#that doesn't absolve the writing

[innocentimouto]

Hama deserved a freaking therapy and reunite with Kanna again yet all they did was throw her in the same inhumane conditions she has spent decades of her life in. Hama deserved better.

The bare minimum wasn't done. The bare minimum. How do you justify sticking her back into chains?? She could have died. She could have disappeared and never returned. She could have had a breakdown from the years of trauma and finally finding one of her people and having some hope and sharing her culture to someone who would carry it on but it still not being enough because she lost so much, and appeared sympathetic---

wait that doesn't work in this fandom

This quick episode to show some lesson about 'evil being in everyone' really needed more attention considering half this season was spent humanizing the Fire Nation and yet no season gave any attention to the Water Tribes. I wanted to see the regular people going about their day. I wanted to see a bunch of girls sneaking off to watch Katara waterbend. Some random silly scene about merchants complaining about how weird some parts of the ek are about waterbending. Some old woman talking about back in her day waterbending students were much more advanced.

Any of it would have helped lessen the uncomfortableness of this. Even still, even if writing Hama without any salvation, she didn't have to be stuck back in prison, which almost seems like agreeing with the fn. Like they were somehow right that it was the right choice.

I just feel like this message wasn't necessary for the Water Tribe specifically since we got it enough from the Earth Kingdom. So that's one problem. And then the other half of the problem is making Hama into this one dimensional evil when she is, ironically, one of the handful of characters who hate the Fire Nation. Kind of funny how hating your oppressors always needs to be punished out of you hmm?

[raayllum]

I think sometimes the way I approach fic / meta writing / analysis stems from how I character build and write my OG stuff as well, because while the classical writing advice is about asking "what does your character want?" I've always found it most useful to ask "What does your character want, and what are they willing to justify to get it?"

(Asking how they justify their actions is also incredibly useful but more on that later.)

For example, when ('good') characters are under stressful situations and respond well regardless, we take that as being indicative of who they Truly Are—heroic, helpful, selfless, often even compassionate, etc, and when antagonists behave that way, we dismiss it as just glory hounding or being selfish, when it can Be multiple things at once.

When ('bad') characters respond poorly to stressful situations—threatening harm, using dark magic to saved loved ones, being angry and cold hearted—we take that as who they are, and when it's the protags, we say they're stressed or coerced or any number of things... that are true for the antags often, too! And still true even if you don't like them or have as much compassion towards them.

But unfortunately sometimes people are rarely inclined to do the opposite. They're rarely inclined to take antagonists' good moments as honest statements of their character because "well they're mean/evil" and often dismiss protagonists' complicated or less than stellar choices because "well they're good and they feel bad" (Viren saying he'll never forgive himself for the things he's done even when they saved his son, and Claudia crying over what she's done to save her father? yeah those scenes don't exist anymore sorry).

The fact of the matter is that, at least in TDP and in many other works (including my own), actual antagonists are not always evil and awful and morally bankrupt 100% of the time, and actual protagonists are not always perfect or good or making the right choice (because sometimes there isn't one, tbh).

Who your character is at their best and their worst, regardless of circumstance, is ALL of who they are. It all has to be taken into account. No cherry picking. Rayla can be selfish and dismissive and a liar who routinely fails at whatever she sets out to do and is awful at communicating, and Viren can love his kingdom and his family and genuinely believe that's what he's doing everything for, and neither encompasses their whole character. A perfect example is Claudia, who we cheer for when she chooses Soren over the world-saving mission of the egg in 2x07, and despair at when she chooses Viren over the world-saving mission of maybe not freeing the dangerous imprisoned Startouch elf in S4 and S5. Same principle, character, motivation, different circumstance, but we're happy about Soren (because he's not Viren) and bummed about Viren (because he's not Soren), and because character traits are consistent, and whether those traits are good or bad is inherently circumstantial. Claudia's loyalty can be great, and it can be a terrible, awful justification. Both of those things are true.

To be clear, this isn't to argue for false equivalency: Viren and Claudia and other antagonists are far more often Wrong than the protagonists are, and the protagonists are routinely more Right than our two favourite dark mages are. TDP likes its complications and circumstantial stuff, but there's still some things that are Bad No Matter What (like gaslighting your child, or routine dehumanization). And some of our associations are because antagonistic characters tend to be routinely cruel and mean, which are part of the horrible things they do, and protagonist characters are routinely kinder and more compassionate to the people around them, and protecting each other / innocent people is part of what makes them a good person, but... There's no inherent difference between a lot (not all, but some) of the actions the characters across the board take, particularly in arc 2, just their perspective and who we're personally more attached to and thereby more willing to justify their decisions surrounding.

Like idk my main WIP protag buries people alive en masse and tortures someone vindictively because they killed her friend and I'd still classify her as a Good Person (fictionally), and it's just always wild to me when people don't take All Parts and Choices and Relationships of a character into account especially because TDP spells it out for us over and over that we Should with quite literally every single character, whether those actions are good or bad:

Once again I am asking for encompassing wholes and character nuances where the only time a character should be like "well it's totally fine that you did a Thing actually" (Rayla towards Callum's dark magic use or Callum towards Rayla lying to/stealing from him) or "totally not okay that you did a thing" (Runaan about Rayla sparing Marcos, or Claudia doing dark magic) is taken as an aspect of Character Bias, not a definitive Narrative get off the hook slant or condemnation, because neither of those things Get us anywhere in a writing or analytical sense thank you

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

Freylin lovers… all four of you out there…. please talk to me abt them. I will love u forever

[moonyinpisces]

i have no desire to use tone tags nor do i need them but i feel like i have to start using them for people to understand that i'm not being a huge bitch every time i say literally anything ever

[nettlespinning]

you guys just don't know how to write angst anymore. putting people who say they like "toxic yaoi" in my dni cause they have no idea how to actually write toxicity

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

I genuinely do love the prison arc and find it fascinating and I wish it was easier to find content and analysis about it that didn't veer to any of the Very Not Fun extremes

[bulkheading]

james roberts is transformers bendis and i hate him soooooo much lol 

[chaotic-history]

TGEY DIDNT EVEN MENTION INCREASE

[infimace-blog]

Thinking about rap as a technical artform and rap as a cultural artform, with respect to Tumblr's incompetence at dealing with either. Tumblr can just barely grasp the former because, like all forms of Black music, it's been repackaged in various ways that are more palatable to to white audiences. I talked last month about how what Tumblr was calling rap while trying to defend its taste in music is more akin to filk songs, but I should admit, sometimes Tumblr cites people who actually rap. It doesn't fix the problem or absolve them of their bullshit, but it is true.

The failure then becomes an inability to recognize or care about how rap functions culturally.

People on Tumblr will take Dungeon Meshi and intricately pick apart how a single chapter connects back to real-world neurodivergence issues and the cultural differences between the West and the East when it comes to handling them, and then look at any given rap song and assume it's skin-deep. Unless it's Hamilton back in the late 2010s, before we all decided it was cringe, in which case they'll gladly dig into the history of the early USA and, like the play itself, sidestep the racism whenever possible.

