#this was supposed to be a fun positive blog away from all this shit and i cant be positive for even that long fucking. worthless. stupid blo

[embersofhope-if]

What interactive fiction would you recommend (besides this one)?

oh anon i follow over 150 if blogs let me get you some of my favorites😊 This is very long so all of them are under the cut🫶

some of these you'll probably already have heard of bc of how popular they are, but trust me, they're popular for a reason, lmao

these ones all have demos (if i messed up and some dont uh ignore that)

@infamous-if - "You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes." genuinely one of my favorites ifs (seven lawless my beloved please come back home the kids are asking whats taking so long)

@coeluvr - "You play as the only remaining member of the royal family of Vesphire; living in the home of the man who took away everything from you." another ive been obsessed with recently. i will forever love revenge stories (and my pookie helios)

@merrycrisis-if - "As a late 20-something year-old fresh from a recent break-up and struggling to pay rent in New York, life throws up more questions than answers."

@ramonag-if - "When your village is razed to the ground, you're left fleeing with an exiled prince. You can trust no one but each other. Your father's dying wish was to protect the prince, but can you really trust a man who was exiled from his kingdom?"

@nyehilismwriting / Project Hadea - "Set in a distant future, you play the role of an elite operative of Scytha Industries, a private contracting firm. ‘Contracting’, in this case, refers to anything from political assassinations, to private security, to bodyguard services."

@vapolis - "You’re a mercenary, gun for hire, assassin, information extractor, delivery person – call it what you want, because the people that hire you for your services don’t give much of a shit what you call yourself as long as you actually get them what they want."

@godsandvillains-if - "As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile."

@hvllowheart - "LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER is a spy game where you take on the role of an agent under the codename Wraith, who up until two years ago was one of the best agents TERRA has ever made. now the agency returns into your life and pulls you back into the field as agents go missing by the dozens."

@eyesofshan-if - "Years ago, you were uprooted from the only home you had ever known and captured to be sold as a slave. Now, war is at your doorstep once more while you are left in a delicate position — as a commander of the country that invaded your homeland. While investigating a case of illegal human trafficking, you come across a plot that threatens to rip this tentative peace apart."

@apt502-if - "Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive. Fun."

@acourtofserpents - "As the only human in the Kingdom of Faerie, you're no stranger to shining eyes that hold looks filled with hatred, lips painted in the color of forest fruits whispering your name, heads with pointed ears turning at your every step. Though you long for their approval, for a place amongst the wicked immortals, they remind you with every breath you take that as you came from dirt, to dirt you will return."

@softlyopulent-if - "All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you. And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war."

@heromaker-if - "Stories of heroes, legends and chosen ones are commonplace. But you'd never thought it was your child who would have to save the world from the Demon Lord's clutches."

@theabyssal - "In The Abyssal, you assume the control of a powerful deity that was betrayed by their fellow gods. Imprisoned against your will for all eternity, you had a long time to plan your revenge."

@milaswriting - "By birth, and association, you are one of the most famous people in the big city of Lehsa. Your father's the mayor, and you're from a bright, vibrant, bustling city... and yet, until recently, you didn't realise all the secrets yourself and the city held."

@zico-if - "You were supposed to be a sacrifice in order to bring an eldritch god to your realm, a sacrifice that was never supposed to live. Instead of dying and summoning the god intended, you find yourself face to face with an ancient being that was chained and locked away for the horrors they once committed."

@collegetennisoriginstory - "Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters."

@disenchantedif - "You used to be a beacon of hope. Now they only know you as the failure, the Unchosen. Will you rise above them? Will you become better or far worse than they could ever imagine?"

@bouncyballcitadel - "Play as a first-year surgery intern at Citadel Health. Will you become the star intern and curry the favor of the chief? Or will you uncover Citadel Health’s secrets and break a story or two? This will be the best and worst year of your life. Don’t forget to save lives and break some hearts along the way."

@leoneliterary - "You play as a thief pressed into the employ of a mysterious nobleman. With the your life, the fate of your guild, and your honor on the line, you'll have to navigate the perils of the royal court and combat a more mystical threat. The story is set in Cusmo, the naturally fortified, desert capital of Hashind, and will showcase the much praised Upper Cusmo, the crime ridden Lower Cusmo, and much more."

@doriana-gray-games - "Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!"

@fallenlightsif - "You are the half-sibling of High General Ezrah Rhys and have lived the past twelve years of your life in Kesdon, the capital of Ebia. You've spent most of your time training and honing your skills for the future that awaits you. A future that is entirely your own."

@shai-manahan - "They call you Ripper. It’s a horrendous name to give to a detective like you, and definitely not one you chose for yourself, but you suppose it’s to be expected given your reputation for putting powerful people behind bars. Businesses feared you. The other cops hated you. Local gangs despised your entire existence. Yet, despite all of that, you remained untouched. Until that day, when all the lies and the deception and the foolish mistakes turned your life upside down."

@larkingame - "someone is after you. for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago. carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head. so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away."

@evertidings - "you are a bounty hunter. responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the international agency of supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. after a particularly tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. and though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there's more to the story."

@rotten-games - Regrets Of The Traitor: "You are the Ruler of Hadaria after killing the previous Queens and betraying all who once trusted you. Sat upon the throne with all the power available to you, one would be forgiven for believing you finished with your quest. With a strange figure in your dreams speaking vague prophecies of magical artifacts, a mysterious cult moving into the city, and a group intent on unseating you from your place, perhaps you’re way in over your head for a farmer’s kid. City of Immortals: "You follow a pair of siblings worlds apart as they get accustomed to their new realities in two very different worlds. One trapped in an unnatural desert wasteland where every resource has a scarcity, not knowing if they’ll be the only one left when everything turns to dust, the other working as a private investigator in a sprawling underground metropolis of the undying. Each not knowing the other is alive, will they unravel the mysteries that somehow connect their two new homes?"

@shepherds-of-haven - "Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat."

@someoneverypretty-world - "As a child, growing up in the slums of Hvinir without any guardians, you believed you would not live to see 30. Until Haven, a thief guild, took you in and taught you how to survive. Facing hardships, the guild leader tasks you to sneak into the castle with the mission to take."

@northern-passage - "The Northern Passage is an 18+ horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border of your home country and in the port cities of the Blackwater. Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…"

@thedecoy-if - "♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔"

@ripperplague - "You are a doctor, a prodigy in hiding. Deep in the underbelly of Valeris, you hide among the shadows. You work hard to wring the blood stains off your palms, your face...your soul. Redemption and revenge are parallel goals, the flames of rage and disgust mingling. How could anyone ever love you?"

These ones dont have a demo yet, but im still absolutely obsessed

@pavedinashes-if - "You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint. But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out."

@riptide-if - "Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that. So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions. It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*. Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?"

@weepinwriter - "You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth."

@whatawaitsus - "Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework. That is until students start to go missing."

@evermount - "Blue-suited guards stand in every corner, but they're no threat—you're under threat. And this is how you keep safe. It's necessary; the council said so themselves. Under no circumstances shall Evermount be left, ever. So, no one has, and no one intends to. Why would you? It's peaceful—you're at peace. You have your spouse, and you have your house; everyone's happy. This is all you've ever known."

@forsakensword-if - "When the Deathless, an Ancient Evil that hasn’t been seen in over two million years, returns to Earth, it threatens the extremely precarious peace that has settled between the warring factions of Heaven and Hell. God, in an effort to protect Humanity from the consequences of a war between the Angels and Demons, sends Heaven’s best warriors to banish the Deathless once more. When that ultimately fails, it is declared that God’s Sworn Sword and Heaven’s Chief Angel will be charged with finding a way to destroy the Deathless once and for all. That Angel is you. The Archangel Michael."

@velena-if - "You wake up in a dark, cold place with no memories of yourself, save for one: the memory of your death. It becomes clear soon enough that you are in the Nav, the domain of the goddess of death, Morana, and the sanctuary of all the evil spirits and monsters. For you, Nav will be the place where your life changes forever."

@countdown-if - "Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling. Who were they? Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo. In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings. Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate."

@dropout-if - "This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks. This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know. "

@stonewall-if - "Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart."

@viperdove-if - "You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does."

@fallen-if - "You are an individual that has been known by many aliases over the years. Child of the dawn, the original sinner, star of the morning. But no matter the name, your identity remains the same. You are the one that defied the heavens, the one that cast aside the shackles of tradition and broke free from the constraints of the divine. You are Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen Angel. "

@maboroshi-if - "Maboroshi is an Interactive Fiction Game based in the world of Naruto, however, all events within the story span during the end of the First Shinobi War and the beginning of the Second Shinobi War."

@greatprotector-if - "Forced out of your family's farm against your will, you are now an ocean away from home, and you have somehow been chosen to be the main protector of the heir to some kingdom you’ve hardly even heard of. The spot's only open because the former protector died of old age, so that's probably a good indicator that it won't be as strenuous as it sounds. But despite that, you pour yourself into your work. You can't help it. You feel safer decked out in armour, and you like having something you're trusted to look after. Protect some royalty, cover all your blind spots, and try not to worry about all you've left behind."

@retribution-if - "Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms."

@thescarsilivewith-if - "You were a kind monarch once. After your mother’s brutal reign, you thought your people needed respite. Evidently, they didn’t think the same since their bloodthirst only increased. Three years after your coronation, your mother’s favourite consort dethroned you with the army and the clergy’s support. As you fled from the palace together with your spouse, from an arranged marriage celebrated only three months earlier, you were found by slavers. You managed to save your spouse but not yourself. Four years later, your spouse finds you, though you’re not the same person they knew. You are not changed in spirit alone, however, for your magic grew in your captivity and now you’re unbound. When the crown chose you as its owner, you wanted peace for your kingdom. Now the only thing you crave is revenge."

[ykulovesocialsux]

𝐘𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋---𝐘𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

HEADLINER

all rights reserved @ ykulovesocialsux 2024

warnings :) nsfw (heavy cursing, sexual themes) unprotected sex, missionary , mating press, model!geto, photographer!reader, black fem reader, not proofread, lowercase intended

minors/ageless blogs do not interact

socialsmutsocialsmutssocials

you never thought that your client geto suguru would be the sexiest man you had ever laid your eyes on. you've worked with him most of the time from big clothing brands, to little boutiques he was a cool person and your friendship was very flirtatious but this was a whole new level.

being a photographer was a fun and reliable job. shit got hard but it was definitely worth it. especially if you had a view like you did in front of you almost everyday. the black haired man had nothing but his undergarments on. His briefs stopping right below his v line and black trimmed happy trail.

this was a sight to see.

"like something ya' see sweetheart?" he smirked as the makeup artist was doing her last final touches. you rolled your eyes. and you'd definitely be lying if seeing him like this made you feel some type of way. snapping the pictures was easier than expected. it was editing them to be perfect that made everything hard.

having to stare at an image like that. for hours practically had you creaming your pants. light edits were made nothing major he was a handsome man but pesky fly aways from his long hair would not be tolerated on the cover of ELLE magazine.

you felt a hover over your shoulder as you had your laptop propped on your legs. "ya' staring at my dick?" banter like this was normal. he would always pick fights with you after the photoshoot just to make fun and give you a bagel.

but it wouldn't be weird if you actually weren't staring at every crevice of his briefs. "no, that's not professional." he hummed in his response handing you a bagel. his silk robe that has suguru embroidered in the back of it was visible as he took a seat in front of you.

he obviously had a manspreading problem. knees facing from east to west. a visible line of sight to his inner thighs. was this man not wearing any underwear?

still making finishing touches. he opened his mouth to spark a conversation between you two. "whats yer' favorite sex position?" he slightly grinned as he finished off his tea. "i hardly think that's professional."

"since when did you care about being professional?" he had you stopping in your tracks. you grimaced slightly before starting again. "missionary." you went back to editing pictures disregarding his full on rant about how he prefers the mating press position.

"it's way more intimate."

he looked at you with daring eyes he was definitely undressing you visually. "what do you know about being intimate. do you even know were the clit is."

"oh of course i do you wanna go back to my dressing room and find out?"

a long agonizing silence the tension was thick and mighty. rethinking every syllable that came out of his mouth just then. was he being serious? he looked like he wanted to pounce on you right then and there.

obviously if you did commit to this and it got out you wouldnt believe the damage this would cause. not to just both of your careers but you guys companies and agencies you two both work for.

although hero was a overwhelmingly attractive man. and it's not like you weren't thinking about his girth, length, and pace.

"maybe."

"is that a yes hun?"

his replies were fast and snappy. he definitely thought about this conversation before. "i suppose so."

he huffed hot air. leaned forward towards you. a light chuckle coming from his throat. his adam's apple bobbed. "girl you're gonna get me in trouble." he stood in front of you and took two step towards you to stand over you.

he put his hand over the rim of your computer screen and gently closed it shut. he got in your face. "ya real pretty when you're conflicted."

"m' not conflicted now."

that's how you ended up in the situation you were in now. in the missionary position while geto's thrusts were going in and out of you in a fast pace.

this was too much for you. he had a very high stamina. crawling away wasn't working he would only pull me back. a milky white ring formed around the base of his dick. his shaft long, veiny, and shiny. the rhythmic sounds of skin plapping together.

his strong musky scent and the heat for your bodies colliding together in the most intimate way possible is making reach you your climax faster than usual.

"mmph!- fuck!"

"mmyeah? fuck yeah, fuck yeaaas."

you had already reached your limit with this unsustainable mount of pleasure. geto on the other hand, hasn't. he flipped your legs up mating press position. his vigorous pace has started again.

the fucked out expression never leaving your face. your voice was being dragged out. it was raspy with desperation.

"please- mm fuck!"

"shutup and grip my cock with this pussy."

you obeyed. using as much strength as you could to help him cum. his moans and groans got louder and so did yours. behind the tiredness in your eyes deep down you loved this shit.

a couple of weeks later the magazine was published

HEADLINER : GETO SUGURU

all rights reserved @ykulovesocialsux

[oliviaischillin1204]

tickletober day 25- “new discovery”

word count: 1,729 words

i think this actually started as a prompt for tickletober 2020 (lmfAooooo) so i’m glad i could finish it now!!

Janus sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in as many minutes. He’d been a having a moral conundrum, and he’d only recently figured out how to go about solving it. Or, well, hopefully solving it. Maybe the solution he’d come up with would make everything worse instead. That’s always a possibility.

As if he could read Janus’ mind, Janus’ phone buzzed with another text from Patton. He stole a quick glance at the kitchen doorway before tapping the screen.

Patton: Have U told him yet???

Janus: u know he doesn’t wake up before noon

Patton: LOL!

Patton: Well, Jan The Man, whatever happens, I got UR back!

Patton: high_five.gif

Patton: fist_bump.gif

Patton: puppy_saying_yeah.gif

Janus: ,,,,, thank u patton

Janus sighed yet again-- but this time his sigh was followed by a matching yawn from behind him.

He slammed his phone down on the table and whirled around. “Good morning!” Fuck, he was never that positive. He had to dial it back. “You look like shit.” Well. That’s one way of doing it.

Luckily, Virgil either didn’t notice or didn’t care to comment on Janus’ jumpy behavior-- he yawned again and made a beeline for the coffee pot, where Janus had graciously prepared another pot just in time for Virgil’s late rise.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered as he poured his coffee. “Talk or shut your brain up.”

Janus snorted. Well, if Virgil didn’t care about being indelicate, then Janus sure wouldn’t.

“I found your blog.”

Virgil sighed, not looking up as his scooped a copious amount of sugar into the mug. “Yes, I remember, I got drunk enough to show my 2013 era Tumblr to Roman, and he got drunk enough to send it to the group chat. Cool reminder.”

“Not that one-- although your Superwholock fic was surprisingly well written,” Janus said. “I found... another blog. Of yours.”

“My anime blog?” Virgil asked. “Don’t you already follow that one?”

“Another blog,” Janus hissed. “A blog you haven’t told us about.”

With his mug only an inch away from his mouth, Virgil froze.

It was enough to tell Janus everything he needed to know.

“I don’t have any other blogs,” Virgil said, quickly bringing the mug up to his face and taking a sip.

“Virgil. Please don’t insult me by lying so boldly in my face.”

“Who’s lying?” he replied. “Not me. I’m standing up, not lying... down, that is-- oh, dad joke, ha! Speaking of which I think I’m supposed to be meeting Patton for, uh, brunch, right now--”

He darted out of the room, nearly sloshing his coffee in his haste. Janus heard his bedroom door slam shut, and he sighed.

Well, he wasn’t going to sit around and let Virgil stew in his own nerves. He got up from the table and moved to the hallway, coming to a stop right in front of Virgil’s bedroom door. He heard no movement coming from inside, so he figured Virgil was probably frozen in panic as he thought about what Janus had said.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Janus said bluntly through the door. “Or tell anyone. Patton knows I had something important to tell you, but I made absolutely no references to having found a secret of yours at all. It’s just me.”

He knew that still probably wasn’t overly comforting-- Janus was, admittedly, crafty and manipulative, and he often used information as leverage to get what he wanted. But given how genuinely upset Virgil seemed to be at the mere idea that his secret blog had been found out, Janus wanted to prove that he really wasn’t going to tell anyone. And unfortunately, he knew exactly what he had to do to prove it.

“A secret for a secret, an eye for an eye,” he continued, steeling his nerves. “Because, honestly, you... aren’t the only person in this household with... that specific kind of... interest.”

Again, he heard no noise, but Janus could picture the way Virgil’s face probably shifted from blind panic to slight confusion. Janus sighed.

“How do you think I found your tickle blog in the first place?” he asked drily.

Janus ignored the urge to cringe as he said the word aloud-- this conversation was not about his embarrassing secret interests, thank you, it was about Virgil’s. He didn’t have the chance to ponder on that further, because suddenly the door clicked open in front of him, as if Virgil had opened it and hurried away.

He stepped in, and there was Virgil on his bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow.

“You can block me if you want,” Janus said, moving to perch on the edge of the mattress. “Just let me type in my URL so you don’t see it.”

“How much did you see?” Virgil asked instead, voice muffled and defeated.

“About ten posts,” Janus said. “And no, you didn’t accidentally doxx yourself in any way. I’m just extremely clever.”

Virgil didn’t respond. At least he didn’t seem to be actively panicking, just humiliated. Janus himself was starting to feel a bit warm; he’d seen some... rather interesting posts before he’d realized whose blog he was looking at. Apparently he and Virgil had more in common than he’d realized.

“Virgil, I’m not going to bullshit you,” he said quickly, before his nerve was lost. “This sucks, and if it’d happened to me I’d break your computer in half, so I can imagine how you are feeling right now. But the fact of the matter is that we are both switches and we are home alone, and if you consent I would very much like to tickle you right now.”

Finally Virgil whipped around, eyes catching Janus’ with a wild look.

“What?” he squawked, voice cracking.

“Or you tickle me,” Janus said. “I’m really not picky.”

“This-- this is-- Janus.”

“Virgil,” Janus said firmly. “Take your pick, lee or ler?”

“I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack,” Virgil hissed. Janus could practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

“I’m trying to avoid an outcome like that,” Janus said through gritted teeth. “By being disgustingly open about what I want, in the hopes that we can bypass the anxiety and awkwardness and humiiation by treating this all as if it’s perfectly normal.”

Silence hung over the room for a moment as Virgil took in the words. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the blanket.

“I don’t know...”

Janus leaned in to catch Virgil’s mumble. Okay, that’s not a complete no. He could work with that.

“What don’t you know?” he asked with as much patience as he could muster.

Virgil continued to fiddle for a few seconds before he spoke. “Like, right now...?”

“No time like the present,” Janus replied. “Of course, we can wait if you’re not comfortable right now. Then again, I wonder how it would feel to wait in this room knowing that I’m right across the hall, ready to tickle you.”

He smirked when Virgil’s eyes snapped up towards him, a blazing blush crowning his face. “Janus!”

“What? You know I’m right. I could leave this room right now, but all your little fantasies in your head about what I could do to you would feel so delightfully real-- it’d be like I was still here.”

Nothing came out of Virgil’s mouth but a strain of choked noises. Belatedly, he covered his face with his hands. “Come on--”

“I mean, I really didn’t look very far through your blog before. I still have so many questions about this little sensitivity of yours.”

Now Virgil shoved his face back into his pillow, probably with the goal of hiding the soft whines that were now coming out of his mouth. It didn’t work.

“But, of course,” Janus continued, “I can’t touch you until you agree. You won’t get one little tickle from me until I hear you say so out loud.”

Virgil went silent for so long Janus considered checking that he hadn’t suffocated, but finally a muffled mutter came from his pillow that sounded suspiciously like the word please.

“Hm?” Janus said, because despite everything he wasn’t going to be too nice to Virgil. “I couldn’t quite catch that. You’ll have to speak up.”

More muttering, this time sounding closer to cursing, came from the pillow. Janus enjoyed drawing things out as much as the next ler, but he was getting pretty antsy. How to draw Virgil out?

Suddenly his mind flashed with a post he’d remembered seeing; a post that had also been reblogged by Virgil, with a few choice tags that made him think this could be a good idea.

“Virgil,” he asked softly. “How about you show me where you want to be tickled?”

