told you about didn’t spare them like it spared him.

All of this was evidence that he had hurt and killed—a mortal sin, darlin'. But you let another fat tear slip, thin red roots spreading across your sclera.

Oh.

There was always the other side of the moon that Simon never realized until now, until you did. His God—you—are all-forgiving and shed tears because the other side of the story is that he has been hurt and almost killed. So far, Simon has only seen himself in three main roles: hunter, judge, and executioner. Never the other way around: prey, defendant, and victim.

And oh—oh.

The “God” on his pelvis rocked her hips, taking him to many pleasant places—places a sinner would never have the luxury of visiting. The burn inside him twisted into something different—something warm that pulsed in the chambers of his heart and spread and crawled across his chest.

This wasn't the old fury. So, Simon convinced himself this was lust.

The conclusion must have been made in a hurry, or more like in desperation to see past the truth. He tried to bury it in the depths of his mind where he wouldn't have to acknowledge it. But Simon knew lust shouldn't last this long, nor should it leave him feeling invigorated simply because you had smiled at him.

This was—

“Gonna watch a ballet, LT.?”

Simon snaps out of his thoughts, blinking back to reality. Between his bare thumb and index finger is the special pass you gave him a week ago—the same piece of paper Soap was questioning just now. He turns in his chair to face his sergeant, greeted with that infuriating grin of his.

“Didn’t know you were the artsy type.” Soap added.

“You should’ve knocked, Sergeant.”

Soap laughed. “Aye, I did. But you were too busy starin’ at that ticket to notice.”

The lieutenant didn’t respond, just shoved the pass into his drawer, shutting it with a snap. Soap raised an eyebrow, a sign that he was still curious, but had no intention of voicing his questions, at least for now anyway.

“What’s this about?”

Soap's grin faded. “Ah right. The Captain’s askin’ for ye.”

Johnny watched those brown eyes flicker to the flip phone and then to the skull glove on the table as Simon considered something. Unfortunately for him, that was all—the damn balaclava prevented him from seeing the slightest glimpse of expression that might have been hidden behind it.

“I’ll be there,” Simon said, dismissing Soap with a wave of his hand.

The sergeant narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in that way he always did when he was trying to figure him out. Then, he walked toward the door, twisting the doorknob. Just when Simon thought he was finally gone, Soap stopped, pausing for a moment.

“Yer obsession is gettin’ worse, sir,” he commented.

At first, Simon didn't understand what he was referring to until he followed Soap’s gaze, and his own brown eyes landed on his duffel bag. Where the skeleton charm you bought him was hanging.

Simon didn't say anything. The door closed with a click.

The voice of his old therapist echoed in the back of his head, saying how he had this need to always be in control, that he hated feeling like he was losing it, like there was something out there that he couldn’t predict or manage. That’s why he clung to what he knew and hated changes.

But as he sat in his office, surrounded by the same four walls, the same desk, the same chair, the same bloody routine he had followed for years, he felt something twisted itself inside him, grafting itself into the tissue of his scars.

It triggered an itch in his skull.

Simon stood up from his chair, jaw clenched, as he strode over to where his duffel bag sat. That voice was louder, the words he had heard playing back like they were on a cassette tape—“there’s gonna be things in life that are out of your control. An’ that’s okay. You don’t have to be in charge of everythin’.”

“An’ when that happens, you just have to let it happen. You can’t avoid it forever, Lieutenant. Avoidin’ it doesn’t mean you’ve solved it—”

Clenching his fists, he tried to deafen himself, only to end up inviting another sickening voice. “Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world,” at that time, he didn’t understand what the hell his old man meant by that, searched the whole world for answers.

Now, after all this time—after mistaking it for passion, for fury, for lust—the answer stared back at him, daring him to face it. He let out a scoff, thinking how that was the most uncharacteristic word to ever come out of that man's mouth. Fuck.

“—it just means you’re signing yourself up for more pain—”

Simon yank the skeleton charm off his bag, the metal clinking against the zipper as he tears it free. He exhales, his chest empty after he’s done what he’s best known for.“—an’ self-destruction.” The voice finishes.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

55 notes · View notes

bubblewhale · 3 days ago

Text

I'm just now finding out that people did not like my villain academia arc.

I truly watched bnha for the LOV (besides bkdk).

