#now i'm just. i don't know what to do. is it a punishment

[somerandomcockroach]

*sets the sofa, sits down* AND WE RIGHT AWAY START FROM THE PROWL IS AND WILL BE A MURDERED STATEMENT. GOOD AHAHAH Love how much Prowl improved in reading emotions. Orion. You ask Prowl something that he probably memorized from the book and he of course will tell you a book definition. Don't cut it with your merely "It's a massacre" Still wonder at the fact of how much functionists had to f*** up the whole situation for the beasts, who are more than capable of intelligent thinking and just different by their mode or different things that can not even appear in them in the first place, for this whole situation to appear that even the "compromise" seems like a hardly reachable option. I understand if other monsters who are, more bests than mechas. But most of them seem to be, decent, normal, minding their business, just trying to find a fuel/food, yeah, this last is easily solvable.

Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you

Oh, here we are, Orion snaps at Prowl. Do it, he went in a different direction, the one leading to murder and blood, you know. The problems that are solved hard way are never logical ahah, good luck, Prowl *looks at Orion trying to see a glimpse of emotion from Prowl for at least his own death to crack his logic* I need a minute Orion for god's sake could you like, fake laws and give him your own written full of ponies and funsies?? You were giving him official books with laws, I'm sure a lot of written by Functionalists and you expect to break the logic that was based on it??? OH RATCHET. PROWL CAN DO NOTHING. OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAYOKA YAOKAYAOKAY. OKAY. NO ONE SAID RATCHET??? RATCHET, COULD, JUST, ARRRGHHHHHH BASTARDS ORION AND SHOCKWAVE MAXED THE "LOOK AWAY IN TIME" ABILITY BUT NO ONE TOLD RATCHET? OH YES. GETTING RID OF YOUR OWN SIGHT AND LEAVE. I BET THIS IS NOT A LOGICAL THING TO CONSIDER FOR PROWL EHEHHEHEE OH MY GOD sorry I need to sit because. Yes clean floor is an easy goal. But Prowl. You are. About to get such a big and complicated to reach goal that it is so mindblowing to now look at you and consider other golems. (Eh, sudden thought of someone getting off his artefact) Prowl. on which side you play I don't understand anymore. Are you trying to make a god out of Orion to scare functionalists by actually making good for them or what.

PROWL YOU COULD. YOU COULD COME UP WITH SUCH GREAT PLANS OF MASS MIGRATION OR AT LEAST BETTER HIDINGS FOR THEM. TRICKING ALL THE TROOPS. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EVIL, NOT JOIN IT. oh, CONGRATS, your education went to the point where it became wrong! Congrats, Prowl, we are on a changing point ahah! YES IT IS HIS ARMY. HIS ARMY OF POWERFUL, MAGICAL, SAVED AND THANKFUL BEASTS WHO CAN FIGHT FOR SHOCKWAVE, AND I ACTUALLY WISH THAT THEY DID. I WISH THEY DID BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE. PROWL CAUGHT HIS BEFORE HE EVEN STUMBLED. PROWL MAKES WRONG THINGS BUT. BUT THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY COVERS HIM THIS WAY NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS. I'M SURE ORION IS NOT HAPPY. SHOCKWAVE HAS NO ONE TO COVER HIM WHERE IT COULD KILL HIM. BUT EVERYTHING AROUND HIM IS BUILT WITH GREEN WALLS THAT ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN DENSE WALLS OF BLOOD.

I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part

YOU DID NOT JUST GO TO SHOCKWAVE'S ACADEMY. THEY ARE NOT THE BEASTS YOU CAN TOUCH. EVER. OH MY FRICKING GOD OKAY HERE I CRY FOR REAL. THE SCENE OF HIM. SWORD AND BOOK. PROTECTING WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS. STANDING LIKE A MOUNTAIN AND THE PRIMUS ITSELF

THE COUNCIL WOULDN'T LET HIM DO THIS.... ..... what...... The burns are from?..

............ I just understand that. That I'm sure the way Shockwave "changed" is so many times harder and more powerful because of who he is and what he is capable of... Get Prowl, Orion nd Ratchet at one table and ask them if what they do will find a punishment from Primus.

............

....................... When Orion is in troubled feelings Prowl searches for Shockwave. All goals are tangled, lost and complicated. His goal became something he cannot reach no more since it evolved too hard. Oh my god I wanna see how... how that goal, something he cannot reach no more, just becomes a part of him, like a self forged motor heart of his, just to keep living. Are they... Shockwave's students?... F** THEY ARE I AM CRYING AGAIN SHIT F** YOU KEF I CANNOT NO MORE DON'T JSHDEDC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY BREATH, COMEONE. LAST WILL. *INTENSIFIES CRYING* F*** YOUUUUUUUUUU THEY. EVERYTHING. HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO ORION. SKIDS???? THUNDERCRACKER?? OH DID ORION NEVER HOLD SHOCKWAVE'S SWORD??? or just became too weak from all the events... OH MY GOD THE SCENE OF KNEELING, THE SCENE OF THE STUDENT OF THEIR PASSED MASTER ON THE VERGE OF CRYING AND ALL THE STUDENTS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND KNEELING BEFORE HIM. I AM DEAD NO ONE TALK TO ME. PROWL LOOK. LOOK WHAT AN ILLOGICAL LONG TERM EFFORT MAKES. IT MAKES LITERALLY INEFFICIENT MIRACLE. THE MIRACLE THAT IS WORTH ALL THE PERCENTAGES. YOU DO NOT KILL AND WORK FOR IT TO BE MORE THAN ONE DAY MERCY I mean Ratchet got a boyfriend this way come on

WEHGEHGEWFHWFEWE HELP. I imagined that Shockwave had a score system or something for Skids to actually say "Best student" as something not of a brag level SHOCKWAVE YOU SMART SWEET ROLL I LOVE YOU. HE KNEW HOW TO DO IT RIGHT. SUCK IT COUNCIL AND COUNCIL DARE YOU TO TRY TO USE IT IN YOUR ADVANTAGE.

PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS

(side note can I kiss you for just... rotating every possible side of Prowl? Like, I am just, suddenly understood that just a thing of Prowl assuming that Shockwave could betray Orion is something so fittable for him since he considers everything but just... when you look at it from the side of coming up with it. I wouldn't??)

SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.

They are still not executed. So I am sure it isn't about the saving monsters thing. I think Prowl leads the idea in the right direction. I am confused though at why Shockwave turned into demon at this exact time. What was the trigger. I am leaning closer to the dark magic than betrayal anyway

THE GOD MUST BE WRONG

RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.

ARE YOU... did you just... led him straight to mimics plotline....

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

[vampiricvenus]

My bank still has me completely fucked over and they won't do a thing to fix it and I'm trying really hard not to go play in traffic 🙃

As I've mentioned here and there, because I accidentally paid MORE than I had to on December for my credit card before they emitted the real total amount I had to pay (I had to pay about 124 USD, accidentally paid about 173 USD), something got fucked over in the bank's app and it didn't count my payments despite DEFINITELY taking the money off of my account, and I've been trying for almost TWO FUCKING MONTHS to get it fixed, and they just closed my case telling me I have to pay -- wait for it -- 430 USD MORE!!!!!!!

I've been having panic attack after panic attack over this. I've had trouble sleeping, I ran out of my emergency panic attack meds due to this whole bullshit.

This is fucking infuriating because not only am I being punished for paying in advance, but I also pay RELIGIOUSLY every single month to stay off debt.

I know 400 USD might not seem like THAT much to Americans, but consider that Chile's minimum wage right now is barely above 500 USD, and I only make a bit more than that if I get both of my bonuses.

I really, really hate to ask, but I need help DESPERATELY. I don't know what else to fucking do. Please, help me.

Paypal • Ko-fi

$0/$430

[noxiousgrace]

I'm not sure who said it first, but the theory that krs is the red dragon has been on my mind for days now

And it would make so much sense if that was the case

Like what's a better twist than finding out the man who ended the white stars bullshit is also the same being who was used to start it all?

And the fact that krs was able to be affected by white stars curse is so much worse now

Imagine sherrit finding out her child was hurt by the same thing she created to protect him 😭

This also places immense suspicion on the god of death, i mean it never made sense to me that the white star was just able to "pass his curse around" like a sickly virus just because he stole someones body. It sounds more plausible to me that the god of death never added the rule "this curse cannot affect anybody else" and then used it as a loophole to curse KRS.

The curse was a punishment for an oath only dragon slayers have made, what the hell could be more targeted and specific than that??? And now you're telling me this random guy from raon has to live with it in korea cuz the white star took his body before that soul got to inhabit it??

The only person who can break a curse is the one who made the curse and the person who wanted it to be made (in this case the GoD and Sherrit)

And in the sealed test choi jung gun says "the god of death is trying to hold the curse back from affecting you"

Excuse me??? He can't dispel his own curse?? I don't believe that at all. Also krs had nothing to do with the white star since he was born, so why is it impossible to remove him from the effects of it?? The god of death had about 36 years to figure out how to make it go away, and he just couldn't?? I smell bullshit

Sherrit also said that the red egg was affecting it's surroundings before it was born, the dragon inside would've been powerful to extents she probably couldn't even comprehend

It makes more sense to me if the GoD just wanted to get rid of any competition/ "wrench in his plans" and used the excuse of protecting sherrits children to create the perfect scenario to take out 2 birds with one stone

GoD does seem kinda stupid when we see him but it's always the mfs with that kind of act that are the most suspicious, also he literally became a god?? If he can do that, then he's more than capable of setting up some kind of intricate plan to get what he wants

Anywho, there's also other things I've noticed:

1) never accepting park jin tae as king until he proved himself, krs has never submitted to anyone without a valid reason for doing so. Which would seem kinda weird cuz he spent 90% of his upbringing being beaten into submission. I've only ever seen an attitude like that in dragons or just stronger creatures in general (coincidence? I think not)

2) this has been stated before but his affinity with dragons is crazy + he's constantly being mistaken for one 😭

3) the GoD called krs a mutant, we don't know why yet but being a human with the soul of a dragon is a pretty valid reason to call someone a mutant. (Especially if that mutant was able to activate a small % of its attribute)

4) i don't have anything to back this up with, but instant being his attribute instead of a power he got on earth would be pretty cool, just using it for a little bit is enough to injure him because it's meant to be used by a dragon as powerful as the Red one.