Take Weird Al, one of the many names that's been thrown around in Kendrick and Drake's wake. Weird Al is technically a rapper. He has done rap. We cannot ignore that as a factual statement. He's not even that bad as a rapper. But he has no engagement with rap as a cultural object; he engages with the artform as a parodist. "Amish Paradise", probably Weird Al's most popular rap parody, doesn't say anything; it's here to riff on a religious minority. But you dig into it just a little and you can see the kind of complexity that Tumblr usually loves to talk about. The song is, after all, a parody of Coolio's Grammy-winning "Gangster's Paradise", which is literally about being a black man in an environment dominated by organized crime and fearing the constant threat of death in that life, but was also created specifically for the movie Dangerous Minds, a middling white savior movie about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching a bunch of bad stereotypes of what people think inner city non-white students are. A movie that was, in turn, based on a white woman's memoirs about teaching in a bad school near San Francisco. You've got this interplay between a white woman's real-life efforts to teach her black and Latino students (I can't speak to how effective she was, mind you), a fictionalized version of that same woman being shown as the sole guiding light for her underdeveloped gangbanging students - and a white actress's crappy Kipling-ass 5/10 film getting Coolio his Grammy. It was tailor-made to be Coolio's big hit with white audiences, getting the push of Michelle Pfeiffer, having slow and deliberate rapping, and lacking the swearing in most of Coolio's oeuvre (Stevie Wonder mandated no swearing in return for letting Coolio sample his music). And, though I suspect this was unintentional, the song plays into the same narrative that the movie does, how this rapper is doomed to his life because "nobody's there to teach [him]", with dramatic choir and strings underscoring the dire fate that awaits this rapper if some charitable white person doesn't help him - the same dramatic choir and strings that Weird Al uses for comedic effect by comparing it to Amish farmwork.

I put that last paragraph together with two or three hours of Wikipedia, and you can do the same kind of analysis with a lot of hit rap songs (and Genius is right there if you need a helping hand - I wouldn't have understood much of Kendrick's Euphoria without it), and I think this drives a lot of my frustration? Tumblr loves to see something cool and then take a few days to write an in-depth post about how cool it is under the surface. So the lack of this when it comes to rap does show a deep disinterest in thinking about it when it isn't fun. And there's so much cool shit to learn about rap. Did you know that Baby Got Back was inspired by the anti-black fatphobia Sir Mixalot's model girlfriend was dealing with in her industry, and was pushing back against the media's general preference for skinny white women? Did you know that there's a Turkish hip-hop scene specifically in Germany because, as a minority that was brought to the country for cheap labor and then forced to exist as second-class citizens, they ended up relating a lot to the music? Just. Dig a bit. There's so much.

[livwritesstuff]

One of Eddie’s favorite pastimes is listening to Steve’s phone conversations with their college-aged daughters.

All three of their kids are very smart – way smarter than either of them. Getting the older two into college had been a total cinch and it’s looking like it’ll be just as easy with their youngest. 

The thing is, just because their kids are goddamn brilliant doesn't absolve them from the occasional lapse in common sense. When that occurs, Steve usually gets a phone call, and those phone calls are the highlights of Eddie's day by a mile.

Steve gets a phone call this time because Moe has a doctor’s appointment that she is going to all by herself for the first time ever. 

Apparently, the paperwork is causing some strife.

“And just think,” Steve is saying idly when Eddie walks in, “You could’a gone to Wellesley College instead and had us with you for this shit.”

Eddie can’t hear Moe’s response, but he has a feeling that this comment did not go over well with their oldest daughter.

After a moment, Steve’s eyebrows fly up.

“Yeah, Moe, where it says social security number you should write your social security number…” he pauses, listening to Moe again, “You don’t know what it is? How do you not know what it is?”

“Steve, I’m begging you to put this on speaker,” Eddie laughs.

“Go get Moe’s soc card,” he hisses in return, “I don’t know it either.”

“You fuckin’ hypocrite,” he replies even as he heads for the office where they keep all that shit.

By the time he’s returning, Steve has the call on speaker and he hears Moe ask, “Have I ever worked as a machinist?”

“No,” Steve tells her.

“What about when I operated the ski lifts at the mountain? That’s a machine.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Okay…have I ever had a hysterectomy?”

“That’s kind of a one and done thing, I think, and no, you haven’t.”

“Have I ever had an injury to the eye involving a metallic object?”

“Moe, you can’t be serious.”

“What if I did and I just don’t remember!” she protests.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie shakes his head, “And these kids are supposed to be intelligent.”

Before Steve can respond to either of them, Moe says, "Wait – do you think I should have written my name as Lucy instead of Moe?"

"Uh, yeah," Steve replied, sounding utterly baffled as Eddie howled with laughter.

"Hey!" Moe protests, "This is not my fault! That's totally on you for naming me one thing and then calling me something completely different my entire fucking life!"

(And she's kind of right, Eddie can't help but think).

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖛

summary: Sebastian Sallow should have been a Ravenclaw. (series masterlist)

cw: 6.7k words, career-and-life-choices-related angst, SMUT (18+ ONLY), unprotected af sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), questionable behavior if he doesn't have a breeding kink, not the ending you deserve but the ending you're gonna get, fem!oc/reader. requests open.

a/n: i'm so blown away by the love for this series. thank you for all the support and kindness you've shown!! unfortunately for everyone, i suck at endings :/ xx laney

“Come on, Seb! If we get there early, we might see the Bloody Baron run Peeves through with his sword again!” the sixth-year trotting past him called over his shoulder as he joined the throng queuing at the Slytherin common room door. Sebastian laughed and waved him on, promising to be down in a minute. Wish I could remember that kid’s name. Oh, well, no sense learning it now. 

Not now, on the night of his final Hogwarts end-of-year feast. When he’d first arrived at Hogwarts, he hadn’t been any taller than the runt who was currently getting trampled through the door by the gargantuan Gerald Gillooly. He turned his head away from them and caught sight of himself in the aged and spotty floor-length mirror that was at the top of the staircase he stood on. He was surprised not to see that runty little first-year who’d quietly begged his sister to hold his hand while they watched their peers get sorted by a smelly old hat. He had cleared six feet over a year ago without stopping, and the man who blinked back at him looked older and more haggard than he felt. Perhaps that came with the territory when you’d done what he’d done. 

This thought made him pause, one foot in mid-air ready to step down the stairs and join his classmates. What if he was aging more rapidly because of what he’d done to his uncle? Could the guilt he was carrying around, though he had thought it absolved, be etching itself into the lines on his forehead and the corner of his eyes? Would Anne have had something to say about the dark circles under his eyes? His shoulders sagged a little at the thought, although a sad smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how broad they had gotten. His Slytherin robes were beginning to pull at the ankles and wrists, but Sebastian never could justify a flighty purchase like robe tailoring when there was so little time left to wear them. 

So little time. Months left at Hogwarts had dwindled down to a few weeks, and his counseling meeting the previous Monday with his head of house had solidified the warbling jelly of nerves in his gut.

“So, Mr. Sallow.” Professor Ronen had leaned across his desk, gloved hands crossed beneath his chin. “The purpose of this meeting is to discuss your ambitions outside of your Hogwarts education, as your graduation date is nearing. And, as we belong to the noble house of Salazar Slytherin, ambition is everything. Now, what age are you?”

“Nineteen next month, sir.”

“Excellent.” The Charms professor scribbled on the roll of parchment in front of him. “And what were your highest N.E.W.T. results?”

“Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, sir.” 

Ronen was ecstatic. “Ah!” He rubbed his hands together and looked at Sebastian with a special glint in his dark eyes. “And what career do you plan to pursue with such skills?”

Uh…

Truth be told, Sebastian had never been able to visualize a career that appealed to him. Lack of ambition, never. But lack of clarity for that ambition? Absolutely. He asked too many questions, over-thought each decision when it had come time to write owls to the Ministry and inquire about job postings. It had paralyzed him to this point, worry about choosing incorrectly and being stuck with a profession he detested gnawing at him from morning ‘till evening. 

