#this makes no sense but in my mind it’s funny

[missdynamighttt]

if husband! katsuki had a dream that you served him divorce papers, he would be SO mad at you.

katsuki woke up with a start, his chest heaving as the remnants of the vivid dream clung to his mind. in the dream, you had stood in front of him, utterly calm, as you handed him his worst nightmare: divorce papers.

“it's not you, its me,” you said, your expression indifferent as if breaking his heart meant nothing. "i'm just bored, katsuki."

it wasn’t real, he knew that. but the image of you walking away from him felt too real, too painful. the words echoed in his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. bored? how could you say that after everything you've been through? even though it was just a dream, it shook him to near death.

and when katsuki saw you later that morning, smiling and greeting him like usual, he couldn’t help but scowl. normally, the sight would calm him, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal bubbled up inside him. how could dream-you say something like that? and why couldn’t he shake the feeling?

“morning, katsuki,” you said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to brush his jaw instead. you blinked, confused. “uh… everything okay?”

“fine,” he muttered, getting up and leaving you all alone in the bed.

all day, katsuki avoided your texts, kept his responses curt, and barely looked your way when you crossed paths at home. you quickly realized something was off but couldn’t figure out what. by evening, you had enough.

"okay, whats your problem? you've been sulking all day,” you said firmly, standing in front of him while he sat on the couch. “you’ve been acting like i killed your damn dog. what did i do?”

katsuki glared at you, his emotions finally bubbling over. “you left me! that’s what you did!”

you stared at him, completely baffled. “what are you talking about? i didn’t leave you. i’ve been here all day!”

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “fine. i had this stupid dream, alright? you—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “you divorced me. you said you were bored and just... left me.”

for a moment, there was silence as you processed what he was saying. then, to katsuki’s annoyance, you started laughing.

“you’re mad at me... because of a dream?” you asked, your laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

“it felt real!” he barked, his cheeks flushing slightly. “you don’t get to laugh! this isn't fuckin' funny! do you know how shitty that felt?!”

“i’m sorry!” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach. “it’s just… do you really think i’d ever do that?”

katsuki’s scowl deepened. “its not that. its just... you said it so casually in the dream. like i didn’t even matter.”

you tried to stifle your laughter, but your amusement was clear as day. “katsuki... you’re everything to me. i would never leave you. ever. especially not because i was bored. you’re the opposite of boring. you’re the most stubborn, infuriating, incredible man I’ve ever met.”

he grunted, looking away. “tch. doesn’t change the fact that it felt real.”

you bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. you could see how much the dream had affected katsuki, even if it wasn’t real. determined to make it up to him, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face in your hands.

“i’m sorry your brain decided to torture you like that,” you said softly before leaning in to pepper his face with kisses. “but let me remind you of how much i love you.”

your lips pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. each kiss was light and playful, drawing a reluctant smirk from him.

“sweets,” katsuki muttered, trying to keep up the tough act, but you didn’t let up.

you continued your attack, kissing down his jaw and back to his lips, murmuring between kisses. “i'm so happy you're my husband.”

katsuki finally relented, his hands settling on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “you’re fuckin' weird.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you teased. “but i love you anyway.”

“hmph. i love you too,” he admitted, his voice softer now as his arms wrap around you, brushing your nose against his. “sorry for being an idiot today.”

“you’re not an idiot. just... talk to me about it next time, okay?”

"fine. be my fuckin' wife for forever, 'kay?"

"i promise," you cut him off with a kiss.

and katsuki kissed you back, finally letting the tension melt away, drowning himself in the taste of your and your presence. you're here. you weren't gonna leave him because he was bored. you never would.

"tch. i’m still blaming you for my bad dreams though."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

moonshine leaks in through the window blinds.

suguru is undressing, sluggishly, in the dim darkness of your bedroom. he is weary; as are you. it’s been a long, long day, celebrating in the morning, in the evening, going to the spring festival downtown and grabbing hotpot with satoru and shoko right after — stopping by their favorite bar before finally heading home. fatigue drags your bones against soft flooring, as you rummage through his closet, pull your worn hoodie over your head and let it fall to the floor. 

suguru’s birthday is always eventful. your boyfriend is a well-loved man, after all; no less by you than anyone else. it’s been worth it, worth every ache in your joints, to see him smile and scoff and swallow down mouthfuls of soba and cake. to see him a little sheepish, a little tipsy, a little more open with his heart than usual. sweetness brings it out of him. 

(you’re happy, that this year was a success as well.)

a low groan. you turn your head, to watch as he cranes his neck, stretches his arms, as the muscles of his bicep coil and twitch under the linen of his shirt. as he slips out of it, lets his hair fall, a hair tie slipping down to rest around his wrist. his roots must ache, by now — you wonder if he’ll let you massage his scalp, just to help him unwind. but suguru gets restless after being pampered for too long. could barely stop himself from pouring your drink, over and over, carrying you the last bit home even though his own legs must have yearned for respite too.

sometimes, you want to ask him — can you please just let me love you?

(his answer is usually a smile.)

”god,” comes the voice of an angel, raspy and sweet. the heel of his palm meets the blade of his shoulder, digs into the skin as if to soothe it. ”’m exhausted.”

a smile tugs your lips up, blooms like a peach tree and flutters in tune with your heartbeat. you put your arms through the gaps of an oversized tee, press your nose against the fabric and inhale, the scent of laundry detergent and musk soothing your muddled senses. after pulling it over your head, you’re left in nothing but your boxers and his shirt. it makes him melt, you’re more than aware. when your hair is tousled, from the midnight air and satoru’s restless hand — when you’re engulfed in nothing but him.

”well, we walked a lot,” you exhale, sending him a sweetened glance. he returns it with a huff. 

”talked a lot, too,” he mutters, too tired to sound as displeased as he’d probably like. you drink in the sight of his skin under lunar light, lap up the excess cobalt, swallow softly. ”why is it that all my energy magically drains as soon as satoru’s involved…?”

you let out a giggle, breathy and light, cooing. ”he loves you,” you supply, not-so-helpfully. ”he just hadn’t had a chance to bug you in a while, i guess.”

a scoff. 

”he has a funny way of showing it…”

suguru unbuckles his belt, kicks off his jeans, slumps back on the bed with a silent sigh — the mattress creaks beneath his weight, allows him to get comfortable as he rests on the edge. gazing at you, patiently, spheres of rusted-gold through lidded eyes. heavy with what you know to be fatigue.

he pats his lap, one heavy hand. 

”come here, sweetheart.”

(his voice alone melts you down to the marrow. sweet and smooth, roughed up from the outing; the purr of a needy cat, silken sheets and jasmine buds.)

a moth to a flame, or a lamb to a knife — you are pliant as you move towards your lover. weak, as you tuck your legs over his knees and slide into his lap.

an inhale. he buries his face in your shirt, his shirt — smiles, noses against your pulsepoint and the tender valley of skin between your jaw and shoulder. engraves your scent into his being.

”i love you,” he whispers, a low lull of his tongue. a kiss against your neck. ”thank you for today.”

the words have left you long before your mind tugs at your lips. ”i love you too, sugu.” you nuzzle against his locks, relish as they tickle your sensitive skin. ”i don’t think i did much, though…”

”no?” you hear the smile, the hint of a chuckle, even as he lifts his fingers to pinch your little nose. ”you don’t think so, silly?”

he tuts — eyes gleaming under artificial light, the lamp on your nightstand. 

”even made me breakfast.”

”… it turned out so-so.”

an exhale, at your little frown. humoured, your mind supplies, if a little exasperated. he clicks his tongue, rubs his thumb over the bridge of your nose before letting go. ”it was lovely,” he corrects. ”you’re lovely.”

and you know that he’s displeased. you know by the way he says it, how softly he shuts you down and guides you in the right direction, lips smearing kisses on your vulnerable skin as if reproaching you. he’s sleepy, can’t help but be lazy, no less thorough in his mission. has no mercy for your jaw, or collarbone, or neck. you’re shivering, shaky sigh slipping out — curling your arms around his neck and angling your head to give him more room to work with. he can be greedy, tonight, you don’t mind. whatever he wants. his fingers find solace in the plushness of your hips, squeezes softly, molds the flesh. a silent thank you. 

for what, you wonder.

melting when your skin meets his? letting him touch you like this? trusting him to do it gently?

your mind is tangled up in knots. just letting him love you, hold you close, feeling his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt — ba-dump, ba-dump, like waves crashing into shore. you hope he cannot hear the constant patter of your own; hope he cannot sense the prickling of your nerves. he might think the night is over, but you still have something more to offer.