And there it was; there was Virgil’s desperate squealing whine, his back arching just slightly, legs suddenly fidgeting behind him, and the tips of his ears burning red through his dark hair. Janus hit the nail on the head.

It only took a few more seconds for Virgil to roll over; his hands twitched, and he refused to look Janus in the face, but finally he managed to pull his t-shirt up over his stomach before shoving his face into his hands again.

Janus smirked. “I thought so.” He let one hand, gentle and wiggly, hover right above Virgil’s tummy. “When you want me to switch, I’ll just need you to pick another lovely little spot for me to tickle instead. One that’s just as ticklish, just so I know I’m getting a fair deal. You can do that, right?”

Virgil’s whine only last half a second this time, before it was replaced with a startled burst of frantic giggles as Janus began scratching all ten fingers around his sensitive tummy and sides. He curled up, and wiggled back and forth, and kicked his legs like there was no tomorrow, but his hands stayed over his eyes, his shirt stayed halfway up his torso, and he stayed right on the mattress under Janus’ lovely fingers.

“Oh, very good,” Janus cooed. His mind was already alight with all of the other posts he’d seen on Virgil’s blog, as well as things he’d found on his own that he was just so interested in trying. “You’re doing very well, Virgil. I think we’re going to have so much fun.”

[roo-bastmoon]

In Defense of Our Alliance

My dear friends, there's trouble on the timeline today and it hurts my heart. I'd like to make a case for peace, if I may...

Every group of friends and all communities need every so often to hash out differences in points of view, personalities, and policies--but I suspect there's a bit more to it than that, this time.

We are beset on all sides with enemies we cannot fight.

Billboard keeps deleting sales without explanation, deaf to our requests or complaints. They absolutely have a double standard for the artists who pay radio to play. We cannot be sure any of our new buying methods will work, and in this economy, nobody has money to burn without a care.

YouTube keeps deleting views, again without explanation, despite folks streaming under premium accounts and following best practices. Watching those counts go down by the hundreds of thousands every hour is maddening, especially when it doesn't happen to artists who pay for ads.

Spotify froze and split title tracks. Hanteo deleted sales data the second records broke. The company went completely silent--neither celebrating Jimin's Hot100 #1 nor publicly acknowledging his being unfairly pushed down the chart--again, without explanation or recourse. Even some members were silent about his achievement.

Meanwhile, the LA Times is writing love letters to other groups trying to use our group for validation, which is just baffling.

This is to say nothing of the cult, the haters, the shooters from other fandoms, dragging our friends and our members through the mud, nonstop, all day every day, with a particular viciousness I'd normally associate only with actual diagnosed psychopaths.

And we knew there would be challenges, maybe even a contrived scandal or two, around Jimin's release. But I don't think anyone could predict this level of a shit show.

Everyone is exhausted; everyone is on edge.

What was supposed to be a fun and safe space has become a battleground.

And most of us are so ready to defend Jimin and the other members, yet we have zero hope of a fair fight.

It is no surprise to me that, with all that fatigue and pent-up anger, we are starting to fight amongst each other.

I must acknowledge that there are a fair few things we need to hash out as a fandom--the ability to call a spade a spade and not be labeled an anti; the ability to block or take time away and not be called a coward; the ability to criticize but not give in to hate or cult-like narratives; the ability to speak our minds without spewing negativity. There's a lot that needs to be addressed, and it's for heads clearer and smarter than me to untangle it all.

But I will say this:

Jimin has only us. That much is very clear.

So I put it to you now:

We NEED our archivists, who help capture and catalogue the important milestones and the little moments that illustrate why our fandom believes what it does.

We NEED our tutors, who help us make the most of our streams and purchases and votes so we are not wasting time and money and effort.

We NEED our cheerleaders, who help reset our attitudes into more positive, gentler, kinder, more honorable kinds of fans.

And we NEED our discourse blogs, the ones who can entertain multiple points of view without bashing or adopting any particular stance.

Most of all, right now, we need to unite. Because Jimin has very few other folks in his corner. Hobi goes in today. And while his other members love him, I strongly suspect he will feel the absence of Hobi's unfailing support, his clear demonstration of affection, and his wise counsel.

Now more than ever, we must come together. And to do that, we each much decide:

Why are we here?

If you're here to experience pleasure over a ship or a rush of adrenaline over drama and tea, if you just want to look at pretty pics and fics and not really get involved--okay. You are a casual fan. Nothing wrong with that. All I ask is that you do no harm while in this space. Don't fuel the flames of any feud, please.

But if you're here for Jimin, for BTS, for Jikook... then the goal has to be to support Jimin and BTS and Jikook first and foremost, yes? Even though it would feel great to pop off on someone you don't like or agree with (and I'm in Super Menopause thanks to medication so I absolutely sympathize with folks who do pop off--god knows, I have), please try to ask yourself:

Does it serve our common purpose?

Does it help?

Is it kind?

Would Jimin and Jikook feel honored by it?

Would BTS be proud of us?

And if the answer is no, then: forgive yourself for being human. We are none of us perfect.

But maybe take some time away to reset and recharge.

Real life is stressful; fandom life is stressful. Try to get some deep sleep. Let yourself enjoy a nutritious, hearty meal. Watch a comedy show that makes you belly laugh. Look at something so beautiful it makes you tear up. Listen to uplifting music. Pet an animal. Take a walk. Enjoy a luxurious bubble bath. However you restore yourself to your BEST self, you deserve that.

And then? Bring your best self back to this fandom. Because otherwise, we abandon it to the loudest assholes out there.

In the end, I believe we all want to support our boys and to make the best judgements on how to be a good fan. We may disagree on how to do that. But that's no reason to insult our allies or harshly judge the way they conduct themselves.

Shame is not a teaching tool.

Let's lead by example.

I'm a small blog. I'm nobody important. If you've read this far, I'm already surprised. But if you're still with me--please take this much to heart: I sincerely want us to get back to being the loving, intelligent, hard-working, focused fandom we've always been.

We are just regular people. We are going to have bad takes, and bad days, and bad attitudes. But let's give each other a little grace.

And if someone truly has bad intentions, and wants to ruin things, then let us calmly, quietly walk away from them. No need to give our precious time and attention to anything toxic. Toxic people feed off it and only get stronger, anyway.

Our time and energy is best spent on what brought us all here in the first place: BTS.

These are my thoughts, and I mean to say them sincerely and gently.

If this post rubbed you the wrong way, my DMs are open and I'm willing to listen to your thoughts. (Because DMs are always the best place to question someone or discuss something sensitive, I think.) But it's very unlikely that you'll change my mind about the need for us to work together and treat each other compassionately, so, you might wish to just quietly block and be on your way instead.

In any case, I just wanna say... I see you guys, out there. I see you trying hard. I see you contemplating the best way to make use of your time and resources. I see your bubbly enthusiasm and your devastating frustration. I see you, and I think each of you are very human, in the best sense of the word. Despite all the heart aches and hardships, I'm still proud to count myself among you.

It's not much, but I'm sending you guys my love and support. <3

It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this.

I'll show you.

[yandere-valentine]

Maybe we shouldn’t write for Wally as his creator doesn’t feel comfortable about ppl lusting after him.

The poor guy is getting fan doxxed too. He’s just 1 created of the ARG and I’m pretty sure the puppet is his self insert. Not trying to be mean or rude just saying we should respect his boundaries

/genuine /not mad

Thanks for sharing with me this concern, Anon. And you're right.

And I think it's time for me to do something about this. To all my followers, I do hope you understand my decision and my feelings too.

In case you didn't knew - Clown (the creator of Welcome Home) is currently going through horrible things, outside and inside of the internet. They are being put under too many stressful situations with their feelings being constantly invalidated, his requests and boundaries ignored and their integrity being threatened.

As the Anon just mentioned - Clown is getting fan doxxed, people are doing proshipping and nsfw content even after they asked to not to do anything like that to their characters, there are users creating content about the show and planning on selling them even when Clown asked to not do that, there are users that are pretending to be them on other plataforms (like Tiktok, instagram, etc.), and so much more.

And yes - "it is something common in the internet" but Clown is expressing loudly how attacked they are feeling. Maybe not everyone had ill intentions on wanting to hurt Clown or not give a shit about what they are putting as boundaries - but there are so many out there that have SEEN how Clown is getting affected with everything and are not doing anything to change the situation or support them.

His project - the one that they have crafted with their bare hands and loved so dearly - is getting tainted and preyed away from their hands.

So, with that said... I've come with a decision that I hope you understand - I'm going to stop doing Yandere content about Welcome Home, and I'll stop doing yandere content in general.

As much as I love doing Yandere content in general and how much I liked doing said content for Welcome Home - it is not worthy if I am putting my 'grain of sand' to Clown's stress.

Yes, I may not have been doing sexual/nsfw things with Welcome Home, I may not have been creating content about them to later on sell it, I may not be trying to steal Clown's identity on internet or dox them, I may not have been writting really dark stuff (like r@pe or shit like proshippers have been doing lately) - but still. Yandere content, even when it has been all pure fiction and I do not condone it, it's abuse content in the end.

Why? Well - things like kidnapping, harassment, obsessive behavior, threats, and so much more are part of the whole ""yandere asthetic"". And I don't think Clown would feel comfortable if their characters are being written as that - even less Wally.

Yes, I know - Welcome Home is supposed to be a horror project, but there's a difference between the type of horror content Clown wants in the project and the type of horror content we put on it. It is not our project, nor our characters - and if Clown is telling us to not do something, then we must be decent human beings and actually listen and do what they are asking.

And believe me when I tell you I was having so much fun doing this and so happy recieving so many positive reactions on the things I've wrote - hell, I swear I've never been so active as a 'content creator' in a long while! You can see how much work, effort and creativity I've been pouring on this blog and specially on the Welcome Home yandere content!

But nothing of that is wrothy, not if I'm part of the problem - not if I'm hurting Clown some way or another. Because - fuck, I was partially ignoring Clown's boundaries! And it is my decision to stop doing that.

I thank you enough for everyone's support, likes, reblogs and comments - and I'm so sorry, but I'm going to delete every single one of my yandere posts (all of them) - if you have saved one of them, do not repost them anywhere - if you do, then you'll be part of the problem that is putting Clown on the ground (and I'll make sure to report the post so it gets taken down.)

I'm not going to delete the whole blog (only it's content, posts, etc.) - I want this message to stay up and for everyone to read.

Do not take this as a way for me to "pretend I did nothing wrong, that I am free of any mistakes and that I am a pure little white sheep, hidding everything under the rug" - I just don't want to "support" others on keep doing this content - even less for Welcome Home. I no longer feel comfortable on doing yandere content if that means I am hurting somebody or encouraging others on keep doing stuff that is in general no good!

Thanks for everything and for the support, but nothing of this is worthy if I am adding my part to the problem.

Please, support Clown in any way you can.

[dsimeon]

Okay, so… Lesson 40 spoilers ahead. I have many thoughts. Be warned, not all thoughts are positive.

Alright, so… We all know the general thoughts and feelings about the writing in nightbringer especially. I’ll touch on that later- but I will say, i sure as hell don’t think it was good in this most recent lesson.

First, I will say- I did greatly enjoy the individual moments with each of our boys. You’ll never guess who my favorite was- no, don’t look at the blog name- shit, yeah, it was Simeon. A close second was Barbatos, and following that, I loved Solomon in the whole lesson.

Simeon’s individual time was adorable. I loved the callback to the previous lesson. Giving him his own advice, and getting the option to cover his eyes for him as well? I think that was a nice touch. I also loved how we could see the seed of distrust planted in Simeon. We got to see him begin questioning his Father, which I think was actually very interesting. There Will be writing based on that coming from me at some point lol.

Next, Barbatos. I’ve seen other people talking about it, but… He knows. Barbatos SO knows. I loved how they hinted at him knowing that we aren’t from that time.

Lastly on the individual characters, Solomon! Normally, in OM, things that happened a while ago just straight up get forgotten, or brushed under the rug if they conflict with something new. I fully expected that to be the case with telling him his food is hot garbage. But it was very fun to see his endeavors in cooking once more, and actually succeeding with the help of Luke and Barbatos! I still feel bad about telling him the truth, but hey… someone had to. And we had a nice moment where his food was actually appreciated for it!

Now… That’s about all the positive things I have to say about this chapter. Please, click away if you don’t want to see criticism.

So… The goodbye felt lacking. The whole thing did, honestly- but the goodbye especially. You mean to tell me that we spent months building up to this epic moment where we are supposed to be going back home and… That?

1: the whole portal thing was absolutely pulled out of someone’s ass. Unless anyone remembers something I don’t- there was absolutely 0 mention of some hole in the sky that was meant to take us home. It makes no sense, either. We had the OPTION to wait until the founding ceremony, according to Solomon. That’s what made it special, in my opinion. The whole thing felt like laziness and rushed explanation. It feels as though they just didn’t want us to see Lucifer’s speech and wanted some excuse for the boys to “sacrifice” something for us, but really- there’s no reason.

2: You mean to tell me we really didn’t get to figure anything out about nightbringer? I want to be able to say that I trust the writers to give us more on nightbringer in the later lessons, but… We all know how much Solmare loves to just brush things under the rug. I wouldn’t be shocked if we got a half assed explanation, or even just ignored the whole nightbringer dudarino entirely.

3: Now, I can’t personally attest to it since I don’t give as many fucks about the hard lessons… But from what I hear, the hard lesson 40 was kinda bullshit. You’ll have to look for someone else’s explanation (or please, post your experience here!) but basically, from what I gathered, it also seemed very half assed.

4: This one is maybe more subjective, but… It bothers me a LOT that we never came clean. We made this big deal about having the brothers and everyone else trust us, but at the end of the day? We were no better. We hid a huge secret. And, don’t get me started with the whole “we can’t say anything because it will alter timelines” bullshit, because what the hell is the excuse with lesson 16 in OG? We died, then showed up again back then. That’s pretty groundbreaking shit.

ADDITIONALLY… Would that not give something for us to overcome? What is the point of storytelling if not to give the characters a problem? Say the timeline went fucky because we said something- I think that’s a way more entertaining tale than if everything went perfectly according to plan.

I’m really, really irritated that the MC had to be so hypocritical. How is it fair that we demand the trust from others if we won’t place our trust in them?

So… There are my thoughts. I don’t think my experience is universal- people are 100% free to disagree. But, with this being the season finale, I feel it was so… so lacking. Please, share your thoughts!

[city0f-dreams]

It occurred to me in the last hour or so that I keep mentioning Basil this and Basil that and with the exception of one or two people there’s no one that currently writes with me that followed that blog he was on lol 😂 Apologies for that. Allow me to take a quick moment, then, to explain who he is, how I write him, and why I will continue to write him despite his actor/co-creator having dumb opinions as of late.

“Basil” is Basil Fawlty, the protagonist of the 70s British sitcom Fawlty Towers (a show I love dearly that, while beloved in the UK, has zero presence online or in the US). He owns and runs the titular hotel, but he’s the last person who should be in a position of customer service. He’s rude, snobbish, arrogant, has more than a bit of a temper, he’s a chronic blame shifter…you get the point, he’s a horrible person to be around. A lot of the comedy in the series comes from both karma kicking in and making his life a living hell and the antics that ensue as he tries to maintain the flimsy lies he starts. Yeah…British comedy is a lot more “Always Sunny” than “Friends” lol

On my old blog, however, I tried to make him…less annoying, is the word I would use? For the sake of threads not being unbearable to continue I allowed him to warm up and show reluctant forms of gratitude towards the muses I wrote with, and I’ll be continuing that here. Just don’t expect it to happen for a long while or unless it’s under extraneous circumstances. I also completely ignore he and the rest of the cast’s tendency to be xenophobic and/or bigots, because I’m not comfortable writing that and that’s not the kind of stuff I want to project out into the world. He’s still plenty rude in other ways, though. And that’s what makes him fun to write! None of my other muses are as unquestionably stuck up as he is.

However, the problem comes in with his actor and co-creator, Monty Python alum John Cleese. In the months following me starting to write him he began a track of saying and agreeing with the stupidest things, particularly regarding a certain author’s LGBTQ+ opinions, and this track has continued to this day. He’s becoming his own character, which distresses me greatly as a fan of both the Pythons and the sitcom he created. In hindsight, it’s no wonder (minus people not having knowledge of the series) that interactions with Basil dropped off.

It’s all a bit disheartening, the stuff with John, to say the least. But in the least political way possible, because I refuse to get involved with politics, I could not give less of a shit about John’s opinions and stupidness and what he chooses to say or not say in his old age. The fact of the matter is, I’m a fan of his comedy work and his comedy work only, and to me no controversy can take away how brilliant his Python and Towers work is. And me writing my interpretation of his most entertaining character is my way of celebrating that work. Rping is supposed to be a fun hobby that involves writing characters you love, free of politics. Basil, for me, is just an example of that, nothing more and nothing less.

So, he’ll be my first male muse on this blog, coming sooner than later, followed by more well-known ones that aren’t as controversial for sure 😂 but I don’t want to abandon Basil. You don’t have to interact with him if he’s not your cup of tea, but don’t judge me based on whatever he may say or do-even if I am toning him down where it matters. If ever there was a place for a “mun does not equal the muse” disclaimer, this is it.

I’ll probably link to this post in my muse bio for him, too. Just felt like all of this needed to be said prior to his reintroduction so no one gets any weird ideas. Thank you all for listening.

[barbierpt]

I'm aware that I've only had an active voice as an rpt blog on here for barely 24 hours and I'm not the first person to likely share this view, but I've been lurking amongst the rpc for a few months now and I'm just... disappointed by most of the things I've seen. The amount of shit talking, bullying, callouts, and cancelling individuals or groups on this site for nonissues (in my opinion) and lack of knowledge or awareness behind some behaviors is absolutely ridiculous and we as a community all need to do better.

I started rping on this site ten years ago and the changes in the community between then and now is so obvious to me. Back then the main focus of rping was to actually write with each other.

I see a significant lack of empathy, compassion, and positivity within this community here and a whole lot of negativity and witch hunts that aren't always needed. It really is no wonder why it seems like the rpc is shrinking and moving away from tumblr when what's supposed to be a fun, creative, and interactive hobby appears to be mostly invested in the drama surrounding the people involved.

[ariyadaivaris]

forgive me im tired and bitter and ill stop talking about it but like...everything about k*nny or the gullet blub Changing The World as time goes on pisses me off more and more!!!! literally WHAT are they doing that changes the world!!!! whats changing!!!!! what is being improved upon here!!!!!! NONE of this is new, you cannot fucken tell me a white dude calling japanese wrestlers lesser than him and other white folks and booking sex offenders and being sanctimonious abt it when called out is not ONLY a positive change in the world, but ANY DIFFERENT THAN WHAT WRESTLING HAS BEEN FOR THE LAST FEW DECADES LMAO, like. what’s the big DEAL!!!!!!!! none of this is NEW none of this is REVOLUTIONARY none of this is interesting its just exhausting and frustrating and genuinely harmful more and more as of late and i just. im so fucken over it. watch tjpw and take better care of yourself

[caramellohigh]

dancer!soonyoung x dancer!reader

genre: smut, enemies-to-lovers (sort of...), dance partners, a whisper of fluff

warning/s: tension, oral (m), riding, teasing(?), dirty talk (slash hoshi talking shit), name calling/degradation(?), unprotected sex (package your meat before you beat, guys)

word count: 7k (how tf is this longer than the previous one. i’m so sorry > <)

synopsis: you hate Soonyoung with a burning passion and you’re pretty sure he feels the same way. when your crazy ass dance captain partnered you up for a class, you knew it would be difficult, but it proves to be even more so when a different type of tension starts brewing.

a/n: hey, it’s ebi!!! just thought i’d publish another drabble before i start doing the series. and yes, it’s another smut but no, i don’t think this is a 18+ blog (yet). it’s also only now occurring to me that this is so similar to Crumble? but also not? anyways, happy reading and pls, if you could, leave me some feedback <3

p.s. i don’t wanna go policing minors on here so if you’re as grown as you think you are then you know better than to consume content that isn’t for you, right? please don’t interact or you will get blocked. thank you <3

(edit: this is meant to be up on friday but things got hectic and i forgot... now it's up mere minutes away from the first chapter drop of Not Such a Good Boy lmao)

“...hope you guys had fun! Thank you so much for coming out tonight and see you guys in the next one!”

Your students nod their heads in fervent, chorusing out eager promises to indeed meet again in your next class. The positive energy makes you smile from ear to ear. With a final wave goodbye and a round of applause from your students, your last class of the day finally comes to an end.

A sigh of content escapes your lips. Another successful class is done and there’s nothing more fulfilling, more gratifying than seeing your students just as happy as you are.

You absolutely love your job, love how people build new friendships after just one class together, how everyone supports each other despite their different skill levels and just the fact that people who’re so different from each other come together and share the same passion.

While your students are filing out of the studio, a new batch comes in. Some of them greet you on their way in and you greet them back, having been familiar with their faces after seeing them here regularly. You’re preoccupied fixing your things and chatting with some colleagues who attended your class when a certain someone walks in.

Your back is turned away from the door but you don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. It’s not like you’re hyper aware of him, not at all, but that’s just how Soonyoung is. He has this presence, strong and unmistakable, his aura alone enough to command everyone’s attention. He carries himself with so much grace and confidence, even when he’s doing something as simple as walking.