----

Imagine eden finding out that the heart he ate to become a chimera belonged to the person who saved him 😭

Imagine the rest of the dragons finding out cale henituse is a "dragon" that will literally die from using his attribute because he's living in the wrong body 😭😭

---

Cales honest reaction to that information:

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: You have to face the fact that once you make a deal with the devil he owns your soul, and he can do whatever he wants with you. Tags: Over stimulation, forced orgasms, restraints, humiliation, Dom/Sub, Blood, biting, dirty talk, semi-dub con/non-con Notes: This is quite a wild almost AU scenario that I came up with for The Salesman. It's definitely not for everyone so read at your own risk.

"Please just let me go I promise I'll be good!" You beg pathetically. You had been chained up in this room for you weren't sure how long now. Completely naked, exposed, and shivering. You weren't sure what exactly you did now to upset him but given that he was prone to throwing tantrums or just punishing you for his own amusement it may not have been anything significant or at all. He had been appearing at random times to taunt you, tease you, but there was always denial. He knew just how to touch you to build you right up to climax before stopping. Make your cunt as sensitive as possible. 

"Let you go? Let you GOOOO?" He taunts as he steps in front of you. You gasp and whine knowing that you are in for trouble now. You shake your head and look away from him. He chuckles, his hand going right to your cunt, one thumb right on your clit once again. He's been doing this enough that your arousal is painful. More pain than pleasure at this point and yet you don't hate it...no...this is what you've been craving and somehow he always knows this. If you tell him or not. "I'm sure you just hate this, Princess..." He snarls leaning in to lick your cheek sloppily. 

You start to rub against his fingers trying to get more towards his hand, possibly force penetration but he's very good at knowing just how much to give without allowing you release, how to torture you as sweetly as possible. Your cunt is dripping wet, your arms ache. He has you elevated so your toes just barely touch the floor but you are sure that at this point you wouldn't be able to stand on your own two feet anyway. He's weakened you, left you a sobbing mess. Heaven and hell completely combined. You don't even know what you want anymore.

"Do you believe you've suffered enough?" He whispers. You know if you tell him that you have then he'll deny you again, you've been making that mistake for what seems like days. Now you know it's your chance to try to give him what he wants, say what he's waiting for. 

"No...I...I don't...." You whisper after a moment of trying to find your breath as he continues to mercilessly handle your cunt. 

"Ooooh looks like someone's finally learning her lesson...." He taunts. There's another wild laugh, so unhinged and feral. His hand retracts and he moves behind you. You turn your head trying to watch him but he growls viciously indicating that isn't something you should do. 

"Please just-" 

"Just what?" He hisses in your ear, you can feel his teeth scrape over the back of your neck, "Let you cum? Is that what you want?" 

"PLEASE!" You screech, you don't think you can take it anymore, and just as you have that thought you feel his cock shove into you. This, of course, triggers one hell of a powerful orgasm, you scream, cumming hard as your body spasms and contracts around his absolutely perfect cock.

"Tsk...tsk...who said you could do that?" He purrs in your ear. 

"I-I didn't mean to-" 

"SILENCE!" He yells, "Since this is what you want...so badly...maybe I should give you all you can take...or more..." 

"Oh God don't-" 

"Don't? DON'T! Do you really presume to tell me what I can and cannot do? Silly....SILLY little girl..." He laughs again, his hands coming around to grab your tits roughly, giving them a nice firm squeeze. You scream out and he starts to thrust, slow at first, hard enough to swing you a bit with how you are restrained. You squeal. One of his hands moving down to your cunt, to get at your clit again. 

"I'm going to take it all from you, all your pleasure...pain...you're going to wish you never craved this to begin with...." He whispers so softly that you aren't even sure he's said anything at all or you just imagined it. His thrusting increases and once again you find that he's rubbing your clit to enhance your pleasure even further. His cock feels to be amazing inside of you, hitting all the right places, everything you need to force another orgasm almost immediately. You scream. 

"More..." He snarls, "Do it again." 

"S-Stop...." You beg but you don't want him to stop, you know that and he knows that too. Even if you were genuine, you know he wouldn't and you crave that part of the experience to. The thrusting increases so do his fingers. Pain and pleasure stab through you as his cock pounds into you even harder. You've felt this before, you know it won't be the last time. This mere act milks yet another orgasm from your body. Your arms tug down at the restraints, your toes curl and your back arches, as you gasp for air. Stars dancing in your direct line of sight. 

"AGAIN!" He demands then starts to bite at your shoulder, neck, and back, drawing blood and growling like a feral animal as he licks at the wounds. His assault on your body continues. You scream. Your hands clench into fists. Another orgasm rocks your body. "That's right...milk my cock like the little fuck toy you are....AGAIN!" 

"I-I can't..." You sob, but you know you can, he knows you can, and you know this isn't going to stop until he's completely satisfied. 

"You can and you will...do you remember what I do to liars? Huh...Princess?" He warns you. You screamed and shudder your body shakes as you orgasm again. Somehow the thrusting of his hips only increases, his fingers on your clit become far more rough. You jerk and twist, writhing under his touch. The hand left on your tit gives another painful squeeze. You cum again, then once more in rapid succession, gasping for air. You whimper and whine but he's still not stopping. "AGAIN!" 

"I CAN'T I TOLD YOU I-" 

"ONE MORE TIME" He orders, "You know how much I need to fill you with my cum...and you need to work for it." You mewl softly, you really don't think you can again after that. It's all too much, you're too sensitive, tired, and he knows this as well. He knows that he can continue at this brutal pace pushing you to your limit because your body has worn itself out, at least for now. Yet, he's not giving you any time to rest. No, he wants what he wants and he's going to take it. He isn't concerned with the limitations of your body only what he can do and his desires. You will submit to them. 

The pain builds. Becomes agony. You twist, struggle, your feet trying to kick back at him. You connect a few times but it doesn't seem to faze him. He's in a zone and he wants his cock milked. You have no choice. Your hands clench into fists, your nails digging into your palms sharp enough to draw blood. It begins to drip down over your arms and wrists. You scream and beg, this is impossible, surely, how can you cum again? How can you complete this impossible task? This is insane?

Just as you are sure you'd more likely die than actually cum again, it hits you. Your final orgasm. The most intense. It takes all the breath from your lungs, your vision tunnels. Your body shakes and jerks, the oddest combination of pleasure and pain washing over you until your eyes roll back and you succumb to the dark respite of sleep...the very last sensation you experience is his burning hot cum filling you entirely. You couldn't be more satisfied with your Master.

[maspers]

Oh! You're asking about Outer Darkness. Let's see if I can help out. Disclaimer tho I'm just a random guy on the internet so be aware that my personal understanding of my faith could be coloring my explanation somewhat, despite my efforts not to.

First: yes, as the existence of such a place implies, we do believe in a possibility for eternal punishment. If we're talking about permanent hell, this is the place. The reason tons of LDS folks like to act like it doesn't is because 1) it sounds nicer and unfortunately people care too much about their reputations and 2) the chances of going to Outer Darkness is like. ASTRONOMICALLY small.

There's an old joke that if you ask a Mormon what happens after you die, they'll draw you a map (as opposed to a Catholic who will tell you to ask your priest and a Protestant who will tell you to ask your Bible, iirc how the joke goes). And honestly, it's true. LDS theology has its afterlife occur in multiple stages. The Spirit World is when you go where you die. But EVENTUALLY Jesus is gonna show up again (probably at the end of the apocalypse because dramatic timing) and EVERYONE is gonna get resurrected. And while the resurrecting is going on there's like a thousand years of awesomeness and getting some last-minute ordinance work done. Shenanigans ensue, everyone teams up to beat up Satan one last time (long story) and THEN and only then do we get to the Final Judgement, when it's FINALLY decided where people are going to be for eternity.

At every point BEFORE the final judgement, everything is ultimately temporary and can be forgiven or whatever because Jesus is awesome. Immortality is a guarantee for literally everyone, and even the people who DONT repent and become good people will still get a spot in a Kingdom of Glory, which even the lowest is referred to as better than anything humanity can comprehend (LDS folk don't do what they do because they want to get into Heaven, they do what they do because they want ALL THE PERKS). Getting into a Kingdom of Glory is essentially the DEFAULT.

But, at the final judgement, it IS possible for someone to do something that can never be forgiven. If you stand at the final judgement, with a perfect knowledge of EVERYTHING (because like, it's the final judgement, your entire past and the past of the UNIVERSE is laid out in front of you, you have complete understanding of what the universe is, how it works, and God's role in all of it) and then essentially give God the middle finger and say "screw you God, I hate you and deny you and everything you stand for"... He still won't send you to Outer Darkness. You have to do that to Him, AND Jesus, AND the Holy Ghost (LDS folk believe they're separate people, not a long story but not worth going into here) and basically also give literally every thing that's good the middle finger as well in the process, because ultimately everything good in the world comes back to those three. Then, and ONLY then, will you be declared a Son of Perdition (though really it should be "Child of Perdition" now, the term originates from scriptural text, obviously people who aren't male could still in theory become a Son of Perdition) and you'll go to Outer Darkness to chill with Satan and be depressed for eternity. I cannot emphasize enough that the people who go to Outer Darkness will go there of their own free will and choice, with a perfect understanding of the decision they are making. Despite what some people might tell you (and what some very stupid LDS folk might believe) Mormonism is heavily built on the concept of free will, and getting sent to Outer Darkness is no exception. You only go there if you WANT to.