Then, as always, she’d been there. Curled up at his feet and happily plotting the layout of her desk in the Department of Mysteries. And maybe whatever the future held wasn’t that nerve-wracking.

“You don’t even know if you’ll have a desk,” Seb had murmured on a rainy night in the Undercroft after his meeting with Ronen, running his hand through her hair while she doodled on the back of an old History of Magic essay and Ominis softly dictated a letter on the other side of the fireplace. She had looked up at him with those great big eyes and laughed.

“Good point. But come on, wouldn’t the Department of Mysteries be perfect for my little Ravenclaw drop-out? It’s all questions, all day.”

“You could stand working with me all day, every day?”

“Another good point.” She twisted her face up and stuck her tongue out at him. I love you. Say it, tell her, tell her now!

Time was definitely running short, for more than landing a career. 

The rest of April, after they’d done something resembling kissing outside the Three Broomsticks, had been…stiff. Tense. They both still refused to acknowledge their rampant attraction to one another, and Sebastian didn’t know how much longer he could take this. To make matters worse, Ominis kept being very pragmatic about the whole situation.

“Is it a good idea to be with a woman who is as equally stubborn as yourself?” he had asked Seb after being debriefed on the events of that fateful evening in Hogsmeade. Sebastian had rolled his eyes.

“Rolling my eyes,” he narrated absently, and Ominis sighed. 

“Sure, don’t listen to me, an objective outsider and the only one in this whole situation who isn’t acting based on pure, insane passion. What could I know?”

“She’s not stubborn about everything,” Sebastian let slip with a grin, the image of her legs locking around his hips and the sound of her moans filling every available inch of space in his brain. He realized his mistake when Ominis’ eyebrows dropped and tried to recover. “We get along fine. It’s just this one, stupid thing.”

“If you care for her so much, why won’t you just end this and ask her to dinner?” Ominis inquired. Damn that logic of his.

“Well, because,” Sebastian dead-panned. “Then I won’t have won.”

“I hope she curses you when you finally break down.”

And now it was the final night of the school year, of all his school years, and Sebastian found himself clutching his heart through a low-burning panic attack as he made his way to the common room entrance. His legs were on autopilot as he climbed through it and trailed a few meters behind the rest of his chattering and excited schoolmates. Each of his fingers sported a vicious hangnail by the time he entered the Great Hall, hardly paying attention to the enchanted galaxies and shooting stars streaking across its deep indigo ceiling. 

Why hadn’t he given his post-educational plans more consideration before now? The thought had produced so much anxiety within him that he’d been quite content to put a stopper in it until now, but now the anxiety reared its head with a vengeance and snapped and coiled dangerously inside him. 

Sebastian stopped at the end of the Slytherin table and glanced down its length. This was last night that he would be shoveling down its scrumptious food without a second thought; it seemed like a childish ingratitude now that he was facing the prospect of growing and catching all his sustenance over the summer, alone. 

The only available seat was next to Ominis, whose hand was planted firmly on the bench next to him to reserve it. Sebastian stumbled over and dropped into it. 

“Don’t sound so happy to be here,” Ominis muttered, passing the large plate of roast to his right and missing Grace Pinch-Smedley’s hands by a good distance. She smiled graciously at Sebastian and grasped the platter away from Ominis, who grunted in thanks. Despite the delightful-looking spread, Sebastian found himself unable to put anything on his plate.

“Psst.” Someone pinched the back of his elbow and he yanked it away on instinct, whipping around to catch the offender. She was sitting directly behind him at the table opposite, her back already facing him once more by the time he turned around. “Last night, birdie. Got a job picked yet?” she muttered over her shoulder, low enough so only he could hear as he strained his neck towards her.

His heart hammered. Why did she have to be the one to ask? “No, that blasted crystal ball only showed me winning the Quidditch World Cup in ten years, and I’ve no idea what that meant.”

“Oh, unknowable universe,” she sighed. Sebastian noticed that she had a black ribbon in her hair for the occasion. He slipped a finger into one of the loops and felt it.

“This is nice.” 

“Well, there you go! I hear Gladrags is hiring right now.”

Sebastian scowled. “Stop, please,” he muttered, turning his body away from her and feeling a little bad about it at the same time. She twisted herself around and grabbed at his sleeve again.

“Hey, it was a joke! You’re going to be fine, Seb.” She set her fork down fully and flipped her legs over the other side of the bench so she could tickle his back. Sebastian buried the reluctant grin on his face in a long gulp of water.

There was so much mingling and getting up to yell over people among the four house tables that no one paid them any mind as she continued running her fingers, distracted, up and down his back. Since this whole mess had begun, there’d been entirely too many casual, unspoken touches that set his mind reeling while he tried to figure out just what this woman was to him and how she felt about it all. But he didn’t even have the bandwidth to feel the usual level of arousal that her touch always conjured. “Come on, birdie, look at me,” she said, and Sebastian heard the tone in her voice as it dropped an octave that meant she wanted the teasing to pause temporarily. 

He turned to face her fully, and the look of pity (and, was that an ounce of longing he saw in those endless eyes?) carved into her mouth made him want to eat his robes. 

“I know things have been…” She glanced around the Great Hall, apparently hoping to find the perfect words written across the walls in floating candles. “Strange. With us.” She was floundering, and pleading with Sebastian to understand what she meant, but he couldn’t find it within himself to help her. He just stared, impassive and paralyzed by all things he’d neglected in his stupid, selfish youth. “But, they don’t have to be.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then jerked her head in Ominis’ direction, where the Gaunt had been slyly turning his ear towards their conversation. “Bugger off,” she hissed at him, and he snorted.

“The first time you two have been interesting in months and now you don’t want to keep me apprised,” he grumbled. But he turned his attention back to his plate and to the very inventive discussion about what Professor Black got up to in the summer holidays. Sebastian waited, still staring blankly at her, for her to reboard her train of thought. 

“Stop looking at me like I’ve got horns sprouting out of my forehead, first of all,” she began, and Sebastian blushed, dropping his eyes. “Look. What if I stayed at Feldcroft, just for the summer, and we worked on finding something you love to do for work, and get the cottage looking presentable. Then, you could sell it to that sweet, old couple down the road from you, the ones who wanted it for their daughter and her new husband. And you can move to London with Ominis and me, and we can just…figure it all out. In our own time.”

One of the few things Sebastian hated about himself was that when he was thinking of something to say, the rudest answer usually supplied itself first. “Wow, you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” “I’ve had to, because you haven’t!” she immediately spat back, poking him in the chest hard with her pointer finger. “I know it seems like a terrifying void out there–” She motioned outside the walls of the castle that still kept them safe and warm for one more night, “–but there’s so much time to do whatever you want–”

He cut her off, his hands fisting into his hair in frustration. “Whatever I want! I’ve no idea what I want!” he cried, accidentally jostling the student sitting on the other side of him with his long limbs as he rose to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” she asked. She stood and followed him, weaving through the crowd of chatting kids. Part of him wanted her to, and the other part didn’t. Where he usually found solace from his anxiousness with her, tonight he found only more push to confront it. Her plan was good. No, it was wonderful; the thought of living with her for the first few months of their adult lives and having her to help him find his passion? It sounded like heaven on earth. 