… or, at least you should.

it’s nerve-racking. your heartbeat knocks at your ribs, sticks its head out to ask how you’ve been. better, you’d like to say. a lot less close to passing out. silly, silly body, never letting you get off easy — never being of any use. it shouldn’t be this scary, not even close. you know your lines. you’ve practiced all week. but it is, and it’s paralyzing, and suguru is so tired he’s just gnawing at your earlobe now. 

clammy hands, beating heart, shaky fingers.

(you wish it was easier to say what’s inside.)

”i… have another present,” you mumble, finally, into his hair. as if that will muffle it. swirling a lock around your finger, playing with it to ease your mind.

suguru blinks. you feel the flutter of his eyes against your skin, the ghosts of pretty raven lashes. he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes — watching you, closely, to see what you mean. attentive. 

there’s a certain look in his eyes.

”… more?” he asks, voice scraping against the walls of his throat, the buzzing of a dragonfly. he slips a hand under your shirt, curls it around your naked waist to tug you closer, keep you safe and still. ”haven’t i been spoiled enough, today?”

he’s smiling. you don’t think he knows what you mean, but he must sense your hesitance. keeps his hand on your hip, rubs comforting circles into your skin, seems to delight in the way your body can’t help but tremble all while leaning into it. stupid, beautiful suguru, stupid wandering hands. he’s only making your heartbeat sputter more. 

it’s too difficult. even after that peptalk with satoru and shoko, you can’t find the words you need. 

finding a birthday gift for suguru is always a hurdle. every single year. you can never decide on what to go for, never settle for just one thing — because he’d be happy with anything, you know that, but it’s not enough when you’re as smitten as you are. when all you want is to give him something that will make him smile brighter than ever, a smile that’s just for you.

what would make him the happiest? what do you want to tell him, more than anything? 

you always agonize over it, sure, but this year…

(even if it’s a little much, you —)

”haha… well.” 

you shift on his lap, tuck your thighs around his waist, just needing stability. and it’s muscle memory, your skin against his, bodies molding together like liquidated gold. he watches you, patiently — doesn’t rush or force the words out. a sun god in your room, on your bed. tangled up in sheets he washed for you. 

a sliver of sunshine, that belongs only to you.

what is there to say?

even now, you can’t uncap the lid over your heart. your hands are too shaky to dust off the longing. if you could, you’d say something like: 

i love you, i love you, i love you.

i want to wash your hair, and kiss your eyelids when you sleep, and scrub the rot from off your bones. i don’t want to care about what anyone else thinks. 

i could tell you i love you a million times.

also, do you want to get married? 

i know i’ve made you wait — you always wait so patiently — but would you mind?

would you be mine forever? 

a sudden sting. your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as if to silence your own thoughts, the phantom taste of heavy iron blooming on your tongue. slick vines wrap themselves around your teeth and sew your mouth shut. no words, no breaths, no nothing. 

just clammy hands, beating heart, shaky fingers. 

(you wish you could be kinder to the monster in your ribs.)

”… tomorrow,” you sigh, at last, the word forcing its way through your throat. you slump your cheek against his forehead, fleeing from his prying gaze, the question on your mind. ”… you’ll get it tomorrow.”

(shoko’s voice rings in your ear. coward, she’d say. loser, satoru would add. they’d be right.)

stupid, silly heartbeat. beating so loudly you can’t even find your voice. 

but suguru only smiles.

”… not today?” he brushes against your bottom lip, traps it between his thumb and pointer finger. tilts his head, softly. ”did you change your mind?”

you melt, into his touch, head dipping forward. 

”… just wanna wait a little longer,” you sigh, a little shaky, feeling sheepish. ”is… that okay?”

”of course.” his answer comes as soon as you ask. 

as natural as breathing.

mwah. his lips meet yours, chaste and sweet, gone as soon as you’ve thought to lean into it. ”i’ll always wait for you,” he says. ”you know that, don’t you?”

(you do.)

a silent nod. he seems to note your sour mood, the ghost of a pout on your lips. because he chuckles, that familiar purr-like rasp, falling backwards and tugging you with him — pushing you down against the mattress, crawling over you, a praying mantis with the smile of a fox. gentle, gentle, his hands cupping your hips. black hair frames his face, his smile, the moonshine gliding across his nose and cheekbones. he’s all you can see, until he’s leaning forward, nosing against your pulsepoint to feel the pitter-patter there. you can still feel the weight of his gaze, sticky honey-webs of oak and cedar.

warm, warm, warm. a little sleepy.

and he sighs against your skin. 

”i want to tell you i love you a million times,” he says, an orange split into tender halves. ”you know that?”

he sounds tired. he sounds happy, deliriously so, like he can barely believe it himself. you like it when he gets this playful, like it when the hint of boyishness he keeps carefully concealed spills through the gaps.

you blink.

a matching sigh, from your loverotted lungs. ”.. yeah,” you murmur. ”i know. i’d say it back a million times.”

a plum tree blooms against your collarbone, the branches of his lips stretching up into a grin. ”see? you’re perfect.” he moves up, captures your lips with his own, savours the flavour of your lip balm. eyes gleaming like fireflies. ”just perfect for me…”

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. 

(your heart asks to be let out of its confines.)

”what other gift could i possibly need?”

and, well — it’s hard to argue when he sounds so convinced. when his skin is gleaming, when he’s on top of you, caging you in with his thighs and keeping you steady. when he looks like the rest of your life. 

it’s hard, even though a litany of words scratch against your windpipe, begging to be set free. even though you didn’t want to be a coward, today. 

(any other day of the year would have been fine.)

a hand cups your cheek. 

”… hm?” he tilts his head, raises an eyebrow. awaits your response, with fond, tired eyes.

you bite your lip. ”… i guess…”

”no, you don’t guess,” he huffs, half a chuckle. leans close to nip at your cheek. ”you know. i’m already spoiled with your presence. what else do i need?”

”well, it’s just—”

”no.” he shuts you up, mashes his lips against yours again. ”no more of that. okay, sweetheart?”

…

”thank you for today.” he echoes, into the shell of your ear. the warmth in his voice sparks against your spine. ”i had a lovely time. with the others, with you.”

an underlying demand —

you know what he wants.

so you give in. whatever he wants, you remind yourself. whatever he wants.

”… you’re welcome,” you mumble, finally. defeated, just breathing in his scent, smooth hints of bergamot and coconut oil. ”happy birthday, suguru.”

(and he smiles.)

one more kiss, and then he’s pulling back. watching you, softly, laid out across his sheets like sunshine spilling through window blinds in spring.

”… thank you, honey.”

(tomorrow, you’ll air out your restless ribcage. uncap the lid, dust off the longing.)

today, you will lie with clammy hands, a beating heart, shaky fingers — and simply let him hold you close. as tightly as he wants, for as long as he wants.

whatever he wants.

the words can wait; they’re good at that.

[potato-lord-but-not]

In my minds eye Arthur reads as aro but when Harlan does bits like Arthur explaining the fuck chair for example the way John goes "okay" like it's not resonating with him but more a "I guess that makes sense" tone has permanently cemented him as ace in my head (bc i do that) and that make it kinda funny but sweet in my head. Both of them describe their feelings with the best words they have and while they're technically of different opinions on elements of relationships that are appealing, its the shared sentiment they have that they connect over

Honestly yes I endorse this headcanon. Jarthur is aroace because one of them is aro and the other is ace. beautiful.

[rafesweetie]

track iv. THE MAN! (feat. ceo!rafe cameron and indepedent!reader)

“i’m so sick of them coming at me again, ‘cause if i was a man, then i’d be the man”

your boss was simply insufferable. rude, strict, slimy, arrogant, and worst of all? handsome. and you had absolutely no issue telling him that — the bad things, anyway. every time he’d offer help for such a simple task, you’d push him away with a glare or a ‘get out of here, mr. cameron!’ thinking he was simply being condescending. but my god, he thought your attitude was hot.

the day he asked you if you needed help cleaning your coffee mug was when you snapped. you’d already had an awful day, and you couldn’t take him and his demeaning behaviour anymore.

“mr. cameron, it’s a fucking mug! do you think i’m that stupid just because i’m a woman? is that it? i wear skirts to work so i can’t wash my own mug!? you’re a condesending asshole!”

he takes a breath as to not yell back. “woah, hey, hey. uh, i’m gonna need to see you in my office. ten minutes, give you time to fuckin’ chill out. is it that time of the month?”

you go to lose it at him and he cuts you off. “don’t say any more shit unless you wanna lose everything, hm?”

ten minutes later, you hesitantly enter his office, admittedly a bit nervous. “mr. cameron, i just wanna say—“

“no, no. too late now for an apology.”

“but i’m really sorry—“

“show me that.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “what do you mean? how?”

he stands up and grabs your shoulders gently, then his hands slide down your arms and to your wrists. you blink, confused and having your boundaries violated.

“uh— so you don’t get me fuckin fired, let me ask you something, a little formality,” he starts. “do you consent?”

“to what?”