The moment he enters the studio, the air suddenly shifts-- in a good way, you suppose, but not for you in particular. In fact, just knowing you’re in the same room is already annoying the shit out of you.

You ignore him as you usually would, even if your colleagues already acknowledged him and said hi, even if he brushed past you, you ignored him and kept talking. Chan and Jun weren’t even paying attention to you but your pride and ego just won’t let you spare him a glance.

“So anyways, I heard Cap has an idea for Valentine’s this year. We’re going to do like a couples class type of thing,” you tell them, turning up your own volume to bring their attention back to you. “Oh, right! I heard about that too! But I think Cap’s picking the pairs. You know, with the scheduling and stuff, I don’t think everyone will be available on Valentine’s day. It’s a weekday after all.”

You simply nod, minding your business talking to Chan about the Valentine’s day event you’re apparently having, Soonyoung’s voice nothing but background noise. But then... You suddenly hear your name being called. You and Chan blink at each other, taken aback.

Reluctantly, you turn to the voice calling you and even if he’s far away, literally across the damn room, your eyes just naturally found his. Soonyoung shoots you a friendly smile but the glint in his eyes is anything but. And as much as you want to send him back daggers with your own eyes, you couldn’t.

His students have all their eyes on you and you suddenly feel a sort of pressure to tame your facial expressions. You can’t have them know about your immense dislike for your fellow choreographer. You’d rather have them think you all get along well here. It saves the mood from getting dampened, saves them the tension-- or at least they won’t notice it, because with you and Soonyoung, there always is.

He calls your name again, pulling you out of your thoughts as he beckons you over, “Help me out? So I can show the students what the choreography is like?” His voice echoes through the eerily quiet dance studio, everyone’s attention on you, waiting for you to say something or even just start moving.

It’s then that you realized that you’ve been put on the fucking spot. And you know for a fact Soonyoung meant to do this. There’s a smirk just waiting to stretch at his lips, the mischief in his eyes getting more and more apparent as he stares at you. Jun, who’s right next to you, gives you a gentle nudge.

You stumble forward, trying your best to look composed even if you’re boiling inside. You obviously couldn’t say no with all these eyes staring at you anyway. So, with a discreet sigh, you start walking up to Soonyoung, a tight lipped smile plastered on your face as you make your way through the crowd.

His students clap their hands for you and so does the man himself, but unlike everyone else who’s giving you encouraging smiles, he is smirking at you. He’s not even trying to hide it. Clearly, he’s up to something and if your memory’s correct, you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, you stay calm about it.

When you make it to the front, you greet the class properly and introduce yourself. Soonyoung claps and rubs his hands together, “Great so about the choreography… You guys have seen Magic Mike, right?” A sense of dread creeps up your spine the moment he finishes his sentence.

Please don’t tell me-

“You guessed it right, guys! That’s what choreography is going to be like.” Soonyoung then grabs a chair from the corner and asks everyone to move back a little. He turns to you with a sly smile, “You won’t be doing much, don’t worry. I just need you to sit and look pretty for me.”

Your jaw clenches and you gulp. You were right all along. What Soonyoung’s doing now is revenge. You’ve done this before, used him as your prop when you taught your class a chair choreography and intentionally tried to make him hard to embarrass him. You should’ve seen this coming much earlier. You should’ve known damn well he’s going to retaliate.

Cueing the music, he holds your hand ever so gently and pulls you to walk with him. He twirls you around once, then slowly sits you down. He leaves a lingering touch on your hand, pulling away to do a little bit of freestyling while he waits for the verse to come.

You just look up at him, trying your hardest not to glare and technically having no clue what to fucking do. Your hands rest awkwardly on your lap, your body stiff as a wooden board. He stares right back at you with a smug look on his face.

When the first verse finally does come, your heart starts to beat a little faster. You expected the worst to happen, but the first part of his routine doesn’t seem too bad…

He ran his hands down your arms, grabbed your hands and let you feel his body up, but that’s fine. That isn’t something you can’t handle. It’s when the song progressed did you realize that he was just warming up, just giving you a little taste of what’s really to come. Because the next thing you know, he’s grinding on the floor, in the fucking air and eventually, on you.

It’s pure torture. At that point, your brain has gone completely blank and you’re not sure how you’re even reacting to any of it anymore. The only thing keeping you grounded are the students and their screams, the reaction he’s getting only spurring him on.

“And that’s it! Think you guys can do it?” he challenges, finishing his routine and leaving you there dumbfounded by everything that transpired. Snapping out of your daze, you eventually get up and wordlessly drag the chair to the side so the students could have their space back.

And seeing that Soonyoung seemed to be preparing to officially start, you thought you could just slip out of there without him noticing, but of course he still did, “You’re not leaving yet, are you?” There’s purr in his voice, a teasing lilt that you fucking hate. You stop dead in your tracks and sighed exasperatedly.

“I am. Why?” you replied in a clipped tone. Now that the students are preoccupied with stretching, you’re able to drop your act for a little bit. You narrow your eyes at him threateningly but he’s unfazed, scrunching his nose at you as if he found it cute, “Well, you can’t just yet.” You tilt your head, one of your eyebrows raising in question.

“I still need you for filming. And don’t worry about getting home, I can take you.” The smile on his face is anything but friendly. It’s scheming, sly and full of deception. Chuckling sarcastically, you pat his shoulder and feign an apologetic look, “Well, too bad. I’m leaving and you can’t do anything about it.”

That night will forever be etched in your brain. It seemed as though the universe was playing a sick game with you when you so conveniently had to stay behind because of you’re fucking boss. He called in an emergency meeting just as you were about to step out of the building and right before you could go to his office, you found yourself being pulled into the dance studio.

Everything happened way too fast. You’d barely put your bag down and the next thing you knew, you were back sitting on that god forsaken chair in front of everyone. No fucking wonder Soonyoung asked you to stay until the filming. He had something far worse for you up his sleeve. He showed absolutely no mercy with his freestyle at the end.

He pulled you to stand up, locking eyes with you, his stare piercing right through you. His hands traveled down to the back of your thighs and he lifted you up. By instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The entire time, his eyes never left yours and if you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn you could see lust pooling in them and it was as though he wasn’t doing it just to taunt you.

You were out of it for a second but you were instantly brought right back when you felt your back against the cold floor. Soonyoung pulled away and sat on his heels, looking down at you like he was going to devour you.

The not-so funny thing is, when the beat dropped, he suddenly dived down your clothed core and humped the fucking floor. Your legs shook and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from squealing. The crowd did it for you anyway, their hollering and clapping overpowering the music.

Needless to say, you were left so hot and bothered that night that you damn near bolted out of the building just to get home, a situation in your panites begging for attention. You’d never admit it, not a single soul will and should know about it, but you came so hard that night just imagining Soonyoung actually eating you out and fucking you with his fingers.

“Wait, what?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, your eyes widen and you stare at your boss as if he’s grown an extra head. You don’t have any classes today but the Main choreographer of your dance company called you in for a meeting about his Valentine’s Day gimmick, something you should’ve already discussed had you not ran the other night.

You didn’t think much of about the pairings, but knowing him and how he loves teasing the fuck out of you two, you probably should’ve seen this coming. “I’m partnering you up with Hoshi for the couples classes,” he repeats, snickering when your jaw drops.

“Cap, seriously? B-But… I can’t fucking stand him!” you groan, stomping your foot like a petulant child, “Can’t I get partnered with someone that’s less of a douchebag? What about The8?” The older male all but purses his lips and shakes his head.

“Nah, your schedules clash, plus I really love your guys’ chemistry! I mean, I’m not the only one,” he chuckles, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Do you know how many views Hoshi’s Magic Mike choreo has? And have you seen the comments? Ha! People love you two!”

You wince at the mere mention of it. You can’t believe that mortifying moment was caught on camera and apparently has gotten so much attention. “Your choreographing styles are pretty different but that’s the beauty of it. I just know you’ll come up with an interesting piece!”

The enthusiasm in his voice and the smug look on his face is enough to tell you that this arrangement is set in stone and you have no way out of this anymore so, taking in a deep breath, you try your best to not glare at him and just accept your fate.

You feel somehow wronged. Because you just know that this couldn’t even be about the schedules or chemistry or whatever the fuck his other excuses are. He probably just wants to see you both crumble.

“Alright, now that that’s settled. Hoshi’s in the choreographer studio in case you wanna get started already.” He grins at you, not even hiding the teasing behind it, and waves you off, “See you later! Oh and... goodluck.”

You pace back and forth outside his office for god knows how long, having a mental debate whether you should go to Soonyoung right now or not. It would be great if you could get started on it right away since you have your regular classes to worry about, but you were kind of nervous, maybe even scared about talking to him.

You’ve just never worked with him this… closely before. Sure, you’ve done group projects in the past especially when you were active in joining competitions, but not once did the two of you become dance partners. Everyone knew better than to leave you two alone with anything.

Well, everyone except your Team Captain apparently.

You grumble to yourself as you begrudgingly make your way down the hall, finally deciding to do something other pace around like some lunatic. The dance studio at the very end is exclusive to you choreographers. It’s where you usually come up with pieces for your class and is some sort of a lounging area as well. It’s a lot more private compared to the studios in the building and relatively small too.

Stopping by the door, you take a peek through the small glass window. Soonyoung is dancing, probably a choreography he came up with for class and his music choice piques your interest. It’s a song you’re very much familiar with after choreographing to the female version of it a couple weeks back.

You’re mildly surprised that he chose a song like this. Because as far as you know, he doesn’t gravitate to sensual songs. This is more your taste while he usually likes to choreograph to funky and hip hop influenced tracks.

For a moment, you forget what you’re even there for and end up just watching him instead. Very hesitantly, you acknowledge that he is indeed a really good dancer. You find yourself tapping your foot and bobbing your head to the beat, enjoying his dance.

But then comes a part where he lifts his shirt up, revealing his nice toned abs while simultaneously rolling his hips. You swallow hard. Was that fucking necessary? Can’t he do that move without lifting fucking shirt up like that?

It doesn’t at all help that he’s feeling himself so much either, looking at the mirror with a smoldering gaze and not to mention the suggestive lyrics of the song. Gradually, your body warms up and your mind starts to wander to treacherous places.

Flashbacks of last night rear its ugly head and you shiver in fear that it might happen again today. There’s no fucking you’ll pleasure yourself with Soonyoung in mind ever again. Just no fucking way. So you do something that you think is the most logical thing to do: you walk away, leaving before the universe decides to turn things around again.

Being forced to get together and figure out a choreography to teach apparently meant staying behind much later than you both anticipated. It usually doesn't take you that long to choreograph anything for your classes. Once you’d find a song that you liked, the moves just come out naturally but that’s definitely not what’s happening right now.

Because you’re working together, you have to incorporate both your ideas into the routine. And if there’s anything you’re both not good at, it’s that.

Your choreographing styles and difference in music taste is already a given, but there are just a million other things that you do so differently. You’re both adamant on doing things your way too so now you’re stuck, unable to find a middle ground.

“Let’s take a break.”

“We barely started… but yeah sure.”

You ignore the sassiness in his tone and silently make your way to your bag, snatching the water bottle next to it. You take a few angry gulps and think hard about how the fuck you’re going to make this work while Soonyoung, completely unbothered, goes through his playlist.

He plays a random song, then sets his phone down on the table. He runs his finger through his hair, casually grooving to the music, getting a feel of the instrumentation to jump start his creative juices. When he starts to do a little freestyle, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and look at his reflection.

You’re admiring his flow and how he interprets both the lyrics and beats with his body when he suddenly thrusts up in the air and… perhaps intentionally, looks right into your damn eyes as he’s doing it. You want to fucking scream.

He’s doing it again-- taunting the fuck out of you, just waiting for you to downright snap. But you’ve held out for a couple of days already. There’s no way you’re giving this asshole the satisfaction. So, taking a deep breath, you set your water bottle aside and join him on the dance floor.

“Let’s do this song,” you say, sauntering over and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I think it’ll suit both our styles. The bass hits pretty hard, something that you like but there’s some slow moments too, especially with the way he sings…” Convinced, finally, he nods his head, “Alright, pretty. Let’s see how we do.”

“And for this part, we can hit the downbeats.” You try it out and it seems to work for you but Soonyoung shakes head, ever so bluntly telling you that he doesn’t like it. “We should stay on the beat and just ride it out. Like this...” Soonyoung grabs your hips carefully, the warmth of his hands seeping your clothes.

Your brows furrow and you turn to look at him, only to swallow a gasp when you realize just how close you actually are to each other, faces millimeters away. With his body flushed against your own, his hands guide your hips to grind back against him. The rational part of your brain almost-- almost slips away but thankfully, you’re able to catch yourself.

“I-It doesn’t fit,” you look away, eyes back on your reflection and he just chuckles, “Oh? Would you prefer it this way then?” A ghost of a smirk dances on his lips before he’s the one grinding against you, hot breath on your ear making goosebumps erupt all over your arms. Your jaw clenches.

“Look, It really doesn’t work!” You try your best to sound tough but your voice comes out weak, near damn cracking when you attempt to raise your voice at the end of your sentence. And Soonyoung just eats it up.

In a complete 360, he smiles, eyes disappearing into crescents, “Okay then! Let’s go with what you suggested earlier.” His nonchalant and almost cheerful tone has you scoffing. Because of course-- Of fucking course, he’d disagree with you just to tease you and get some type of reaction from you. You walked right into that one. Good lord, you fucking hate this man’s guts!

“Soonyoung, please. Can we finish this already? Valentine’s is literally two days away!”

“I am trying to finish it. You’re the one who’s so distracted and sensitive. You’re literally snapping at every little thing!”

You shoot him the dirtiest look you can muster and he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes at you, “Sheesh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” You take another break for god knows how many times already, trying your best to stay away from each other despite the small space.

You’ve been at each other’s throats since you started and it’s only getting worse as time progressed. But as much as you’d hate to admit it, this is... kind of your fault. You’ve had a really tough day at your day job, your boss giving you a hard time for no apparent reason and your work colleagues just decided to be shitty to you too.

All the pent up stress and frustrations you’ve been bottling up inside since this morning exploded right at your face. And you’ve unintentionally taken it out on Soonyoung. The worst part is, you already realized this but you couldn’t seem to get a grip and just kept snapping at him. Feeling guilty, you frown deeply and sigh through your nose, hugging your knees to your chest.

In Soonyoung’s case, he was very honestly upset with you. He’s not even angry, just very sad and disappointed with how you’re acting. Last time he checked, he did nothing wrong to you so he doesn’t understand why you’re so aggressive to him. Surely, you don’t hate him that much to compromise work, right?

The frustrated male with heavily furrowed brows looks at you, directly across from him on the other side of the tiny studio. You’re curled into a sad little ball, forehead on your knees, shoulders moving every now and then at your heavy sighs and he suddenly feels bad.

Slowly, he figured that maybe this wasn’t about him and your supposed “hate” for him anymore. Because while you’re not exactly on the best terms with each other, you’ve never acted out of line before. This must mean that something happened earlier in the day.

Heaving a sigh of his own, Soonyoung pushes himself off the wall and carefully makes his way to you. You lift your head off your knees when you feel him coming close and tentatively, he squats to meet your level. “Are you okay? You seem pretty out of it today...” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically soft. You drop your head back down, too guilty to even properly look at him. “I’m sorry...” is all you can say.

Soonyoung sighs again, he sits down on the floor and suddenly grabs your hands. The unexpected touch lifts your head up again and you shoot him a weak glare when he starts tugging at them, “Just move your damn ass so I can sit behind you.”

You have no idea what he’s planning but you don’t have the energy to keep fighting with him so, furrowing your brows, you just let him drag you forward. He scoots to sit behind you like he said he would and situates you between his legs, strong thighs snug against your sides.

At this point, him being this close doesn’t bother you anymore. You’ve gotten used to it somehow so this should’ve been okay… But then he smooths down your arms in a gentle caress and comes back up to rub soothing circles on your shoulders.

One hand massages the tense muscles while the other moves up even farther, wrapping loosely around your neck. You take a sharp inhale, your body heat rising every passing second. He hums to himself when the sound reaches his ears, a satisfied smirk stretching on his lips.

He then gently cups your jaw to turn your head slightly and he leans forward, lips touching the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Tell me what happened.” His hand on your jaw slowly goes back to your shoulder and you can’t help but close your eyes.

With the way his voice seemed to drop an octave lower and with his hands expertly kneading your skin, the lyrics to the song playing in the background is suddenly making too much sense. It seems like it’s speaking to and for you.

Your face heats up, just like the rest of you and you become a tad bit flustered. You open your mouth, willing yourself not to moan at the way his hands are working on you and stumbling through your words as you try to vent out to him.

For the first few seconds, everything was fine.

His hands felt extremely good on you but you were still doing okay. It was when he starts to drop kisses on your bare shoulder and nose at your ear did you really, finally fucking lost it. He moves your hair out of the way, lips latching onto the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking lightly at the flesh.

Your head unconsciously tilts to give him more access and your teeth digging into your bottom lip to reign in your noises. His hands move from massaging your shoulders to your breasts and he pushes his erection against your lower back. Humming and sighing in pleasure, one of your hands tangles in his hair while the other squeezes at his thigh.

You are gone, gone in the way he’s touching and caressing you, the way his lips are moving along your skin, but you’re brought right back to your senses when you feel his fingers dance across the waistband of your shorts.

You let out a startled gasp, eyes shooting open as you grab his wrist to stop him from going any further. Soonyoung calmly pulls his hand out of your hold, feeling up your body once more as he goes back to kneading your boobs, playing with your nipples between his fingers. You swallow hard and turn to him.

“Hmm? What’s the matter?” he mumbles against your skin and you become a stuttering mess, “Th-The choreography… We-- We still need t-to finish it…” Soonyoung leans back, utterly amused. “You’re seriously still thinking about that when I have my lips on your neck and hands on your tits?”

He chuckles and grinds against you, “You can feel how hard I am now, right? You have to let me finish first, babe. The dance can fucking wait~” The sensual purr in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over you, panties getting significantly wetter than they already are.

There’s a small voice at the back of your head nagging at you, telling you that you shouldn’t let this happen and you will regret it if you do but you ignore it, getting up to your feet and pulling him up with you.

You’ve snapped.

There’s no going back now.

“You’re so fucking annoying, Kwon Soonyoung. If you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve just said so.” You smirk to yourself, leading him to the couch at the back of the room. He just laughs when you push him to sit, leaning back cockily with arms splayed out on the back rest, “Cute but you and I both know the feeling’s mutual.”

Your brow raises when he doesn’t even deny it, but he simply smirks, eyes twinkle at the sight of you kneeling between his legs. He licks his lips in anticipation, “I see the way you look at me when I dance,” and curls a tendril of hair behind your ear, looking right into your eyes with a smug smile, “You undress me with your eyes, looking like you want to devour me whole.”

You still have the nerve to glare at him, all the while undoing the strings on his sweats to pull it down. He laughs again, this time sounding a little more condescending, “Look at you, so eager to have my cock in your cute mouth. Bet you’ve dreamed of doing this, haven’t you?”

His constant provocation hits a nerve but you can’t deny how it makes you clench around nothing. You fight the urge to moan at his words, masking it with a scoff as you palm his erection, loving how stiff and warm it is in your hand.

Soonyoung hisses, “I don’t like getting teased, baby. Now unless you prefer to not cum tonight, I suggest you open up and put your pretty lil’ mouth to work.” You roll your eyes at him but you comply anyway. You pull his boxers down, Soonyoung automatically lifting his hips to make it easier for you.

He is much bigger than you expected him to be though and your mouth waters at the sight. The way his veins pop, tip leaking with precum, flushed red has you biting on your lower lip. You look up at him under your lashes and you scoot closer, maintaining eye contact as you experimentally wrap your lips around the tip.

You lick up his leaking slit and suck lightly. Soonyoung curses under his breath, hips bucking beyond his control. One of his hands comes down to thread his fingers through your hair and gently, he pushes you down his length. You let him do as he pleases, opening your mouth wider to accommodate his girth.

His head falls back against the couch when you dip your head even lower without his prompt and a low groan spills from his parted lips. You did it slowly but it already has his head spinning. Your tongue feels amazing licking down the vein under his cock and he bucks his hips again when he feels himself hit the back of your throat.

“You fucking slut!” he grunts, pulling you off of him by your hair. “How could you take me so well so easily? It’s like your mouth is made to take me. Mmm, such a good lil’ whore.” His cooing gets you riled up again and you’re convinced he’s already figured out that it gets you going. He can tell by the way the look in your eyes changes the moment he finished his sentence.

Smiling at him innocently, you massage his muscular thighs, softly squeezing down the firm muscles, dragging your nimble fingers up but only barely touching him where he needs you most. For a while, he lets it slide, your little kisses up his length and kitty licks on the head of his cock enough to satisfy him…

Until it doesn’t anymore.

A growl rumbles from his chest, his impatience getting the best of him, but before he could snap at you, you wrap your hand around his length.