And apart from the appeal of her career counseling, sharing a living space with her might also provide some easy lubricant to the other plans he was working on. The plans that involved visiting her in her dreams again, for however long it took, in hopes of pushing her to the brink of sexual frustration and forcing her to confess her feelings to him. The book Legilimency and the Dreamer had been stuffed in his nightstand, collecting dust for the past few weeks while N.E.W.T. studying took up every spare waking and sleeping moment he had. But he had every intention of stealing it from the school (“It’s a dangerous book, really,” he had reasoned when the disapproving glare of Madam Pince appeared in his mind at the idea) and taking it with him when he left. It had been too easy, too good, too fucking wonderful poking around her subconscious that he longed to be back inside it. And her, as well.

He cut a sharp left turn away from the Slytherin table and past the distracted gazes of the professors, who were looking just as giddy, if not more, than their students that the summer holiday was imminent. He pounded up the staircase tucked at the back of the hall and hoped he wouldn’t hear any footsteps behind him. He just needed it to be quiet, just for a minute, so he could clear his head of everything and calm down.

When he reached the dust-covered storeroom at the top of the stairs, he let out a sigh. Then the candles on the unlit candelabra next to him blazed to life and a tiny scream jumped out of him.

“Will you talk to me now?” she demanded, her hands on her hips and her wand clutched loosely in one of them when he caught sight of her. 

“You have an extraordinarily light tread.”

“Thank you.” She sniffed and threw her hair over her shoulders like he’d just called her beautiful. Maybe he had. At this point, his brain was such a stew of anxiety and panic that he couldn’t trust a word out of his own mouth. 

Sebastian made his way over to some crates that had been stacked in a corner, dust cloths covering a few of them, and plopped down on one. She watched him, and her expression softened when she saw the way his chest was pumping air in short gasps. “Seb,” she said, jogging across the room and kneeling in front of him, between his legs. Her hands slid up to his face, and her voice suddenly lost all its tough-loving edge. “Hey, hey. Everything’s going to be alright.” “And what if it isn’t?” he choked. The future encroached on him with its talons outstretched, and his vision swirled a little. Air couldn’t reach his lungs quickly enough. “What if I choose wrong, and I have to spend the rest of the life I traded my sister’s for on NOTHING?” He was shouting now, he was sure of it, but the din floating up the stairs from the Great Hall covered it. When he glanced at the woman holding his face for the first time, he saw her lips had parted in shock.

She swallowed. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know that was why you were so scared.” Sebastian knew it was his own fault; he had swept his uncle’s and Anne’s death under the rug and rolled the rug up so tightly that he sometimes forgot about it himself. 

“I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her thumb stroked his cheek. "But you didn't trade anything for your life, sweet boy. It's yours alone. To do what you want with." The candlelight was twisting weird, dancing figures over her pretty face as she gazed up at him. Why are we always here? He thought. Always here, always close, but never anywhere further. Then she cleared her throat. “So, how about it? Let me stay with you and…figure it out.”

Yes, please, just stay forever. “I don’t know,” his double-crossing mouth said. “What if we can’t sell the cottage? And what about Ominis, in London? He’ll need you there. And what if I still–”

“Oh, see, you’re asking all the wrong questions, baby bird.” She forced him to look at her, her hands clamped down, hard, on either side of his neck. “What do you want to do? Answer me, don’t think.” 

“I want to be with you.” For Merlin’s goddamned sake, it slipped out so easily once he finally got out of his own way. Her eyes rounded, and he half-expected her to whoop out a victory cry. He had lost, given in, quit their stupid little game. Her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him before he had a chance to realize what he’d even said. 

A broken sob of relief passed between their mouths, unclear where it had come from. Her lips were wonderful and soft, better than the dream. It was all better than the dream, he realized: the scent of her filling up his nose and the very real weight of her pressing desperately close to him while they sucked down air in the few reluctant seconds they would break apart for. 

As she shrugged off her robes and lifted her leg to scoot onto his lap, the full severity of how stupid he was hit him squarely in the face. He had been dancing around her, wasting his time with little fantasies and dreams, and why? When he dug his hand into the flesh just below her ass, hoping to confirm this was all really happening, she moaned, dulcet and a little irked, and bit his bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” he laughed, after she had relinquished it with a satisfying smack against his teeth. “Didn’t expect that.” She pulled herself off of him and sat back on her heels while still straddling him. 

“Thank Christ you finally gave in,” she was muttering under her breath. Her fingers worked into the knot of his tie and she grunted in frustration, her hips inadvertently rocking against his cock and making blood flow out of his head and into his lap. “I was thinking of slipping you some veritaserum. I’ve been going mad.”

Sebastian groaned. “You’ve been going mad? I think my hair’s falling out.”

She gave a satisfied grunt as the tie fell loose around his neck, and she pulled him by both ends of it back to her lips. Every pent up ounce of stress and anxiety was rapidly pouring out of him as they kissed with fury, their tongues licking against each other and driving Sebastian wild. She pressed her lips to the spot on his neck where his jaw and ear met, and he discovered with a whimper that would have embarrassed him three months ago that it was his sweet spot. He begged her to do it again (“Shit, please, there again, baby,” was about as eloquent as he could manage) and she obliged with fervor. Her teeth sunk into the spot, pressure and delicious pain getting him harder by the second.

He grabbed her hand and showed her what she was doing to him, and it made her abandon her efforts on marking his neck to say, “God, is that all for me?”

“Who else?” She licked her lips and swallowed, seeming impressed as she stroked him up and down. She swore.

“Seb, this has been ridiculous.”

“Yes, it has,” he agreed, already irritated that now he had actually tasted her, nothing else would ever be as sweet. “But you won.” 

A grin that would have looked more at home on his own mischievous face spread across her lips before he kissed it away once more. “I did, didn’t I?” she said with a small quiver of triumph and pride in her voice as she pulled back to look at him. He was well aware that he probably looked ridiculous, hair pushed askew by her fingers and his gaze stupid and lovestruck. “Every minute of torture since I saw you in that stupid towel–” She punctuated the last word by pushing his robes off his shoulders and throwing them on the ground behind them, “–totally worth it. Every assignment I missed, every class I couldn’t concentrate in, all of those fucking dreams…”

Sebastian’s heart skipped two beats. “DreamS?” he inquired, frantic, while she was tugging off her grey, woolen tights. He emphasized the “s”, barely daring to believe that she could have had more than one without his influence. Had it really been this easy the whole time? Had she been eating herself alive like he had since, what had she said? That stupid towel? 

Since then? Why on earth had he bothered planting little seeds in her mind about being with him? The idea had taken root long before he’d even made his little nighttime excursion. God, this woman would never stop surprising him.

She huffed. “Yes, asshole, dreams. Too many dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?” He couldn’t help teasing her, not even now. When she sat back down in his lap with her tights removed, her core made contact with his cock and they both swallowed back moans at the sensation. Sebastian could feel how wet she was, even through his trousers. Wet and warm. And real. 

“Want me to show you, birdie?”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he breathed, looking up at her like a supplicant at the altar. There was a fuzzy glow emanating from all around her, and he wondered briefly if it was the candle-lit room or if she was part-deity, about to lead him through the “pearly gates” he’d heard her mention before. She leaned down and kissed him, her fingertips grazing his jaw. Their lips fought a little bit before he had to smile and she won, yet again, her tongue sliding against his. She tasted perfect.

“Did you have cherry tart for dessert?” he asked when she broke apart and pressed her forehead to his. In spite of their already-compromising position, she blushed and nodded. “Well,” Sebastian continued, his hands moving down her waist and thighs to flip up the front of her skirt. “I never got to have mine.” His voice was husky and broken, but he couldn’t care. 