The main cast is nice and all but if i put on my critical lenses i honestly don't see the hero society as a viable option. Economically and structurally i just don't get it - it's a cult that creates celebrities/heroes who are obviously used as both propaganda and tools of war, under the guise of fighting crime. At this point, heroes serve as either military special op forces or double-agents, or even as nuke level power holders. Either way, they are totally dehumanised soldiers. On the other end, the hero cult itself triggers people becoming villains. It does so by blaming individuals for becoming villains, even when it's obvious that they are direct results of wider structural societal problems. It's shown many times how hate can manifest in families as perfectionism, abuse, obsession, suppression, phobia (Shoto, Dabi, Shigaraki, Toga), poverty and human trafficking (Hawks) and xenophobia and racial (?) discrimination with mutants (Spiner).

The only moment i was hopeful they're gonna address the structural problems was the liberation army attack on the hospital in the war arc. But what was crazy to me is that the hero society held a war prisoner in the basement of a public hospital - using a civilian shield tactic, which is considered a war crime. Spiner's character arc is also extremely sad and unhelpful. Even the school itself becomes a military stronghold.

For the question of family dynamics we get Endeavor atonement arc. But we also get a scene which implies that he sa'd his wife (as if the fact that she was sold to him wasn't enough). The one scene that wasn't believable to me at all was Rei coming to visit Endeavor in the hospital. God bless Shoto, that kid is so strong, understanding perfectly Endeavor is to blame for all that. But it shows that in case of powerful men, sa and child abuse are not treated as crimes, as they should be.

Hawks is another great example of literally being sold and used, similar to Lady Nagant - and nothing is gained from their arcs in the sense of revealing the hidden corruption. Both of them side with the "hero" side in the end, the side that made them do their dirty work for them. He even becomes a murderer because of this but still manages to keep in the public’s good graces by acting as if killing is something he had to do for the greater good, same reason he sided with Endeavor.

Toga is a brilliant representation of discrimination towards a sexual minority but then she dies to save a hero she loves. It's tragic, honestly.

Deku is the only one trying to do something and helping (Shoto, Bakugo, All Might and Shigaraki are some examples) people change their mind and views on heroism/what it means to live righteously. I haven't read the manga so i don't yet understand what Deku losing his quirk could mean but honestly this AFO-OFA tug of war is the most boring part to me.

The show still mostly puts everything down to individual level and blames the villain or makes it somehow personal responsibility of heroes to deal with it.

Thus the league of villains becomes the focal point of the show - their double bind with AFO on one end and heroes on the other.

It just bugs me that the whole show could be read as cop/military propaganda and that our protagonists are basically glorified cops. This is why vigilante Deku arc was so exciting, finally! And this is why the whole concept of the show would be very different if it was made from LOV's pov from the start.

As it is, there's lots of bright and shiny feathers but not much substance in the show. The biggest stars of the show are personal tragedies, sometimes out-shining the main plot and gloriously failing to tie into the bigger picture.

54 notes · View notes

househrt · 3 days ago

Text

hey pls help me decide which Housefic to start writing (theoretically, eventually they'll all be written, but which one first pls) (I also don't write smut often so it's fade-to-black for sex scenes from me probs)

1. vampire!Hilson AU where House is human and Wilson is a vampire and nothing else has changed much apart from that (Wilson thinks he can push through the tiredness from not drinking from humans, House is baffled and enthusiastically wants Wilson to suck his dick neck)

2. House gets dosed with truth serum. Nobody believes him because he's still talking about being in love with Wilson. But also angst when it mirrors how nobody believed his leg pain in the infarction era

3. Wilson bets House to wear a tie, then smug!House gets his tie tugged by Wilson and nearly passes out from being so old man horny

4. House knows Wilson eats neediness, so when Wilson starts paying extra attention to him, House naturally assumes there's something seriously medically wrong with him. Because why else would Wilson be so caring to him? He's clearly dying

5. Autistic!Wilson with sensory issues who cannot stand the sound of skin rubbing against carpet. House is lying on the floor (as he often does) and keeps rubbing his hands against the carpet while he fidgets and Wilson is going to explode about it

6. post-phallo!Wilson and his assorted antics (being self-conscious about his scar, House annoying him about how he hasn't tested out his dick yet and being very personally invested in this)

#house md #my posts #malpractice md #hatecrimes md #james wilson #hilson #greg house #housefic #my wips

60 notes · View notes

thatturtleleon · 1 day ago

Text

TFP Panic Attack Help (x reader)

quick note: personally i experience both panic and anxiety attacks, theyre vry scary, but they always pass. i hope this offers some comfort to anyone reading!