And honestly, that's a REALLY stupid thing to do? The amount of people who will end up as Sons of Perdition is INSANELY small, especially compared to the amount of humans that have lived and will live. In all of scripture we only know of to meet the criteria is Cain, and he was only able to meet the criteria because of the unique circumstances at the start of Genesis, it's pretty much impossible for ANYONE to qualify during mortality, or at any other point before Judgement. Cain just is Like That I guess. (Incidentally Cain will explicitly RULE the place, because Satan is a loser and doesn't have a body so he can't be in charge). Some people claim Judas Iscariot also qualifies but that's not backed up by any scriptural or prophetic text, and frankly that idea doesn't make much sense to me.

The kicker is in theory, Outer Darkness technically isn't permanent either. If a Son of Perdition were to recant their ultimate middle finger to God and everything else, they would in theory be allowed to leave. The only reason it IS permanent is because at that point the idea of spitefully rejecting the glory of God is so engrained in their being that they will never repent. It's become their entire nature. (I'll admit this part isn't stated explicitly in scripture anywhere, for obvious reasons Outer Darkness isn't talked about much in the text, but it can be reasonably extrapolated from what we know about the nature of God and mankind based ON the text).

So TLDR: Outer Darkness is a thing in LDS theology, and so is Eternal Punishment, but the only people who go there LITERALLY ask for it. You're almost certainly not going there. Don't worry about it.

As for how this affects the LDS perception of Hell... like every religion, YMMV. Different members view things differently. Some people mistakenly believe that if you're a member of the Church and then leave or otherwise start being a bad person, you'll go to Outer Darkness. This explicitly isn't the case. But Outer Darkness as we understand it is the part of our theology that most closely resembles the traditional Christian idea of hell (though with less fire and brimstone and more just eternal self-loathing and anger), so if a Latter-Day Saint is referring to Hell as a specific place, then they're probably referring to here.

However, when an LDS person mentions Hell, they could ALSO be referring to:

Spirit Prison, where the people who didn't do All The Right Things in life go when they die. Not as bad as it sounds. Like yeah there's suffering but as we understand it it's probably like the "You feel your sins crawling up your back" thing from Undertale where you're just hating yourself because of your guilt. Regardless of if you stay here or end up transferring to Spirit Paradise, you still probably won't go to Outer Darkness. This takes place before the Judgement (long before) but since it's IMMEDIATELY after mortality it sometimes gets conflated with Hell as "bad place you go when you die"

Spiritual Death, aka what Hell as a concept MOST likely is being referred to by LDS. Literally just referring to a spiritual separation from god. Physical Death is when your body dies (oof) and Spiritual Death is when you metaphorically die by not being Christlike, and can really happen at any time. Jesus, being the awesome person He is, provides salvation from BOTH kinds of death (He breaks the "chains of death and hell") so like. Don't even worry about it. Incidentally, since literally everyone is experiencing some level of Spiritual death right now because we're designed to be flawed during mortality, we're technically all in hell right now! Yayyyyyyyyy. Again, don't worry, this is part of the process, part of the point of mortality is to fail and get back up.

So Second TLDR: Outer Darkness is generally known and understood by LDS communities, but like. We don't worry about it too much. Usually when an LDS folk talks about hell in a religious sense they're talking about the concept of (ideally temporary) Spiritual Death.

"Maspers are you going to cite your sources" No, this is tumblr and I'm lazy. the other LDS folks can back me up and correct me if I'm wrong. Peer review ftw.

seeing people discussing the concept of hell and how cruel the idea of eternal punishment is like, wow! i know this belief system you would love if not for your knee-jerk reaction against its name

[wisteriasymphony]

"-Look, Ladybug, I think you're a smart guy. I respect you."

"You do?"

"…No. But let's pretend I do for a moment!" The stranger exclaimed, a fanged smile on their face. "You're a superhero—The superhero of Paris, might I add. I think you deserve better than just busting whatever pickpocket you find on the street. The city should get to see you take down superhero level threats!"

Ladybug looked off for a second, imagining just that, as the stranger walked over to place their hands on Ladybug's shoulders and spun her to face the open expanse of the city. "When you think of yourself saving the day—J-just picture it in your mind for a second, really let it marinate—what do you see?"

"I see myself defeating Hawkmoth, I suppose."

"Exactly! Little insignificant petty criminals like me aren't even in the picture! Frankly," the stranger added, giving Ladybug a pat on the shoulder, "going after us is below you! You deserve bigger, better things!"

Ladybug nearly caught herself nodding for a moment before their words actually hit her. "…Real funny," she sneered. "But the fact of the matter is that I caught you, and I'm going to take your miraculous."

The stranger's face fell for a moment, and where they were once all too eager to act chummy with Ladybug they suddenly slunk back.

"Now that seems like cruel and unusual punishment."

"You're operating a miraculous without expressed consent of a Guardian. I think that's pretty fair."

The stranger stepped back a few more paces, only to be snared by the ankle in the string of Ladybug's yo-yo. Their gold eyes flashed with panic for a split second, and their grin seemed to change context from that of a deliberate smugness to a panicked front.

"I-I didn't take you for a tyrant, Buginette," the stranger wheezed. "This one isn't even part of your little set, I don't think. You don't have a compartment for it in your little magic jewelry box."

Ladybug tightened her hold around the stranger's ankle. "Maybe I do. You don't know that."

"Aw, princess, this just seems like a waste of time! You should be off looking for akumas to stop, not worrying about me! If you let me go, you won't even know I'm here ever again!"

Ladybug noticed the stranger shift all of their weight onto their other leg, their trapped ankle growing unusually slack as if it no longer had any bones to hold it up.

"Besides, if we're really so worried here about stolen miraculouses," they added, pointing off into the distance, "You should be worried about him."

Ladybug wasn't sure what she expected to see when she followed the stranger's finger. Hawkmoth, most likely. If she had to stretch, maybe she would've accepted seeing another holder she recognized.

Of course, the correct answer was that the stranger was pointing to absolutely nobody at all, and Ladybug found herself quite irritated when she looked back to find her captive missing without a trace.

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: My question is– if I have a past with, either the Federation or Cucurucho, that I don't know about– then why am I on the Island? Was it like, "Oh, we need one of our own on the inside, let's put her here because you're a good worker"?

Foolish: Yeah... No, that could maybe make sense, like an experiment, like a controlled variable.

Jaiden: Yeah, but it also could be like, a punishment for like, "Oh, you were doin' some bad stuff, let's banish you to the Island with no memories. See how you like that."

Foolish: Ohhh. No memories makes it a little... yeah. Hmm... 🤔 Is there like a good-case scenario? Where it's like, "You did a great job! Here, let's wipe your memory, go on the Island."

Jaiden: [Laughs] "You earned a free vacation!" 🏝️

—

TRANSCRIPT

Jaiden: My question is like– if I have a past with, either the Federation or Cucurucho, that I don't know about– then why am I on the Island? Like, what happened?

Foolish: Hmmm... So like, why are you on the Island as in the state that you are in right now? Um...

Jaiden: Like, why would they put me here if I had like, a previous job, you know?

Foolish: Ok, previous job...

Jaiden: Either– was it like, they were like, "Oh, we need one of our own on the inside, let's put her here because you're a good worker, and we– [Stammers] You're so good." [Distracted] Oh, the fcking donkey is here–

Foolish: Yeah... No, that could maybe make sense, like an experiment, like a controlled variable.

Jaiden: Yeah, but it also could be like, a punishment for like, "Oh, you were- you were doin' some bad stuff, let's– let's banish you to the Island with- with no memories. See how you like that."

Foolish: Ohhh. No memories makes it a little... yeah. Hmm, I'm trying to think, would there be... Is there any like– is there like a good-case scenario? Where it's like, "You did a great job! Here, let's wipe your memory, go on the Island."

Jaiden: [Laughs] "You- you earned a free vacation!"

Foolish: [Also laughs] I don't know!

Jaiden: I don't' really know, but like... All I know is I've worked with Cucurucho in the past, and they trust me to like, train a new one.

Foolish: Yeah, that's what I find interesting.

Jaiden: –and I'm supposed to like, progress report on how well he's doing. And stuff.

So, is the current Cucurucho that's been out and about with us could be like, the second one? Because that's–

Jaiden: I'll be honest, I don't even know how many there are. I don't even doubt that there's more.

Foolish: Oh. Yeah, I guess if there's two, there certainly could be more.

Jaiden: Mhmm. They are... slightly different in personality, though.

Foolish: Oh, really?

Jaiden: I mean, the normal Cucurucho is just like, super serious–

Foolish: Right.

Jaiden: And then the other one is like... more silly, and goofy. I think that was the one who played like, Hide-and-Seek with us, and they did more fun games, and that's the other one.

Foolish: Oh, yeah!

Jaiden: And I– they said that he's not perfect, and I need to train him to be perfect.

Foolish: So you need to– wipe him of personality? [He speaks with a laugh]

Jaiden: Yeah. I– though– I mean, the thing I told him is just to hide it, you know? That's... the best way to do it.

Foolish: Conceal don't feel, don't let them know?

Jaiden: Yeah, exactly. Exactly, exactly. You know how it is.