His fingers found purchase on the hem of her underwear. They skimmed over the lace there and they both gave up on trying to be cool and groaned. “Yeah, you were there,” she sighed with a slight choke as he ran one finger up her covered slit and pushed against her clit. “You touched me like that.” Sebastian applied more pressure and rubbed in light circles, and in what felt like seconds, she was circling her hips and grinding against his hand, just like she’d been so close to doing in the Three Broomsticks. 

He decided he’d burn the entire castle to the ground before he let them be interrupted again, though.

Her arms were around his neck once more, hanging on for dear life while she pushed against him and chased down the orgasm that, if her huffy moans and whines were any indication, was looming near. Sebastian had tasted true power before and hated himself for not hating it, but never anything quite as potent as the weight of the woman he loved pressing to his chest and begging him to touch her, to really touch her. He slipped his hand inside the lacy scrap covering her heat without any break in his motions on her clit, and she cried, “Fuck, Bash!”

Sebastian moaned a curse out into his bitten lip and held it between his teeth while he slid one finger into her with the utmost ease. He had only ever heard her call him that once before, during a tense Slytherin/Gryffindor match on the Quidditch field. He’d flown past the stands where she had been clutching the edge of the box, squinting into the blinding sunlight to try and locate the bludger that had been dead set on de-brooming him, just long enough to hear her scream, “Fuckin’ kill ‘em, Bash!” and the fire in her voice had almost done the bludger’s job and knocked him clean out of the air.

She was soaking through her underwear, and the feeling of it pressed against his aching cock was getting him drunk. He pumped the finger upward and watched her shake and chase it back down with her hips. Perfect, he thought, utterly perfect. The idea that nothing would ever be able to compare to that dream seemed ridiculous now, when the real thing hovered over his lap. “I’ve had dreams about you, too, you know.”

“Is that so?” A smug smile flashed across her lips before it vanished in favor of a fucked out scream as he inserted another finger that stretched her even further.

“Mmhm. Awful ones.”

“Like what?” Words were becoming harder for her to gasp out. Sebastian increased the speed of his hand and twisted the fingers inside her so they were brushing against her walls in just the right way.

“I fucked you senseless into my bed.” You braggart idiot. “And I couldn’t think about anything else for a goddamned week. You sounded so fucking sweet, calling me ‘birdie’, and so tight around my cock. I never wanted to wake up.” She shuddered and cried out, driving her hips downward and coming all over his fingers. The peacock in him preened, wondering if the secretly shared memory had been what pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm was so powerful that, when he pulled his fingers away and slipped them into his mouth before she had a chance to protest, he saw a dark stain left on the lap of his trousers. He groaned around his fingers and tipped her chin down with his free hand so she could see the mess she’d made. 

She moaned a feeble, “M’sorry,” when she saw the spot she’d left, shocking Sebastian so much that he used the hand holding her chin to swat her, barely making contact, across her cheek and glared. 

“That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he growled, holding her in place until she nodded with a whimper and acknowledged it. “I never want to hear you say sorry for anything that gorgeous again.”

If sneaking into her dreams had been wrong of him, he couldn’t imagine that this was any sort of punishment for it.

She grumbled, “You smacked me.” Sebastian snorted.

“Barely.”

“Yes, and therein lies the problem.” He swore as his slacks tightened even more across his lap, and she giggled, wiggling her hips. He bucked into her, trying not to dig his thumbs into her waist too hard but unwilling to let her move from the perfect position he had her in. “Is that your wand?” she inquired. Her lips were pursed as she held in more laughter. “Or are you just pleased to see me?” 

The filter that usually stopped Sebastian from speaking everything on his mind had left him quite alone for the evening. “I’m always pleased to see you. I swear, everything you do gets me so hard,” he said unabashedly. Based on the furious reddening of her cheeks, it seemed she could dish it out but not take it. 

She freed herself from his hands and dropped to her knees again, in front of his spread legs, but this time, there was no pretense of comforting him. Sharp fingernails ran up his thighs while she looked at him from beneath her lashes and inquired, “My turn now?” Sebastian wondered if he’d accidentally ingested a few drops of felix felicis at some point. 

“If you’d like,” he replied, smarmy and satisfied. He leaned back against the stacked crates behind him and spread his legs wider, watching her eye him as if she’d never seen anything better. When she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him free of them and his underwear, his breath caught for a minute. He hoped it wasn’t disappointing to her.

“God in heaven. How am I meant to take this?” So not disappointed, then. The look on her face was closer to hunger, and Sebastian felt precum leaking out of his throbbing length when she wrapped her soft hands around it and gave a few experimental tugs. “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, though without embarrassment. “Never knew a man who deserved it.”

“I’ve never had it done,” Sebastian said, “but what you’re doing there feels fucking fantastic.” He sighed in bliss as she stroked him faster. “So, what did I do to be the first one deserving of your beautiful mouth?” he asked, intending to sound very suave but instead eeking out the question with a slight choke. Her thumb swiped over the tip of his cock and he whined. 

She hmphed, concentrating hard. “You mean besides torturing me for a month because you’re too stubborn to tell a girl you fancy her?” He had to give her a sheepish smirk, which she rolled her eyes at. 

When she sank her mouth down around him and he felt the warmth envelope his length, Sebastian mewled. Head thrown back and his fingers clenching against her scalp, he groaned and sighed as she worked her tongue and lips against him. “Sh-shit, wow,” he whined. His composure left him completely. She felt indescribable, but it frustrated him to not be able to form words and tell her. His stomach contorted and flexed, and he stretched his long legs out, letting her steady the free hand that wasn’t jerking him on his thigh.

She pulled off his cock with a pop and looked up at him. “You’re like velvet,” she said, eyes wide, starving. Sebastian took her face in his hand and selfishly prayed that when he died, he’d still be able to take her with him, wherever he ended up. Now that he had her, there wasn’t anything living or dead that he would let separate them.

Such maudlin fantasies manifested themself in the room in the form of Sebastian muttering dumbly, “Sit on it, fuck, please, I need to feel you.” 

“I’m not done here.” She dipped her neck again and licked up the length of him, and the sight and sensation almost broke his resolve, but he managed to pull her off of him by her hair, which made her squawk indignantly. But when he tugged her into his lap and kissed her again, their combined tastes mingling between them on their lips and tongues, her protestations died down.

She dug her fingers into his shirt, then realized he was still wearing a shirt. “Take this off,” she ordered, but as usual, took matters into her own hands and began unbuttoning it, pausing after each button to press kisses to the patches of skin that were revealed when she did so. Her lips left burns behind. When the shirt was finally open, she pulled it off him. 

“My turn now?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and grinning. 

Her uniform and his cast aside on the floor, the two looked at each other for a long while, although the feeling of their cores pressing, bare, together, had them softly panting and grinding. Sebastian laid his forehead against hers. 

“Is…is this real? I mean, is it?” he breathed. He didn’t know what he meant but she did, and she nodded, her lips pressed like she was trying to stop herself from saying something. 

“I’m not letting you fly away that easily.” She kissed up his neck while he smiled. 

“Your little birdie.”

“Yes,” she gasped when his hands landed on her ass and he rolled her hips over his still painfully hard dick. Her clit brushed against the base of it and they both cried out. Sebastian had never felt anything so good, so right.

Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, then paused. She frowned.

“What?”

“God, Seb…when was the last time you had your hair cut?” His smile was almost predatory. One month and thirteen days.

“Hmm. I guess it has been awhile. No good?” he asked, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He could feel her fingers twirling the locks at the base of his neck, and she unconsciously ground against him even harder. 

“Very good,” she groaned and threw herself forward so their chests were flush and they were kissing so deep that they had to share air. “You look fucking sinful. Whenever you come back to school with it like that I…” She trailed off, suddenly bashful, as if she wasn’t naked in his arms.