He blinks away the frustration clouding his dark eyes, chest heaving, hissing as you stroke him at a leisurely pace and take your sweet time kissing his inner thighs. His fingers in your hair twitches and he whimpers.

“That’s not-- You’re s-supposed t--” his breath hitches in his throat when you press your thumb hard against his slit, intimidating eyes looking straight into his bleary ones as you lick on a fresh hickey. He grips tightly at your hair to ground himself, choking on his own whimpers. You cluck your tongue at him, “So impatient.”

Slowly, you thumb his slit up and down to chastise him and his thighs begin to spasm at the sensitivity.. You enjoy every bit of his suffering, giggling when you can very see the internal turmoil he’s going through written all over his face.

Giving up, Soonyoung so desperately shoots you a pleading look, his hand gently pushing your head forward. He doesn’t say anything but his whining is enough to make you relent.

You resume stroking him nice and slow, but his impatient ass thrusts into your closed fist. Your dark laughter makes his cock twitch in your hold, “Do you still want me to do something or do you wanna take care of it yourself while I watch?” You lay your head on one of his thighs, blinking up at him innocently and he thrashes his head against the backrest.

“Fuck you! Just put me in your damn mouth so I can fuck that pretty face of yours!”

“Ah, ah, ah~”

Soonyoung whimpers again, free hand balling into a tight fist when you squeeze down hard at the base of his cock. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just--” he breathes, trying to calm down, “I want to cum... I’m already close! P-Please… make me cum, please!” You loosen your grip immediately, dropping a kiss on his thigh one last time before finally taking him into your mouth.

He drags out a long moan, eyes falling shut in pure satisfaction. You were barely doing anything before but he was already so affected and on the verge of cumming. Now that you’re sucking him off properly, taking as much of him as you possibly could and sucking hard as you come up, he’s not sure if he can last very long.

As you bob your head faster, he finds himself thrust up to meet your movement, both his hands now holding your head. You start gagging but you do nothing to stop him. You moan around him, squeezing down his tensed thighs as you try your best to breathe through your nose.

And that’s what did it.

The vibrations push him over the edge and before he could even warn you, his orgasm hits him like a strike of lightning. His body ceases, releasing hot ropes of cum down your throat and you happily swallow as much of it as you can.

“Fuck… Holy fuck, that felt s-so good,” he mumbles, body starting to relax as he comes down from his high. He slowly lets go of your head and you pull off sputtering, a mixture of cum and spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. You lick at the plump flesh to get any excess off and teasingly suck on his tip, milking him of his cum.

He growls and pulls you up to straddle his lap. You bite your lip to hold in your giggles when his fingers hastily unbutton your cropped cardigan. “Greedy cumslut,” he mutters right before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He throws your top away carelessly and unclasps your bra with one pinch, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill your pussy up to the brim with my cum.”

And then he shoves your loose shorts to the side, kissing you again as he runs a finger over your clothed core. “Fuck,” he pulls away with a loud pop, “Did sucking me off get you this wet, baby? You like it that much? Hmm?” You respond with a pathetic moan, grinding down on his fingers to provide yourself with some sort of friction. Soonyoung chuckles, “I can’t wait to feel how tight your lil’ cunt is~”

All his dirty words go straight to your core. Your brain completely blanks, reducing you to a mess of whines and mewls. You crash your lips onto his, kissing him feverishly and kisses right back with the same intensity. He smiles against your lips when you try to dominate the kiss, your hips relentlessly moving.

Soonyoung stops you and then he moves your panties to the side. You moan, sucking on his bottom lip as you replace his hand with your own to hold it off to the side for him. He takes the tip of his cock and rubs it through your folds, adding pressure when he passes your clit. You unintentionally bite his lip at the teasing.

“Soonyoung,” you whine, moving your hips again and he chuckles against your lips. “Who’s impatient now, huh?” You pull away just to glare at him but it passes fast when he finally pushes in. The stretch makes you dig your nails deeper into his shoulders, eyes screwing shut as your mouth hangs open.

Soonyoung doesn’t have time to revel in your pleasured expression as he too, closes his eyes, head falling back for the nth time. You feel just as good as he imagined, maybe even better. So fucking wet, warm and heavenly tight.

He gently massages your waist, allowing you to breathe and adjust to his size, for once, being patient with you. He tries distracting you with another kiss and so far, it works. Slowly, as you melt into the strangely sweet and affectionate kiss, you start to rock your hips against him.

Soonyoung pulls away first, “Go ahead, pretty. Make yourself cum on my cock, I’ll watch.” He smiles at you but unlike the other times before, there’s no trace of taunting or mockery in it. If anything, it’s soft… fond almost.

You try not to get side-tracked by your confusion and instead just focused on how good you fucking feel. With you sitting right on his cock, you can feel him all the way up to your cervix and you can’t help but mewl in the most sultry of ways, eyes fluttering shut to savor the moment while Soonyoung keeps his eyes trained on you.

You run your hands up and down his toned torso, feeling every dip and ridge underneath your fingertips. You’ll never admit it out loud but he’s so fucking hot. Just feeling him up makes you clench around him and he groans when he feels it. He gives you a look, his eyes warning you to take advantage of this moment while he’s being nice to you and you quickly take the hint.

You rest a hand on his shoulder while the other holds the back of his neck and finally, you lift yourself up and slam back down on his cock. The action makes you whimper and you throw your head back. Soonyoung curses under his breath, eyes eating up the way your face twists in pleasure, the way you bite your lip when you think you’re being too loud (which you are but he couldn’t care less right now).

Once you find your pacing, you start bouncing on his cock, alternating between that and swiveling your hips while he hugs your waist to help you.

“Fuck… S-Soonyoung, I’m close!”

“M-Me too. God, you’re doing so well, baby. Keep fucking going… please!”

You’re admittedly getting tired but what Soonyoung just whispered to you gave you new found strength. You bounce on him faster and he starts thrusting up whenever you slam down, desperately chasing his own high. At this point, you’re both being loud, cries of his name and groans of your own filling the room, not a single care in the world if anyone who is still around can hear.

You don’t even notice the song playing on repeat, probably drowned out by your lewd noises. “S-Soonyoung! A-ah! Ha-ah! I’m--” He quickly thumbs at your clit and you cum almost right away. Your back arches, chest pressing against his own as you still and cry out.

The fluttering of your tight walls around him pushes him into his own orgasm and curses into your hair, hugging you even tighter as he unloads inside of you. His warm cum filling you up only makes your orgasm all the more satisfying, “Ah! Y-Yes, Soonyoung give it to me. Give me all your cum!”

You ride out both your highs with tiny swivels of your hips and Soonyoung drops his head on your shoulder, completely satiated. You slow down to a stop, chest still pressed against each other moving in sync as you both try to catch your breath.

You’re sweaty and sticky but that doesn’t stop Soonyoung dropping light kisses on your shoulder and neck. “So good for me, my pretty lil’ cumslut…” he mumbles, a little dazed. He brushes your hair behind your ear and kisses your sweaty temple tenderly and carefully lifts your limp body up so he can pull out.

And his lips linger at that same spot as you tiredly slump over him, your panties and shorts sliding back to place. You moan softly when you feel his cum spilling out of you and into your still wet panties. For a moment, you stay like that, with you on his lap, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders while he presses absentminded kisses on your temple and the side of your face, rubbing your back up and down.

You almost fall asleep at how comfortable you feel but Soonyoung urgently tapping your thigh forces your heavy eyelids open. You pull away glaring and he chuckles, “Get off before I get hard again and fuck your pretty brains out,” he scrunches his nose and smacks your ass, making you yelp.

“Greedy baby. Your hips still keep moving even when you’re dozing off on my lap. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still naked.” You blush at the realization that yes, your hips were still moving, lazily grinding against him as you got more and more comfortable nestled in his strong arms.

You try to play it cool though, climbing off his lap without a word and looking elsewhere as he puts his boxers and sweats back on. After tying the strings securely on his sweatpants, he picks up your discarded top and hands it over to you.

You mumble a small thank you, grabbing your bra that’s sitting on the couch before taking your top from him. You quietly get dressed while he does the same and pulls his muscle tank over his head. When you’re both clothed again, Soonyoung grins at you and bends over. He attempts to press his lips against yours but you’re quick to dodge it.

You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him and he just laughs, standing upright again, “Alright, pretty. You can play hard to get some other time. Wanna try getting back to our piece now?”

It’s almost comical how drastically your face changes at the mere mention of it, blood drains from your face and you look absolutely mortified. “Oh, fuck…” you mutter under your breath as you shoot up from the couch. You sway a little, legs still tired from your earlier efforts and Soonyoung reaches out in record speed to make sure you don’t fall.

You swat his hand away, “God dammit, Soonyoung. The piece still isn’t finished!” He laughs, fond eyes staring at the growing cease on your forehead and then he shrugs, “At least we did.”

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[etherrreal]

“5:00am”

Pairing: ushijima x reader Genre: fluff Summary: looking back, you’re not sure what made you think that jogging with ushijima would end in anything but complete and utter disaster, but it’s too late to go back now WC: 5k Warnings: brief mentions of non-serious injury, a little blood, implied smut, too many paragraphs about ushijima’s hands A/N: first fic gang! this was supposed to be like 500 words but as the blog title suggests, i’m a liar -Dawn

You’re not sure what possesses you to go jogging with Ushijima at the ungodly hour of 5AM –and on a Saturday, no less– but here you are, tugging a windbreaker over your tank top and leggings while he waits for you by the door.

Most of it, you’re sure, is just because you miss him. The two of you have been so busy lately –you with your new job, him with the whole professional volleyball thing– so this is the first weekend in a while that you’ll actually be spending together.

It’s only natural that you want to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriend before your respective commitments are back to pulling you both in opposite directions, as they have more times than you’d like to admit in the past four months you’ve been dating.

Or maybe 5AM-you, lacking caffeine, sleep, and any sense of real judgment, is just losing your mind.

Ushijima certainly seems to think so, if the look he gives you when you volunteer to accompany him on his routine morning jog is any indication. He’s far from the most expressive person you’ve ever dated, but you’ve been with him long enough to register the surprise on his features; the way his pretty olive eyes widen a fraction and the way he pauses to watch you, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are.

“What?” you ask as you join him by the door, removing your slippers.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You hate running.”

“Running? Absolutely. Jogging, however, I think I can handle, especially if it’s with my handsome boyfriend who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with lately.”

With your slippers out of the way, you move to reach for your sneakers next. A quick glance in his direction confirms that he’s still giving you that same bewildered look, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It makes you falter as you pick up your sneakers, wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Now that you think about it, he does usually jog on his own. The two of you are no strangers to working out together –if him doing push-ups with you perched comfortably on his back counts as working out– but you’ve never actually joined him on a morning run before.

Is this something he prefers to do alone? Are you overstepping his boundaries by inviting yourself along before checking to see if it was okay? Suddenly, you find yourself wishing you would’ve asked first.

“Do you...not want me to go with you? Because if you’d prefer to go alone, that’s totally fine, I’ll just–”

He catches your wrist before you can put your sneakers back down, and the rest of your sentence is lost somewhere between the fingertips he presses against your skin and the other hand he uses to lift yours.

It’s almost criminal, you think, the way a single touch from him is enough to completely derail your train of thought, whatever you were babbling about suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. You think you shouldn’t be as phased by it by now, not after all the time you’ve spent together, but no such luck.

Really, it’s his hands that are the problem, now that you think about it. His hands, steady and calloused and strong, but still so undeniably gentle and patient when it comes to you.

It’s hard to pick your favorite feature of Ushijima’s when he looks the way he does –all tanned skin, broad shoulders, and chiseled abs– but his hands are pretty high up on your list. They have been from the moment you met him at Iwaizumi’s housewarming party last year.

You had obviously seen him before, though you never actually spoke to him until the party. It was mostly during high school volleyball matches between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa, courtesy of your childhood friendship with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

You remember spotting Ushijima and thinking he looked so serious and unapproachable, even more imposing than he did in the photos of him featured in that Monthly Volleyball magazine you used to watch Oikawa vandalize with ridiculous-looking mustaches and devil horns.

When you saw Ushijima at Iwaizumi’s party, he still looked serious, not to mention larger and even more intimidating in person, but his hands were warm and kinder than you were expecting, careful in the way they wrapped around yours when he introduced himself. It was only hours later when those same hands reached for yours again to help you off the couch that you realized you spent the whole night with him.

Now, months later, you’re standing with him in his stupidly expensive apartment, half-panicked that you might’ve overestimated his desire to spend time with you. But Ushijima’s hands are still steady and warm against your skin, even now, reassuring in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of.

“I’d love it if you joined me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, and if you weren’t smiling before, then you definitely are now.

You pull on his hand to tug him down towards you, a request that he silently obliges. You perch on your toes to reach him and deliver a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against his mouth. When you pull away to look at him, you find him smiling, too, in that soft and subtle way of his that you’re so glad he’s chosen to share with you.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he adds. “We’ll be running for a while, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re clumsier than most.”

Sadly, he’s not wrong. You are pretty clumsy, almost cartoonishly so. He’s watched you bang your leg on his dining room table practically every time you pass it, heard you curse to yourself after accidentally knocking down every item in his shower. At this point, holding your arm in his is as natural to him as breathing, just so he’s there to keep you from tripping over your own two feet.

And while you definitely appreciate the concern, you don’t think it’s entirely necessary, at least not for this. Sure, you have a bad habit of falling on your ass more often than not, but you’re also able to do so without sustaining any major injuries. You’re confident this time will be no different.

Besides, it’s just one jog. You’ll survive, even if your muscles might hate you for it later. Still, you know he worries about you, which is why you reach up to give him another quick kiss.

“Deal,” you assure him once you pull away. Then, you grin, voice taking on a more teasing edge as you look up at him. “As long as you promise not to be embarrassed when I leave you in the dust. You know, since I’m just so naturally athletic.”

Ushijima’s never been the best at detecting sarcasm, but with you, like so many other things, it’s different. He can tell you’re joking by the way you giggle and wink at him, and when he huffs out a quiet laugh, you smile and sit down to put on your sneakers.

He surprises you when he kneels to tie them for you before you get the chance to do it yourself.

“Careful, Wakatoshi,” you warn him, not for the first time. “If you keep being so sweet to me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me. You might just be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s fine,” he says, like he’s already considered the consequences before and has chosen to accept them. “You’re the only one I can imagine being with for that long, anyway.”

He moves on to tie the laces on your second sneaker, taking zero responsibility for the way his words make your heart flutter in your chest. He always does this: says stupidly romantic things with barely any prompting and absolutely no consideration or even awareness of the effect they have on you.

His voice doesn’t change when he says them, either. He uses the same blunt tone he always does, like it’s a simple fact, like he’s asking you to pass him his phone charger instead of alluding to a potential future with you.

It just makes you fall that much more in love with him.

Not that you’ve actually told him yet. You’re still waiting for the right moment. You wonder if maybe this might be it, but then he stands up and turns away from you to open the door and the opportunity is gone.

Maybe that’s for the best. This morning, you decide that you can handle jogging with your pro-athlete boyfriend or confessing your love for him, not both. The latter will just have to wait for dinner tonight, assuming you make it back in one piece and your legs don’t just fall off from the sudden exercise.

You stand up and follow him out the door.

Ushijima insists you both take the time to stretch before you actually start running, so you spend a few minutes doing so in the empty lobby. You pretend to struggle with a few of them, just so you’ll have an excuse to have his hands on you.

You’re almost positive he sees through your little ruse, if the amused look he gives you is any indication, but he doesn’t complain, guiding his hands over your body to help you bend and stretch like he can’t see the grin on your face.

Once you’re all warmed up, you’re ready to start jogging. You follow behind him as he leads you along his usual path down the block, the streets noticeably empty, save for the occasional passing car.

You know the only reason you’re able to keep up with him is because he’s slowing down for you, but you don’t let it bother you. He’s a professional athlete, after all, and you’re the kind of person who doesn’t even like to run to catch the bus, so it’s to be expected. Still, you give it your all, remembering to keep your breathing steady just like he taught you.

And you have to admit, your aversion to any sort of cardio aside, jogging with Ushijima is actually kind of fun.

For the first five minutes, at least.

Then it all goes to shit.

You’re not sure how it happens, either. One moment, everything is great. Sure, you’re already feeling a little sweaty, and maybe your lungs are screaming at you just a tiny bit –the price of inactivity, and all that– but you power through it because, in the words of so many great orators before you, mama ain’t raise no bitch.

But then you trip on something –a pothole in the street, your own foot, who the hell knows– and suddenly you’re wiping out for the entire world –or maybe just your boyfriend and that one stray cat you passed, which is still pretty embarrassing– to see.

Ushijima’s quite a few feet ahead of you now, because as much as he tried to slow down for you in the beginning, you figure he just can’t help but speed up a bit. He’s not the type to do anything half-assed, not even a casual morning jog. You’re almost grateful for it in a way, because it means he doesn’t actually see you trip and stumble like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.

He does, however, hear the yelp that escapes your throat, making him glance over his shoulder just in time to see you fall forward. He runs back towards you, but he’s too far to reach you in time, and your knees hit the pavement hard, your hands shooting out to catch yourself as best as you can.

You don’t even have to look to know that the skin on both your knees and your palms is scraped up. There’s also a shooting pain that starts at your ankle and darts right up your leg, reassuring you that you most definitely stepped on it wrong.

Ushijima is by your side in an instant, normally stoic face scrunched up with worry. He helps you twist yourself into a more comfortable position on the sidewalk, though it does little to ease your embarrassment or your annoyance with your own incoordination.

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not entirely the truth. Your palms are stinging and your ankle is throbbing, not to mention the fact that your knees currently resemble a cat’s scratching post. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

The look he gives you is doubtful, and you know for a fact he doesn’t believe you at all. “You’re bleeding.”

And holy crap, you are. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you, since you felt the entire thing, but the sight of the blood on your knees and palms still stuns you a bit.

“Come on.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up with ease you would normally marvel at if it didn’t make you feel so pathetic. “We’re going back. I’ll be able to treat your wounds and take a better look at your ankle.”

“Whaa– but we’ve barely even started jogging!” you protest, pouting despite the stinging of your cuts. “I told you that I’m fine, Toshi. I can still walk–”

You try to put pressure on the ankle you rolled and immediately wince. You almost stumble forward again, but this time Ushijima is there to catch you, holding you against him with his arms around your waist.

“No, you can’t. You need to treat your injuries, so stop being stubborn and let me help you. We’re going back.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyebrows drawing together in frustration –mostly at yourself– but stubborn as you are, you know he’s right. There’s no arguing your way out of this one, not that he would listen to you in the first place. He’s always been protective of you, which means he won’t be budging on this.

You heave a defeated sigh but nod at him anyway, relenting. He helps you hobble along with your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist for a few steps before he seems to think better of it.

In one fluid motion, he’s picking you up in his arms, holding you bridal style against his chest. And while normally his arms are one of your favorite places to be, the fact that he has to carry you like this all because you’re an idiot who can’t watch where you’re going is doing nothing to ease your already damaged pride.

You try to convince him to put you down and let you walk on your own, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t agree. Your face, which is already warm with embarrassment, just seems to heat up even more. Your mortification only increases when you spot his apartment building a few streets later.

God, the two of you were running for what, maybe five minutes? Six? And now you’re already back home? Talk about embarrassing. And right after you promised him to be careful, too.

The fact that the pothole –which you are now deciding to blame for your fall, because you don’t think your ego can handle anything else– had the audacity to trip you and then not immediately swallow you whole to save you this embarrassment is honestly disrespectful, at this point.

Ushijima was right earlier. You do hate running. And you hate yourself even more for believing that jogging at any hour –least of all 5AM– would end in anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Your only consolation is that it’s so early, chances are that no one else saw you trip and almost eat shit in the middle of the street. It’s the little victories that count, you suppose, though you might just have to burn this outfit later to rid yourself of the reminder. You’re not sure how you’re ever going to live this one down.

Thankfully, the universe seems to take some pity on you, since you don’t pass any of Ushijima’s neighbors in the lobby. He maneuvers you into the apartment, managing to close the door behind him and remove his sneakers without putting you down.

When he does finally let you go, it’s to place you delicately on his bed. He disappears from the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit and an ice pack, while you flop defeatedly onto your back against his pillows, pouting.

“I can’t believe I actually fell.” You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he sits beside you, but you still don’t move. “The one time I willingly decide to run, and this is what happens. We didn’t even make it past the supermarket!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone,” he says, opening the first aid kit. His voice is as straightforward as ever, but you know he’s trying to comfort you in his own way. “Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Worse than twisting my ankle and making a fool of myself five minutes in?” You shift to prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“You could’ve twisted your ankle and made a fool of yourself two minutes in instead.”

The bluntness of his response makes you snort, cracking a half-smile as you push yourself to sit up fully. “Good point.”

You watch as he gets to work, mesmerized by how careful he is with you. He takes your palms in his hands, wiping away the blood gently and cleaning the small scratches it reveals. The scrapes on your knees, which he moves to next, sting more, but he moves slowly enough that it doesn’t overwhelm you. He’s always taken such good care of you, and this time is no different.

After all of your scrapes are covered, he examines your ankle, which is unsurprisingly the worst of your injuries. When he helps you tug your sneaker and sock off, you can both see it’s already swelling.