—

Stream date: September 7, 2023

Timestamp: ~43m 30s

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 4) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Lille was going to be tough on Thursday, but Trent's mind wasn't on tactics. His thumb hovered over his Raya profile - all those matches, all those posh girls with their perfect smiles and calculated moves.

Delete.

Some girl from Chelsea had been messaging him about drinks. Block.

That Instagram model who kept sending eye emojis. Block.

His phone buzzed.

April: Getting checked today.

April: Better not keep me waiting too long.

His stomach did that flip thing again.

April: And I hope you followed my command last night.

April: Would hate to start our arrangement with a punishment.

Christ. She was already getting in his head and they hadn't even started yet.

Trent: Got my appointment at 2

Trent: And yes, I behaved

April: Good boy.

Those two words shouldn't affect him like that. But here he was, grinning at his phone like some simp.

"Someone's in a good mood."

Mo dropped his lunch tray next to him, Virgil sliding in across the table. The canteen was busy, everyone loading up before afternoon training.

"Just having a good day innit?"

"Nah." Virgil pointed his fork at Trent. "This is different. You've been weird lately - all quiet. Now you're sitting here grinning at your phone like it's Christmas."

"Maybe I'm just happy?"

"The old Trent's back then?" Mo's smile was proper infectious. "No more moping about?"

Was he back though? Felt different this time. With April... it was like she wanted him to be more himself. Even if that self liked things a bit... different.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Been thinking about what I'm going to do to you.

April: Once you're cleared of course.

Fucking hell. In the middle of lunch?

"Earth to Trent!" Mo was waving his hand. "You're gone mate."

"Just..." he shrugged, trying to hide his grin. "Feel better, you know? Like I can be myself again."

"Good." Virgil nodded. "Was getting tired of that posh act anyway. Didn't suit you."

Mo clapped him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into his pasta. "Whatever it is, I'm happy for you bruv. Just don't go getting distracted before Lille yeah?"

Another buzz.

April: First lesson when you're cleared - teaching you how to kneel properly.

April: Been thinking about those footballer legs of yours...

Distracted? Him?

Too late for that, wasn't it?

"You sure you're alright?" Virgil was giving him that look. "Looking flushed."

"Never better," Trent grinned. And for once, he actually meant it.

Lunch with Mo and Virgil felt normal again - like before all this image reinvention nonsense started. Before Sophie and her posh friends and trying to be someone he wasn't.

Back on the training pitch, they were running shooting drills, but Trent's mind kept drifting to last night - to leather outfits and spiced vanilla and promises that made his head spin. Tyler's text didn't help his concentration either.

Tyler: Just seen the raw shots from April

Tyler: These are INSANE bruv

Tyler: Proper art these

Tyler: Even Virgil's gonna be jealous

"Trent!" Slot's voice cut through his thoughts. "That cross was nowhere near Darwin. Focus!"

The afternoon session dragged on, his mind a mess of tactical instructions and April's text messages. By the time they hit the showers, he was ready to bolt.

"Oi Trent!" Dom called over the noise of the changing room. Robbo was telling some mad story about his kid's hamster while everyone rinsed Darwin's new haircut. "Few of us heading to that new spot in town. You in?"

"Can't, got plans."

"Plans?" Dom's eyebrows shot up. "You feeling alright mate?"

"Just busy innit."

In his car, he pulled up Google, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Female dominatrix. BDSM basics.

He should probably know what he was getting into, right? But just seeing those words made his face heat up.

He closed the browser.

The private clinic was one of those discrete places footballers used when they needed things handled quietly. He pulled his hood up, slipped his sunglasses on despite the grey sky threatening snow.

The waiting room was dead quiet - just him and some girl staring at her phone like it held the secrets of the universe. The paperwork they handed him felt like an interrogation:

Last sexual encounter? 5 weeks ago. Sophie. Just head though - does that even count? Better write it down just in case.

Number of partners in last 6 months? Sophie mostly. Plus that one night with some random during their "break"...so 2?

Previous STI tests? Team physical, but... yeah, him and Sophie weren't exactly careful those last few times. When she'd show up at his place at 2am talking about "missing him"...

Speaking of Sophie - better block her now. She always came sniffing around when she was bored, wanting to "talk things through." Couldn't have her messing up whatever this thing with April might be.

His thumb hovered over Sophie's profile. All those couple photos, playing perfect power couple for the cameras. Delete. Block.

What even was this thing with April? She still had his photo contract to finish - at least one more shoot. Then this... arrangement. But would they be properly dating? Did dominatrixes even do relationships?

The thought of her with other guys made his jaw clench. Having them kneel for her, call her Madam, letting her mark them up like she'd done to him...

"Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

The nurse's voice yanked him back. She handed him a plastic cup once they arrived at his examination room. "Just need a sample. Then change into the gown - opens at the back."

Fucking hell. These paper gowns were proper violation. Might as well be naked.

His phone lit up as he struggled with the paper gown ties.

April: Can't wait to ruin you properly.

His hands weren't exactly steady as he typed back.

Trent: Just you though yeah?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

April: Jealous already?

April: Don't worry pretty boy.

April: You'll be more than enough to handle.

Something in his chest loosened. Before he could reply, there was a knock.

"Ready Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: Besides...

April: When I’m done with you, you won't want anyone else.

Thank god for paper gowns hiding what that message did to him.

The doctor was middle-aged with kind eyes that probably seen everything. She went through her questions quick while Trent tried not to die of embarrassment.

"Sexually active?"

"Yeah."

"Multiple partners?"

"Not recently."

"Any symptoms?"

"No."

"Using protection?"

"Usually." His face burned thinking about April's no-condom rule.

Blood drawn, swabs taken, more questions that had him squirming in that paper gown. The doctor didn't even blink when he mentioned getting tested for a new partner.

"Results in 48 hours," she said, already typing in her computer. "We'll send them directly to your phone. Any questions?"

About a million, but none he wanted to ask a doctor old enough to be his mother.

His phone buzzed as he changed back into his clothes.

April: All done with my tests.

April: Been a while since I've had someone new to train.

He nearly dropped his phone.

Trent: Train?

Trent: Like a dog?

April: More like a pet project 😈

April: But if you're into puppy play...

What the actual fuck was puppy play?

No, don't Google that. Some things you can't unsee.

April: Just teasing.

April: Though you would look good in a collar.

His brain short-circuited completely.

The drive home was a blur of overthinking. What had he gotten himself into? This was fucking crazy - him, Trent Alexander-Arnold, about to let some photographer he barely knew take complete control of him. Do things to him he'd only seen in dodgy porn videos late at night when he couldn't sleep.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? He did know her, in a way that felt deeper than knowing someone's favorite color or what they did on weekends. She saw right through him from that first night at the bar. Saw past the footballer façade, past the scouse wonderkid image, right to the part of him that wanted... this.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: Having second thoughts?

April: We can always keep things professional.

April: Though that would be such a waste...

Trent: No second thoughts.

Trent: Just nervous I guess.

April: Good.

April: A little fear makes things interesting.

April: But remember...

April: I'll never do anything you don't want.

April: You just might not know you want it yet.

Christ.

By the time he got home, his head was spinning with possibilities. Things he'd never even considered before. Never allowed himself to think about.

April: Sweet dreams pretty boy.

April: 48 hours.

April: Then the real fun begins.

He fell into bed still fully dressed, mind racing with what exactly April had planned for him.

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: And remember...

April: No touching.

April: I'll know if you do.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours.

The results hit his phone during morning training. All clear. He couldn't send them to April fast enough.

Her results came through minutes later - a screenshot showing her own clean bill of health. His eyes caught on her details at the top of the form:

GOODPLENTY, APRIL TANISHA-MARLEY

DOB: 14/11/1997

Scorpio. Of course she was a fucking Scorpio. That explained... well, everything really. Most freaky sign in the zodiac, according to that astrology stuff his sister-in-law was always on about.

April: Dinner tonight? Need to chat.

April: I'm in Manchester seeing a friend but I'll be around after.

His stomach twisted. What friend in Manchester?

Trent: Yeah sounds good.

Was this it then? Would tonight be when they... His mind wandered to leather outfits and commands and that room on the third floor.

Training couldn't end fast enough. He was walking out with Ibou and Virgil, both of them cracking up at a video of Virgil's youngest "terrorizing" their German Shepherd, when a whistle cut through the air.

All three men stopped dead.

There she was, leaning against a red Ferrari like some Sons of Anarchy fantasy come to life. Leather motorcycle jacket, skin-tight pants that should've been illegal, and Doc Martens. Her curls were going mental in the January wind.

"Is that you, T?" Ibou's voice was shaking with barely contained laughter as he pointed at April.

"Yeah." He couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

Virgil smiled - actually smiled. "I like her."

Coming from his captain, that was massive. Virgil hadn't rated any girl Trent had been seeing lately.

"Come on you scouse! We're gonna be late!" April called out, smacking her gum like she owned the place.

"Oh I like her a lot," Virgil nodded. "This why you've been smiling lately?"

Well yeah, that... and other things.

"Uh..."

"Look at him, he cannot talk!" Ibou laughed, nudging Virgil's shoulder. "Let's say hi to her."

Before Trent could stop them, they were practically sprinting over to April. He watched, frozen, as she shook their hands with that easy confidence of hers, somehow making his teammates look like excited puppies.

By the time he made his way over, they were chatting like old mates. He cleared his throat, but Virgil and Ibou's dopey grins told him the whole team would know about this by tonight. Their group chat was probably already blowing up.

April shot him a look that made his stomach drop.

Oh fuck.

Was he in trouble?

"Bout time," she said, voice carrying that edge he was starting to recognize. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah."

"Good. What about Almost Famous?"

"Sounds good." His eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. The fuck was wrong with him?