Sebastian thought he might be glowing. “I’ll never cut it again, darling,” he swore. “Just for you.”

The feast in the Great Hall, his nerves about graduation, the murky uncertainty that faced him after Hogwarts, all of it was gone as he helped her lift her hips and legs enough to line up his cock with her entrance. She sank down onto him and they cried out together, her slapping at his chest as she tried to relax around the thickness and him biting down on the inside of his mouth so hard it drew blood as he tried not to come then and there. Shivering, she wiggled her hips side to side while she became acclimated to his size. “Shitshitshit.” Sebastian gritted his teeth. “You’re really tight, wow. You feel…you feel so g-good.”

Her eyes flew to his, and he struggled further to not burst when he saw how flushed and hot she was. She was still steadying herself with a hand pressed against his chest. “S-sorry,” she said, “You’re–you better not fucking gloat about this, Sallow, but you’re the biggest…ugh.” She dropped her head to his shoulder in embarrassment, but Sebastian was beaming. Was he, now? His ego puffed up at the thought. It really didn’t need to hear that. 

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” “Why don’t I believe you?”

He showed her his canines. His other half, his better half. She knew him too well. “Because how could I possibly? Look at you, you’re a goddamn vision.” She really did look like a goddess on top of him, taking him so well and clutching him like she never wanted to be torn away from him. Then, she squirmed, and his cock somehow hardened further inside her, until the pain and pleasure of it was almost blinding him. “Fuck, you’re warming my cock so well, darling. Can I move?” 

A whimper of assent and a hurried nod almost set him on his course, but he decided in that moment that there was one more thing requiring attention before he could really take her like he wanted to. He placed both hands on either side of her face and kissed her, slower and softer and sweeter than any yet, and said, “I love you.”

He expected a gasp, a cry of disgust, a puzzled look, something from her that would be an appropriate response to his wholly inappropriate confession, but all she said was, “I love you too, Seb.” 

“Alright,” came the dopey response. She giggled and adopted a deep monotone to make fun of him.

“Alright.” They kissed again, and it felt like everything that had been upside down in Sebastian’s mind turned right side up. “I love you so much, my little birdie. I love your curiosity and your chirping. Promise you’ll let me stay with you until–”

“You think I’ll ever let you leave?” He cut her off, incredulous. “My home is ours now. And what’s the rush to sell?” A grin spread across her face as she watched one take over his. “Quite like the idea of a little privacy for the next few months.” He snapped his hips up, just once, and a shriek tore out of her throat. Her cunt was so slick and hot, he had to bite the wound he’d opened in his mouth again to not shout. “Ominis is far too light of a sleeper for how often I plan on making you scream my name.” 

She began chasing his thrusts in earnest, picking up their pace and riding him until her legs were shaking. He hit her limit with every movement, and his abdomen flexed with the effort of fucking up into her the way he was. Their mingled panting and the slap of her ass against his lap were the only sounds filling the storage room, their own private concert for an audience of each other. When her tired legs couldn’t hold her anymore, she begged him, “Harder!” and Sebastian obliged happily by wrapping one arm around her waist and tilting her backwards so he could brace his free hand against the crate beneath him and rail her. A silencing charm would not have been amiss, he vaguely thought, as she cried through her enthusiasm for him. “Fuck, Seb, Seb!” she sobbed. “Please, just please!”

She hadn’t fallen in love with him because he never teased her, he reasoned, so he couldn’t resist a cheeky, “Please what?”, although his own climax was so close that it came out in a pathetic little huff. She was an angel above him, her hair framing her face like a halo and her back arched right where her wings would be. His desire to make her come first was the only thing stopping him from spilling into her. The question plaguing his mind for years finally answered, he was pleased. “So, you do cry when you come. I fucked myself a thousand times thinking about how perfect it must sound.” 

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she slammed her hips down on his cock one last time and he gave three tiny thrusts inside her. His fingers flew to her clit and rubbed it through the searing orgasm washing through her, her cunt spasming around him and pulling him up to the peak as well. She wept and he breathed, "Little birdie fucking loves you,” and they both came together, him pumping his seed into her with labored pants and her greedily taking it in. 

She huffed, “I want all of it,” and he moaned, hoarse and scratching. Cum was leaking out of her as he slowed down, his arm still supporting her as she slumped against him. Their combined mess covered their legs, and the sticky sight almost had Sebastian hardening inside her once more. 

For several minutes, neither said anything. The chatter from the Great Hall had died down significantly. They laid together on the crate and played idly with each other, Sebastian’s fingers kneading the flesh below her ass and hers drawing light shapes over his chest. The air was heavy. It felt as though someone ought to say, “What now?” but neither of them wanted to. It didn’t matter, anyway. “What now?” was never going to be a concern of Sebastian’s again. The drive to ask questions, to wonder, to worry. It was all gone. Settled and soothed by something that curled itself around his heart and laid there, comfortably heavy.

“Come to bed,” he murmured, his eyes drifting open and shut, as if they were playing house in Feldcroft already, and not under strict instructions for one more night to sleep in separate dormitories. 

“Oh, yes, I’m sure the other boys would love that.”

“They don’t hear anything.” Sebastian’s orgasmic haze made everything swirl and swim. He yawned. “Even when you kicked me out of that dream.” His fingertips ghosted over her bare back, toying with the ends of her hair as she lay curled into him. He didn’t realize his mistake until she said, dangerous and low,

“Even when I what?”

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[gay-little-treat-wizard]

As someone who had anger and violence issues in high-school that's not an excuse for any of the shit Kipperlily did. Like my anger issues made me lash out but it didn't make me turn on my friends or think that I'm so much better than anyone else that I deserved to succeed as much as the people working their ass of.

Literally a guy in my class lost his mum near grad and you know what I didn't do? Get upset that he busted his ass to earn a scholarship he dedicated to her. I just felt bad for him.

Like Kipperlily is a terrible person and that's why she's interesting, so trying to polish her motivation so she’s sympathetic just makes her a more boring character. Just because someone has a mental illness, that doesn't make them a good person or sympathetic. Illnes doesn't mean you're absolved of the harm you perpetuate.

I like that she's a terrible person who kind of reminds me of someone who'd complain about affirmative action and having nothing to write in her college essays. I like getting an irredeemable female character and feel no need to justify enjoying that she's awful.

I like the #Frostkettle ship because I think it's tragic that Lucy pooled all her love into someone who turned around and stabbed her in the back. And it makes Kipperlily even more unsympathetic since someone did try to reach out and at the very least be friends with her. Acting like that relationship was in any way healthy, especially after Arkana, just feels silly.

Also the bad kids actions are not equivalent because most of the fucked up shit they do to people comes after those people actively antagonised or tried to kill them, I.e. coach daybreak actively trying to bring about the apocalypse, Biz tried to kidnap adine for weird pervert reasons, Johnny spells was an actual predator.

What did the rats do to the rat grinders? There are plenty of less sentient monsters they could have grinded like spiders. Sorry spider lovers but spiders aren't known for their intelligence or ability to build hidden cities.

I fully admit that the last point was silly but all else still stands.