Optimus:

i feel like he gets them too

imo he definitely has anxiety and with the stress of being the leader/a prime, its gotta be overwhelming

he notices your sudden change in demeanor

grows concerned seeing you become pale and shaky

and asks if you are alright and if he should get Ratchet

if you can't speak or refuse his offer to get the medic, he'll stay with you

he's concerned but has a good idea of whats going on

if you're experiencing derealization of some sort or have a hard time focusing, he's very patient

will definitely know at least a few grounding techniques

does them with you too

worried but overall very calm and will say with you until you're feeling better

Ratchet:

100% knows how to deal with panic attacks

that being said, you're human and he's not as confident with his medical skills with humans

he's not just gonna sit there and do nothing though

very concerned, scans you, makes sure you're sitting down in a safe spot

once he figures out whats going on he's focusing on calming you down and grounding you

reassures you're safe multiple times

once you've calmed down he'll ask questions on what triggered the attack, if you have a history of them, what he can do to help better, etc.

a bajillion questions but also makes sure not to cause you any more stress

makes sure you at least got some water afterwards

Arcee:

yupp she knows whats happening too

still a little panicked herself at first thinking you're sick or injured

once she realizes whats happening she helps you sit down

grounding exercises and reassures nothing is going to hurt you

if you're ok with it, she'll begin talking about stories, good memories, anything that might distract you from your current condition

i think she'd range from talking about funny moments with the team to giving a heartfelt story of her and Cliffjumper

once you've calmed, she tells you that you did a good job and she's always there for you

she'd wanna know if there was a specific trigger or if these tend to just happen

if its PTSD related, she understands and later researches some techniques and healthy ways to cope for humans

Bulkhead:

he lowkey thinks you're dying and freaks out, but keeps it as calm as possible on the outside

if Ratchet's there he goes to get him and still stays with you, but if not, he makes sure you sit down first

depends how severe it is, but if you're hyperventilating he's focusing on getting that taken care of first

stays with you the whole time and doesn't leave for a second

he'll hand you any comfort items, water, etc. literally ANYTHING that'll help you feel better (he may spill the water but its ok because he's trying)

talks about times with him and Wheeljack or Miko as a distraction

even after you're feeling better, he's staying with you and making sure you're ok, and if you're not, thats ok too, he's still there

Bumblebee:

he probably freaks out the most out of all of them, but he understands what's happening pretty fast

helps you sit down and stays

offers to drive you around (as long as you find it relaxing)

mainly sits there with you quietly offering his support, but if it's to the point where you genuinely need someone's help, he goes to get Ratchet or someone (he still stays with you tho)

if you need a distraction, he'll chat away about something or turn on the TV in the base

of course he lets you hug him if you want to, he'll never step away first, letting you be the one to let go first

#this was in my drafts for a bit i forgot to post #fun fact i literally thought of the idea while i was having a panic attack #im ok now tho!#transformers #tfp #maccadam #transformers prime #tfp ratchet #maccadams #tfp optimus prime #tfp arcee #tfp bulkhead #tfp bumblebee #tfp hcs #tfp panic attack help #tfp x reader #transformers prime x reader

52 notes · View notes

szopopraczo · 2 days ago

Text

Dazai is cruel. Dazai is abusive. Dazai didn't really change much. Dazai is manipulative. Dazai is dangerous. Many of Dazai's actions are disgusting. His actions could be perceived as inhumane. But Dazai is a human being.

It's always about being human. In your own eyes. In the eyes of others.

Dazai doesn't consider himself non-human because of his cruel actions. It's nothing about his morals. After all, Dazai had dealt with so many cruel people. He knows evil is human. He thinks he's lacking something. Something that makes others move forward. A purpose in life. Isn't he just lost?

Dazai's character is portrayed as infallible but it's not truth. To make mistakes is the most human thing you can think of (next to peeing in the shower). His mistake is that he can't tell he already has meaning in his life: working for ADA, protecting his friends, protecting the world.