"I could use a milkshake too actually," April said, turning back to Virgil and Ibou. "Nice meeting you guys. Thank you for making me feel so welcomed."

"Of course, April," Virgil said, smile genuine. "You should stop by for a match."

"Oh well–"

"You should come watch us kick Lille's ass!" Ibou practically bounced.

Trent shot him a 'what the hell' look, but April just flashed that devil's grin of hers.

"I would love to, but I have to check my schedule."

Ibou actually cheered - proper full-volume celebration - before they headed off to their cars, leaving Trent and April alone.

"I like your teammates, they're sweet."

"Listen, you don't have to–"

"You want to drive it?" She interrupted, dangling the Ferrari keys. His hand reached out automatically because fuck yeah, who wouldn't want to drive that?

She pulled them back. "You haven't been touching yourself, have you?"

"No."

Her eyebrows raised. "No...?"

"Ma'am... madam," he spluttered.

"Ma'am works too, you know." She chuckled. "Good boy. You get your reward."

The keys dropped into his palm, and Trent had never felt happier.

Though something told him this was just the start of April's rewards... and her punishments.

His Range Rover could stay in the Anfield parking lot - he'd grab it later. Right now, all he could think about was the Ferrari's engine purring to life under his hands.

"She likes to be handled firmly," April said as he pulled out onto the main road. Her hand found his thigh as he hit the accelerator, testing what this thing could do.

The engine growled as he shifted gears, probably breaking about six traffic laws. But with April's hand on his thigh and that much power under him? Worth it.

"You like it?" she asked, watching his face as he revved the engine.

"Yeah–" His answer dissolved into something embarrassingly close to a squeak as her hand squeezed his inner thigh, coming dangerously close to touching his hardening dick.

"It's the power, huh? Does things to you. Endorphins. Adrenaline." Her voice had gone low and dangerous. "Makes you feel alive."

He focused on the road, desperately trying to ignore how the rest of him was feeling. The Ferrari responded to every touch like it was made for him, but April's hand on his thigh was making it hard to keep it together.

"Have you ever gotten head while driving?"

Jesus motherfucking Christ.

"No ma'am." His voice came out steadier than he felt.

"Interesting." She removed her hand and he could finally breathe again. "Something to think about."

The rest of the drive was torture - April alternating between casual chat about football and comments that made his brain short-circuit. By the time they pulled into Almost Famous, he wasn't sure if he was hungry for food or... something else.

The hostess led them to a corner booth, April sliding in, her leather jacket came off, revealing a crop top that had his mouth going dry.

"So," she said once they were settled. "Ground rules."

He nearly choked on his water. "Here?"

"Where better?" That devil's smile again. "Nobody's paying attention to us. We can talk freely."

She wasn't wrong. The place was busy, music playing, everyone focused on their own conversations.

"First rule - honesty. Always. If something's too much, you tell me. If you want something, you ask for it."

He nodded, trying to look like they were having a normal dinner conversation.

"Second - you follow my commands without question. In and out of the bedroom."

His face felt hot. "Like the no touching thing?"

"Exactly. Good boy for following that, by the way." The praise shouldn't have affected him like it did. "Third - you're mine. Exclusively. No other girls, no hookups, nothing without my permission."

Something in his chest tightened. "What about you?"

"Jealous again?" She smirked. "Don't worry pretty boy. I won’t have other toys to play with."

Christ.

"Questions?"

About a million, but their waitress chose that moment to appear. April ordered for both of them - some fancy burger for him that wasn't even on the menu, two cookies and cream milkshakes, and sweet potato fries that she said they'd share.

Once the waitress left, April leaned forward. "You're thinking too hard. I can see it on your face."

"Just... what are we? Like, outside of all this?"

"We're whatever we want to be. The dom/sub thing? That's just one part."

"You'll be coming to my matches?"

"If you want me there." She tilted her head. "Though I might make you earn it."

His imagination went wild with possibilities.

"Focus," she smirked. "Food first. Then maybe... if you're good... we can find out what that Ferrari can really do."

The look she gave him promised all sorts of trouble.

And fuck him if he wasn't ready for all of it.

Their food arrived - his burger looking like something that should be in a museum, milkshakes piled high with whipped cream, and her sweet potato fries arranged in a basket. She pushed the fries between them, a clear invitation to share.

"So like," he started, trying to sound casual, "what more should we do? Outside of... you know."

April's eyes lit up with amusement. "You really want the girlfriend experience, don't you?”

He took a long sip of his milkshake instead of answering.

"You have to answer me." Her voice carried that edge again.

"Just feels weird, doesn't it? Doing all this freaky stuff behind closed doors but nothing outside of it. Doesn't feel right."

April rolled her eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck. "I usually don't date my toys. More of the have fun then go our separate ways type of girl."

"What if I'm a real good boy?" He reached for her hand, giving her his best pleading look - the one that usually got him out of extra training. "I'll do anything you want, ma'am."

"Oh... look at you acting like a sub."

"Is it working?"

She pulled her hand away, but he caught the hint of a smile. "You made my heart soften a little, I'll give you that. But I still need convincing."

"I can be proper convincing." He ate one of the fries.

"Eat your burger before it gets cold."

The burger was actually delicious - whatever she'd ordered for him was perfect. They fell into easy conversation between bites, talking about everything and nothing.

"So what friend were you seeing in Manchester?" He tried to sound casual.

"Jealous again?" She took a fry from the basket. "Old uni mate. She's a photographer too."

"Just a friend?"

"Getting possessive already?" But her eyes softened slightly. "Yes, just a friend. Though..." that devilish smile returned, "she did teach me a few interesting techniques back in the day."

His brain short-circuited again.

"You're too easy to wind up," she laughed. "But seriously - this thing between us? It only works with trust. Complete trust."

"I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I know a lot to trust you on." He met her eyes. "Know you see me. The real me, not just..." he gestured vaguely at himself.

"TAA, Liverpool's golden boy?" She reached over, wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth. The gesture felt strangely intimate. "Yeah, I see you. That's what makes this interesting."

"So..."

"So maybe," she sighed dramatically, "we can do normal stuff too. But don't think that means I'll go soft on you."

His whole body felt warm. "Wouldn't want that."

"No?" She leaned forward, voice dropping low. "What do you want then?"

Everything. Anything. Whatever she was willing to give him.

"Want to be yours." The words came out before he could stop them. "Properly yours."

Something flashed in her eyes - something that made his heart race. "Careful what you wish for, pretty boy. Once I properly claim something... I don't let go easily."

"Good."

They finished their food in charged silence, both aware of the shift that had just happened. This wasn't just about sex anymore. This was... something else entirely.

"Should get you back to your car," she said finally, but her eyes promised more. "Early training tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah but..." He hesitated. "When will I see you again?"

"Miss me already?" She stood up, sliding her leather jacket back on. "Thursday night, after the match. My place. Pack a bag - you're staying over."

His stomach did about sixteen flips.

"And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear something... accessible."

Christ.

As they walked back to the Ferrari, her hand found the small of his back. A casual touch that somehow felt more possessive than anything they'd done before.

He was so fucked.

And he couldn't wait.

The bench at Anfield was freezing, but Trent barely felt it. Ibou kept nudging him every time he checked his phone, teasing him about his "hot date" later. The rest of the lads had been giving him knowing looks all day - seems like the Ferrari incident had made its way through the group chat faster than Mo on a counter-attack.

When Mandi got sent off for that mental tackle on Darwin in the 23rd minute, the whole stadium erupted. Mo's goal in the 34th minute was pure poetry, the kind of finish that reminded everyone why he was still the king. The way he sent their keeper the wrong way before kicking it in the bottom corner? Magic.

Harvey's goal in the 67th was just showing off really, leaving three Lille players for dead before curling it in. Kid was having the season of his life, and Trent couldn't help but grin watching him celebrate with the Kop. Reminded him of himself at that age - all raw talent and pure joy.

Slot finally called him over in the 80th minute, just as the "We are Liverpool" chants started rolling through the stadium. "Quick touches, control the game," was all he said before sending Trent on.

Fifteen minutes of football had never gone by so fast. Every touch, every pass felt automatic - his mind already somewhere else, in a flat in East London with a girl who'd scrambled his brain.

He was out of the stadium like his ass was on fire, barely stopping to high five the kids by the tunnel. A few of the lads tried calling him back for post-match analysis, but he was gone before they could finish saying his name.

His bag was already packed - had been since morning if he was honest - but he triple-checked everything anyway. Clothes for tomorrow, training kit, toiletries. Felt weird packing an overnight bag for… whatever this was going to be.

Train was quicker than driving, even if it meant going full 'mandem' with the Moncler puffer, boots, and balaclava. The platform at Lime Street was packed with match-day crowds heading home, but not one person recognized him. Amazing what a bit of roadman fashion could do.

April kept sending him pictures that had his face burning behind the balaclava. Each one more suggestive than the last - close-ups of leather straps, silk ties, things that made his imagination run wild.

April: Hope you're ready for tonight. April: Been shopping. April: Got some new toys to try out.

Christ.

He tried to focus on anything else - the landscape flying past the window, the couple arguing about pizza toppings across the aisle, the kid playing some game with the volume too high. But his mind kept wandering to what was waiting for him in London.

April: Almost here? April: Getting impatient… April: Don't make me start without you.

The tube to her place felt endless. Had to change twice, studying the map like some tourist. East London looked different at night - all neon lights and people heading to bars, different vibe than Liverpool. More edge to it, like everyone was playing a part in some urban drama.

Her building looked the same though, all exposed brick and industrial lighting. The converted warehouse vibe felt fitting somehow - like April herself, a mix of rough edges and expensive taste.