[zykamiliah]

i know this may be a shocker to some of you but sometimes... having a main character with flaws =/= bad main character.

main characters don't have to be Pure Golden Paragons of Your Particular Brand of Puritanical, Black and White Morality to be good characters in terms of writing

sometimes it's nice to have flawed main characters, like shen qingqiu, who have biases and whose narration is unreliable and who, though he develops through the course of the novel, still doesn't completely change everything about who he is.

that does not objective change the fact that his kindness and positive actions changed the fate of the characters in proud immortal demon way

because guess what? if people aren't perfect in real life, it sure as hell follows that characters don't have to be perfect either. people have many layers, and characters can, too. svsss gave us a richness of characters that are complex like that, that are as much capable of "good" and "bad", who are biased and blind and oblivious and react to things in complex ways.

so please.... just because sqq didn't immediately absolved your fav from all his faults because he find out about his past abuse in a "oh so he was a slave!! he was abused!! poor baby!! this explains everything and justifies all his actions and absolves him of his crimes!!!", doesn't mean he didn't feel sympathetic, doesn't mean he didn't acknowledge that shen jiu was a person, doesn't mean he now has an understanding that he didn't have previously. the trauma sj suffered doesn't justify how he hurt others.

THE SAME WAY that because he had the system breathing on his neck doesn't justify sqq for hurting lbh. the same way that the abuse he suffered doesn't justify bingge's cruel and tyrannic actions, nor his overblown revenge.

all of this characters are flawed and complex and carry with them an humanity that makes them compelling and deeply interesting; trying to point fingers and put the blame on everything that happened in One Particular Character takes away their agency about their own fates and the impact and consequences their actions have on others and the world.

hear it from shen jiu himself

and from sy!sqq:

i think that if there's a lesson to learn from svsss, is that you should treat others how you want to be treated; and that the way you go about it will have consequences in your life-- because you are an active agent in your own life, you have agency, and though you are also a product of circumstance, you should definitely use what little amount of agency you have to treat yourself and the people and the world around you with fairness, and if possible, kindness.

[flower-boi16]

I'm writing a post about Oops and why the episode is a complete disaster on every single level and while I was doing that I realized something;

Anyone who gets upset at Stolas's actions in the show is demonized by the narrative

Stella being upset that Stolas cheated on her? Nah, she was just mad that he slept with an imp. Also, she was an abusive bitch to begin with.

Octavia being upset over Stolas spending more time arguing with Stella and for paying more attention to an imp than her? She should cut him slack, after all, he's trying his best! (even though he isn't but ok).

Blitz hating Stolas for SAing him and how their relationship is only about Stolas wanting to sleep with him? He just hates Stolas for being a prince, oh and Stolas DID do some nice things for Blitz... off-screen...that doesn't automatically make his treatment of Blitz ok but pfft let's just ignore that right?

Every time someone in the show gets upset at Stolas's actions, they are portrayed as in the wrong for feeling that way or in Stella's case just turned into a one-dimensional Saturday morning cartoon villain. Cuz god forbid we hold this stupid owl accountable for ANYTHING right? We need to make him an UwU soft boy who did nothing wrong and everyone who gets upset at him is bad!

.....No. I'm sorry but, no. That's NOT how you make a sympathetic character, you don't demonize every other character to make the other one look more sympathetic and don't coddle that character and absolve them of all of their flaws. Stolas is not sympathetic, no matter how much Viv tries to demonize other characters around Stolas while coddling him, I won't EVER sympathize with this stupid owl. There's nothing about him you can sympathize with, he's just a horny, selfish asshole, and anyone who calls him out for it in some way is demonized by the narrative.

Fucking incredible, what a great and well-written character.

[tinydefector]

Can we get a first contact au with Rodimus becoming increasingly possessive towards the human the lost light found.

My Human

Rodimus x Human First contact AU

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

Rodimus masterlist

Request are open, please go to pinned post to read rules.

Rules and Masterlist

Had a lot of fun writing this. I may have written him as more Protective Possessions than anything else, but all up, I'm very happy with how this turned out. But I've seen so where the human is distressed by Possesive Rodimus in First contact Aus so I wanted to go with them being just as distressed about being taken away from him.

________

Rodimus hated this, he hated being away from his little human. He paces back and forth in front of medlab, at this rate he would wear marks into the floor, he regretted that his little friend had been found out. It had resulted in Ratchet and Ultra Magnus taking them from his care. It had now been nearly three cycles since they had been taken from him and he didn't like when others were in charge of their care. 

Ratchet and Ultra Magnus believed he wasn't skilled enough to care for them. Yes there was a language barrier between them but they had been working on it with hand signals, nods and head shakes along with visual items. He was gentle with them, he did his best to make them comfortable and they didn't set off any signs that they felt uncomfortable or upset with him. 

Rodimus keeps his energy field taut with restraint, his optics flick to the door as he faces Ratchet, though his unrest is clear. "Look, I know you and Magnus think I'm not 'responsible' enough or whatever, but that's my little human! I've been taking good care of them since picking them up, You can't just keep me away from them!." His plating flares briefly. " you both swoop in, say I'm not 'qualified,' and carry them off for your tests and whatnot. Please just let me see them!" Rodimus remains poised, despite his clear frustration he tries to not let it show.

Ratchet isn't impressed by the situation, Rodimus had hidden the human for who knows how long before they found out about them and it was due to the fact Swerve had seen the human with Rodimus late one cycle. The medic had a hard time trusting Rodimus to be responsible for such a fragile being. 

The smaller beings' eyes light up the moment they see Rodimus, a small collection of thrills and vocal chirps falling from them as they see the Speedster finally being let into medical, they stand quickly moving to the edge of the table calling out to him eagerly.  

Ratchet huffs in exasperation as the human calls out so eagerly for the red mech. He grudgingly has to admit their attachment seems genuine. But that doesn't absolve proper procedure. Rodimus had withheld information, hidden an organic, he was lucky that they were in good health otherwise Ratchet wouldn't have let him within the radius of the lab. 

"Alright, alright, calm down, both of you." Ratchet levels a stern glare between them. "I'm letting you see each other as a trial, Rodimus. One slip-up and they go right back to my care, and you do not get to see them at all. got it?" 

Rodimus nods eagerly, and Ratchet steps aside with reluctance. The human chirps happily as he swiftly moves closer to the table they are stood on. "Be gentle, and watch your energy, you're lucky you haven't caused any medical problems" Ratchet grumbles. But his rebuke as he reads over the few tests he had run over them. 

Rodimus beams down at his human. "Missed you too. Don't listen to Ratch', okay? I'll always keep you safe." He directs the latter at Ratchet. The medic huffs but doesn't disagree. Seeing the human's contentment, maybe Rodimus has earned his chance after all. He'd be keeping a close optic on the two.

The human almost flings themself at Rodimus snuggling against his plating, had it been any other Mech their plating would have been cold but Rodimus ran hot due to his Outlier ability and they seemed to swarm to him for the heat. Their arms curl around his shoulder plating little thrills leaving them in delight to see him after not being able to see him for days now.

Eventually they pull away hands moving quickly as more noises leave them, trying to ask him questions he can't understand, giving a rather rude gesture towards Ratchet as they voice their displeasure over being stuck here. Ratchet isn't particularly happy but given the circumstances it was better than the human needing multiple injections and a drip. 

Rodimus chuckles at the rude gesture aimed at Ratchet. "Eheh, I'll let that one slide since I know he's been keeping you against your will." He hums softly while pulling them back into a hug which they eagerly accept. "But play nice," Rodimus whispers, directing a pointed look at Ratchet. "Don't want Ratch' banning me from visits, y'know?" 

Rodimus strokes their back gently, happy to finally have them back even if it was only for a little, he didn't like it but he would fight if it came down to that so they didn't have to stay in the Medlab. 

It's only when Ultra Magnus walks into the room does the human become rather vocal, seeming to scowl in displeasure, another flurry of noise coming from them as they clinging to Rodimus expecting the larger mech to take them again.