"Anything I would never want to lose is always lost. It is a given that everything that is worth wanting will be lost the moment I obtain it. There’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering." – he's always ready to leave. Dazai tries not to get attached. He's always ready to lose everything. Doesn't it make him just a passive observer in his own life? From a manga reader's perspective, we know he has significance to the story but Dazai sees himself as nothing. He's able to catch the moment only when it's already a memory. Dazai may think of himself non-human because he only lives his life halfway. He plays chess – he moves the pieces but does not appear on the board.

So even if you're a genius, still you're nothing more than a sinfully stupid and cruel human being.

#bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai #no longer human

46 notes · View notes

ilikethecolorredsstuff · 3 days ago

Text

ARCANE Rant

Arcane s2 ending is underwhelming because the show was slowly building up to it (the biggest disappointment of the century)

U can feel it slowly letting go of the class issues that s1 was based on ( arguably the reason why the show was appealing to begin with) foe what seems to be no reason. Cause it seemed that they could've done better with presenting the themes that were already there in the subtext of it all or atleast it was that way for s1 and the first act(s?)

By the 3rd act, it's like they make it a point to stray away from what the show is supposed to be about and maybe that's why there's a lot of distraction going on (*caughs * fan service). In the last act there's just so many loose endings and key points are missing, ones that are usually provided to the whatcher bethey offer needed insight like how jayce decided to touch the arcane or what happened with ekko and jinx when he stopped her. This is a pattern that also shows in s1 and the other acts but the avoidance of clearing things up or providing insight on character's behaviors in this case isn't to get us to think about it and interpret it on our own instead it leaves a feelibg of just accept it for now that's how thongs came to be, and it doesn't even explain it later(would've beena great move tbh).

This lack of insight makes it easier to just accept other shifts that don't actually make sense like the main shift of victor's character when he gave up on doing good for the ppl the moment jayce attacked him and honestly not only did jayce have no business doing that, victor also had no reason to change his ideology for only that. The attack harmed not only him but also the ones connected to him so it does make sense that instead of healing he decided to eliminate all danger but even then it wouldn't make sense for him to agree to forge an army and pick sides for a political war something he aims to demolish.

And then it's not even about his conquest anymore and we get a fairly easy and rushed destruction of the black flower and then back to Victor.... Victor changes his ways and they disappear leaving everyone behind to what? Move on? As if the story is about how humans weren't ready for a progress that fast andbnow they can learn from their mistakes and take their time, as if that insane leap of advancement both biological and technical isn't just a by product of an environment manufactured by classism that pressured and cornered ppl into this extreme reality.

At the end, nothing has changed from the beginning of s1, the counsel just added a physical chair for the undercity instead of the invisible one that silco did hold at some point.

The truth is zaun isn't even a separate nation anymore it's still the undercity who now has a representative in the counsel.

War didn't even unite the ppl in fear and grief because except for the enforcers the fighters were mostly from zaun, this is dangerous because it paints a picture where the unpriveleged lot are fighting someone else's battles while the priveleged (root cause if said battle) get to flee and only comeback when everything is settled to look all bigoted and give side eyes to the representative of the unpriveleged (im looking at u short grandma).

My point is what is the show trying to say by ignoring the core issue, leaving us in the dark abt a character's motivations, and jumping to war with spiritual robots meanwhile the counsel is full of classist cowards leading a nation they fled when shit got bloody and letting the war criminal from the uptown have a happy ever after, her crimes don't even get mentioned while jinx is told that no amount lf help she offers can undo the harm she caused. It's all intentional, the show even ends with a hidden message that heimdinger was correct from thr beginning for restricting research or at least it felt that way.

22 notes · View notes

wordsandrobots · 25 minutes ago

Text

#Judau's journey is also interesting to compare to Amuro and Kamille's because he's very internal compared to them#we don't get quite the same view into his head that we get with his predecessors#and that can make his feelings on certain things harder to ascertain

So, thinking about this and the posts you added these tags on, @kaxtwenty, one of the important things to consider with Judau is that he begins much less innocent than either Amuro or Kamille. Not in the delinquent sense, because let's face it, the previous protagonists were hardly model citizens on their best days, but in that he starts off living with the explicit failures of the Universal Century.