“not an answer. do you consent?”

having a strange burst of butterflies in your stomach, you know what’s coming. “mhm,”

“yeah, that’s what i thought,” a ghost of a smirk as he smiles and guides you by your wrists to the wall. with no hesitation, his hand is going under your skirt. “mhm. fuckin’ soaked, makes sense,”

“you’re so arrogant, it’s insufferable.”

“i’m just stating a fact baby,”

“don’t call me that, m’not your ‘baby’,”

he breaths out a laugh. “yeah, whatever you say. starting to think you’re more arrogant than me,”

“not arrogant, just don’t like you,”

“tell that to this pussy,” he cups it and you squeak, suddenly feeling extremely powerless against your man child of a boss.

“don’t wanna do this like this,” you say fastly, stopping it. “lemme— lemme do it,” he stops, hands in the air in mock surrender, taking a step back.

he certainly isn’t expecting you to drop to your knees in front of him. in his mind, a blowjob is a surrender, letting him take control. you fiddle with his fly. he goes to help and you paw him off. “don’t need help for something so fucking simple, get your slimy hands away,”

you undo it and waste no time taking his dick out of his pants. you hate the way your mouth waters. “oh.” you try to keep your composure. “thought it would be small. you give that energy,”

“gee, thanks,” he huffs. “c’mon, get going.”

“ask nicer,”

“jesus,” he sighs. “i’ll pay you extra to get going, huh? that nice enough?”

“you’re gross. talking about a ‘please.’”

he scoffs. “no fuckin’ way, you kidding me? not begging to get off, i’m not a woma—“ he cuts himself off.

all you do is harshly pinch his tip with your long acrylics, making him gasp in pain, before standing up, scoffing. “good one, really funny. sure your friends will get a kick out of it,” you dust yourself off. “you’re disgusting,”

as you walk away, you can hear him silently begging for you to come back and suck him off.

for once, you feel like the man.

[toskarin]

the biblical fixation on figs makes a lot of sense but it doesn't make it any less funny when you notice how often it circles back to that. just not as evocative to the modern mind as the snake imagery

that being said, my favourite instance of a weird fig analogy probably has to be when they come up in relation to the opening of the sixth seal, describing how the stars will fall to the earth. like unripe figs in the wind, I suppose

[babyblankyerror]

On the Stanley hit man thing(please note 1: prices are at least semi accurate to the 70s and 2: I have no idea how hitmen work and there’s only so many google searches I’m willing to have in my history. Also the name of The Guy is a reference to an actual person who was related to an actual big US government fuck up):

Rubbing soap and water into well-worn gloves in some gas station bathroom in the middle of the night was, at this point, a new normal for Stanley. There were better ways to do this, he knew that, but patience and a horrifying amount of soap did the job just fine. Better than leaving the gloves on the ground where someone might stumble across them and realise there are small dried splatters on them.

The best way to get blood out of fabric was to wash it out quickly. Flood it with water, then scrub soap into it and try to wear through it with paper towel after paper towel until the water runs clear. It was a similar method to removing paint from a roller or shirt. That meant that Stan could just pretend he’d messed up on some project, for an art class or something. Or was messing around with his brother's paints. There was only so well that could work after years of the same routine, but it still worked so there was no reason to change it.

As he ran the gloves under the faucet again, the water flowed only carrying suds. No more damning pinkish hue. Now he just had to dry them, and that could be done back in the Stanley-Mobile.

First he’d have to leave the gas station. Then call the number given to him last week when he got the job and tell them it was done. He’d learn where to meet them to get the back half of his payment, then he could see how to split it. Enough to keep going went to him, a little bit went towards saving in case of an emergency, and the rest went to his dork of a brother.

The first step, out of all of them, was always the hardest. There are only so many ways you can hide sopping wet gloves, especially when it’s warm enough out that you can’t just wear a bulky jacket with inner pockets.

He folded them in half, longways, and put one in each of his pant pockets. It was as inconspicuous as he could get.

Stan hurried to the door of the bathroom, before opening it at a much more reasonable speed and meandered out of the gas station store. He took special care to walk in plain view on his way out. As much as he’d love to skirt around the edge of the store to keep out of view, that would only look suspicious and risk drawing attention.

As the store door closed behind him he let his shoulders drop slightly and fished his gloves out of his pocket as well as his keys. His car was parked right outside so there was no need to separate the actions.

Unlocking the door he sat down in the driver’s seat. He already had a small towel on the passenger side of the bench seats. He dropped the gloves on the towel before swinging his door shut, sticking his key in the ignition, and starting the engine. There was a pay phone a few blocks down, but having just left the store he should still move his car.

It was funny how despite about… three years, he wants to say, he still was always on edge after a job. It made sense, considering that the jobs he took consisted of killing people, but it was still a lot of time to adjust to it. At least the pay was good, and he had ways to get through the actual murder part.

Just line up the shot, and count to three. If you make it to three you might chicken out and fail, or if you aren’t sure of aim you might panic since they keep breathing after the shot. Not to mention you leave a distinctive trace of who’s done it with the bullet. But guns left less room for regret and letting them live than knives or fists. It helped that he pulled the trigger on two, before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. By the time he was weighing whether or not he should do it, he was already checking to see if any blood was on him. Usually just his hands if he got close, but on occasion a drop or two would land elsewhere on him.

Shoes he filed the treads off left no recognizable prints as he would walk away.

The drive to the pay phone was silent beyond the low rattling of the engine. Shifting gears and parking the car was so automatic that if he was asked if he’d done it or not he genuinely wouldn’t know the answer. He took a few coins out of the cup holder and a note from where it was tucked into his front visor.

The air had the everpresent heat of summer, only cut through by a slight wind. He vaguely wondered if it was similar weather where Ford was. Sure Indiana was northeast of Arkansas, but it couldn’t account for that great of a change in weather. Especially since there would be enough plants to keep the heat in at night as opposed to if Ford was in the desert out West. Ford should have been in the desert out West, or at least just near it. He’d driven through the west coast once, it went from desert to a small bit of forest by the coast.

He slotted a coin into the phone and punched in the numbers written on the little sheet of paper. It rang for a few moments before someone answered with a tired ‘hello’. Made sense, it was probably around midnight.

“Is this S Higgins?” Stanley asked, staring up at the sky. The town was big enough that the lights faded some of the stars out. Probably for the best, Ford always liked the stars and it was best to not think about Ford when on the call with a client. His voice got too soft, and when your voice gets soft suddenly everything is up for negotiation.

“It is. I take it, you've done it?” The voice on the other end of the line replies. Always with euphemisms and never saying what they asked for. They wanted someone dead and now they’re dead, and he’s the only one that has to face it.

“Yup. You can check; Kelly on York street- dead center of Warren.” Stan says. He knows they won’t check, but it’s always best to give the information so there’s never any doubt he’s done it. It’ll be in the headlines anyways, Warren doesn’t seem like a place where a double homicide goes unreported on. A lovey dovey couple who just so happened to know a few details problematic to an ongoing political career.

“Is Ray’s in Monticello in three days good for you?” Came from the phone, crackly and disconnected. Three days, enough time for news and an investigation to start. Also enough time to plan out where to go next. There were certain people who talked, and it was through that grapevine his name got spread around. Or more accurately his license plate and car’s description did, it was not exactly inconspicuous, and with that ways to contact him. He just had to go wherever people who knew people that might want someone dead were. So pretty much anywhere, but he’d been thinking about seeing New Orleans so maybe he’d head there. And if nothing came up he was certain to find something in Mobile.

“Around lunch?” He asked. The least suspicious time of day. You could openly talk about his work at lunch and it would be taken as a joke. Because it’s the middle of the day and no actual plots could ever take place in the middle of the day.

“See you then.” The words came out and were quickly followed by a clack and silence. He set the phone up and made his way back to the Stanley-Mobile.

Monticello was less than twenty miles away. He could get there and get a motel room that night. But Warren was a small town and the newcomer disappearing the night of two murders would put the cops on his tail, so he swung around and headed back towards the motel he’d gotten a room at here.

The fact he didn’t immediately collapse meant he must have been running on adrenaline, and so rather than fight it for sleep he got his things packed. He’d sleep in and leave at a reasonable time in the morning before heading to Monticello. That seemed ideal.

———

Over the next couple days the only notable occurrences were the headlines about what he’d done, and him visiting the Allen House. From murder to the suicide house tourist trap. Way to go him!

Stanley had to admit though, while the ‘hauntedness’ of the Allen House left something to be desired he enjoyed the fun romp. He could do it better if he wanted to, but that would mean getting a house which would probably require legal documents that were left back in the apartment on top of a pawn shop in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Or he could do it illegally, which was much more likely, but at this point too much of a hassle when his current gig worked just fine.