It’s not broken, he assures you, but it is lightly sprained. You’ll need to rest and compress it until you’re ready to walk on it again, but the ice should help with the swelling. He lifts your ankle on top of a few pillows to keep it elevated, covering it with the ice pack.

He moves higher up on the bed to sit beside you against the headboard, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “How does that feel?”

“It still hurts, but it’s not as bad as before,” you answer. “Honestly, I think my pride is more damaged than anything else.”

You lean back against the pillows propped up on his headboard and sigh, unable to stop the guilty frown tugging at your lips. As grateful as you are for his help, you also feel really bad that he had to stop and take care of you at all.

If you hadn’t insisted on joining him on his run, then none of this would’ve happened. You would still have two normal-sized ankles, and he would be able to finish his run without having to worry about you and your chronic clumsiness.

“I’m sorry I ruined our jog,” you find yourself apologizing, fiddling with the hem of your shirt guiltily. “It was supposed to be cute and fun, but all I did was screw it up. I’m sorry you had to come back to take care of me.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

His hands reach for yours, large enough to engulf your own as he turns them over. His eyes follow the path his fingertips trace lightly over the band-aids covering the scratches on your palms. “If I hadn’t gone on ahead of you–”

You press a hand against his chest to stop him, his eyes flickering back up to meet your own.

As endearing as his concern is, he’s not the one at fault here. You don’t think anyone is, really, except for maybe that damned pothole you may or may not have tripped on. More importantly, you don’t want him to blame himself for this.

“Nuh-uh, nope, none of that. I’m the one who tripped, remember? It’s not your fault I suck at running. Or any kind of physical activity, actually.”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully as you mull over your own words. He watches the mischievous smile he’s learned to love appear on your face, hears the teasing edge seeping into your tone as you lower your voice just a bit.

“Except maybe the one that involves you railing me into the mattress,” you add with a smirk, playful and just shameless enough in a way that never fails to draw him in even more. “That one, I don’t mind, for obvious reasons.”

He sighs, though your words don’t surprise him. “I really wish you wouldn’t word it that way.”

“Too late~”

You’re practically singing as you grin at him, grabbing his chin and bringing his face closer to yours.

He mutters something about you having a one track mind, but you don’t miss the amusement in his eyes or the fond little smile he casts in your direction. He doesn’t stop you from pulling him in either, allowing you to rest your other hand on the side of his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Wakatoshi.”

You meet him halfway for a loving kiss that you hope is enough to express your gratitude, one he doesn’t hesitate to return. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours.

And right when you think you can’t possibly love him anymore, he promises quietly, sincerely, “Always.”

As usual, he gives you no time to recover. He kisses you on the forehead and then stands up, announcing that there’s something else he needs to go grab before leaving the room.

Honestly, you’re hoping it’s food. You’re starving, and after all of this morning’s excitement* (see also: trauma), there’s nothing more you want than to cuddle up alongside your boyfriend while enjoying a plate of your favorite breakfast food.

To your surprise –and slight disappointment– when Ushijima returns, it’s not with food or anything else to treat your injuries, but rather with a set of keys. He sits beside you again, opening his palm to offer them to you.

“Well, those aren’t pancakes.” You take the keys anyway, twirling the ring around one of your fingers before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are these what I think they are?”

“The keys to my apartment,” he confirms. “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen. It’s not the last thing you expected him to ask you when he offered you the keys, but it’s definitely not the first one either.

When he first held them out to you, you thought maybe he was just giving you a copy of your own to hold onto, just in case you ever needed them. You’ve thought about offering him the same a few times before, just so he could let himself into your own apartment whenever he comes over instead of you having to get up and open the door for him.

But that’s not what’s happening here. It looks like Ushijima’s chosen to skip the exchanging apartment keys step entirely in favor of just straight up asking you to move in with him. And while part of you is thrilled by it, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement at the prospect of getting to wake up next to him every day, of getting to come home to him, there’s another part of you that’s wondering if maybe you’re moving too fast.

It’s not that you don’t trust him, or that you doubt how much he cares for you, because you don’t. Your previous partners couldn’t even spell commitment, much less agree to it, but Ushijima’s not like them.

He told you, not too long after the first few times you went out together, that he doesn’t believe in dating casually or wasting his time. If he’s with someone, it’s because he sees a future with them. Hearing that was a bit intimidating at first, but it was also extraordinarily refreshing.

Asking you to move in with him, you know, is just another step towards that future. And while the idea excites you, making you feel more secure and adored than in any of your past relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still a bit hesitant.

After all, what sets you and Ushijima apart –more than your senses of humor, more than your completely different levels of athletic ability, as evidenced by the ice pack and bandages you’re currently sporting– is the fact that you, unlike him, often get caught up in the “what-if’s” of a situation. Whenever you have to make a decision, you psych yourself out by imagining every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

He calls your name, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking, like he can see the tangle of anxiety you feel nestling into your bones. Maybe that’s why he reaches out to take the hand that’s not holding his keys, lacing your fingers together.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I know, I know, I’m just...processing.” You give his hand a quick squeeze, moving the keys around in your other palm. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since my last away game.” He answers right away like he doesn’t have to think about it, like he just knows. Not for the first time, you find yourself envying his conviction. “I went straight to your apartment from the airport, and you were already there, waiting. I realized how much I liked the idea of getting to come home to you, and vice versa. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to move in since then.”

“Wakatoshi, that was last month. You’ve known since back then?” You stare at him with wide, wondering eyes, your cheeks already warming at the implication, growing even warmer when he nods. “And you don’t think it’s too soon? You’re not the least bit hesitant about living with me?”

“Hesitation is only necessary for those who are unsure of their desires. I know what I want, and that’s you, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. He says it like it’s easy. Like he’s already yours, to love and to be loved by.

And he is, you realize. He has been for a while, just like you have. You knew you were in love with him this morning, and you’ve known it for weeks before that, too. You just weren’t sure when or how to bring it up, but now you are.

“I’d like that. I like you– wait, that’s not right.” You release his hand, and he stares at you in confusion, the corner of his mouth curving downward. You’re quick to smooth it away with your thumb, your eyes earnest and full of affection as you correct yourself, “I love you, Wakatoshi.”

The confusion in his eyes quickly transforms into surprise. You’re not sure what stuns him more: your confession itself, or the confident, doubtless way you say it. You smile at him and take his face into your hands, careful to move his keys so they don’t scratch him.

“I’ve known it for a while. I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but now I am. I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but–”

“I love you,” he says confidently, unwaveringly, and now it’s your turn to be stunned.

You blink, taken aback for a few seconds before your lips begin curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

He hums affirmatively, and after that you can’t do anything besides kiss him. He’s quick to return the gesture, moving his mouth against yours and winding one arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pulls back from you right when you’re about to deepen the kiss. You try to pout, but it’s hard to do so when you feel as giddy and over the moon as you do now.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in with me?”

“Of course.” You beam at him. “I’d love to move in with you, Wakatoshi.”

He smiles, his arm moving up to wrap around your shoulders, and your own smile grows brighter as you lean into him, cuddling against his side and resting your head against his chest. Things between you are quiet for a few moments, both of you basking in the comfortable silence.

You’re shifting his keys in your hand when a thought occurs to you, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest.

“So this is why you let me go running with you this morning,” you tease. “You knew that if I did injure myself, that would just make it harder for me to leave, so I’d have no choice but to say yes to moving in. How sneaky of you.”

“You volunteered to join me–”

“I know, Toshi, I’m just kidding.” You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “So, what do you say we go make some breakfast in your kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Our kitchen now,” he corrects, and your heart flutters in your chest for what must be the tenth time in the hour or so you’ve been awake this morning. It can’t be healthy for you. “And I’ll be the one making breakfast. You stay here and rest that ankle.”

He kisses your forehead and stands up to head into the kitchen. You frown at the loss of his warmth, but another look at the keys in your hand has you smiling again.

Maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.

Written by: Dawn

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 22: Petrichor and Bibliosmia (Library/books)

AO3

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Marinette frowned at the rain outside of her window. She had wanted to go to the botanical gardens with Harley and Ivy today. But with the rain, both women decided it would be better to just reschedule. They didn’t want her to get sick. Which, to be fair, was sweet. But still upsetting because she really wanted to go to the gardens. She’d planned on using the plants as inspiration to make something for Ivy.

“Tikki, I’m bored.” She says, looking at her smallest friend. Tikki just looks at her.

“You’ve been stuck inside because of the weather before, Marinette. Why don’t you design?” Tikki suggests. Marinette huffs, flopping back down onto the cushioned window seat.

“But there’s nothing inspiring in my room, Tikki.” She mumbles, before shooting back up. “Do you think any of the boys are here?” She asks.

“Only one way to find out!” Tikki says with a smile, obviously relieved to have avoided any more whining from Marinette. She jumps up, throwing one of Dick’s old hoodies on over her t-shirt. She’d always gotten cold easily, and becoming the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t help. That, and the manor was cold on a good day- it would probably be freezing with how bad the weather was. She slides down the banister, knowing her Dad was at work and couldn’t yell at her.

“Miss Marinette, if you insist on behaving like your brothers, I will have to resort to treating you like your brothers.” Alfred says with raised eyebrows. But she can sense the smile wanting to break through. She just grins apologetically.

“Sorry, Alfred.” She says. “Speaking of my brothers, are any of them here right now?” She asks. If they’re not, she could probably convince Alfred to bake something with her. As long as she promises not to slide down the banister again.

“I believe Master Jason is in the library. Masters Dick and Damian are in the gym and Master Tim is at Wayne Enterprises with your father.” He says and she hums, thinking. She could go do some training with Dick and Damian, or she could go sit and sketch in the library with Jason.

“Thanks Alfred!” She says, giving him a wide smile before turning and walking down one of the many halls. She glances in open doors as she walks. Despite having lived here for nearly a month, she still got lost going anywhere other than her room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the Batcave. They were kind of the places she’d gone the most. She could also easily find her dad’s study and the main sitting room, most of the time. But the library wasn’t really a place she’d spent a lot of time in. And while she loved Dick and Damian, she also knew that they hadn’t gotten time to hang out just the two of them in a while. She’d talked to Dick before, about how when their dad was missing, he was basically Damian’s father. She knew that bonds like that didn’t just go away, knew that neither boy wanted it to. So she figured she’d just annoy Jay instead of barging in on the others’ bonding time.

Finally finding the library, she grins. Pushing the cracked door open a little more, she moves into the room, jaw dropping. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were packed. There were huge overstuffed couches, and the large windows had window seats attached- perfect little reading nooks. Quickly making a mental note to come to the library more, she starts to search for Jay. She knew he had to be in here. Alfred is never wrong. She grins when she spots him, sitting in what looked like an insanely uncomfortable position, but one she knew from experience was the best.

“Whatchya reading?” She asks, walking over and getting comfortable on the couch next to him.

“<i>Pride and Prejudice<i>.” He says, continuing reading for a moment before putting a little scrap of paper in the book and shutting it. “What’s up, Pixie Pop?” He asks, looking at her with a grin. Marinette sighs dramatically and moves so that she’s upside down on the couch.

“It’s raining. And I was supposed to go to the gardens with Ivy and Harley but they canceled because of my ‘health’ and they were ‘concerned’.” She says with a pout.

“And you decided the library was the best place to curb your boredom? No offense kid, but you don’t seem like the type to read.” He says and she huffs.

“I like books! It’s just-” She pauses, remembering the way Lila had teased her for it back in Paris. Her classmates hadn’t joined in, not really. They’d just agreed that she was a little odd.

“You okay, Pix?” Jason asks, his earlier grin replaced with a slightly concerned look. Marinette winces and nods.

“Yeah it’s- I can read. I swear I can. But when I’m looking at a book, or an article or anything with a lot of text, it gets hard to pick out the pieces. Things just kind of swirl together and then I can’t decode it and I get frustrated and just stop reading. It sucks, ‘cause I do like books. I listen to audiobooks while doing commissions.” She rambles, stopping and turning red. Though that may be from hanging upside down on the couch. Sighing, she sits up and shrugs. “Sorry I’m so weird.” She says. Jason’s face morphs into a scowl.

“Just ‘cause you learn differently doesn’t mean you’re weird, kid. Just means you’ve got your own style. Don’t let any of those little shits you go to school with tell you differently.” He says, reaching out and ruffling her hair. She smiles at him, a genuine happy smile. She was so relieved that he didn’t think she was weird. Or stupid. Lila had thrown that word around. That one hurt. Marinette prided herself on her quick thinking and cleverness. And her grades. They were some of the best in the class! So for Lila to call her stupid…

“Pixie.” Jason says, drawing the nickname out in a sing-song voice. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “You were zoned out, kid. So, was there something ya wanna do?” He asks. Marinette glances down at the book in his hand and frowns.

“I don’t wanna keep you from reading. I can just sit in here with you. I’ll probably end up grabbing my sketchbook.” She says. Jason waves in a ‘no big deal’ motion.

“I’ve read this book a million times.” He reassures her. She glances at the cover again, realizing it’s not one she’s really heard much about before.

“What’s it about?” She asks. “I’ve never read it.” Jay’s face morphs into a huge grin.

“You said you like listening to books, right?” He asks. She nods. “Well, then settle in because I’m going to read to you.” He says proudly with a grin.

“Oh, you really don’t-” She tries to say. She didn’t want to make him read to her. That was not-

“Oh but I want to.” He says, effectively cutting off her mental ramble before she can complete her meltdown. “Listen Pix, this is one of my favorite books. If you go listen to some dumb audio book, you won’t get my commentary. Trust me, this is the best way for you to read the book.” He says and she snorts, shaking her head lightly.

“Okay, Jay, let’s read a book.”

---

Finally arriving home after being stuck at the office, Bruce sets off to find his daughter. Since his apology a few days ago, he’d attempted to make an effort to check in on her and see how she was doing. He tried to also do the same with the boys, but they had all given him odd looks, so he didn’t continue. He checks her room, the Batcave, the sitting room- nothing. He finally decides to check the kitchen. If he had to guess, she’d be there baking with Alfred. He walks in and sees Alfred, but no Marinette.

“Good evening, Alfred. Have you seen Marinette?” Bruce asks, silently hoping she hadn’t left the planet again.

“I believe she’s in the library with Master Jason.” Alfred says and Bruce blinks in surprise. He’d never seen her read a book before, while Jason always had a book on him. He supposed it could be a hobby of hers that he just hasn’t noticed. Or, she could have just followed Jason. Which seems more likely. The two of them were all but attached at the hip ever since the Gala. It was surprising, but at the same time welcoming. Thanking Alfred quickly, he walks towards the library. He’d just say hi and leave. No need to make them stop reading if they were having fun. Gently pushing open the library door he walks in and pauses at the sight. Marinette had wrapped herself in a blanket and was almost sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with an intense look of concentration on her face. Jason had his legs swung over the arm of the couch and was reading out loud. Immediately recognizing the book as Jason’s favorite, Bruce slowly leaves the library, careful not to let the door slam. He’d have the chance to talk to Marinette later, but for now, he’d let the two continue reading in peace.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[positivitycombopack]

Introduction Post!

Hello! We’re the Circular System, but we like to go by Combo Pack. We’re a system of 15 parts who wanted to spread some positivity in the DID/OSDD community!

This page is for CDD systems (diagnosed or otherwise) to interact, have fun, and generally enjoy existing. There is no reason why complex dissociative disorders should be a completely negative aspect of anyone’s life. They’re multifaceted, intense trauma disorders and should be recognized as such. However, perhaps especially because of those things, we all need a break from the drama and trials, especially in the CDD community as of late.

This blog is that place! See more about who we are, what we hope for, and other relevant information about the blog under the Read More!

What do we plan to post: Memes, Shout Outs, Questions of the Day, and all around things we enjoy. We’ll do our best to keep up with it!

What we will not post: No drama, no syscourse, no hate. This is supposed to be a place of positivity. We’re not going to discuss our views here.

Who we are: All parts participate in this blog when they are out, and we sometimes sign off. We don't feel like sharing much information about us, but here's a list of some sign offs in order of how often that part typically fronts:

Armageddon Comes While I'm Sleeping

Diamonds Are A Boy's Best Friend

Kitty Caught The Rabbit

Vessel On A Calming Sea

I Think The World Is So Wonderful

Keeping Up With Nerd Shit

Lilac Bound Hauntings

Pop Pop Bubblegum Bop

Shadows In The Petunia Garden

Butterfly Kisses And Sunbeam Dreams

Beauty and Poison Go Hand In Hand

This Is Your Captain Speaking

Ruby Red, Sterling Blue

UwU The Cutest [REDACTED] School-Girl

Adoration For The Modest

And here's a current collage of all of us together, because we love seeing us all in one spot.

Why are we doing this?: The community needs more positivity!

Who can interact?: This is a CDD safe space. I prefer if Endogenics and other Non-Traumagenic systems do not derail posts with non-trauma based commentary. Thank you for helping keep this place safe for discussions of those with a severe childhood trauma disorder!

Note: I am okay with Singlets and Questioning Systems being here. This is a place to learn more and relax away from the drama of the community. There is no shame in being who you are. I also recognize that I cannot stop people from interacting, and I do not police that sort of thing, beyond blocking those from this blog that reblog posts with unrelated or fakeclaiming content.

[thanksjro]

Bayverse: Treating These Movies with More Dignity than They Deserve or Contain, Because I’m a Goddamned Professional - Part One

TRANSFORMERS (2007) - UNCOMFORTABLE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN TEENAGERS THAT I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

The date was September 17th, 2020, and I was in a stream with nine or ten other people watching the first Bayverse Transformers movie. Why we were watching it doesn’t particularly matter- sometimes you just gotta watch garbage so you can refresh your palate for the good stuff, I suppose. Also, a couple of folks wanted to make goo-goo eyes at Blackout’s rotors.

...It’s not my thing, but I’m glad they’ve got something to make the journey worth taking.

I made some sort of comment about only using my brain for this blog’s content, and someone (you know who you are :)) suggested that I take a proper look at the film. Being who I am, I immediately latched onto this idea, despite it being technically outside of what I write about.

And then I quintuple-downed, because winners don’t quit.

Good to know that my BA in Film Production wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Fun fact, I broke my television trying to watch Transformers for this. I think the universe was trying to stop me, by making me perform surgery on electronics, and also aggravating my carpal tunnel.

This movie came out when I was 13, and it was the first Transformers thing I saw after Cybertron. Yes, the anime one. No, not the one that’s objectively terrible.

Anyway.

How did I feel about Transformers when I saw it the first time? Well… it was okay. I liked the robots. I thought Mikaela was pretty, not that I knew what that meant back then. I watched it a few times, if only because my oldest younger brother kept renting it at Blockbuster. It was fun.

Now I’m older, and wiser, and know feminist theory, so my opinion is less “this exists” and more “blind, murderous rage”.

Our film opens up with some claptrap about the Cube™, a MacGuffin of ultimate power that allows the Transformers to create worlds in their image and populate them. Which means this is how they reproduce.

It always comes back to baby-making, doesn’t it?

The narration goes on about how the Cube™ is very powerful, and some folks wanted it for good, and others for evil. The criteria for being “good” and “evil” isn’t established, and I’m not exactly sure how one would define such a thing, when all the Cube™ does is create life, but, well, we’ve only just begun. Maybe we’ll get some answers later on.

Haha, I doubt it.

So, the Cube™ is the catalyst for our 4 million year war this continuity, and that sucker was lost in the shuffle a while back. This is a problem, because, again, the Cube™ is how the Transformers reproduce. Now everyone’s in a mad scramble to find the thing so their species doesn’t die out.

Three guesses as to where it ended up, and the first two don’t count.

Smashcut to the shit nobody cares about- the humans. We see an Osprey fly over the Qatar desert, carrying a buttload of American soldiers. We get a taste of some good old-fashioned xenophobia, as several soldiers mock a guy for not speaking English and loving his mother’s cooking, going full “funny haha gibberish language” on him. We’re two and a half minutes into the film, and I already want to stab something.

Ed Sheeran breaks into the conversation, I guess because he was feeling left out, revealing that he is the New Yorker stereotype of the film, for some reason. The fellas ask their captain, Lennox, what he’s looking forward to most about getting home from their tour, and he reveals himself to be a family man. While he’s been away, his wife had a baby, who he hasn’t so much as held yet. His men respond by mocking him.

For loving his child.

We’re three minutes into the film, and the toxic masculinity might actually make me have an aneurysm.

The Ospreys land, the lads disembark, and we get a snapshot of what downtime during deployment looks like to Bay. There are a lot of kiddie swimming pools involved. Two men play basketball. We watch multiple men take outdoor showers. A young Qatari boy brings Lennox a camelback water pack with a smile on his face. This lets me know that he’s a prop and not a character in this film. I can’t wait to see how many horrors he’ll be put through to simulate pathos.

We get a shot of a helicopter flying over the desert, one that the US military doesn’t recognize as their own. They send a couple of planes to check it out, and said planes get their shop wrecked. The helicopter is revealed to be the same ‘copter that was shot down several months prior. That’s… not good. Ghost helicopter?

No. Not at all, actually.