Shangri-La is the first space colony. Number 1 in Side 1. And it's a dilapidated wreck, worn down by years of neglect and war. Amuro and Kamille had rough family situations and unstable lives caused by their parents working in the military-industrial complex. Judau's parents had to leave him and Leina behind because they couldn't find employment on Shangri-La and needed to travel elsewhere to have a hope of supporting their kids. Even that isn't enough and Judau has to work as well in the hopes of giving his sister a better life, making the exact same decision as his parents and developing his 'adults suck' attitude as a result.

So while he doesn't see his entire colony devastated in episode 1, and doesn't have his parents murdered in front of him, he's hardly ignorant of the ways his society screws people over. His apparent self-centredness -- for a long while, most of his actions are framed around what benefits him -- is less a case of needing to learn to value his community and accept his duty, and more a response to circumstances that require him to pay attention to what will keep his family afloat. His loyalty to *his* people, which comes to include everybody aboard the Argama and a lot more besides, is the other side of the same coin.

And the really interesting thing is that this evolves into making the case for having faith in humanity en mass rather than elevating certain bloodlines (Glemy) or otherwise isolating yourself from the wider population (Haman). Judau *doesn't* set aside his personal feelings for the greater good; his desire to protect his sister and his friends, his horror at Neo Zeon's actions, his anger at the callousness of the AEUG, these all feed into him taking the stance that 'thinking with your head' (e.g. going along with some higher-level plan, trusting the chain of command, being cold-blooded about sacrifices 'necessary' for the future) is a crock of shit.

Judau is stated as hiding his real feelings behind a joking surface attitude. But when things come to the crunch and he starts telling people what he believes, it's a refutation of things that dragged Kamille deeper and deeper towards his breaking point, and a return to Amuro's arguments against Char at A Baoa Qu. Judau does not let people slap him or 'correct' him. He does not learn to trust that a commander will see the battlefield more clearly. He is not forced to reluctantly murder his fellow (cyber)Newtypes because there's no choice. He's trying to reach Chara and Ple right to the end. He never stops trying to convince *Haman Karn* to change her mind.

In a lot of ways this is futile. The adults in the room don't get it. Bound by their blinkered need to control the world, they never will.

Except Bright, of course, who has been here since the start, seen the same failures of the Universal Century Judau grew up with, and who commanded successive waves of children in battle, only for nothing, ultimately, to change.

Judau's feelings might not alter the facts. He's still right and he was right from the very start. He always acted for the benefit of others and he always knew the world was rotten. His journey -- his loss of innocence when it comes to fighting and killing, every encounter with others trying to survive the meat-grinder -- merely allows him to articulate why.

if Zeta Gundam centers around Kamille and his growth into an adult who accepts the brunt of society's burden on him, then Gundam ZZ is inversely about Judau's loss of innocence in the face of the same burden. In this essay, I will-

#gundam zz #judau ashta #more rambling #I really need to stop screencapping this show #but I have to say it is not at all subtle about any of this

38 notes · View notes

faeriefully · 4 months ago

Text

no, girl im fine— I’m just crying over the gospel again

#GOD CHOSE TO SEND HIS SON TO SAVE AN UNWORTHY PEOPLE #JESUS CHRIST — GOD THE SON — CAME DOWN AND LIVED AMONGST AN EVIL HUMANITY #HE LIVED THE LIFE WE CAN’T #HE DIED THE DEATH WE DESERVE #HE BECAME OUR SIN FOR US #HE BORE THE WRATH THAT IS OURS #HE IS ALIVE #GOD THE FATHER LOVES US WITH THE SAME LOVE HE LOVES THE SON #JESUS SENT GOD THE HOLY SPIRIT TO INDWELL AND BE WITH US #WHEN HE COMES BACK GOD WILL LOOK AT ME AND MY EVIL THAT PUT JESUS ON THE CROSS #AND HE WILL SEE CHRIST’S OBEDIENCE #HE WILL SEE HIS SON’S RIGHTOUSNESS #THERE IS NOTHING ON EARTH OR IN HEAVEN THAT CAN CHANGE THAT #GOD SWORE BY HIS OWN NAME THAT HE WOULD SAVE A PEOPLE THAT HE DETERMINED BEFORE THE FOUNDATION OF THE WOLRD #NONE THAT THE FATHER GAVE TO CHRIST WILL HE LOSE #WE WILL DWELL WITH CHRIST FOR ETERNITY BECAUSE HE CHOSE US AND BOUGHT US AND CLOTHED US IN HIS RIGHTOUSNESS WHILE WE WERE STILL GOD HATERS #SOLI DEO GLORIA #gospel #reformed theology #theology #g.txt