The doorman - different one from last time, younger with a knowing smile - held the door open without asking for ID. Guess he was expected. Trent yanked off his balaclava in the lift, trying to sort his hair out in the reflection. The concrete floors echoed his footsteps as he walked down that familiar hallway.

His knuckles had barely touched her door when it swung open.

There she was, holding that cat like some Bond villain. Pussy Galore gave him what felt like a judgmental meow, like she remembered him from last time and wasn't impressed.

"Look who finally made it," April smirked, looking him up and down like she was deciding where to start. Her curls were wilder than usual, like she'd been running her hands through them. "Ready to earn your reward?"

Something in her tone made his stomach flip. Whatever was about to happen in this flat - whatever she had planned for him - there was no going back after tonight.

The flat looked the same as last time - art everywhere, books stacked on surfaces, that vintage record player spinning something low and jazzy. But now there were… additions on the dining table. Things that made his throat go dry - leather cuffs in different sizes, silk ties in black and red, something that looked expensive and slightly terrifying that he couldn't quite identify.

"Sit," she nodded toward the sofa.

He sat. She settled next to him, and he finally properly looked at her outfit. No leather dominatrix gear tonight - instead, she wore this soft-looking robe with lace details at the sleeves and hem. Proper feminine. Different. The silk looked expensive, catching the light when she moved.

"Cute, isn't it?" she caught his stare. "Not my usual thing, but I thought something to ease you in."

"I-I love it."

She chuckled at his stammering. Pussy Galore chose that moment to insert herself between them, tail wrapping around her body as she fixed Trent with those unsettling yellow eyes. Like she was judging his worthiness or something.

"I've emailed you something," April said casually, reaching out to scratch behind Pussy's ears.

"What?"

"Well, it's from my lawyer." She gestured to his phone like this was completely normal. "Have a look."

Sure enough, there it was in his inbox. A legal document titled "Arrangement Agreement and Terms" with real letterhead and everything. Mad how official it looked.

His eyes scanned the contents, face getting hotter with each section. Under "Dominant's Preferences" was a list that made his imagination run wild:

Bondage (rope, silk, leather)

Impact play

Marking/biting

Sensory deprivation

Temperature play

Edging/Orgasm control

Discipline/punishment

Creampies/Breeding

Under "Submissive's Interests" were things he'd mentioned, plus some he'd only hinted at:

Choking

Being marked

Light bondage

Following commands

Praise/reward

Being controlled

Light pain play

Breeding

Edging/Orgasm Control

Voyeurism

Light cock and ball torture (CBT)

Light degradation

There was a whole section about their mutual kinks and boundaries, with a note about only exploring new territory after explicit discussion and consent. Everything was laid out in legal language, like some mad corporate merger.

Then came their promises to each other. Hers as a dom - to always respect limits, provide aftercare, maintain open communication, ensure safe play, check in regularly about comfort levels. His as a sub - to be honest about his needs, follow her rules, use their agreed safe word if needed, communicate any discomfort or concerns immediately.

But it was the appendix titled "The Girlfriend Experience" that almost made him laugh out loud. Trust April to turn dating into a proper contract.

TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT:

Match attendance: Maximum 10 per season (choose wisely)

Holidays: 2 annual trips (Alexander-Arnold responsible for all expenses including accommodation, flights, meals, and excursions)

Social engagements: 6 meetings/hangouts with friends (recent Virgil/Ibou encounter not included)

PDA: Only with mutual consent and within established boundaries

Family/loved ones meetings: 2 maximum (if required/requested)

Public appearances: Subject to prior discussion and approval

Social media: No obligation to appear in or acknowledge posts

Media coverage: No comment on relationship status if asked

Duration: One year from signing, unless terminated early due to:

Loss of interest from either party

Infidelity

Breach of contract terms

Violation of established boundaries

Mutual agreement to end arrangement

Additional notes:

All activities to remain private and confidential

Both parties retain right to terminate at any time

Regular review of terms/boundaries every 3 months

Modification of terms requires mutual written agreement

Professional relationship takes precedence over personal

"Well?" April's voice cut through his reading. "Questions?"

The overachiever in him wanted to read every clause. The footballer in him wanted to know how she'd calculated exactly 10 matches for the entire season, did this include international breaks? But mostly, he just wanted to know…

"Did you really get a lawyer to draw this up?"

"Of course." She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Everything I do is professional."

"Even this?" He gestured between them.

"Especially this." Her voice dropped lower. "I take very good care of my toys, Trent. But I also make sure everyone knows exactly what they're getting into."

After reading through every clause twice, Trent clicked the signature box and signed his name. His phone made that little whoosh sound of an email sending, like he'd just signed for a transfer instead of a sexual arrangement.

April's phone pinged. She clapped her hands together, face lighting up. Then something shifted in her expression - her whole demeanor changing in an instant.

"Great." Her voice dropped into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Now we can get started. Strip to your boxers."

His hands moved before his brain could catch up, tugging off his clothes until he stood there in just his Calvin Kleins, feeling more exposed than he did in just a towel in the locker room.

"Kneel." She demonstrated the position with fluid grace - back straight, hands resting palms down on thighs, head bowed slightly. "Like this. Shoulders back, chin down."

He copied her, surprised by how natural it felt. Like his body had been waiting for these instructions all along.

"Perfect," she murmured, and something in his chest warmed at the praise. "We need a safe word," she continued, circling him slowly. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor. "Something you'll remember even when you're… distracted."

"Anfield?"

She laughed - a real laugh, not her dom voice. "Of course that's what you'd pick. Proper footballer through and through." Her fingers brushed his shoulder, feather-light. "Anfield it is. Use it anytime you need to stop or slow down. No questions asked, no judgment."

His knees were starting to ache against the hardwood floor, but something about the position, about following her commands… it settled something in him he hadn't known needed settling. Like finally exhaling after holding his breath too long.

"Come to the bedroom."

He started to stand.

"Did I tell you to walk?"

His stomach flipped. "No ma'am."

"Good. Crawl."

He followed her down the hallway on hands and knees, feeling slightly mental but also… right? Weird how good it felt, taking orders from someone nearly a foot shorter than him. Like his body knew something his brain was still figuring out.

Maybe this was what he'd been looking for all along - someone to take the weight of control off his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

Her bedroom was a bit different too - candles everywhere, giving everything a soft glow. The sheets were changed - black silk instead of the white cotton from New Year's. Some of those toys from the dining room table had made their way here, arranged neatly on her dresser.

"Stop there," she commanded when he reached the foot of the bed. "Kneel up, hands behind your back."

His body responded automatically. Mental how quickly he was learning.

"Good boy." Her fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her eyes. "You're a natural at this."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Already so polite." She circled him slowly, fingertips trailing across his shoulders. "Sure you've never done this before?"

"Never."

"Mmm." She stopped behind him, so close he could smell that spiced vanilla. "Tell me how it feels."

"Different," he managed. "But good. Really good."

"Using your words like a good boy." Her hand found the nape of his neck, gripping just tight enough to make him gasp. "But I think you can do better than that."

"Makes me feel… free?" The words tumbled out. "Like I don't have to be in control all the time."

"There it is." She released his neck, moving back into his line of sight. "That's what I saw in you that first night. All that pressure, all that control… sometimes you just need to let it go, don't you?"

He nodded, throat tight.

"Words, pretty boy."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She smiled - that dangerous smile that had his heart racing. "Now… let's see just how well you follow instructions."

April moved to the dresser, picking up one of the silk ties. "Close your eyes."

The silk was cool against his skin as she wrapped it around his eyes, tying it with practiced ease.

"Can't have you thinking too much," she murmured. "You footballers are always in your heads."

Without sight, everything felt heightened - the brush of her fingers, the sound of her movements, that spiced vanilla scent growing stronger as she leaned close.

"What's your safe word?"

"Anfield, ma'am."

"Good boy." Her voice came from behind him now. "Hands out in front."

Something soft - another silk tie - wrapped around his wrists. Not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in control.

"How does that feel?"

"Good." His voice sounded different to his own ears. Rougher.

"Tell me properly."

"Good, ma'am."

"Better." Her hand found his neck again, sending shivers down his spine.

The next hour was a blur of sensations - silk against skin, April's voice guiding him through positions, praising him when he followed perfectly, correcting him when he didn't. Nothing too intense, nothing that pushed too far, but enough to leave him breathless.

"You're a natural submissive," she said later, removing the blindfold. "Like you were made for this."

Maybe he was. Maybe all those years of being in control, of carrying everyone's expectations… maybe this was what he'd needed all along.

April placed the silk ties back on her dresser with that same precision she brought to everything. Each movement deliberate, calculated.

"Want to continue?" Her voice had that edge again, the one that made his skin tingle.

"Yes ma'am."

"On the bed then." Not a request - a command.

He moved his body to the center of her bed, those black silk sheets cool against his heated skin. His heart was hammering now, watching as she shed that lace robe to reveal her naked body. She was way more beautiful than what he'd imagined - soft toffee-colored skin, heavy breasts that will fit perfectly in his hands, stomach taut, and wide hips leading to a bare vagina. Her clitoris peeked out between her labia lips and he was in awe at how wet she already was.

The mattress dipped as she crawled toward him with that predatory grace of hers. When she straddled him, the world narrowed to just this - April above him, curls wild, eyes dangerous.

April’s nails dragged lightly over his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Trent’s breath hitched, the anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. She sat back on his thighs, her hips pressing down just enough to remind him of her authority.

"You like what you see, Trent?" Her voice was low, teasing, a challenge in every syllable.

"Yes, ma’am." His response came without hesitation, his voice husky with need.

"Good." Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made his pulse race.

April leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as her fingers traced the waistband of his boxers. She didn’t rush. Instead, she took her time, savoring his reactions — the way his body tensed, the way his hands clenched into the sheets, the way his eyes stayed locked on hers.

"You’ll learn something tonight," she murmured, her lips hovering near his ear. "Every touch, every sound, every movement — it's mine to give. Understood?"

"Yes, ma’am."

She kissed him then, soft at first, before her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. The sharpness made him gasp, and she took advantage, deepening the kiss, her tongue slithering inside his mouth. Her hands explored his chest, her nails scraping lightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Her lips left his mouth, trailing down his jawline to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He shivered, her name tumbling from his lips in a whisper.

She pulled back, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Good boy," she murmured, her approval making his chest swell.

April’s hands moved lower, her fingers teasing his nipples. She shifted her hips, her bare skin brushing against him, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.

"You’re doing so well for me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But we’re just getting started."

Trent swallowed hard, his entire focus on the woman before him. The world outside faded away. There was only April, and her deliberate, intoxicating control.

Her nails danced down his abdomen, and Trent’s breath came in shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her and the maddeningly slow path she was taking. She paused at the waistband of his boxers again, her fingers slipping just beneath the fabric.

"You’re trembling," she observed, her lips quirking into that dangerous smirk.

"You’re making it hard not to," he admitted, his voice rough with restrained need.

"Good." She tugged at his boxers, but not enough to pull them down. Instead, she let them snap back into place, her laugh low and sultry when he groaned in frustration.

"Do you want these off, Trent?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, almost a plea.

She arched a brow, sitting back slightly, her hands still resting on his hips. "You’ll need to ask properly."

"Please," he said, meeting her gaze. "Please take them off."

The corner of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. "That’s better."

Finally, she slid the fabric down, exposing him inch by excruciating inch. Her eyes never left his face, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed it — anticipation, nervousness, pure want.

When the boxers were gone, she took her time, running her fingers along his thighs and deliberately avoiding where he wanted her touch most. His hips jerked involuntarily, and she pressed them back down with firm hands.

"Patience," she chided, her voice smooth as silk.

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stomach, just below his navel. Then another, lower this time. Her lips were soft, teasing, a contrast to the sharpness of her nails grazing his skin. Trent’s fingers twisted in the sheets, every nerve in his body lighting up under her touch.

"April," he breathed, his voice strained.

"Shh," she murmured against his skin. "I’m enjoying myself."

Her kisses trailed further, her breath warm against him, but she stopped just shy of where he ached for her. Her tongue flicked out, tracing lazy patterns along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh instead.

"Do you like this?" she asked, her voice a mix of sweet and sinful.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his voice a rough whisper.

She hummed in satisfaction, her nails scraping lightly along his hipbones. "You’re doing so well for me, Trent," she murmured, her words washing over him like a reward.

April’s control was absolute, her teasing calculated, and Trent was helpless against the storm she was creating. Every touch, every kiss was a well thought move, driving him further toward the edge while keeping him firmly in her grasp.

Her lips and tongue worked him into a frenzy that felt almost otherworldly. Every time he thought she would give him the relief he so desperately craved, she pulled back, her chuckle low and devastating. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails scraping lightly against sensitive skin, grounding him in the moment even as he floated further away from reason.

When her lips finally wrapped around him to take him fully, Trent’s head fell back, his own lips parting in a silent gasp of gratitude. But his reverie was short-lived. His gaze flicked forward, and that’s when he saw it.

The mirror.

He hadn’t noticed it before, perfectly placed in front of the bed like it had been waiting for this moment. From his vantage point, the reflection offered a full, unfiltered view of April — bent over him, her curls wild, her body a vision of soft, supple curves. And below, her bare pussy glistening with her arousal, catching the dim light like a beacon. Her clitoris was engorged and directly in his view. It was pretty – just like the rest of her and he wanted a taste so badly.

"Ma’am…" he whimpered, his voice breaking.

She didn’t stop. If anything, his reaction seemed to spur her on. Her hands gripped his testicles, firm but careful, the pressure igniting something primal within him.

"You like seeing how my pussy looks, Trent?" she asked, her voice sultry, tinged with just the right amount of mockery to make his face burn.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his breath hitching. "You’re so beautiful."

"I know I am," she replied, her confidence rolling over him like a tidal wave. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, her gaze locking him in place. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, the words tumbling out of him without hesitation.

"Do you want to be buried deep inside of me?"

"Y-yes, ma’am."

"What about cumming, Trent?" Her tone was almost sweet now, like she was asking about his favorite dessert. "Are you going to cum inside me?"

Holy. Hell. On. Earth.

His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought to find his voice. "Y-yes, ma’am," he stammered, his whole body trembling under her touch.

April’s smirk deepened, her satisfaction evident. "Good," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "Because I plan to take everything you’ve got. Every. Single. Drop."

She moved away from him, leaving him to catch his breath — or so he thought. The cool air brushing over his heated skin was the briefest of reprieves before she swung a leg over him, straddling his waist.

Trent barely had time to react before she reached down, gripping him at the base with practiced ease. His dick throbbed in her hand, her touch enough to make his hips jerk instinctively. She lined herself up, teasing him with her warmth, and then she sank down, taking him inch by inch.

He let out a guttural groan, the sensation of her tight, wet heat engulfing him nearly overwhelming. She was so snug, so perfect, that for a moment, he wondered if this was some kind of divine punishment for sins he hadn’t even committed yet.

April didn’t wait for him to adjust. She started to move, her hips rolling with deliberate precision, the bed creaking beneath them in time with her thrusts. Trent’s hands hovered uselessly at his sides. Usually, he’d hold a woman’s waist, guide her movements, but with April, he hesitated. She was in charge, and he wasn’t about to ruin this. Not now.

Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through him, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself in check. He was already so pent-up from her rules, from not touching himself for a week, that every second felt like torture and bliss all rolled into one.

"Open your eyes," April commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of his pleasure.

He obeyed immediately, lifting his gaze to meet hers. She looked devastating — wild curls framing her flushed face, lips parted as she rode him with unrelenting purpose.

"You feel so good, you know that?" she asked, her voice low and almost tender.

He nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

"Use your fucking words," she said, slowing her movements to an infuriating crawl.

"Thank you, ma’am," he breathed. "You feel good too."

"I do?"

"Yes, ma’am."

Her smirk widened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Then let me know how good this pussy feels."

He stumbled over his words at first, but the more he spoke, the easier it got. He listed everything — how tight she was, how warm, how wet. How he’d dreamed about this moment, and now that it was happening, it was better than he’d ever imagined. How badly he wanted to cum inside her.

April’s movements grew erratic, her nails digging into his chest as she ground against him with reckless abandon. Trent was right there on the edge, the familiar coil in his stomach tightening with every thrust.

"Look at that," she teased, her voice breathy. "You’re gonna cum?"

"Yes, ma’am," he choked out, his body twitching beneath her.

"Hold it," she said sharply, her hips still rolling. "I’m not done with you yet."

Fucking hell.

"Please, ma’am," he begged, his voice raw. It had been too long, and he was still new to this. How could she expect him to hold back when she was doing everything in her power to drive him insane?

And then it happened. His body betrayed him, the coil snapping as he spilled into her with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

April slowed to a stop, her expression shifting as she looked down at him. The pleasure that had softened her features just moments ago was replaced with a look of utter disdain.

"I told you not to cum," she said, her tone icy.

"I’m sorry, ma’am," Trent whispered, letting out a shaky exhale as he felt some of his cum leak out of her pussy to trail down his length. "I’m so sorry."

Her face hardened, her voice cutting through his apology. "No more apologies, Trent," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she added, "Now, you get to have your first punishment."

Training felt different with April's marks hidden under his kit. Every movement reminded him of last night - how she'd punished him for cumming without permission in round one ("Bad boys need to learn control," she'd purred before denying him release in round two), the way she'd marked him as hers with teeth and nails. His "homework assignment" was still ringing in his ears: practice edging, get better at control, earn his next reward.

His skin was a map of their night - bite marks scattered across his chest, scratches down his back from when he'd finally earned his release, bruises from her grip when he'd tried to rush things. Each mark a reminder of how she'd taken him apart piece by piece, only putting him back together when he'd properly begged for it.

He kept checking his phone between drills. Nothing from April yet. Was she disappointed? Had his lack of control put her off?

Tyler's texts were going mental though:

Tyler: Bruv these photos are INSANE Tyler: Timeline's gone crazy Tyler: Look at these quotes 😭

The thirst tweets were something else: "Trent Alexander-Arnold looking like a SNACK" "Whoever suggested this shoot deserves a raise" "Those EYES though 👀"

When Slot called time on training, every muscle in Trent's body was aching - and not just from football. April hadn't exactly been gentle after he'd disobeyed her first command about waiting for permission.

The changing room was rowdy as usual, everyone taking the piss about his photos. He tried stripping off carefully, but winced as the fabric caught on the deeper scratches - the ones she'd left when he'd earned his third release after what felt like hours of teasing.

"Yo what the FUCK?" Ibou's voice carried across the room. "Your back brother!"

Too late to hide the evidence - bite marks, nail tracks, proper artwork of them. Some still angry red, others already turning purple.

"Shit bruv," Darwin whistled. "She's wild!"

"Proper freaky one you've got there!"

"Lucky bastard!"

"Trent's finally found someone to put him in his place!" Robbo called out, cackling.

"Nah but for real," Curtis grinned, "she must be something special. Man's got a proper glow about him."

"More like proper marks about him," Joe added, making everyone howl.

"Oi," Trent cut in, something protective flaring up. "Show some respect yeah?"

"Aww, look at him defending his girl's honor," Robbo teased. "She got you proper whipped already?"