Noon was approaching though so he turned on the Stanley-Mobile and headed towards Ray’s.

The diner was somewhat cosy despite having a metal back wall that looked like that of a storage container. Probably the warm lighting, benches, and soft music playing from a radio on the counter. He grabbed a table by a window, staring out of it to wait.

After a few dozen minutes of nothing he decided to go ahead and order some fries and a burger, making sure it wasn’t enough he could reasonably eat. He got a to-go bag after picking at them for what he deemed a good amount of time.

It was maybe another half hour or a bit longer when he watched a slightly too-clean Pacer roll up. A man who looked like he’d just been told what ‘casual’ meant last night stepped out and headed towards the diner. That was, without a doubt, Higgins then.

When he walked in the door Stanley waved him over, calling his name with a slight cheer as the man came over.

“You did… the job.” Higgins muttered, pulling a chair opposite Stanley’s spot on a padded bench and shuffling to sit down.

“I did. It’s on the news if you need to check.” Stanley said, leaning back slightly.

“I… I already saw the news. I have the money.” Higgins said, pausing to hum and haw before continuing, “Three thousand, right? Here, in cash.” Higgins said, reaching into a pocket on the inside of his clearly not weather appropriate jacket. And right. Stanley really should remember to get checks and not cash. Checks were easy to hide, especially since he went about being a contract killer in the dumbest way. Instead of just getting in with one group and staying there with a consistent pay and a good public facing business set up for him, he traveled around and essentially worked commission. Granted he got his start making enemies, so maybe staying in one place wasn’t the best. Especially when he could then work for just about anyone he deemed not an immediate risk, instead of just one organization. No matter what though, he should get better about checks instead of cash. Too late now though. Stanley held his palm out and felt a small stack of hundred dollar bills hit his hand, with no small amount of worry. He clutched the bills and tilted his palm down, hiding them from any quick glances.

Stanley dropped the bills into the to go bag as he reached in, and pulled out a small container with the fries.

“I have extra if you want.” He said, opening the lid and turning them towards Higgins. The man seemed to writhe in his chair, face morphing into a performance of guilt. He was certainly new to this. Higgins got up with a rushed apology and excuse of having to get back home. Stanley watched him go and placed the fries back in the bag. Well, to the bank then. He should deposit the cash slowly, he knows this, but he’s fairly certain that the new semester is starting m at Backupsmore which means Ford will need to be spending his money on textbooks. Which means Stanley is going to be extra sure to pay for his tuition.

Stanley’s pretty sure he caught an article about Ford and some other guy proving something or other about the universe, and a few more campus newspapers mentioning the two of them spending time together. So his brother finally made a friend! He’d drive up and hug the nerd out of pride if he weren’t certain Ford wouldn’t be too willing to speak to him. He did figure though, that he had enough saved for an emergency that what he’d usually cut out of his pay for à ‘just in case’ could go to Ford’s friend instead. A brief line of phone books and library visits, as well as word of mouth, made it clear that the guy was also the first of his family to go to college. And was riding on a couple scholarships in order to just cover tuition, but probably still had to take out a loan or two. He wasn’t going to risk Ford’s friend having to drop out and leave him alone due to finances.

The face of the bank teller was of mild confusion when he went to deposit five hundred dollars. Just because he wasn’t waiting to deposit the money didn’t mean he was an idiot. He was just going to spend the day hopping between a few banks to do it in chunks. Stil suspicious on paper but he has a current guise of being ‘an artist’ so sudden large deposits because he ‘sold a painting’ at least didn’t get too many questions.

At the end of it all he ended up sending one thousand five hundred to Ford’s annual tuition, so he should be set for a while longer. Though the idiot of a genius was taking twelve different full courses and each individual course has its own lesser tuition so it wasn’t the full semester it would have been if his brother knew how to stop. Frankly that had been the main reason he’d stepped in, Ford probably could have managed the tuition for one or even two or three courses on his own but somewhere in his mind he’d decided that taking twelve was a good idea. Stanley’s sure Ford could have figured it out, but that’s his brother and he didn’t want Ford to have to figure it out.

He sent seven hundred to Ford's friends’ tuition after some double checking names, and so the apparent Fiddleford McGucket had one less thing to worry about.