Lennox gets on a video chat with his wife and daughter, who is wearing one of the most ridiculous baby outfits I’ve seen in a hot minute. And I used to work in childcare, so I’ve seen a good amount of those. The writing implies that normal bodily functions are unladylike and therefore undesirable… in an infant… and that’s when all hell breaks loose, thankfully saving me from more of Bay trying to make me give a shit about these characters.

The helicopter lands, we get a shot of the mustachioed pilot, who glitches (gasp), and the line “have your crew step out or we will kill you” is uttered. Not even trying to hide the nationalism, are you?

This film hit theaters in 2007, when the xenophobia from 9/11 was still heavy in the air of the general populace, so things like this were more tolerated, and in fact approved of. Of course, it’s not like America has really improved on that subject, or ever really had a point where we weren’t terrible about it, since we live in a world where the military-entertainment complex exists.

See, the Department of Defense and a good chunk of American entertainment industries have a little deal going, and have for the last few decades, and it goes like this: The DoD will allow the use of their vehicles, personnel, and bases, or the likenesses of such, for free, in exchange for their operations being shown in a positive/morally justified light. This is why you never see the armed forces portrayed in a way that makes them out as anything less than heroes- nobody would be able to afford the sets/likenesses without the DoD’s aid. This is also why you see straight-up advertisements for the military branches on televison, in cinemas, and online, and why both the Army and Navy have flirted with having Twitch channels.

It’s all a ploy to get you to join the military, kids. It’s propaganda.

But enough about that, it’s time for our first transformation sequence!

We get a lot of moving parts with this, since it’s realistic CGI in a live-action movie, and it still holds up. It’s hard to tell what’s actually happening, but it, if nothing else, feels alien, surreal, and horrific to behold. They even included the original sound effect in the cacophony, which is nice.

Our ghost helicopter reveals itself to be a Transformer, not that we get that terminology at any point in this film. This specifically is Blackout, a Decepticon. The soldiers start firing on him the moment he starts transforming, then are surprised when the thing they started shooting with several guns retaliates. This is the point where everything ever in this military base explodes, brilliantly and repeatedly, because it wouldn’t be a Bay film without it. There’s a lot of shouting and bright lights, and I’m positively certain that a great deal of people died during this fight.

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

Blackout rips the top off of a building like it’s a tin of anchovies, and then snags all the hard drives he can, downloading everything. This is a problem, but it seems like nobody was prepared for a giant alien robot hack-attack, because in order to shut down the power to the servers, you need to be able to unlock the breaker box, and no one seems to have the key. They solve the problem with a fire ax.

Lennox is leading the Qatari boy through the base towards safety. I should mention that it’s night now, and several hours seem to have passed since the Ospreys landed, so I don’t know why this kid is still here. He’s got, like, a house and family to go home to.

We get some more tank-throwing action, Sergeant Epps almost gets flattened under Blackout’s foot, then the movie decides it’s going to try to make things more interesting by having each shot cut flash, for whatever reason.

Someone shoots Blackout with a rocket launcher, I think, and this is the point where he throws his tiny little man off his back to go do his job. Yes, Blackout’s got a baby, and that baby is Scorponok, his symbiotic pal who likes to dig into the ground and be a sneaky little bastard.

Blackout blows up a ton more military equipment and personnel, and then it’s time for another smashcut.

Now we’re in high school, just like all those dreams I’ve had where I’ve forgotten my homework. This is where we meet Sam Witwicky, our main character, and also the stand-in for our target demographic. He’s insufferable, and I don’t like him. Mikaela Banes, our love interest, is also present in this scene, but we don’t get to know about her character for, like, another 20 minutes, because who gives a shit about women, right? They’re just props, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Sam is presenting on his great-great-grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, for his family genealogy report, in front of a class containing maybe three actors who are age appropriate.

I know child labor laws are a good thing, and that hiring adults to play teenagers is just the lay of the land, but I swear some of these students look like they’re old enough to be on their second mortgage and third kid.

Anyway.

Archibald Witwicky was an explorer, one of the first to traverse the Arctic circle, and apparently his crew was made up of folks from 2007, because I swear the clothing for a few of these dudes isn’t period-appropriate. We get a seamen joke, because of course we do, and a sextant joke, because of course we do. Sam is also hawking all this crap he’s brought in for the presentation, because he is a little bastard who has no idea what his peers would want to buy, or really how to relate to them at all. He’s selling these “priceless” artifacts so he can get a car. Mikaela finds this charming, for some fucking reason. Also, her boyfriend is weirdly stroking her shoulder blade with his knuckles the whole time this is happening, and I hate it.

Archibald Witwicky went mad after his expedition, talking about an “ice man” so often that his family ended up locking him in a mental asylum, likely to be forgotten about. Which is sad. But we won’t be getting into the medical mistreatment of the mentally ill in Bayverse, now will we? That’s just Too Deep™.

Sam’s teacher didn’t very much appreciate having his class be turned into an episode of Antiques Roadshow, but still gives Sam an “A” on the project, despite it being a very poor report that lasted all of two minutes. I suspect the teacher has tenure, and therefore no longer gives a shit about academic integrity. This “A” means that Sam’s father will buy him a car.

Which is nice, I suppose, if I gave a damn.

Sam’s father, Ron, picks up his son in a car he probably bought at the crux of his midlife crisis, in a green that reminds me of a school gymnasium floor, then plays a prank on his child by pretending to pull into the Porsche dealership. Sam isn’t getting a Porsche, which is good, because he doesn’t deserve one. As Sam gripes to his father, a yellow Camaro drives by oh so conspicuously. Wonder what’s up with that.

Instead of the Porshe dealership, they head over to the used car lot, which is being run by Bobby Bolivia, who spends his time yelling at his employees and wanting to murder his mother. Sam is incredibly ungrateful about the fact that his dad is helping him get a car, even though it’s his FIRST car, and nobody gets a nice one the first go around. Or, at least, they shouldn’t, given the statistics about accidents with young drivers.

“No sacrifice, no victory” is uttered by Ron, which is the family motto, or so he claims. Archibald Witwicky said the same thing when he had multiple people dying trying to get to the Arctic Circle, so there’s precedence for the phrase, but we’ll see how it holds up throughout the film.

Bobby Bolivia shows Sam and Ron the cars he has for sale, and Sam is immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro in the lot, though there’s a small problem- it’s too expensive for what he and his father agreed to. Also, nobody knows where the hell it came from, so paperwork might be an issue. When Bobby tries to show Sam the yellow Beetle they have right down the line, everything explodes, because this is a Bay film, and fuck the original material this movie was based on. Bobby lets them have the Camaro for a lower price, suddenly fearful of whatever strange powers have just visited his place of business. “The car picks the driver” is suddenly more than a bullshit line to spout off in order to sell cars, and I’m certain that’s shaken the poor man.

Over in Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense prepares to address just what the hell happened in Qatar, lamenting on how young the audience he’s going to be speaking to is. In particular, he’s referring to the two dweebs and the hot chick sitting in one of the rows. All the women in this movie who aren’t someone’s mom are made up to be very pretty. And not even in a realistic way. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

So, the military network was hacked. That’s bad. Nobody knows who did it. That’s also bad. The only lead the US has is a soundbite, which is the signal that hacked the network.

Everyone here at the briefing is going to be helping to figure this mess out. This is great, if you like looking at Rachael Taylor for a few seconds at a time, and can compartmentalize hard enough to make that worth the effort of watching this godforsaken film.

Back at the Witwicky household, we meet Mojo, a chihuahua with a cast that doesn’t seem like it’s actually doing anything. I wish he was the main character instead of Sam.

Sam arrives home from the dealership, and says “alright, Mojo, I’ve got the car. Now I need the girl.”

As if ownership of a person is something to aspire to.

As if women are property to be owned.

As if women aren’t people, but rather commodities.

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

We’re introduced to Judy, Sam’s mother. She’s shrill, and annoying. This is by design, because none of the women in this film are actually people, but rather archetypes to bounce off of the male characters.

Sam and his father have a moment of what some might consider banter, then Sam gets huffy with his mom over gender roles for the dog. I, for one, think Mojo looks positively dashing in his bedazzled collar, and to hell with whatever Sam says to the contrary.

Sam drives off to go be a misogynist, with the promise to be back by 11PM.

Over in Qatar, the soldiers and that little boy are running from the attack on their base, as Lennox’s wife watches a public announcement on the matter back at home. The Secretary of Defense lets us know that we’re at DEFCON Delta at this point. Lennox Jr. cries, and all I can think about is how they probably pinched that baby to make that happen. They pinched a baby for Transformers (2007).

The soldiers in Qatar talk about shit they have no idea about, Sergeant Epps going on about somehow having been able to see a forcefield around Blackout through his super special binoculars. I don’t know how, or why, he knows this. I don’t know anything anymore.

Ed Sheeran has his doubts about this whole thing, and Lennox is also present in the scene, because I guess he’s important. Through a bit of dramatic irony, Fig- the guy everyone was making fun of for being bilingual at the start of the film- says that this probably isn’t over, as the shape of Scorponok shifts through the sand just beyond them.

Epps is having a minor crisis over the fact that Blackout saw him, but we don’t have time for that, because we’ve got to get to cover. The lads decide to head to the little Qatari boy’s house. Again, I wonder why he was at the base at all, considering that it seems like they’ve been traveling for a good portion of the day.

Back with Sam, he’s picked up his friend Miles, and together they’re going to a lake party. Are they invited to this party? Yes, but also no. It’s public property though, so it should be fine. As they park, Sam notices that Mikaela is here, which is great for him.

Mikaela’s boyfriend, Trent- whose name I had to look up- is a massive tool, and starts pestering the two boys for daring to exist in his airspace. Miles climbs a tree. I’m glad he’s having fun, at least. Sam makes a joke at the expense of people with brain injuries, and this for some reason? Warrants a shot of Mikaela making the blank “pretty girl” face? In response?

Mikaela saves Sam from becoming a wet stain on the grass, which is very kind of her, and more than Sam really deserves. Trent, his boys, and Mikaela start to head off for another party, to get away from Sam and his tree-loving friend. Mikaela offers to drive, and Trent says that she can’t handle his truck, because she’s a ~girl~. This causes Mikaela to ditch him, and start walking home.

The script knows enough about misogyny to know that this would be a nice “take that”. Michael Bay, however, likely fails to see why everything he did with said script involving this character is a goddamned problem.

Because Mikaela, bless her heart, has a lot of problems.

Let’s start with the outfit: a croptop, a jean skirt that BARELY covers her ass, and a pair of wedge heels that are at least four inches tall. On a character that is, at oldest, freshly 18.

Look, I’m all about self-expression and the freedom to choose how you dress for yourself and yourself alone, but this clearly isn’t that. This is a character, not a person, whose wardrobe was designed for the straight male gaze. She’s wearing fucking STRAP HEELS to the lake. This is about oogling. This is about reducing a whole-ass person to the same status as a piece of meat. In fact, who was on wardrobe for this? I’d like to have a few words with-

A woman? Okay, well, what else has she worked on?

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

Miles just called Mikaela an “evil jock concubine.” I don’t like Miles anymore.

As Mikaela walks down the road, strutting hard enough that I’ve got sympathy pains in my hips, the radio in the Camaro turns on, playing “Drive” by the Cars, and giving Sam a hell of an idea; he’s gonna drive Mikaela home, so she doesn’t have to walk the 10 miles to her house. Why he knows how far she lives from the lake isn’t addressed.

Sam kicks Miles out of the car and goes to give Mikaela a ride, which she accepts after a bit of self-deliberation, and also him making an ass of himself. The shot here is framed with Sam like he’s a normal-ass person, and Mikaela from her breasts to the top of her waist. Because of COURSE it is.

She hops in the car and then goes off about her taste in hot guys. Which is weird, and out of left field. Sam is about as confused as I am, then continues to make a fool of himself. This is his nature as a person. Mikaela has no idea who Sam is, even though they’ve gone to the same school for the last 10 years and have multiple classes together. And the fact that she was staring him down all through his genealogy presentation. And at the lake.

This movie isn’t very well thought out, I feel.

It’s at this point the the Camaro turns the key on itself and starts to sputter out and die, as “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye pops on the radio.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid with a girl who didn’t even know his name five minutes ago.

I don’t like how this car knows what sex is.

The Camaro breaks down on a cliff, and Mikaela hops out to work on the engine, and also to get the hell away from Sam’s sputtering.

As Mikaela admires the sweet engine in this Camaro, showing off her knowledge of cars, we get several shots of her from her breasts to her thighs, while Sam is treated like an actual person. Don’t bother trying to play it off as an artistic choice, Bay, this is blatant horndogging. This adds to NOTHING, other than my ire.

Sam says more stupid shit, and Mikaela, who must be the nicest fucking person in the world, just tells him to fire up the engine so she can try to sort out the problem. Then he asks why she goes for jackasses like Trent, and she decides that she’s hit her limit for today, opting to walk the rest of the way home. Good on you, Mikaela. Don’t take Sam’s bullshit.

Sam, realizing that he’s put his foot in his mouth for the 80th time today, pleads with his Camaro to do him a solid and work, and this actually works out for him. Great. Sam, victorious, once again offers Mikaela a ride, which she, once again, takes.

He drops her off without further incident, and she thanks him for listening. Even though they didn’t really talk that much. I dunno, maybe they had a super deep conversation offscreen. Mikaela asks Sam if he thinks she’s shallow, because clearly all women need approval from the men around them, and Sam says that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Which made me groan aloud.

Anyway, she gets inside without a problem, and Sam professes his love for his new Camaro for allowing him to talk to a girl. Or at least talk at her.

Back in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon National Military Command Center, we’re making weirdly racist calls on who hacked the military.

Up with Air Force One, a conspicuous boombox transforms into a robot, and then runs off to hack shit. The President of the United States requests some snack cakes. A flight attendant goes down to storage to retrieve said snack cakes, and finds that boombox in the elevator with her. Considering this is Air Force One, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse, and we don’t think here.

The flight attendant brings the boombox down with her and places it on the counter as she goes to get the presidential snack cakes. The boombox immediately disappears. Now, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse-

The flight attendant opens up the snack cake package, for some reason, and drops the cake on the floor. She then proceeds to eat it, and then act shocked when it tastes like floor. There’s a robot in her fucking line of sight, and you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing-

She leaves to go feed the President floor cakes, and our little robot friend gets to work stealing government secrets. He, if nothing else, looks pretty cool doing it. He’s a very pointy lad.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie- Rachael Taylor’s character- can hear the hacking. This sends everyone into a panic, because, well, that shouldn’t be happening. The hacking noise is a direct match to the one from Qatar, so that’s obviously a problem.

Back on Air Force One, our little robot friend is looking for “Project Iceman”, which he very quickly finds, and downloads everything they’ve got on it, and also plants a virus. The process seems to be… doing things to him. It’s weird. This movie is weird.

The Pentagon cuts all the system hardlines, stopping the process, but it’s too late- he got what he wanted, just about. Two security personnel come into the room, and the robot kills them both with some spinning blade disc nonsense. Air Force One is forced to land for the safety of everyone on-board. More security detail comes in to deal with the little bastard, but he transforms into a boombox and sits on a shelf to avoid suspicion. Now, you’d perhaps expect-

With the plane grounded, our robot is able to walk his little ass over to a cop car. And when I say walk, I do mean walk; this fucker is in multiple folks’ line of sight and nobody notices a thing. When he enters the car, he’s greeted by the mustachioed driver- the same driver who was operating the helicopter at the beginning of the film. This mustache man is a holographic avatar, one that’s being used by all the Decepticons.

We get our first real taste of Cybertronian language, as our robot- it’s Frenzy, his name is Frenzy- lets everyone know that he’s found a clue to the location of the AllSpark, and, through the power of the internet, knows where to find the guy who’s gonna give them what they need.

Three guesses to who it is, and the first two don’t count.

Back at the Witwicky household, Sam’s car does a runner in the middle of the night. Sam, horrified that his property is being stolen, pursues on a bike, screaming at his dad to call the cops. Sam also calls the cops, as he tears through the neighborhood.

The Camaro breaks into an abandoned building, Sam follows, and we finally get a shot of our audience appeal character. Sam watches in disbelief as a giant yellow space robot shines a beacon into the sky, then makes a video on his flip phone recording the experience. He apologizes to his parents for owning pornographic magazines, and goes to face his probable demise.

However, death does not come from above, instead manifesting itself as two of the strongest junkyard dogs in the known universe, who break their brick-inlaid chains to get at this little dip of a man. Sam is chased through the yard, climbing on top of a couple precarious oil drums, even though there’s a ladder, like, right there. The Camaro rolls in, scaring off the dogs, and Sam bolts, throwing the keys to his ride at his ride. When he gets outside, the cops have arrived, and immediately arrest him.

Back with the US government, the Secretary of State is having a conversation about all the bullshit that just went down with Air Force One. He and his fellow cishet old white men discuss their options, until Maddie comes in to set them straight on some of the facts. They act all indignant about it, because women can’t be smart, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Anyway, we get a weird little deflection of Maddie’s role in everything, because a woman is nothing without the men around her, then she brings up the point that the bullshit that happened on Air Force One went down in just a few seconds, which isn’t something that anyone can actually do. She brings up quantum mechanics, which everyone blows off as nonsense- not that I wouldn’t as well- and theorizes on a DNA-based computer, which is technically a thing, if not trapped in the realm of speculation. It’s at this point that the Secretary of Defense tells her to come back when she can back these wild claims up, and isn’t just clearly spitballing.

And then he snaps his fingers at her, and any point he might have had leaves my brain so I have more room for being enraged.

Back with Sam, we’re at the police station talking to the cops. His dad is here, and Sam is trying to explain that his car is a dude. Even though he took at a video (one that was likely crap, given how quickly he spun his phone around to show off what he was seeing) the cops, understandably, don’t believe him. Then one of them, not so understandably, starts… threatening Sam? With his sidearm? And daring him to try something? This isn’t any sort of statement on the corruption of American law enforcement, it’s just bizarre.

Back in Qatar, our soldier buddies have found a telephone line, and are going to try to use it to get in contact with the rest of the world. It’s just too bad that Scorponok’s decided to make an entrance, and knock said telephone line the hell down. Ed Sheeran has next to no reaction to this, despite it happening maybe ten feet behind him. Fig speaks Spanish, and Ed Sheeran makes a point to be an asshole about it.

Scorponok is about to stab Lennox with his very pointy tail, when Epps notices- finally, someone with peripheral vision- and starts shooting. Then everyone starts shooting, kicking up enough sand to blind themselves, as Scorponok scuttles away, buries himself, then reappears behind Ed Sheeran.

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

The others bolt, not wanting the same to happen to them, and for the fourth time I wonder just why the hell this young boy was at the base in the first place.

Off in the distance, the community of a nearby town wonders just what the shit is going on out in the desert. Our soldiers run into the town, and everyone gets their guns and start firing on Scorponok, who retaliates, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

Lennox demands that the young boy take him to his father, and proceeds to borrow his phone. As shit goes down outside, we have a sort-of gag where Lennox is trying to contact the Pentagon, while a telemarketer tries to get him to buy a phone package. In order for this call to go through, he’s going to need a credit card. This is where the well-known “pocket” scene comes from, as Lennox searches Epps’ pants for his wallet as he fires on Scorponok. It’s probably the best-written thing in this whole film.

With the credit card acquired, Lennox finally gets through to the Pentagon, and tosses Epps the phone so he can talk. Maybe he’s got anxiety about speaking on the phone, I dunno.

Scorponok shows off his disregard for historical architecture, blowing up several buildings, and the US government just watches this all go down. One of the actors in this scene looks like my dad, and it trips me up every time he’s on screen. Anyway, now the Pentagon knows about the giant space robots running around in Qatar. They send over some air support about it. All this manages to do is piss Scorponok off.

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

Also, Fig’s been grievously wounded. The others, for once, don’t make fun of his native language while they help him hold his blood inside his body.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s looking to prove that the bullshit that’s been going on is of the sci-fi variety, and in order to do that, she’s going to need a little outside help. She takes the information from the Pentagon, slaps it into an SD card, hides that shit in her blush compact, and then runs out the door to Glenn Whitmann’s house. Or, rather, his grandma’s house.

Glenn is a hacker, and shouldn’t be seeing anything that Maddie’s brought him, but everyone knows that confidentiality is for nerds, so whatever.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s immediately been caught. It’s almost like slapping the military network onto an SD card maybe wasn’t such a hot idea. But what do I know?

Glenn takes a look at the soundbite and figures out that there’s a code embedded in the thing in about two seconds. Good to know our tax dollars are being well-spent on the US military, that some dude in his jammies can figure this shit out faster than a whole team of analysts. They figure out that “Project Iceman” is involved with this somehow, and also the existence of Sector Seven. It’s at this point that the FBI busts in. Good. I kind of want Maddie to go to jail for this, because she was about as stupid as she could be handling the situation.

Glenn’s cousin goes through a closed glass door- don’t worry, it’s tempered- and there’s a weird cut before that exact same shot continues, and he’s tackled into the pool. There was no reason for that to have happened, but here we are.