520 notes · View notes

fumifooms · 5 months ago

Text

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked. We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

#Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Thistle #falin touden #thistlin #OOOOH UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP THAT SOMEHOW WORKS OUT SAVE ME #I need them to be traumabonded kittens to not separate post-canon #I’m seeing a raise in post-canon thistle content/interest which makes me v happy #Fumi rambles #Falin learning to disobey orders with Thistle is one of my fave things. EAT THAT CURRY GIRL!!!! Nvm that it’s gonna get you killed #It’s good for the character arc #Falin and thistle sitting on a web o-b-s-e-s-s-i-n-g <3 #This is somewhat of a tldr of my huge thistlin post. Plus some thoughts i had in discord or twitter #Keeping it for another day but tbh if you see their dynamic in canon as her thinking/having picked him as her mate it changes nothing #about her behavior which I find funny. Thistle accidentally claimed himself a parrot mate bc he’s bad with monsters confirmed #Ik my thing of them learning to relax and live in the present moment again is pretty fanon BUT IT’S WHAT KUI POINTED TOWARDS #With her calming him down from a panic attack and eating berries. With the baths for dandruffs. Etc. Thistle hasn’t socialized in a long #time and he wouldn’t if it wasn’t a tool he needed to interact with BUT it’s still socialization and it’s getting him in touch with his #surroundings again even if just a bit slowly but surely!! The Toudens have a superpower in reaching Thistle. Bless #How’s that one post go again. he refuses to develop he's part of the problem he maintains the cycle he's trapped in the cycle.#she's growing she's finding her place she escaped her original role she wants to help people she will never save him she will never save hi #Something something they have to abstract each other bc relationships with humans have always been too charged and unsafe #Only by seeing each other as more concept than person more object than peer can they truly be vulnerable #Like the fuckedupness lf their dynamic and state is WHY they’re so attached. Why their dynamic could be so raw and needy #The stars aligned in the worst way. Mission successfully faile #Tfw we both need to feel needed

227 notes · View notes

reel-fear · 6 months ago

Text

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

#batim #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #ramblez #bendy and the silent city #bendy the cage #for the record another reason Im making this post is bc some of the only good resources to learn abt why the bendy devs suck are some old #very longer videos and this is a very long post but I thought it was important to document the recent shit theyve been doing alongside some #of the worst past things theyve done bc Mike has been trying to misinform people on what happened but those videos are still great resource #if you want more info n such #long post #mike D #for anyone who doesnt wanna hear abt him since he doesnt go by mood anymore #sorry if this is rambley or emotional Im just so sick of these guys fr dskjhgskdfjghskdjhgkjhsd #I miss when I didnt spend my days stressed about the awful shit mike is gonna say next and how I would have to disprove it in a post later #or explain why its bad to have a cast of nothing but cishet white guys n constantly fight back against any push for diversity in said cast #genuinely its just tiring esp when u see other bendy fans give ignorant or very silly defenses/takes on those things #n then u lose a lot of respect for them bc they are speaking on stuff they dont know much abt so confidently and therefore misinforming #people or even encouraging very bad views on stuff like diversity n its importance #Im not saying people like that are bad people but it is stressful n upsetting when u see someone u thought knew better do that sort of thin #it makes it hard to trust them again on other issues bc u now dont trust they know what they r talking abt!!#like please think twice before telling young artists making norman white was a tough and complicated decision it was fucking not the bendy #devs just think all their humans are white by default and dont wanna change that its been proven time n time again thats all it is #and defending them just bc u like a franchise they made is very very bad!! They are not ur friends!! they suck and we seriously need to #stop pretending they dont!! toxic positivity is only gonna make the fandom an absolute nightmare its not gonna make ANYTHING better #it just means people will be forced to PRETEND they never have negative thoughts abt the franchise n therefore make them burned out #just look at other similar fandoms please lets not make those same mistakes!!#sorry can u tell Ive been having just. A time recently #anyways back to making my queer ass bendy fan game full of so much diversity mike will prolly shit when he sees it DKFJGHKSDJHGKJHSD

72 notes · View notes