That meant he had eight thousand remaining, he wouldn’t have to take another job for a while. A long while. Maybe he just goes to New Orleans as a vacation.

~~~~~~

Ford and Fiddleford were staring at the Backupsmore administrator. They’d gone to check up on what they had to pay for tuition, only to find out that not only had Ford’s gotten a significant amount paid(which was becoming an odd yet consistent occurrence) but Fiddleford’s as well.

The money had been wired in, which meant whoever sent it had a known bank account, but had apparently mandated anonymity. As far as the school administrators were aware, it could have been the king of England sending the money.

The walk back to their dorm was shared in stunned silence. It wasn’t until Ford was sitting on his bed that Fiddleford stopped pacing and stared out the window before gripping his hair and yelling, in the whisper yell mandates by shared walls, cried out.

“WHAT in the world is GOIN’ ON.”

Fiddleford turned to Ford, lowering his hands to gesture in confused annoyance.

“Well, we know whoever is sending this must have a lot of money on hand. And we have been covering a lot of neuroscience, and specifically how to alter brains- right? It’s probably some larger entity with stakes in our current research.” Ford posed, though his voice still tilted with unsureness.

“True, but you started getting the payments before the whole tie thing. So there must have been some sort of investment before then.” Fiddleford argued. Ford shrugged.

“I mean, I suppose the sheer number of courses I was taking may have been noteworthy?” He offered.

Fiddleford began to pace muttering to himself, before an idea seemed to strike him.

“Hey, if we can get into the school records and figure out what bank the money has been being wired from, maybe we can call them and ask for information?” Fiddleford suggested. Ford took a moment to think through the idea, before grinning and jumping up.

“Exactly! Even if we can’t get a name, we’ll still get a rough area and we can go through phone books until we find someone who has a ridiculous amount of disposable cash and a vested interest in both of us!” He exclaimed.

They were probably going to have to break into an office or something, hopefully childhood shenanigans with… his childhood shenanigans would help with that.

Bro you need to publish this on ao3 or post it on tumblr or SOMETHING because HOLY SHIT?!??!?!

THIS is exactly what I was imagining for the Au!!! This is fuckkng great!!! I LOVE LOVE THIS AND YOU AND AAAAAAAA

I imagine Fiddleford doesn't really worry about the random money Ford gets until HE starts getting it too. Then yeah he's freaking out because WHAT THE HECK??

I love this you wrote this so well, so nice and omg??? You did research??? That's more than I'd ever do XD

[saeist]

"did it hurt?"

"falling from heaven? a little"

"more like crawling out of the depths of hell but okay.." you say under your breath. nagumo gasps and puts a hand over his chest at your implication

"hey, that's mean!" he points a finger at you

you roll your eyes, "i mean your tattoos.. stupid"

nagumo raises an eyebrow, glancing down on his arms before it all clicks. a sly smirk makes their way on his face. he leans in ever so slightly just to mess with you

"oh? so you were looking at me?"

"nagumo, just answer the damn question! did it hurt or not?" you grumbled, facepalming as the man continues without fail to annoy the shit out of you. it was just a basic question yet he couldn't even answer it properly

nagumo laughs plenty, poking fun of your angry face. (that he may or may not like so much) when he finally stops laughing, he wipes the tears of joy from his eyes, shaking his head

"eh, depends but mostly no" he finally answers, showing off his tattoos by rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. "some on my arms i did by myself while the rest were done by a tattoo artist at a parlor"

wait a second, did he just say he did some of his tattoos by himself?

you stopped listening the moment he said that he does some of his tattoos. your eyes dart over his arms, observing the lines of ink permanently etched on his skin. a million questions running through your mind as you stare at them. how long did they take? did it hurt? how did he managed to tattoo himself on both arms precisely and accurately? who is his tattoo artist? how much does he pay for one tattoo? do each tattoos hold a specific meaning?

"hello? earth to y/n?" nagumo waves a hand over your face. you must've been staring at him for a while. "i knew i was a looker but you don't have to ogle me" he teases, chuckling to himself

you finally return to your senses when his words processed in your head. you shake your head vigorously

"i was not!" you deny, crossing your arms

nagumo laughs again, "you were totally checking me out!"

"i will check you out myself at the nearest funeral home. do not test me"

nagumo whistles low, "whoa.. freaky. though you're in luck, i like them like that" he winks

you can feel yourself burn up with how smooth he was with words. effortlessly shutting you up by just playing along. damn you nagumo and your smooth talking!

"you know what? this is pointless. i should've asked rion instead where she gets her tattoos done" you murmured, having enough of this conversation with nagumo. all you wanted was to ask where he gets them done so you could probably get one as well but since he wasn't answering properly then forget it

you turn around to walk away from nagumo, but before you could actually get away from him, he grabs onto your arm, preventing you from walking away

"hold it!" nagumo says, tugging you lightly to make you face him. he holds in another laugh when he sees you glaring at him. "no need to look for rion when everything you need is literally right in front of you" he muses

you raise an eyebrow, "what the fuck does that even mean?"

"i mean i can tattoo you" nagumo says like it was the most obvious thing in the world

you blink once. twice. trying to process what he just said

"what?"

nagumo exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. why couldn't you get the hint?

"i just told you that i did some of my tattoos. so if you want one, i wouldn't mind doing it for you" nagumo explains, taking a good look at your arm. an empty canvas in his eyes. his fingers trace over your skin as if he was already planning what he wants to tattoo onto you

his touch alone is sending sparks all over your body but for some reason, you don't pull your arm away

"let me guess, you're going to tattoo a dick on my arm" you huffed, watching him trace random shapes on your skin

nagumo reluctantly lets go of your arm and puts his hands behind his head as he looks at you, grinning

"maybe. it would be funny as fuck" he shrugs, giggling to himself at the thought of actually tattooing a dick on your arm

"this is why i'm going to rion" you sigh, rolling your eyes yet again. there's just something about talking to nagumo that is so infuriating but at the same time, so endearing

"come on" nagumo drawls, "you and me? matching tattoos? just think about it"

the mere thought of getting matching tattoos with nagumo, who's gonna do it on you just somehow made your stomach flip

what the fuck?

"never in a million years" you scoff, starting to walk away from him. "i'm gonna go look for rion. bye"

nagumo, as sharp as ever, notices the faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of getting matching tattoos with him. he lets you walk away from him with a small smile on his face. he knows damn well that you aren't going to reject this offer

"offer still stands!" he calls out after you, "you know where to find me"

you respond by flipping him off without the need to look back. nagumo bursts out laughing before he carries on with his day

later that night, you find yourself contemplating on taking nagumo's offer. all it takes was a curious cat to get itself killed. you stand in front of a mirror, trying to map out where you would like to get inked

the memory of nagumo proposing of getting matching tattoos echoes in your mind like a broken record. you mentally curse yourself for holding onto the thought of getting something permanent together. it almost feels like its a commitment

you actually can't believe that you're even considering this. from nagumo at that

on the other side of the jcc building, nagumo was sprawled over his bed, busy solving sudoku puzzles when he hears his phone vibrate on his bedside table. he pauses, picking his phone up lazily before he smirks when it was a notification from you

[7:09 PM] y/n :) : hypothetically speaking, if i were to accept your offer of you tattooing me, what would it be?

nagumo grins widely. he knew it. you wouldn't able to resist such offer from him. he immediately types his response not even a minute later

[7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): hypothetically it would anything you'd like cus that means you'll have a piece of me on you forever ;) [7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): so, you down?

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

It's funny how I saw your post now bc the same question crossed my mind some weeks ago and my general answer still is: I don't fucking know.

My young sister pointed out that her being a divination witch already makes her gay, but she did not give strong enough arguments to support her point.

Now, welcome to my monologue (From now on I'll just pour a mix of my unfiltered thoughts, interpretations of characters and headcanons in an answer while hoping that it'll make some sense or switch a light on your brain):

There's a lot of characteristics that as a whole makes me believe Lilia is a woman lover, tho I don't think any of them screams it (and I think this is the reason why I see/saw people around the fandom labeling Lilia as straight or ace or any other sexuality - what is up to each person, since her sexuality is not confirmed). Like, she's artistic, sassy and effortlessly gains other women trust/appreciation, but does any of those things sign her as gay immediately? I don't think so.

Maybe it's the fact that Lilia kinda tickles the mommy issues of not only the other witches (aka Alice and Agatha) of her coven but also of a good part of her fandom. Or, as someone said in the comments, the way she holds herself - her confidence, body language, expressions. Or her care for her coven, which she can't hold back from developing? Maybe.

But as I wrote this and kept searching in my mind for something that I could point out as "yes, this is certainly what makes Lilia a woman lover", I ended up returning to her backstory and to what my sister said.

Since the first episodes Lilia gave me queer vibes that I couldn't pinpoint why. She kinda always gave me that "single aunt that has been living with her roommate for the latest twenty years" vibes, but episode seven only clarified why those vibes.

Lilia and Agatha may be opposites but they're equally perfect material for queer subtext. Agatha has all her past with her mother while Lilia has her own with her coven. And both their stories revolve around power - and now let's think about power and being a witch in the whole as an allusion to queerness and self acceptance.

Lilia has contact with her powers at a really young age under the help of someone she trusts and love, but with the loss of this someone and now alone and afraid of which consequences her powers could bring, she prefers to hide it in herself and take a place in society where even if spotted as a weirdo she could still make a living. Late in her life she finally finds this specific group of misfits where she feels accepted and comfortable enough to accept back her powers and stop hiding herself from what she is.

We don't have to look too deep in our society to find real Lilias. People who only felt safe to come out late in their lives after hiding under comphet. Maybe we were Lilia at some point in our lives.

So, I know I kinda missed the point of the initial question and dived into a character analysis, but maybe what makes Lilia so queer is her being tragic - oh, god, I'm again putting people in the tragic gay stereotype.

Being a witch - and my sister was somehow right from the start.

But, mostly, by sharing women's experience. And here I'm mostly projecting myself on Lilia because I can't help but relate to her in a lot of ways.