Back with Sam, we’re treated to him in his boxers, shooting basketballs in his room. He goes into the kitchen, where Mojo is standing on a stool. It’s a very tall stool, the sort you sit on, and he’s just… there. I don’t know how he got there. There’s no one else in the room besides Sam, and I know he didn’t put him there.

Clearly this must mean Mojo is God, and being on that stool is his divine will. I will be approaching the rest of the franchise with this in mind, because it’s clearly the only answer.

Our merciful Lord Mojo jumps up on the kitchen counter and begins growling at something through the window. Sam looks out… the opposite window… to find that his Camaro has returned to him, and is less than thrilled about it, to put it lightly. He drops a jug of milk- luckily it was mostly empty, given the sound it makes when it hits the floor- and gives his buddy Miles a call. You remember Miles, don’t you? If you don’t, it’s fine, because he reestablishes his quirkiness with a single shot, as he sits in a swimsuit and bathes his huge-ass dog in a kiddie pool, and answers the phone with a headset he just happened to be wearing. He must get a lot of calls during Dog Washing Hours.


After giving us one of the most intense voice cracks I’ve ever heard, Sam books it out of his house, hopping on a bike to escape his murderous Camaro. He’s not seen the thing commit any murders, mind you, but he seems pretty convinced that it would do the job, given half a chance. Also, this isn’t the bike he rode the night before; that one is likely being chewed on by those strong-ass junkyard dogs. No, for some reason, the Witwickys have a pastel pink girl’s bike, with the fun little handle tassels and the basket and everything. As far as I can tell, Sam is an only child, and if you think Bay’s going to allow for a teenage boy to have the vulnerability to own a pink bike, you’ve not been paying attention for the last 48.5 minutes.

The Camaro gives chase, rolling after Sam on his bike at a brisk 7 MPH down the friggin’ sidewalk, one of the only scenes in this travesty of a film to actually get me to crack a smile. Sam races through town until city planning puts a stop to him, through the magic of using chunks of cement to decorate the mulch around their trees. He crashes his bike, faceplants into the concrete in front of Mikaela, and promptly dies, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told a fib. I’m sorry.

Instead, he does a flip and lands on his back, likely receiving a concussion, in front of Mikaela and her friends. Her friends laugh, because everyone hates Sam, as they should, and Mikaela says that what he just did was “really awesome.” Don’t try to be nice, Mikaela, this is Sam we’re talking about; you could stick the dude in the freezer overnight and he still wouldn’t be even remotely cool.

Sam gets back to the whole “running away from a car” deal, and Mikaela decides that this is the sort of thing she’d like to do with her day, so she ditches her friends in the middle of their scheduled Burger King™ time to go see what the hell Sam’s on about.

As Sam is chased by the Camaro who is being chased by Mikaela on her motorized scooter, a cop becomes involved, tearing through the streets to join this ridiculous game of tag. Now, we’ve seen two different flavor of cop so far- the mustachioed avatar cop car that picked up Frenzy from the airport, and the dude who threatened a teenage boy with a gun after accusing him of being under the influence of drugs. Either way, I don’t think this is going to turn out well for Sam.

Sam’s cornered himself under one of those really wide bridges where people can park their cars, which wasn’t terribly smart, but it’s Sam, so this is about par for the course. The Camaro manages to miss him, but the cop car does not. Sam is actually pretty cool with the cops being here, as if they could do anything about “Satan’s Camaro.” I guess he didn’t see the decal on the side of this car that says “to punish and enslave…”

Sam attempts to approach the car for help, and gets clotheslined by a car door for his troubles. He hits his head on the pavement, certainly exasperating the brain injury he received not ten minutes ago. Still, he continues to try to talk to the holographic avatar through the windshield, revealing that the bike he’s been riding is his mother’s. Mystery solved, I suppose.

The cop car doesn’t much appreciate being slapped on the hood, and begins to rev violently at Sam, threatening to run him over several times. Then it explodes into being a robot. Sam, who’s seen a lot of really weird shit in the last 24 hours, nopes out of the situation. It’s at this point that I realize he’s wearing a shirt for the band the Strokes. I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but it did. Guess my brain needed something to latch onto during all this.

Sam is running as fast as his little legs allow, as our newest robot friend takes up a leisurely jog to keep pace. Then he kicks Sam. He kicks Sam’s body like the football. This, of course, instantly turns Sam into a bag of jelly and kills him, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Sam somehow survives being punted by a giant metal leg and lands in the windshield of a car that doesn’t turn into a robot. Then he gets yelled at by the cop car. This is Barricade, a member of the Decepticons, and Sam’s got something he wants. Or, should I say “LadiesMan217” has something he wants.

LadiesMan217 is Sam’s Ebay username. This is both stupid because no teenage boy existing beyond the year 1985 would have ever called himself that, and also because it’s just stupid.

Barricade wants the glasses Sam presented for his genealogy report, and he wants them NOW. Seeing as the thing he wants is for sale, and nobody had been bidding on it, one would wonder why Barricade and his associates didn’t just try to purchase them like upstanding citizens. Perhaps Decepticons don’t understand the concept of money, or perhaps they don’t have a stable address to have the glasses shipped to. Or perhaps nobody considered that angle when the script was being put together. Who can say?

Sam gets back to running away from Barricade, we see where Mikaela got to, and the two of them collide. Sam rips Mikaela off of her scooter, and they both fall to the ground. Mikaela, who did not buckle the clasp on her helmet, asks Sam what his fucking problem is. Then his problem shows up, and they take a very long time to get up so they can run. So long, in fact, that the Camaro has to swing in to save them. After much pleading from Sam, Mikaela gets inside Satan’s Camaro, and the two of them are whisked away to safety. Barricade pursues, and then the butt rock starts.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling, the Camaro busts through a window and several shelves in an abandoned building, there’s some drifting, and then suddenly it’s nighttime. Barricade somehow got in front of the Camaro, and is circling like a shark. The Camaro locks the two teenagers inside itself, though I suppose they could climb out through the still-open windows if they really wanted to. The Camaro cuts the engine off, then cuts it back on and bolts for the exit, and this somehow tricks Barricade long enough for them to get past.

The Camaro dumps Mikaela and Sam out one of the doors and then transforms into that yellow space robot we saw a bit ago. It’s Bumblebee! Nearly an hour in, and we finally get a proper look at the little bastard. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the first 20-something minutes on being xenophobic and appealing to the focus groups that think it’s fine sexualize high schoolers.

Bumblebee- no, he’s not introduced himself yet, but I just can’t keep calling him “the Camaro” anymore- comes out of his transformation ready to square the fuck up. Barricade throws himself at Bumblebee, they roll around on the ground for a bit, then things start sparking and exploding, because this is a Michael Bay film. Frenzy jumps out and starts chasing down Mikaela and Sam, while Bumblebee and Barricade murder death punch each other. Frenzy manages to grab Sam by the ankles, drag him to the ground, and rip his pants off. Not sure how that happened, considering he’s still got his shoes on.

While Sam’s busy being chased by a sentient pile of safety pins, Mikaela’s taken it upon herself to be proactive about her survival, and is raiding a nearby building for power tools. She sprints out holding an electric jig saw and saves Sam by decapitating Frenzy. If you know anything about Transformers, then you know this doesn’t actually kill Frenzy, but good on her for being a badass. Why couldn’t Mikaela be our main character again? Oh, right, because she’s a ~girl~.

Sam punts Frenzy’s head, like, 50 yards, which seems like something he shouldn’t be able to do, given that he’s a massive weenie, but there you are. With that out of the way, Sam takes Mikaela’s hand and they run off to go watch the giant robot fight. The bottom of Frenzy’s head turns into a spider and he crawls his way over to Mikaela’s purse. He’s gonna steal her gum, the fiend!

Mikaela and Sam have, unfortunately, missed the giant robot fight, which means that we, as the audience, have also missed the giant robot fight. Which is unbelievably stupid, seeing as everyone who has ever watched this movie came for the GIANT GODDAMN ROBOTS.

Mikaela asks just who the hell the yellow robot is, I guess because she’s finally had a second to process what the hell’s going on. Sam claims that he’s a super-advanced robot, “probably from Japan.” Whether or not this is a reference to the Japanese origins of the original toy line isn’t clear, though somehow I think it’s more xenophobia. Sam also makes the claim that if Bumblebee had intended to hurt them, he would have done it by now. This is quite the jump from a few hours ago, when he was calling the poor guy “Satan’s Camaro.”

Sam finally, finally asks Bumblebee what his deal is, and we get our first taste of the Bayverse Bumblebee Gimmick. The Gimmick here is that, due to an injury to his vocal processing, Bumblebee cannot communicate through traditional means, i.e. speech. Because of this, he instead strings together sentences by flicking through the radio frequencies and choosing key words. This can lead to some interesting audio design, like describing his fellow Autobots to “rain down like visitors form heaven, Hallelujah!” because a radio sermon fit what he was trying to say best.

This gimmick is one that has been used in other pieces of Transformers media, at least in part. Bumblebee is unable to speak traditionally in Transformers: Prime, and instead communicates in beeps and clicks that his teammates can understand, but not so much the humans, save for Raf. In Bumblebee (2018), the idea was used whole-cloth, with the injury resulting in his inability to speak happening on-camera within the first 10 minutes of the movie, and the idea of “expressing oneself through music” being introduced by his human companion Charlie Watson.

All in all, I rather like the idea going on here; it’s an interesting part of his character that opens up for a lot of interesting and creative moments.

It’s just too bad it was introduced in fucking Bayverse.

But yeah, anyway, the other Autobots are coming to Earth. Shit’s gonna be lit.

Bumblebee turns back into a Camaro, and Sam uses the power of FOMO to get Mikaela to go in the car with him. We get a shot of Barricade fucking dying on the side of the road. Frenzy murders Mikaela’s phone, and then steals its identity, including the little bejeweled heart stickers. Good thing Mikaela remembered to go get her purse, otherwise he probably would have felt very silly doing that.

Mikaela refuses to sit in the driver’s seat, seeing as she now knows Sam’s car is sentient, and sort of feels weird about this whole thing. Sam suggests that she sit in his lap instead, as the camera angles to give us a peek at the cup of Mikaela’s bra. When asked why the hell she should do such a thing, Sam says it’s a concern about her safety, given that the middle console of the car does not have a seatbelt. Sam either fails to recognize that seatbelts going over two layered bodies won’t save either of them in the event of a crash, or he’s just trying to make an excuse to have a pretty girl in his lap.

Given what movie this is, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

Mikaela has a similar line of thought, but scoots over anyway, saying that the seatbelt line was a “smooth move”. It wasn’t, but if I picked apart every single bad line Sam had in this film, I’d be here all day.

Mikaela questions Bumblebee’s taste in alt-mode, which offends him to the point of dumping both her and Sam out in the street and driving away. He returns, moments later, as a sleek new Camaro, that I’m sure some car aficionados would call “sexy.”

Bumblebee’s alt-mode is a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, of which there were none during the time of filming. It was put together for this movie in roughly five weeks. Sam is blown away by the fact that he now owns a car that does not currently exist in his universe. Mikaela is impressed, or at least she would be, if women were allowed to show that emotion in a non-horny way in a Bay film.

Judy doesn’t count.

As Bumblebee breaks into yet another restricted area, we get a shot of the Earth from orbit, as several objects rocket towards the planet. Sam and Mikaela watch the Autobots burn up in the atmosphere, and Mikaela tries to hold Sam’s hand as they do, and it’s at this point that I have to address how much I hate these two’s dynamic.

I don’t give a single solitary shit about this romance, because A) it’s poorly written, B) Mikaela could do infinitely better than Sam, C) I dislike Sam so very much, D) Mikaela, who is a way more interesting character, got placed on friggin’ love interest duty because ~girl~, and E) it’s useless padding to try and make me care about what’s happening here, and I just DON’T. I do NOT care about whether these two get together or not.

We see the Autobots crash-land, three out of four of them causing massive amounts of property damage and possibly killing at least one person. Their stasis pods crack open, and they each climb out, completely naked and in desperate need of clothing to hide their shame. With a quick scan of nearby vehicles, they’re once again decent to be seen in public.

Bumblebee drives the kids out to what I can only assume is the warehouse district he sent that beacon out in, as our collection of good guys finally come together at long last. A massive Peterbilt semi-truck stops directly in front of Mikaela and Sam.

We’re over an hour into this film, and we’re just now getting to the quintessential Transformer, Optimus Prime himself.

In the original cartoon, Optimus’s alt-mode was what’s known as a cabover truck, one where the cab- where the driver sits- is seated directly over the engine. These were popular during the days when maximum truck-lengths were much shorter than they are currently. This is why when you look at height charts for Optimus over various continuities, his G1 cartoon counterpart much shorter than his other iterations.

Modern trucks are longer, and don’t need the cab to sit on top of the engine to save on space. The designers chose to use a Peterbilt to make sure that Optimus would have an imposing stature when compared to his fellow Autobots.

Because heaven forbid we not have heightism come into play in this film.

Our Autobots transform, and say what you will about these bastards being visually incomprehensible, the transformations themselves are cool as hell. My personal favorite is Jazz’s, where he does a cool windmill into his root mode.

Optimus crouches like he’s looking at a cool bug on the sidewalk and addresses Sam by name. He doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela, which I find to be a bit rude, but whatever. He then introduces himself as the leader of the Autobots.

Peter Cullen is back as the voice for Optimus Prime, sounding wonderful as always. He almost wasn’t brought on for this project, because Michael Bay didn’t want him. If the fans hadn’t thrown a hissyfit, who knows who we would have gotten to be our space dad for the next hour and a half?

This is actually an issue that’s recurred several times in the last few years, and not just with Cullen; Frank Welker, the voice of Megatron, as well as many other Transformers, has been refused roles within Transformers properties. In general, this is because both Cullen and Welker are union actors, and Hasbro would prefer to hire sound-alikes than pay more money for the originals. This isn’t to shame the non-union actors, goodness no, just to merely point out less-than-fantastic business practices.

I realize there have been a lot of tangents, but you have to understand that I am suffering as I do this.

Optimus then introduces his team- there’s Jazz, whose first line is “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”, Ironhide, who incorrectly quotes Dirty Harry, and Ratchet, who calls out just how obnoxiously horny Sam’s character is. We also finally get Bumblebee’s name.

Mikaela asks the very good question of why the fuck the Autobots are here on Earth. Optimus explains that the AllSpark is here, and they’ve got to get to it before Megatron does. He then goes on to explain who Megatron is, stating that he “betrayed” the Cybertronian empire.

No, how exactly he did that isn’t addressed. We’ll just have to take Optimus’s word, I suppose.

If you’ve sussed out by this point the the AllSpark and the Cube™ are the same thing, congrats! You win. Megatron followed the AllSpark to Earth, where he promptly was neutralized by the cold of the Arctic circle. This was 110 years prior to the events of this film, and where Archibald Witwicky came in to the story.

When the expedition was happening, Archibald fell through the ice during a collapse, and ended up finding Megatron’s frozen body in an ice cave. He went poking around on this strange metal giant, and ended up activating Megatron’s navigation systems, which imprinted the coordinates of the AllSpark onto Archibald’s glasses.

Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

So, the Autobots need the glasses, so they can find the AllSpark before the Decepticons do, so those guys don’t use it to build an army out of Earth’s machines, which will destroy humanity.

Sounds simple enough, let’s go get that vision correction device!

Back with the military dudes, everyone’s taking a gander at the tail that Scorponok left behind. They theorize that the metal that makes up these giant murder-robots reacts to extreme heat, but elaboration on that point will have to wait, because the tail has begun to flail. They quickly strap it down, then call the military to let them know to strap anti-tank guns onto anything that’s going to be approaching any giant robots.

Meanwhile, in an interrogation room, Maddie and Glen have been left to sweat a bit. Glen takes to stress-eating, while framing it as a psychological tactic to subconsciously prove his innocence to the FBI.

This is a fat joke, with the added nasty layer of Glen being a black man about to be interrogated by one of the most intimidating white cops I’ve seen in a hot minute.

Glen immediately folds, pinning all the blame on Maddie, and claiming that he’s been a perfect angel his whole life. We get some weird purity culture out of him, before Maddie lets the FBI know that she needs to talk to the Secretary of Defense, NOW.

Over at the Witwicky household, Sam’s parents are watching the news, trying to find out what all those loud crashes were about. Optimus Prime drives down their residential street, the rest of the gang in tow, then they all park to wait for Sam to go get the glasses.

For about 20 seconds.

Sam has to physically hold the door shut to prevent his father from coming out and seeing several very tall robots from outer space tip-toeing around his freshly-landscaped yard, I guess because they got antsy. Optimus plods around on the grass and breaks a fountain, and our benevolent god Mojo comes out of the house, assuredly to smite the leader of the Autobots.

Mikaela runs onto the scene, and Sam chastises her for not controlling the robots who didn’t even acknowledge her existence, outside of pointing out Sam was sexually attracted to her.

Mojo pees on Ironhide’s foot, which prompts Ironhide to threaten to shoot the creature. This is why Ironhide isn’t getting into heaven. Sam, one of Mojo’s chosen few, claims that the mortal shell of his god is seen as a beloved pet by many humans. Sam runs into the house, before Mojo can incur his divine wrath on the Autobots.

While Sam goes to get the glasses, the Autobots decide to do a little peeping on the house, watching his parents watch TV. Sam tears his room apart trying to find the glasses, and Optimus thinks that it would be helpful if he brought Mikaela up to help look. It’s at this point that I realize that Sam has an utterly bizarre fish tank.

I mean, legitimately, what the fuck is this? No filter, no plants, might not even have any rocks on the bottom. Is this a comically oversized bong Sam threw a couple fish into? What the fuck.

Mikaela starts looking for the glasses, running into what is likely a box of porn mags, then they both look out the window to find that the Autobots have decided to hide in plain sight by transforming... in the middle of Sam’s backyard. Amazing work, gentlemen.

Sam finally convinces the Autobots to go sit in the alley and wait, only for Ratchet to run into a power line and trip into a greenhouse. The resulting impact is interpreted as an earthquake. Judy does not have the reaction one might expect from someone who’s lived in California for at least ten years.

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

The power cuts out, and Ron goes up to check on his son, because he’s at least a halfway-decent father. Ratchet’s shining a light to aid in the search for the glasses. Sam’s parents notice this bright light, and bang on Sam’s door to see what’s up.

Sam quickly hides Mikaela and then attempts to salvage the situation, answering the door and trying to control the narrative. Unfortunately, Ron is far too inquisitive for Sam to do this, and then Judy asks if Sam was masturbating.

Judy, is privacy just not a thing to you? Because if not, it really ought to be.

She keeps going with it too, trying to come up with code words, until another one of the Autobots trips and causes Ron to panic again, climbing into Sam’s ancient claw-foot bathtub to protect himself. He looks out the window to check on his beloved yard, lamenting that the earthquake tore it up.

Ironhide is strongly considering killing Sam’s parents. Optimus tells him that they don’t harm humans, and also begins to wonder if he made a mistake bringing this guy along.

Back in Sam’s room, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Sam is an absolutely terrible liar, and Mikaela reveals herself, if only to prevent Judy from trying to talk about self-pleasure again. Of course, now she gets to be subjected to both of Sam’s parents objectifying her, so this might be a lose-lose situation.

Sam is reminded that his backpack is in the kitchen, just in time for the government to show up at his house. Mikaela makes a comment about Judy being nice. I suppose on a surface level, yes, being told that you’re gorgeous by someone’s mom is nice. I do have to question the context that compliment took place in, however.

Sam’s about to hand the glasses over to the Autobots, when someone rings the doorbell. It’s Sector Seven, and they’re here to talk to Sam about his stolen car being part of an issue involving national security. Ron and Judy are more concerned about their yard being torn up, Judy yelling that they “need to get their hands off [her] bush.”

We still have another hour of this movie.

The agent leading this mission asks Sam to come with him for questioning, which his parents are very much against. Mojo also voices his displeasure, but it would seem that Agent Simmons is not a follower of the Tenets of Mojo. Sam gets geigered, and his readings are high enough for Sector Seven to take him and everyone in this house into custody.

As Sam and Mikaela are riding in the back of the car, Simmons brings up Sam’s Ebay account, and also the phone video he took of Bumblebee earlier in the week. Mikaela is rather unimpressed with Sam at the moment, probably because he’s gotten her arrested. She still tries to help him out though, because she really is just the nicest fucking person on the planet.

Alas, the combined efforts of these two teenagers isn’t enough to fool the long arm of the law, especially when it’s a branch of said law that deals with extraterrestrial activity. Simmons threatens to lock up these literal children for life if they don’t start talking. Mikaela isn’t taking the bait, so he goes after her father’s parole hearing instead.

Yep! As it turns out, Mikaela and her father stole cars to get by, and she’s got the record to back that claim up. Simmons calls her a criminal, then says that criminals are hot. Mikaela looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t blame her in the slightest.

Optimus, I suppose because his dad senses were tingling, takes the opportunity to place his leg in the road for the car to run into, then grabs said car like an unruly cat and lifts it until the roof rips off due to stress. The agents in the other cars pile out and point their guns at the giant space robot. The rest of the Autobots quickly relieve them of their weapons.