 After all this was a massive violation of ship conduct having a human on board and Rodimus had hidden them for who knows how long. Rodimus himself was still rather angry over the separation for cycles. Magnus' field bleeds disapproval as he notes the organics ferocity. " Rodimus, your failure to disclose finding an intelligent alien has compromised ship safety. That you concealed them speaks poorly of your leadership. Do you have any idea what could have happened if it was another species, think of the Viruses, and other contamination you could have brought onto this ship!"

Rodimus' plating flares indignantly. "They were scared! I was looking after them, making sure they had everything they needed, rather than dragging them in here for pit knows what kind of tests and dragged me to the brig!" 

"Enough, both of you!" Ratchet interjects sternly. "Arguing will solve nothing. Your disapproval is clear, Magnus, but separating them now could cause harm. For their sake, I advise they remain in Rodimus' care, But they are to be brought in Every Luna Cycle for check ups, do I make myself clear captain?."

Magnus' optics narrow, he goes to argue about the situation, But the sound of heavy foot fall makes them tense as Megatron stalks in, red optics lingering on the group. The co-captain looks to Rodimus with a raised brow before his optics flicker to the human in his arms. "What is the issue here?" He finally asked. Rodimus' fields blast protectiveness as Megatron's gaze settles on the human clinging to him. "There's no issue, Megatron. Just everyone freaking out that I took in a stray. As if providing refuge is a crime." 

Magnus stiffens. "Harbouring an unknown organism without informing command put the whole ship at risk. Repercussions must follow regulations."

Ratchet shoots him a glare. "Perhaps. But separating them now risks worse harm." He faces Megatron decisively. Megatron considers it thoughtfully. While Rodimus broke protocol. 

" they remain in Rodimus' care. But you will face consequences, Rodimus, for keeping them hidden, you should have come to one of us over this when you found them." His gaze levels on Magnus, daring dissent. Magnus' field churns discontent but he nods curtly. Rodimus flashes Megatron a covert grateful look. “Look I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone but I knew this was how Magnus was going to react, they needed help and I wasn't just going to leave them” 

The group continued talking about how things would proceed from there. It's only after the medical check is finished are the two finally allowed to leave, the human clinging to Rodimus as he walks with them. It catches many mechs, some doing double takes and others just blatantly staring at the human shocked over the strange organic. Rodimus did his best to shield the human from prying optics as he strode briskly down the corridor. He didn't want to deal with the rest of the mechs, or overstimulate his companion. 

"It's alright,” he murmured soothingly. "Just ignore ee. They're not used to fleshies is all." He shot a warning glare at Swerve as the mini rolled by curiously. Relief washes over him as they reach his hab suite, Rodimus shut and locked the door behind them. "Whew, finally some peace! Nobody gonna bother us here, promise." 

He settled gently on his berth, cradling the human close. "I know it's all weird and scary dealing with bots as big as mechs. But you're safe with me" Rodimus' field radiated comfort as he chatted to help them relax, he knew full well they didn't understand him, but he knew the rumbles and vibrations from his chassis would calm them. He was careful not to let his distaste for how the others acted show - he knew he had messed up but it was worth it. 

They let out a soft noise as he finally laid down on his berth, it brought him comfort knowing he finally had them back safely. The human snuggles in to his plating, a hand coming up to his faceplate as they check him over as if he had been hurt. Rodimus' optics crinkled warmly at the human's gentle inspection of his faceplates. "Aww, you're checking me over now, huh? Making sure grumpy Ratch' didn't do anything to me?" 

He nuzzled their tiny hand affectionately with the tip of his nasal ridge. Primus, they were so tiny and fragile, but their caring touch warmed his spark. "Don't you worry about me, little bit. I'm tough, it'll take more than their glares to take me down." Rodimus chuckled softly. 

Turning serious, he added, "But it means a lot that you care. I'm here for you too." He let out a soft noise as they curl up against him, happy to finally have him back, it makes a smile etch into his lips as he covers them with one of his servos to make sure they don't fall off his chassis. “get some rest littlespark” he hums softly. 

_______

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[tojisun]

dbf!simon x fem reader; dbf!simon x ofc

!! suggestive - minors dni; simon's a dick; is it cheating if you two are on-and-off

: draft :'D - i didnt want to post it as part of the dbf!simon series because it felt too juvenile and not in-line with the series (as i tend to avoid writing simon's pov to further shroud doubt to how he feels for the reader) but i miss writing so i tweaked this a bit

it is laughable, really, how you never seemed to have good people in your corner. how, at every turn, you keep getting betrayed. left broken and weeping, your heart full of festering wounds.

simon's guilty of it, of course.

he is no saint. he knows the shit he does hurts you but he has always known the bed he's made in hell and was more than ready to lay in it. to submerge himself in the fire because there is just something so addicting in the way he seeks for you, all mangled soul and yearning—ugly in the way he bears the burden of his affections to you—only to be accepted with nothing but a wet sniffle and a, "you hurt me." and simon hears it for what it is—his absolvement.

in return, simon whispers his apologies, all half-meant because he can't change. not when he loves the way you love him.

but this.

oh but this is just too cruel, it makes him twitch with a crude sense of delight.

"she doesn't deserve you," she mumbles, eyes glassy with tears. she introduced herself, said her name's kara. said she's your friend.

("see?" he would tell you much later, his palms warm as they clung to your waist. "she didn't mean a thing to me, baby."

"o-okay," you would reply, choking on your tears. "m'sorry for doubtin'."

simon would bite a grin and pepper kisses all over the column of your neck and up to the cut of your jaw, feather-light as they danced just past your lips.

"s'okay," he would whisper. "i knew you didn't mean to."

you would bury your face on the juncture of his neck with a wet sniffle, and simon would suppress a tremble because this.

this was exactly how he likes you.)

"oh yeah?" simon asks, snorting to himself. "and what? you reckon you're a better option?"

she flushes, cheeks filling with heat and eyes darkening as she frowns. simon expected her to storm off, taking his dismissal for what it is and running away to pretend to be your comfort place again.

instead, she seems to make herself more resolute, fists tightening on her skirt before meeting his eyes head-on.

"yes," kara says, all faux confidence. "i am."

simon hums, swirling his glass of gin as he looks away. "why's that?"

"because i know how to love you."

simon pauses, eyes shifting back to her.

kara says love in a way he knows isn't all that softness you have always associated with it—ghosting kisses and whispered confessions—or similar to the weight erin has always cloaked the word in—something that was beyond dinner parties and bike rides. kara says love and simon sees what she wants.

she wants the passion. the danger. she wants to submerge herself in the taboo love that she must have heard from you—the rough sex, the fast burn, the way he engulfs you whole until you are left twitching on the bed, gaze faraway and oversensitive as you come down from your high, before dealing with a heartache as he leaves.

it was a dance with you. it was something he tried to curb with erin only to realize, half-way, he wanted the thrill that you gave him.

with kara, simon knows it's all a front.

he flits his eyes down at her, licking the back of his teeth as he takes her in because kara is beautiful, alright. not really his type but he sees the appeal.

(she isn't anything like you and, somehow, that makes it easier for simon to indulge.)

he takes her to a hotel. he fucks her against the wall on the entryway of the room, and leaves after he came across her back.

simon fishes for his phone and rings you.

"si?" your voice is a sleepy croak on the other side. it makes his heart clench with desire.

"i wanna see you, sweetheart."

a static. sheets rustling. then, "okay." a yawn. "i can't wait."

what a sweet thing you are. this is why he can't really give you up.