Though I do not see or label myself as a woman, I lived under this term since I was born and I like to joke that I love women as a lesbian.

Trying to point out what gives out Lilia as a woman lover for me is trying to point out why I love women. I don't know, but by sharing the same experiences with women, learning about their struggles and force and getting to know their care and love... How could I not love women?

And here is where I fully project myself on the character because Lilia certainly went through a lot and saw a lot. She saw not only her sisters in the craft but also common women die, but she also saw them resisting and, century by century, getting stronger. She saw the good and bad sides of men and women. And at the end of it all, how could she not love women?

I hope that something in this too-long reply makes sense to you because my answers seem great in my mind, but messy when I write them in English (and they just create more questions in my own mind).

I've been banging my head on the wall for some minutes, and I need all Lilia lovers' help because my gaydar is not working today:

What is something that Lilia does that screams "woman lover" from a mile away?

[mllemaenad]

It's fascinating that the people who have most consistently and successfully established a connection to the titans are the Grey Wardens.

I'm not trying to oversell here: what they're doing has a lot of downsides. But while there are rare incidents of a dwarf truly connecting to a titan across the Dragon Age stories ... only the Grey Wardens have found a way to do it that's even moderately predictable. Sure, the Joining might kill you. But if it doesn't – congratulations, you're linked up to the Song of the titans.

Of course, they're connecting to the corrupted dreams of the titans: the infamous blight. And the more obvious differences in that connection obviously stem from that: the infertility, the eventual corruption of their bodies, the call of the Song that can overwhelm their minds.

But it's interesting what else is going on with them. I've never seen a Grey Warden dwarf do magic, the way Valta or Harding can. But I do wonder if that's an absolute rule, or just a side effect of the way they're connected.

It does seem to reconnect dwarves to their dreams. The archdemon dreams are the most obvious example, but there's also Oghren's account of a normal dream in Awakening. I recognise that that anecdote is meant to be funny but a) it still happens and b) there's now a lot of material from Harding that could also be described as "funny stories about dreams", and we aren't meant to disbelieve her.

So why no (obvious) magic?

Well, the thing about the Joining is that it is at least an attempt to connect to the blight safely.

The Joining requires darkspawn blood. Recruits are typically sent out under the watch of an older Warden to slay darkspawn and collect the blood. This is a test to see if the recruit has the courage and ability to fight darkspawn. Once the blood is collected, the Wardens add a single drop of Archdemon blood and use magic to make it at least remotely safe to consume. Archdemon blood is among the rarest substances in all Thedas, and it makes the Joining all the more exclusive a ritual. Older Wardens carry a small amount with them at all times. – The World of Thedas Volume 1

The exact details of how the blood is prepared remain a mystery, but the Grey Wardens have clearly gained some control over it. A recruit who is suffering from the taint may not be cured of it, but if they survive the Joining they will develop a resistance that may last decades. Without the Joining they will die or become ghouls like anyone else, so while a certain resilience on the part of the recruit may be part of the magic, it certainly isn't all of it.

Prospective Wardens consume as little as possible, as safely as possible, in order to gain the skills necessary to fight darkspawn: the ability to sense their presence, a practical if not literal immunity to the taint – and the all-important archdemon-killing presence of the taint in their veins.

Most of them aren't trying to do more with it. Although, yep, Avernus has the general idea:

The taint allows us to sense the darkspawn. The longer we survive with the taint in our blood, the more potent it becomes. Unfortunately, this corruption will eventually overwhelm the Warden; over time, it devours both mind and body, leaving nothing. But what if the spread of the corruption could be stopped, or contained in some way? What if the Warden could become more powerful, without having that power kill him? How great would that power be? Would it be enough to stop the demons? The Joining ritual is crude. We take into yourself the blood of the darkspawn in the most obvious way. Most die from the corruption immediately; it is, after all, poison. There must be some way to refine the Joining. Isolate the true power that is found in darkspawn blood, and leave behind the evil that kills us. I can feel the corruption starting to take its toll on my body. I must not succumb. There is too much work to be done. Through my magic I've been able to slow its inevitable spread, but not stop it completely. I am starting to hear things, even while awake: A voice—more beautiful than any other—that calls to me from the depths. In my dreams, I see the Black City, and I am drawn towards it. There is something there, an answer to what this taint is, this taint that we share with the darkspawn… —From the notes of Avernus. – Avernus's Notes

And that's the key thing he points out: the taint within a Grey Warden grows more powerful over time. However, the mental resistance to that taint breaks down as it grows, so by the time the taint is at its full power the Warden is effectively a ghoul. Yes, there are instances of intelligent, functional ghouls – but they're not the norm.

Power develops over time. One of the first things Alistair will tell a newly recruited Hero of Ferelden is that he can sense the presence of nearby darkspawn, but you can't ... yet. That power will develop with time.

In practice, by the time most dwarven Wardens have developed enough taint in them to even attempt magic, they're in no condition to try it. And even if they were, would they think to?

By contrast, both Valta and Harding are basically smacked in the face with the raw power of lyrium. It does not grow in them slowly, it comes to them all at once – and a certain amount of involuntary magic is performed on the spot. Once it's happened, they can't ignore it. They know they can do it.

I wonder if a dwarven Warden on the brink of their Calling might be able to throw some rocks around, if they really tried.

After all: genlock emissaries have magic, and a genlock is ... not exactly a dwarf, no, but it's also not exactly not a dwarf.

[loquaciousquark]

you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

[yukidragon]

Hello, I started reading your blog not so long ago. I am amazed at how you describe everything in detail, so professionally that your headcannons seem to be canons))

Anyway, I have a question about the game Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack. How do you think the characters from this game would help and support us if we (the players, the main characters) were very shy? In terms of any actions, such as expressing your feelings to your partner or intimacy. And not in the sense that we are just embarrassed, but really very timid and do not know how to behave (For example, because of personal feelings or doubts, poor self-esteem and self-doubt, we behave this way). How would the characters in this game support us, help us feel more comfortable and confident?

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my rambles and ideas. 💖

Well a fair number of them are canon to Sunshine in Hell if you want to get technical. Not so much the AUs and random what if scenarios of course. ;3 I just approach the characters and setting through my own lens and what feels right to me, which I apply to the stories I write about them.

Funny enough, having a timid and shy main character suffering from poor self-esteem and lots of self-doubts is at the core of Sunshine in Hell. Alice is a character who is suffering from a lot of hesitance and uncertainty due to past experiences and a lot of toxic aspects of society.

Jack

Jack is incredibly mindful of Alice's needs and boundaries. Thanks to their connection, he can sense when he's doing something to make her uncomfortable and adjust accordingly. This bond their souls have may or may not be canon to the game, but it is canon to my version of the story. In a way it's kind of a cheat for Jack, allowing him insight that other people lack.

Plus Jack is a perceptive, clever man. It was a survival tactic when he was on the street to be able to read others' intentions, and he grew up in a house full of two-faced people as Joseph. He learned what he had to do in order to please people. He knows how to read body language, expressions, tone, etc. so he can tell when someone is feeling positively or negatively. Even if his supernatural "cheat" doesn't give him enough of a hint, he can deduce more from body language.

Jack wants to be there for his sunshine and be everything they could ever want or need. He needs them. He's desperate for their love and to have a purpose, and his very existence is tied to it. This makes him especially mindful of his sunshine's likes, dislikes, and needs.

So depending on the MC, Jack will try to adjust his behavior around them. If they need him to go slower and be more supportive he will. That's why Sunshine in Hell is going to be a slow burn. Alice was not only damaged by societal pressures, but by a toxic relationship with her previous and only partner. Being burned so many times has left her hesitant to make a move that might cause her to feel the flames again.

Jack's go-to to offer support and help his sunshine feel more comfortable is with words. He is the ultimate cheerleader, offering advice when he can, watching out for their health, and of course giving unending praise. He makes sure to tell his sunshine exactly what makes them so beautiful in his eyes and how brightly they shine.

Jack pays attention to even the small details about his sunshine, what they like, what draws their attention, and what they have been able to accomplish. He then shines a spotlight on those parts of MC with plenty of encouraging words and love.

In ways Jack also takes on the guiding, mentor role, especially for a timid MC. After being scarred by Ian and so down on themselves, he needs to work hard to coax open their heart again and let them know that it's okay to love him and to accept his love and support.

A good example is Jack gently guiding his sunshine to his lips when they have the urge to kiss him, then further coaxing that kiss into a deeper one with tongue. He pushes his luck at times, as he's just so NEEDY for his sunshine, but he's hyper focused on their comfort. He won't and can't do anything his sunshine doesn't want to do after all.

Jack certainly is going to encourage any steps his sunshine takes towards him. Using Alice as an example, whenever she reaches out to touch him first, he tries not to call attention to it, since that could make her feel self-conscious and retreat. Instead he offers gentle smiles, returns the touch if he can, and is as encouraging as he can be. He wants to reward every time she gathers up the courage to do more with him.

He's careful not to chase after her when she needs to retreat. While disappointed, Jack knows that Alice needs that space for herself because she's overwhelmed. He instead focuses on redirecting her attention to something less troubling if he can.

Distraction from anxious thoughts are another tactic Jack employs. Redirecting his sunshine's focus to what they do right and how much he loves them can prevent an anxiety spiral that might lead to them retreating from him and his love.

Of course, if their worries and self-doubt start to spiral into a dark direction, Jack will help walk them through it. He wants to share their burdens and be a good friend and partner to them. He wants to be just as vital to their life as they are to his.

Jack's past psychology classes as Joseph help in this regard. He learned techniques about how to calm down a child who is scared or dealing with trauma. It doesn't translate perfectly when dealing with adults, especially since he's constantly trying to be Sunny Day Jack 24/7, but it works with those who aren't turned off by this kids show host persona.