You have no idea, Trent thought, but said nothing.

"Please tell me she's coming to the PSV match," Ibou said. "Need to see the woman who's turned our Trent into a lovesick puppy."

"I'm not–"

"Mate," Mo cut in with that knowing smile of his, "you've been checking your phone every two minutes waiting for her text."

More laughter, more jokes of exaggerated cat noises and pretending to scratch each other. Even Virgil was grinning, which was rare enough to make Trent's face heat up more.

In the shower, hot water stinging his marked skin, Trent couldn't help grinning. Let them joke. They had no idea what April was really like - how she could switch from dominatrix to soft girl in seconds, how she'd held him after everything, whispering praise until he fell asleep.

His phone buzzed as he was getting dressed.

April: Been practicing your edging? April: Good boys get rewards… April: Bad boys get denied again.

Fucking hell.

.................tbd

[pumpkinpenguin]

okay so i was talking to my sister abt this but i'm kind of heated over it now and must share it with the 10 of u that i keep in my echo chamber

i love evil 2012 donnie aus. he's such a creechur and i think he should be able to commit crimes. as a treat.

however.

i HATE evil donnie aus where he's emotionless and/or turns on his brothers.

donnie is emotionally driven and he doesn't hide what he's feeling. excitement, anger, sadness; if he's feeling it you'll know he's feeling it. a lot of his mistakes/the trouble he gets into is because he's having an emotional outburst of some kind or he's thinking with his heart over his head. he's also incredibly anxious and high strung. if something goes wrong it could ruin his whole day. if donnie were to be evil and not hold back anymore, he'd be the most unhinged villain ever with emotions that switch faster than a spirit box surfing through radio channels, and they'd be intense as well. this could be said for rise donnie as well, to be honest, and there's a conversation to be had there about autistic characters who are awkward and standoffish getting turned into emotionless and stoic villains, but that's not what i'm here to talk about atm.

when it comes to why he would snap, i think it would probably have to do with feeling rejected by humanity. donnie didn't ask to be the way that he is, a mutant turtle, but he's punished for it anyway. it's probably hard for him to rationalize. a big part of his character is his insecurity about being a mutant, which is also part of the reason i think he tries so hard to get april's affections. i DO NOT condone his behavior towards april, but it does kind of prove my point here. april rejecting him, to him, confirms that he'll never be accepted by humans. again, not april's fault at all and obviously she doesn't care that donnie is a mutant, she just doesn't like him that way. but like i said, donnie is emotionally driven and it would be very easy to spiral into that line of thinking. some people say that his brothers not appreciating him or asking too much of him would make him snap, hence why they have evil donnie turn against his bros. but i don't think thag would make him evil? to donnie, his brothers are all he has. they annoy him and pick on him and get a little too entitled to his tech skills, but i doubt he'd ever be motivated to hurt them. and if, IF, by some small chance he'd turn on his bros, leo is going first LMAO

raph teases donnie a lot and says mean things sometimes, but at the end of the day, i feel like he's still closer to raph than leo. not only that, but leo is one of the main contributors to donnie's stress. there's a problem? donnie, fix it. make some invention for the team. work harder. don't you know we're all counting on you? you know how much this means to splinter. don't even get me started on the metalhead situation. leo is on screen more often than not telling donnie what he can and can't do. not to mention he can be kind of a hypocrite sometimes. he judges donnie for his obsession with april, but he's just as obsessed with karai, more often than not putting his brothers in danger for her time and time again. i hate leorai with a passion but i cannot deny that it gets brought up in the show frequently. even if you ignore the romantic implications, i would still argue that leo is a hypocrite in this situation. also, through subtext, we can kind of infer that donnie and raph are closer than donnie and leo. i also feel like raph gets got first in these aus because there's an inherent bias against his character within the fandom, but i have a video essay in the works for that.

but again, if anyone were to be the victim of villain donnie's wrath, it'd be humanity. ESPECIALLY after the don vizioso thing (which is ANOTHER thing leo is hypocritical about??? "meh meh meh donnie killing ppl is bad ur stooping to their level meh meh meh" *literally TWO OR THREE EPISODES PRIOR decapitates shredder and carves his skull from his helmet* ?????!?!?!??!!?) he'd grow frustrated with how he can't do normal things. he's punished for something he has no control over. he feels alienated. why not give them the monster people think he is?

obviously ppl can write what they want, but so can i lmao. i usually don't care if something is OOC (it's funny a lot of times tbh), especially in something like a villain au, but when it comes to the turtle bros hurting each other?? that's the one thing i CANNOT stand 💀 of course i'm not telling ppl to stop writing it, but these are just my thoughts! lol i tend to avoid those fics/aus like the plague bc of what i'm personally comfortable with but!!!! i can see how they're fun to explore

i'll probably reblog later with an evil donnie WIP i haven't touched in three months when i have my laptop on me 👍

[fisheito]

me: idk i guess i'm not really into [specific kink] anyone: oh sorry then i won't show you t-- me: show it to me anyone: i thought you didn't like [specific kink] me: but how will i know if today is the day that changes? show it to me

[non-un-topo]

Getting an extreme case of writer's block the second I graduate and actually have time to write has to be some kind of cosmic punishment for something idk

[sysig]

Without me, who am I (Patreon)

[floaromaxtowns]

TY for sharing your story! :0

I'm happy to see that you managed to turn your distaste towards NFCV, into an opportunity to get to learn more about the actual franchise that anime is making a mockery out of! :)

I can asure you that the reason DoS' story feels off is due to it literally being, the last game that takes place in the timeline of events! Funnily enough, I personally never enjoyed any of the Soma Cruz's games, BUT they are definetely amongst the best ones of the Metroidvania style games we got.

And GOD Order of Ecclesia, that has to be one of the worst beginner-friendly games in the franchise :( . I own it, and as much as I love its art, especially its OST (Shame it was our last proper game entry to the franchise). You summed it pretty well: It's way too grindy and unnecessarily punishing if you don't have EXACTLY what it asks for.

Here's hoping you find a way to try more Castlevania entries, I'd also recommend you to try:

Symphony of the night (the ogTM that started out the whole exploration + RPG elements genre. It was my entrypoint to the franchise, and to this day it's still one of my favorite games <3);

Portrait of Ruin (Another great title from the NDS era).

I have never played any of the 3d console games (outside of the Lords of Shadow game, which I personally don't recommend [it was an attempt at a reboot of the franchise in the 2010s. It failed miserably]), or even the classic platformers. BUT!! I'm sure you can also find some hidden gems there.

Also, I believe there are some mangas out there that expand on the games lore, with gorgeous art to boot. And we even have a radio drama (Nocturne of recollection, highly recommend it <3).

It's genuinely fascinating to hear this perspective. Because as I mentioned in my original post, it sure feels like only people who were already fans of the series, that disliked the anime (I'm going to pretend those alt righter grifters who scream woke at anything, don't exist). So, reading this is VERY refreshing.

Speaking as a CV fan, I felt thoroughly disappointed with the show as it went on. I wasn't angry at it just, really disappointed with the direction they took with one of my most beloved franchises (and it stings knowing that for now this is the "most popular face" of the franchise). I'm sure that if I were in my edgy, antsy and asshole teenager phase NFCV could have been my shit. But alas, all it did was push me away. I tried watching Nocturne-- but I somehow, only made it past the first episode. And then I swore to nevermore touch it.

Also, I'm sorry-- but it's actually really funny to know that the series somehow looks best when it's exclusively in gif format. No audio, no dialogue.

The joke wrote on its own.

@pinkdamascus responded to your post

I was about to say how Netflixvania only really works, if you don't even know it's supposed to be an ADAPTATION of a VIDEO GAMES franchise. But like

You're literally the Second ever non-CV fan to say this.

Holy SHIT.

For context: I'm not a Vivziepop fan, I didn't check out either of her series.

I bring this up bc

I'm convinced it's all about the optics at this point. Those people can't be actually watching these shows.

People blatantly ignore the fact that HH and HB are supposedly meant to be, in the same package as goddamn Family guy/South Park/etc (and even then it feels MILES tamer in comparison). And yet, there are motherfuckers looking at them, as if they are children's MEDIA!!!

Netflixvania's more mature/edgier aesthetic, while actively trying its hardest to be serious & big brain, with its shallowest takes (It shows the people on this show clearly wanted to be working on something original. And instead, they are stuck doing IP stuff). People who are always throwing themselves at discourse are that fucking shallow, and they resonate with this show. If anything, it tells a lot more about the people flocking to the shows rather than the product itself.

Don't forget that the lead director used his own father's passing as a meatshield from criticism c: That's always a good sign, and not at all a red flag, right?

[monstermoviedean]

at the end of my fucking rope with "conversations" about k12 chronic absenteeism.

[asmodeusamaryllis]

I don't think I can keep being open minded to n@tl@n guys

[moe-broey]

Okay now for something Different. Or the same. Who knows. But entirely for my own enrichment purposes.

For Moe, a transmasculine character who, despite its flamboyancy and androgyny, is solidly exclusively Some Guy in identity just with a lot of extra steps (and can get really dysphoric if interpreted Incorrectly). For Moe, all of this considered/factored in, to have a fairy Resplendent, which seems to be an all-girls club.

The goodness in your heart aside that may wish well for Moe and its fate. Is it giving Women and Thems, conflating nonbinary/genderqueer identities with being afab and therefore "woman-lite", which inherently alienates anyone who falls outside of that whether it be due to identity (Moe's case, it WILL fucking kill you), presentation or sex assigned at birth. Or can Moe just serve cunt in peace with its complicated relationship with femininity (both what was enforced and coerced upon it and how it currently defies and defiles it). Thematically, can Moe serve cunt in peace?