While Jack isn't perfect at it - though he desperately wants to be - letting his own needs and desires for MC bleed through at times, he tries his very best to support them in whatever way they need. He checks in on how they're feeling, even during the most intimate of settings, especially when they're feeling uneasy or uncertain. For Alice, he's just what she needs during her most vulnerable time.

On that note, let's switch to the guy that left Alice feeling so vulnerable in the first place. The question was how all the love interests will support MC after all.

Ian

Ian is... a mess, to put it simply. He tries his level best, but he gets swept up in his own feelings at times, as I've mentioned in previous headcanons, like the big one about sex and love.

Ian knows what it's like to lack confidence and to view himself in a negative light. He's down on himself and very timid. He struggles with expressing himself due to being suppressed for years. He does best when being guided rather than doing the guiding.

With some partners, this could lead to overcompensation. Alice went out of her way to ignore her own needs in order to make him happy and encourage him. This feeling that she had to take care of him pushed her to do things before she felt comfortable or ready.

However, if Alice did voice she wasn't ready for something, Ian would've backed off immediately. He doesn't want to push his partner hard and would feel awful if he did so, likely leading to him crying. He just wants to be a good partner and fears he's not good enough for her... or anyone.

In a way, Ian then becomes the perfect person to relate to an MC who lacks confidence. He understands these insecurities all too well and can share in that experience. He knows just how hard it is to overcome that awful voice in one's head that says you're not good enough. He related to Alice and her worries about her appearance. He always made sure to let her know that he loves her regardless of what society finds weird or ugly, such as her weight or how she might act at times.

Ian reassured Alice that he only ever found her attractive. He struggles to put things into words at times though, especially due to his shyness. Other people are "weird" in his eyes, so he could never want to be with them like he wants to be with her.

Ian is someone very excited for physical intimacy, and once he is given the green light, he tends to take the lead in his enthusiasm. This can allow MC to not worry about making decisions when he lets his urges and emotions lead the way. He also doesn't shy away from telling MC just how much he loves them and how good they make him feel.

Even if MC doesn't feel confident in their appearance, Ian knows them. They grew up together. They've been his strength when he was weak. They might think badly of themselves, but he sees them as his hero. They've done so much for him, been there with him through his worst moments, and gave him the strength to pursue his dreams. They shine so brightly in his eyes. He's not afraid to let them know that they are the best thing to ever happen to him.

Which makes it all the worse that he cheated, but shhh, that's not what this post is about.

Shaun

Speaking of which, that gives a good segue to switch over to Shaun. After Ian cheated, I can imagine MC's self-image and confidence would be at its lowest. Fortunately, Shaun was there to offer support and words of encouragement. He makes it clear that he cares and he's there for them, always.

Shaun knows that MC deserves so much better than to feel like garbage. He's a big ball of sunshine, and he takes the lead with a friend or partner who is struggling to keep up. He is very encouraging with physical touch, such as hugs, cuddles, and ear scritches. His purring can serve as a very nice reward for MC when they have the courage to get a bit more physical with him.

Shaun tries to keep things light most of the time, mainly because he's wallpapering over his own issues. He's bold and energetic, and that can help distract MC from their own worries and hesitation.

Of course, Shaun isn't one to avoid a difficult conversation just because it's hard. He wants to talk through what's bothering with MC and help them work through their issues. If they don't want to discuss it though, he'll let the topic drop for something that they're more comfortable with.

If MC is open for it, Shaun is ready to give bear hugs whenever they want. He's got the strength to scoop up even the heaviest of besties. If they don't want it though, he'll show his support by buying them lunch or talking about something fun.

Another perk Shaun has is kitty therapy. Not only is he cat-coded, with his whisker marks, kitty eyes, and ability to purr, but he has sweet baby Moon Pie. What better way to soothe a nervous MC than with a kitty cuddle puddle with a precious furbaby in their lap while he cuddles them both close?

When it comes to intimacy, Shaun leans towards being a daddy dom. He's good about checking in though, making sure that MC is feeling comfortable. This goes for platonic moments too. It might be easy to get swept up in his flow, but he's very mindful of those he cares about. He's the type to take charge of things so that everyone gets fair treatment and feels comfortable.

When it comes to insecurities and MC being down on themselves, it'd come to a surprise to Shaun that they feel that way. He doesn't see these supposed flaws they have. Oh, he believes they see these flaws in themselves, but he certainly doesn't, and he's sure no one else who matters does either.

If MC wants or needs Shaun to take the lead, he's more than happy to do so. He can be his kitten's daddy dom if they want him to be~ If they need to take it slower and make the first move, he'll let them. Shaun is so worried about how MC feels that he's swallowed his crush on them for years. He doesn't want to lose his friendship with them just because of his feelings.

Shaun does have plenty of confidence in himself, but he's mindful that's not a guarantee of anything. It's also not an excuse to cross boundaries. Emotions are more complicated than that, and success plus a good appearance doesn't make someone necessarily appealing to everyone in all ways. His uncle is someone successful, well respected, and charismatic, but is very abrasive, as an example. He loves the man, but also can't trust him.

Shaun knows what it's like to be hesitant to trust someone. That's why he works hard to be someone that can be trusted. He wants to be liked and to help people to feel relaxed around him. It's what makes him a good friend and an attentive lover. He'll do his best to encourage a timid MC to do what they want, even if he might long for something more. He can keep his feelings in check to make sure that they're both comfortable.

Nick

On that sweet note, let's switch over to Nick. Granted, I haven't gone into Nick's backstory a lot as of yet due to his role in things, and my thoughts on him have evolved a lot over time, but he's a sweetheart overall in my headcanon land. While he has this influencer persona online, and a sexy, confident dom on LonelyFans, he is actually a bit timid when taking off those masks. He knows what it's like to feel easily flustered, so he does his best to disarm those feelings, letting MC know it's okay.

Nick does his best not to put pressure on MC. While he does ask MC out while at work, it was at a moment that felt right after some good chemistry between them. He backs off right away at being turned down and respects boundaries.

Nick was drawn to MC by how cute they are. He wants to learn more about them as himself, not as his online persona. He understands the pressure to perform, to push himself further to live up to expectations. He wants to remove that pressure from others in his life, especially his partner.

However, Nick's experiences with LonelyFans, especially personal shows with his followers, has given him experience on how to dish out praise. He's learned how to make various people feel good and cater to different tastes. He's dealt with shy customers before, and he knows how to take charge when they need him to be the strong dom, and when to be that sweet and seductive voice in their ear letting them know that they're doing a good job.

Nick tries to balance what he learned from his online persona with his real, kind of awkward self. When he's in a relationship offline, he tries his best to be his authentic self and not so much the dom persona. He'll do his best to encourage MC to be themselves too. He wants that authentic connection with someone. This means accepting that their authentic self can be a bit clumsy and uncomfortable with themselves.

While Shaun is more bombastic and energetic, Nick is more chill. He goes with the flow more, allowing things to slow down to a less stressful pace. After all, the online space is constant go, go, go, and he enjoys the space to breathe and just experience a genuine moment when offline. He helps MC feel more confident by helping them find space to breathe and slow down too. They don't have to rush when they're with him.

If they need Nick in dom mode he can do that, but he'd rather save that for when he's in the headspace to switch to that persona. He might teasingly switch to it during casual moments though, especially if MC let him know they need an extra nudge at times to get going.

Overall, all the guys are mindful of MC's boundaries. If they say they don't want to do something, they won't push it. They also check to make sure they're doing okay. They're encouraging and genuinely think MC is amazing. For all the love interests' individual flaws, they do try to do their best for the people they care about. They might fumble at times and make mistakes, but they do want MC to feel happy and confident in themselves.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[waterfire1848]

AU (that makes no sense) - Kya, Hakoda and Gyatso giving “How to not be a horrible parent 101” classes to Ozai, Ursa, Poppy, Lao, Ukano and Michi.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[asavt]

leshy freaking cat

The fact that we all (or almost all) took one look at the yellow cat and went "yeah sure lets go with that" will never not be hilarious to me.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

More "Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ but still being Father and Son" stuff I came up with, plus extra because I can't get these chuckle-fucks out of my head.

Link to my prev. post for context. incase yall missed it bc I'm not explaining myself, we're just diving right into the deep end

Edit: i entirely forgot but i have a third one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bee knows Optimus isn't one for physical affection, and he fully understands and accepts that. He doesn't want to make Optimus uncomfortable by disrespecting one of his boundaries, that's just a shit thing to do. And Bumblebee is not a shit person. But... he's also desperate. Look, being deprived of physical parental affection your whole life fucks you up something good, let Bumblebee tell you, it makes you do some odd shit just to get a taste of what you've been missing out on. And! And most of the stuff Bumblebee has done are perfectly normal things to do! Plenty of casual stuff, leaning against his chair to look at what Optimus is working on, high fives and fist bumps (Optimus rarely, if ever, does these but for Bee he'll do anything just to make him smile, see Optimus acting totally normal about his feelings what are you talking about), leaning against him for a second when he's tired, totally normal! There are, less normal things, like when one of Bee's legs nearly got torn off on a mission and Optimus had to carry him back to base and Bee curled up close in Optimus's arms the whole time- because of the pain, totally 100% definitely only the pain that was Not mostly taken care of by some field anesthetics. It felt nice to be carried like a kid, sue him.

Getting injured is a special case with giving and taking affection. For example, when Bumblebee had to drag Optimus to a med bay after he passed out from a mission. They were walking into the common room together; Optimus was telling Bee he was fine when he CLEARLY wasn't because he didn't want to wake the medics for something as Trivial as THEIR LEADER and FREIND'S HEALTH (Bee is this close to strangling him) when Optimus just pitched over onto the floor.

Optimus, clearly tried and hurt: I will be fine, there is no need to wake the medics, I just need some energ... *faceplants*

Bumblebee: What did I say? What did fragging I say?! *Hefts Optimus's limp body onto his shoulders* fragging, stupid, slagging, moron, 'I don't need a medic, I'll be fine' he says, if I had been the one doing this, you would have torn the base apart getting the medics up, fragging idiot. *drags Optimus's body out of the room*

Optimus: *Mumbles something about not wanting to bother anyone*

Bumblebee: Too fragging bad, big man, you are going to take care of yourself and you're going to like it!

So now Bee has to drag a bot much bigger than him back down the hall and into the Medbay, just because Optimus was being fucking stupid. Yes it looks as funny as you're thinking. Optimus is semi-conscious but delirious as they make their way down the halls of the base and says "I don't want to take anything that would be better served helping any of you, I care about all of you so much I don't want to see you hurt. I love you." and Bumblebee's like Optimus, I feel so loved and so angry right now, but fuck what you want you're getting taken care of. No, you did not just make my fucking day, I lOve yoU tOo dAd-. He gets Optimus into the medbay on a berth then goes to forcibly wake the medics up to calm himself down because he is seconds from crying.

Optimus eventually gets better with affection, and now Bee gets a hug whenever he asks. He has yet to come down from this high.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bumblebee calls Megatron his "Shit Ex-Stepfather". The entirety of team prime thinks this is hilarious. Even Optimus can't help but smile, though he tries to hide it. Someone, probably Jazz, changed Megatron's file name to "Worlds Worst Stepfather". After the war, if Megatron is still alive, he will mysteriously acquire some kind of award saying "Cybertron's #1 Worst Stepfather". He is very confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you could get Optimus drunk, he would become such a sap. Like, insufferably soft and emotional. And he would be talking about Bee damn near the whole time. He would be so annoying.

Optimus: *Drunk* Did I ever tell you about Bumbl-bee? He's, he's my boy, my bumble boy, my gold'n boy, my buzzy boy, my sweet cheese. An, he's really yellow, you'll know it's him, he looks like- he's really yellow, it's hard not to see him, but he's really really good at sneaking. Even though he's so yellow. He can sneak around so good, no one sees him. I can see him, 'cause he's my boy. He can sneak around and nooo one finds him, 'cept me, 'cause he's my boy. He can hide so good, he hid under sshockwave's chest once. Riiiight under his eye, his big purple eye. Bee's so funny, he tells such funny stories. He tells his stories better then me, they're a lot funnier. I'm not good at funny stories. He's really good at it. He's really good at lots of things. Bee's so cool. I'm so happy he's here, he's so cool and funny and nice and cool. And he fights real good too, he's so cool. he once- Bee once punched my ex once, right in the face. Riiight in the kisser, just, boosh. My ex sucks, Bee's so cool. I like him, he's my boy. An-and he taught himself how to do aaaaall the cool things he does. He didn't have anyone to teach him, he did it all by himself. All alone... I wish I met him sooner, when he was small. He says he was really cute when he was small and I want to see him small. I like him big though, he's really fun when he's big. He's- *Sobs* He's my booooy, and I love him so muuuuch.

This continues for hours. Luckily he never drinks so no has to suffer through this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you thought Optimus was the Serial Adopter, you'd be wrong. It's Bumblebee. No bot is safe from his clutches. He scoops up family members like a pelican scoops fish. Optimus is barely aware of how many family members he technically has, he stopped keeping track a long time ago.

Bumblebee: *Bursting into the room dragging some bot he was on an extended mission with* OPTIMUS, I GOT ATTACHED AGAIN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER

Optimus: *Not looking up from his data pad* That's great, son, go put it with the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus would be such a good grandparent. In the future, after the war ends, Bumblebee comes into possession of a kid; whether he finds someone and takes them under his wing or he just fucking makes one, I don't know nor care, but he gets a kid. And when he introduces them to Optimus, Optimus just fucking melts. He was already a huge softie before but he's so much worse now. He goes full grandma mode. He has snacks in his pockets (or whatever bots have) that he sneaks to the kid every time he sees them. He gives them money at random. You best believe he would destroy anything that even looked at his grandbaby wrong (Bee: Optimus, stop attacking the door. Optimus, the door just bumped them, they're fine. Dad stop, omp(rimus))

The "Bee finds a kid and both of them get attached and now are a family" is the funnier option. Because the kid knows who these guys are, they saved Cybertron. The kid's still getting used to having Bee as their guardian, so when they meet the 13th Prime: Holder of the Matrix of Leadership, Savior of Cybertron, they don't expect Dotting Grandparent Extraordinaire.

Bumblebee: and this is Optimus Prime. He's your Grandpa.

The kid : *nervous* He's my what?

Optimus: *on the verge of tears* mY grAnDbABy-

The "Bee made a kid" version is still pretty funny.

Bumblebee: *Exasperated* Optimus, give me my child back.

Optimus: *violently crying* nO, It'S mY bAbY nOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine, if you will, Optimus and Bumblebee sitting on a roof together, not talking, not touching, just watching the sun set. Just enjoying the silence together, maybe with some energon to go with it. Because they get it, oh they get it. Sometimes you just need to be alone with someone. That good mutual respect and love from a found family that understands you. this is why I need bee to be an adult, I need both of them to be hurting and find some comfort in each other, to find solace in each other, to be a family and to be equals, is that too much to ask?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A list of things Bumblebee is allowed to get away with:

Interrupting Meetings to Tell Optimus Something, important or not (hi dad)

Casually touching the Usually Touch Adverse Optimus (Physical affection ftw)

Calling Optimus out on his self-sacrificial bullshit (you're going to see the medics and you're going to like it, old man)

Using the three points above to drag Optimus into the Medbay by force (Ratchet is so smug about this)

Getting Optimus to do something fun and relaxing (father son bonding time, as Bee says.)

Swearing aggressively (for everyone else it's unprofessional, for Bee its therapeutic. He stretches this excuse as far as it goes)

Making Insulting comments about others to their face (look they deserve it if the Perpetually Friendly Bumblebee is saying it)

Talking about Megatron (Usually team prime avoids talking about Megsy outside of war related convos out of respect for Optimus's history with him. Bumblebee does not give a shit, Megatron is a bitch and he's going to make his opinions known (Everyone thinks it's funny dw))

Illegal activities (this fucker street races in every universe, you think he isn't doing shit like this on the daily?)

Murder

Stealing/Sneaking snacks (he shares with Optimus)

Making jokes about Optimus being his dad (he thinks it's funny bc they're not related and they met like 6 years ago. Optimus explodes with emotion every time bc you consider me good enough to be your dad?)

Bee is a fucking menace, Optimus loves him so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Misc. funny word vomit I came up with that have no context, reason, or sense

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Optimus is working at a desk focusing on some data pads. A tiny energon cube flies into frame, bouncing off Optimus's forehead and landing on the desk. Optimus grabs the cube and eats it without looking up from the datapad. A few minutes pass, another energon cube flies and bounces off Optimus's head. He eats it without looking. Bumblebee is sitting off to the side in the room with Optimus with a bag of energon snacks, periodically throwing one at the distracted Prime. This is Bee's and Ratchet's newest scheme to get Optimus to actually eat, and it's working splendidly. (Actually, Bumblebee originally was throwing the energon onto the desk, but over time he got bored and started just throwing the cubes directly at Optimus. He hasn't noticed any of the cubes hitting him at all, so Bee's started trying to do trick shots.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Bumblebee?"

"Absolutely, now throw me."

"Alright... Three, two, one- Ngha!"

*distant loud metal slam*

"..."

*distantly* "I'm good! We're in business!"

*quietly* "oh thank primus..."

*distantly* "Okay, I'm done. I'm coming back down."

"Wait-"

*distantly* "Hup!"

*loud crashing metal noises*

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's early morning, everyone got back to base late the night before. Everyone is tired. Optimus is sitting at the table in the common room, slowly drinking a cube of energon. His eyes are half open and bleary. Bumblebee is beside him, head in his hand, dozing. Bee's head falls from his hand and slams onto the table. Optimus doesn't even blink at the noise, just takes a sip of energon.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee takes a lot of pictures. Mostly of his team. He's pretty sneaky about it too, usually just taking a capture from his visual feed and saving it to his personal datapad. And at a glance none of the pictures are all that special, captures of a group of bots hanging out between missions, selfies of Bee and company on missions, drunken mishaps, quiet moments, he's got this really funny one of Cliffjumper stuck in a storage closet, but Bee keeps all these photos out of sight. The others are aware of his habit but they never see most of the photos, they never ask. Bee only opens his photos folder when ever he has a quiet moment alone and just scrolls through, reminiscing. His favorites are the ones where he caught someone's genuine smile. Sometimes they're in the background of a larger group shot, or it's just them smiling at Bee in conversation. He's got a lot of Optimus's smile. Optimus doesn't smile a lot, but he always seems to smile when Bee's around. Bee's proud that he can do that for him.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this could literally be anyone on team prime: *teasing* You playing favorites, Prime? Giving Bumblebee all this special treatment is making the rest of us feeling left out.

Optimus: You all treat him the exact same way I do.

again, literally anyone on team prime: ... Touché, Boss bot, touché...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After spending an extended period of time in close proximity to Megatron (for what ever reason), Bumblebee and Optimus talk.

Bee: You had terrible taste in partners.

Optimus: *sighs*

Bee: Physically, I can see the appeal, but everything else is a wild thing to say yes to.

Optimus: ...

Bee: His personality, his interests- just why none of that clocked you onto how fragged up he would be is beyond me.

Optimus: ........

Bee: You're not stupid, I hope that your next partner will be leagues better than him. Ratchet maybe, oh or Elita, they would make great partners (and even better step-parents), or maybe-

Optimus: CanwePleasestoptalkingaboutmylovelife??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee: If you get back together with Megatron I'm disowning you.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BB: This is... so dumb.

OP: The higher I am the better I can see.

BB: You can- You can fly.

OP: Hush now Bumblebee! I am searching...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk man, brain rot hits something different when I think about it for long periods of time

[mistawolfie]

Come on fuck me emo boy