Optimus notes that Simmons doesn’t seem surprised that a bunch of giant robots just took all his guys’ guns, and demands that he exit the vehicle, posthaste. Simmons obliges, after a bit more prodding. Mikaela undoes Sam’s handcuffs, and he gets fucking pissy about it, as if this girl he’s had a grand total of three (awkward) conversations with should have told him something as personal as “hey, so my dad’s in jail and I’ve been to juvenile detention.”

Luckily, she doesn’t let him get away with it, calling him out as the spoiled, self-centered, privileged little shithead that he is.

Of course, we don’t get any sort of real acknowledgement from Sam, having to move on with the plot. Perhaps, if we hadn’t spent the last hour and 20 minutes faffing about on drivel, we could have had Sam get an actual moment of self-reflection, and potentially even character growth. However, this is Bayverse, and everyone knows that personal accountability is for fucking sissies.

Mikaela and Sam ask several questions, but get no answers from Agent Simmons. And then Bumblebee pees on him.

I hate that I had to write that. I hate it very much.

Anyway, I don’t know why that had to happen, but it did, and I’m nothing if not thorough.

Optimus tells Bumblebee to cut it out, and with that the Sector Seven agents are cuffs and left on the side of the road. Mikaela orders Simmons to strip, as punishment for threatening her father, then cuffs him to a street lamp.

...Yes, that does sound like a bizarre sexual fantasy, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for our teen heroes, they forgot to confiscate everyone’s phones, and Sector Seven knows what’s up, thanks to the power of speakerphone. More cars and a couple of helicopters show up basically immediately, and the Autobots decide it’s time to dip.

But not before Ironhide fires off a pulsewave into the ground that causes a five-car pileup.

Optimus, I suppose because he knows he chose a ridiculously flashy alt-mode that is in no way practical, just picks the kids up in and places them on his shoulder like a couple of parakeets, then takes up a leisurely jog to get away from the eyes in the sky. He runs through the city, racking up what is likely millions in property damage, as the helicopters pursue. He passes by a “Legalize LA” billboard, which feels odd to see, given what movie this is.

The ‘copters somehow manage to lose Optimus, despite him being relatively slow, and having a notable radiation level that they’ve been using to track him. He hides inside the scaffolding of a bridge, only for Mikaela and Sam to slip off of his polished body to their deaths, thus ending the film.

No, they don’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Bumblebee snatches them up just before they hit the ground, the impact of his metal body catching them at 75 mph, killing them instantly and ending the film.

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

Mikaela and Sam are fine, some-fucking-how, but Sam’s dropped the MacGuffin glasses. The helicopters swing back around, having noticed the sound of a car crashing into the ground and the screams of two whole adolescents. They break out a fucking harpoon gun and fire on our kid appeal character.

Repeatedly.

They wrap up Bumblebee in a series of cables, as he screams like a moose. Mikaela and Sam are held at gunpoint by what is honestly far too many dudes, and are then arrested for the second time in ten minutes. Bumblebee is smoked... because he’s a bee? Sam, not liking this one bit, finds the strength in his weenie body to push a cop off of himself, run at one of the dudes with the smoke guns, throw him to the ground, and then start smoking him. He’s immediately tackled, but points for trying.

Sam and Mikaela are placed back into custody, and the rest of the Autobots regroup with Optimus to see what the plan is. Optimus says that they can’t save Bumblebee without hurting humans, so I guess Bumblebee is just a POW now. Well, at least they got the glasses. That’s cool.

Back at the Pentagon, things are getting dicey, as the other world powers are starting to suspect that something’s up. The Secretary of Defense is approached by a man with a mustache and a briefcase. He’s from Sector Seven, but the Secretary gives not a fuck about mysterious organizations. All the computers in the room suddenly go down, the virus from earlier working its magic- only this time, the blackout is global.

Mr. Mustache opens his briefcase, while explaining that Sector Seven is something known as a “special access” sector of the government, which is why nobody’s ever heard of it; it’s beyond top secret. Commissioned by President Herbert Hoover 80 years prior, it deals with alien life.

When the Beagle 2 spacecraft was lost on the way to Mars in 2003, the mission was declared a failure. This was a lie. The Beagle 2 recorded several seconds of Mars before being crushed to death by a Transformer. This tidbit is pretty funny, given that the Beagle 2 was rediscovered on Mars in 2014, seven years after this film released. Not a terribly mysterious death anymore, is it?

Comparing the footage from Mars to the footage from Qatar has Sector Seven thinking that these are the same species. Which they are. God, it’d be so fucked up if there were two species of giant robots in this film.

Mr. Mustache theorizes that because the Transformers now know that they can be harmed by human weaponry, they’re being proactive about their safety and shutting down all forms of communication technology with that virus that keeps popping up. It’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan for humanity.

Mr. Secretary tells his guys to try going analog with comms, breaking out the short-wave radios, to tell their ships to return home.

Over at an Air Force base, Lennox and the gang have landed, only to be scooped up by a bunch of dudes in suits.

Back with Maddie and Glen, the two of them have fallen asleep in the interrogation room, Maddie still wearing her friggin’ four inch pumps as her legs are propped up on the table, crossed in a way that seems rather uncomfortable. Glen gets to sleep like a normal human being, with his head resting on his forearms. Why this place doesn’t have a holding cell for these situations is beyond me.

Mr. Secretary comes in to bring Maddie on as his advisor. Glen can come too, I guess, considering he’s the one who actually figured out the sound file virus.

We get a little military glorification, and then it’s revealed that Mikaela and Sam, as well as Maddie and Glen, are aboard this helicopter. Their paths cross at last. Our heroes are transported to the Hoover Dam, where Bumblebee is also. They are still smoking him.

Meanwhile, the Autobots are figuring out where to go, with the power of Archibald’s glasses. Ratchet, who I guess is omnipotent, senses that the Decepticons have also figured out the location, and that this is going to be a race against the clock. And I mean, he’s right, but the phrasing is a bit odd.

Jazz wants to know when they’re going to save Bumblebee. Optimus says that they aren’t, and that Bumblebee’s sacrifice is noble, and that he would want the Autobots to leave him and complete the mission. As this is said, we get another shot of Bumblebee getting smoked and trapped in a lab. Yep, this is totally what he would want. He absolutely signed up for this, giving himself up to the government and not at all fighting like mad to not be captured.

I don’t think Bayverse Optimus actually knows what martyrdom is, which is bizarre, given that it’s a major trait in a lot of other iterations of the character.

Ironhide isn’t even sure why they’re bothering to save humanity, given that humans are violent and awful, his point being hammered home as Bumblebee is tortured for scientific reasons. Ironhide seems to have forgotten that Cybertron has been at war for literally millions of years. Optimus has faith in humanity, however, stating that we’re “young”.

And then he says that he’s going to end his own race, by destroying the Cube™, which is how they reproduce, because that’s the only way to end the war.

Which is arguably one of the most hardcore fictional applications of eugenics ever conceived.

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

Optimus then proves that he does, in fact, know what self-sacrifice is, stating that, if all else fails, he’ll shove the AllSpark into his spark, which will destroy them both. He’s pretty chill about it, too.

Up on top of the Hoover Dam, Frenzy has fallen out of Mikaela’s bag.

Mr. Secretary is also at the Hoover Dam now, as is Lennox’s team. Oh, and Agent Simmons, who is thankfully wearing pants. He offers to buy Sam a coffee, as repartitions for threatening his family, arresting him, and being a complete creep to a teenage girl. Sam gives not a fuck about caramel macchiatos with extra foam and chocolate drizzle, however. He only cares about his car.

Mr. Mustache, who is also here, needs Sam to spill the beans on all these friggin’ giant robots that are running around. This is where Sam realizes he has the upper hand for once, and he starts making demands. One such demand is having Mikaela’s record scrubbed clean, which is an actually very nice thing for him to have done for her. We’ll see if his intent comes to fruition. For now, it’s time to talk about Bumblebee.

We get a shot of all these folks heading into the secret base hidden inside the Hoover Dam, and it’s at this point that I notice that Maddie’s shirt is basically see-through.

Inside the Dam, we see that Sector Seven′s been keeping Megatron this entire time, keeping him neutralized with cryo-stasis since 1935. Cryopreservation was invented in the 50′s. This isn’t a nitpick, I just thought it was a neat little fact.

Megatron being on Earth has resulted in most modern technology. This sort of plot point always bothers me, because it takes away agency from the entire human race. We didn’t use our own ingenuity and work ethic to advance society, we plagiarized from a more advanced species. I dunno, it just rubs me the wrong way.

We get the part of the movie where info is hashed out, so that everyone is on the same page, Sam spouting off Autobot propaganda. We can forgive him for this,considering he’s 16, and no one is immune to propaganda, especially when they have zero way of doing their own research to form their own opinion with.

Sector Seven also has the AllSpark, kept in the room next to Megatron’s, like the chumps they will soon find themselves to be. It’s about ten stories tall and the reason the Hoover Dam exists. With so much concrete suppressing its alien energies, surely no one will ever find it!

Except for Frenzy, who came in through a mouse hole. Whoopsie-doodle!

The AllSpark zaps the nasty little man, restoring his body with its weird MacGuffin powers. Frenzy tells all his coworkers that he found what they were looking for, and everyone starts heading over.

Maddie asks Mr. Mustache what exactly he means by “energies”, perhaps worried that this whole thing has been some elaborate ploy to get her to invest in magic healing stones. Mr. Mustache brings everyone into a testing chamber, since the best way to explain how the AllSpark works is through a demonstration.

There’s a big fish tank in the middle of this testing chamber, in which Agent Simmons places a donated device from the crowd- Glen’s Nokia phone, specifically. Simmons makes a geologically-confused comment. When this is pointed out by Maddie, Mr. Secretary hushes her, simply saying that Simmons is a strange man. The tank is locked down, and then the show starts.

Cube™ energies are shot into the tank, and the phone explodes into life, transforming into a gorilla-shaped gremlin creature. Happy birthday, little dude!

Little dude starts shooting at the tank walls, cracking the glass until Simmons pulls the trigger and ends it. Happy deathday, little dude!

The Decepticons are making tracks towards the Hoover Dam, but Starscream- yeah, he’s in this now, don’t worry about it- arrives first, because he is a very fast jet. He transforms, showing off his ridiculous Dorito body, and fires on the base’s generators. The resulting explosions can be heard all the way down in the testing chamber, and Mr. Mustache calls upstairs to see what’s up. Looks like Megatron may be getting warmed up, seeing as his ice bath has been cut off. Lennox asks if there’s an arms room in Sector Seven, which sort of feels like asking a bakery if they have any flour.

Frenzy has entered the room that houses the controls for the cryo-stasis and set that whole system to “no, thank you”.

Mr. Mustache runs through the base, screaming for everyone to get to the Megatron chamber. Off in the distance, the Autobots approach. Could probably used some fliers on your team, huh Optimus?

Back with Frenzy, he’s decided to just straight-up raise Megatron’s core temperature directly. Hope he doesn’t do it too fast; rewarming hypothermia victims recklessly can do some serious damage.

Outside of the base, Lennox and the boys are loading up with weaponry, along with what’s the entirety of Sector Seven′s cannon-fodder department. Oh, and all the main cast. Yep, just got a couple of teenagers chillin’ in the munitions room.

Sam wants Simmons to take him to his car- he hasn’t used Bumblebee’s name in a hot minute, not sure what’s up with that- even though Simmons is currently busy loading a very large gun. Simmons doesn’t want to do that, because he’s got no idea if what Sam mentioned earlier is even true, and he doesn’t want to pin the fate of humanity on a single Camaro. Lennox takes this opportunity to tackle Simmons, despite likely not knowing that Bumblebee is one of the “good guys”. A Sector Seven guy very much doesn’t like that, and points a gun at Lennox, which prompts all of his guys to also start threatening folks with guns.

Mr. Mustache walks in on the scene, but doesn’t do anything, since he isn’t armed and knows better than to tangle with someone who’s packing. Simmons tries to intimidate Lennox, because he must have missed the day of boot camp where they tell you that guns kill people. Lennox is fully committed to shooting this dude in the lungs before Mr. Secretary suggests he give the people what they want, before things get ugly.

Simmons takes everyone to the robot torture department of Sector Seven, where they are still smoking Bumblebee. Geez, you’d think they’d have something in place for if they ever came across another giant robot after Megatron, but I guess not. The gang gets everyone to stop smoking Bumblebee, which allows him to stop moose-screaming and strongly consider murdering everyone involved with his forced captivity. Unfortunately, revenge with have to wait, as we’ve still got to deal with the AllSpark, and the fact that the Decepticons are here.

They take Bumblebee to the AllSpark, where he makes direct contact the thing, causing the AllSpark to transform, compacting itself down into a far more reasonable size that Bumblebee can carry in one hand. It doesn’t seem to weigh more than a grown adult, if his body language is saying anything. I’d make a joke about the conservation of mass being ignored, but since this is Transformers, I can’t really say much. Conservation of mass doesn’t exist for this franchise.

Bumblebee would really like to get this show on the road, and Lennox agrees, quickly formulating a plan to get away from Megatron and taking the AllSpark to Mission City, which is relatively close to their current location, so that they can hide it there.

Lennox, I know this plan is a first draft, and we don’t have a ton of time for revisions, but the whole point of building a whole-ass dam around the Cube™ was because it was very difficult to hide, given its magical MacGuffin powers. Regardless of this flaw, Mr. Secretary agrees. Lennox also asks that the Air Force be involved in this, I guess because the U.S. military wanted more screentime.

Of course, that whole “global blackout” thing is still going on, so we’re going to have to get creative with how we’re going to contact the Air Force. Mr. Secretary and Simmons make a break for the WWII-era radio Sector Seven has, while Lennox and the boys head out to shoot things, and Mikaela and Sam hop into Bumblebee with the Cube™.

This is about the point that Megatron wakes up. The first thing he does is introduce himself, which I thought was very polite of him. Then he breaks out his flail and starts bashing shit around. Not so polite, that.

Over with Bumblebee, we’re shown that the AllSpark, all-powerful object that can create life and is the whole reason this conflict is even happening, is just chillin’ in the back seat by itself. It’s not even buckled up.

Megatron escapes the base, and it’s actually super easy. He just transforms, goes through the tunnel, and he’s free. I feel like we could have at least attempted some security measures for in case the cryo-stasis failed, given that we’ve had this dude in containment for the last 70-something years, but okay.

Starscream comes over to say hi to his boss, not that Megatron gives a shit. He just wants to know where that fucking Cube™ is. When Starscream tells him that the humans have it, Megatron makes a comment about how Starscream has failed him yet again. This is their first interaction in this movie, and Starscream’s been in the story for a grand total of five minutes at this point. I know that this is a reference to their dynamic in just about every installment of the franchise up to this point, but it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest. Even if it’s going to be expanded upon in future sequels, this is a shit-tier way to set their (awful) relationship up.

Not that anyone should ever bank on getting a sequel anyway, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Megatron tells Starscream to retrieve the AllSpark, and then we cut over to the radio plotline. The radio, which is so cobweb-covered I feel like Sector Seven needs to have a serious discussion with their custodial staff, has its nobs and buttons fiddled with by Simmons until it crackles to life. But where are the microphones? Everyone starts looking for the mics, as Simmons pushes Glen into the seat, I guess because hacking modern computers and using Depression-era radio tech are similar enough.

Maddie asks Glen if he can hotwire a 90′s-era computer to transmit a tone through the radio, so that they can send a Morse code message to the Air Force. Which sounds ridiculous to me, but I don’t know enough about radios or computers to know if that sort of thing would be possible. Maybe it’s fine. Or maybe it’s Hollywood bullshit. Who knows?

Back over with Bumblebee, we get a bunch of car commercial shots, of both him and the other Autobots. Aww, the gang’s back together again! Nobody tell Bumblebee that Optimus was completely cool with leaving him to his fate.

Optimus and the gang whip around to join the convoy, and everyone makes their way towards Mission City.

Back at the radio subplot, someone’s bangin’ on the door, trying to get in. The others try to block the intruder, while Glen does his hacking stuff. Mr. Secretary breaks a case and pulls out a gun that’s about as old as he is.

Glen gets the computer working, and Mr. Secretary gives him the Super Secret Military Codewords™ to use to talk to the Air Force. While he does that, Simmons finds a flamethrower and starts burning Frenzy as he attempts to enter the room. The Air Force receives the message for an air strike. Oh, goody.

Over with the convoy, it appears that the Autobots and Lennox’s boys are being pursued by the Decepticons. It’s difficult to tell, seeing as the cameras have gone full Bay-mode, but I’m guessing that’s what’s up. One of the Decepticons flips over a minivan, likely killing a family of five. another causes a multi-car pileup.

Bonecrusher transforms, then Optimus transforms. Bonecrusher iceskates across the highway, slamming into a bus so hard it just straight-up explodes. He is on fire. He tackles Optimus, and they proceed to fall off the side of the raised highway they’re on. Then they beat the shit out of each other, until Optimus decapitates Bonecrusher with his arm-sword.

Yeah, space dad is a little intense in the Bayverse.

Back at Sector Seven, Frenzy’s decided to leave the door alone, and instead is crawling through the ventilation shaft. Mr. Secretary and Simmons fire off shots into the duct above them, as if bullets would do anything against this nasty little pile of needles.

Frenzy bursts through the bottom of the duct and crash-lands into a glass case, taking cover behind a pillar and fires on the humans on the other side of the room. While this shootout is happening, Glen receives a response from the Air Force, just in time for Frenzy to accidentally decapitate himself with one of his own spinning blades of death. This time, he does not survive losing his head.

The Air Force will be sending fighter planes to Mission City, and to establish this, we get several shots of what some might call “military porn.”

Over in the city, the convoy has arrived. Lennox hands several short-wave radios over to Epps, telling him to use them to direct the Air Force when they arrive, so they can take the AllSpark... somewhere, I guess. Above, an F-22 zooms across the sky. It is not one of the Air Force’s F-22s.

Ironhide recognizes Starscream, and gets ready to throw down. Bumblebee grabs a nearby Furby truck and hoists it up to use as a shield. This marginally works, as the missile that hits the truck doesn’t immediately kill him, though it probably did all those Furbies inside.

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

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

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

[twistedmusings]

A Midnight Prank

[Set during Chapter 5] 

Ace figured that if you were sleeping so peacefully in your bed while he had to spend a good portion of the night on the floor, why shouldn’t he try to get his revenge? A small midnight prank would be a good way to teach you about leaving him laying on the floor like that~ 

Warnings: Lime. Very mild somnopholia and food play with Ace slowly starting to realize that he might have taken a prank a bit too far. 

A/N: What better way to start this writing blog than to reveal myself as an Ace stan. I barely blinked when I first started with this game but the moment he popped up in Ghost Marriage I guess my eyes just suddenly saw the light because this boy has such yan possibilities as well as being a tease about everything. So enjoy this self indulgent drabble, I’ll see if I write more like these ò uó. 

“Oh Great Sevens…my back.”

Ace stands up and stretches, looking down at his best friend’s and Grim’s position on the floor. Of all the things Vil could do, poisoning the food? 

Well not really poisoning but cursing the food? Who the hell cursed food? Especially Trey’s baked goods?! It was a late-night snack, a team bonding exercise! To him, Ramshackle was the place he could get away with being himself without having to follow Riddle’s sometimes ridiculous rules! Yet he had just spent the good half of the night laying on the cold, hardwood floor with Deuce and Grim like some punished first year despite the fact that he was best friends with the prefect of this dorm! 

And speaking of you. 

He glares at the stairs, remembering the helpless look you had sent him as you went upstairs with Vil following short after. You, better than anybody, knew how the floors of Ramshackle were! If you had been laying on the floor paralyzed, Ace would have brought you at least a pillow!

 Maybe!

A grin spreads on his face as his brain plans out a pretty simple prank. He goes over to the chocolate cake he had taken a bite out of and scoops up some of the whipped cream frosting the cake was lavishly decorated with , grinning as he grabs  a napkin and makes his way upstairs.

“This is for betraying the First Year Loyalty Pact, [Y/N]. Get ready to get yelled at, dear manager~”

His steps are quiet on the stairs, knowing where each and every creak would be in the old, wooden stairs. It had been a while since he had pulled a prank on you, the both of you teaming up to pull pranks on others and quickly running away as soon as the plan was executed. A part of him always thought that you, the favourite of Riddle whenever you came over to Heartslabyul, would not be as on board with his pranks but seeing you come up with your own little plans as both of you hid away from your rose garden duties was unexpected and highly welcomed.

Your excited tone, the way you moved your hands. It would get Ace riled up and ready to execute absolutely anything under your orders. 

Cater had described him as being 'whipped' but Ace didn't even know what that meant so jokes on the upperclassmen, he supposed. 

He snickers as he gets to your door, praising the Queen of Hearts that it was only ajar instead of fully closed. Ace had gone over a few scenarios in his head, maybe covering your entire face with the frosting or putting the frosting on your hand while tickling your nose so that you would slap yourself. Nothing too big since he still wanted to keep his friend status with you. 

Yet his best idea had popped up once he reached the side of your bed, looking down at you sleeping so peacefully. 

"Not for long~" 

If he took a peek at the clock he could see that it was three in the morning. He guessed that Vil's curse lasted around four hours. Practice started at eight so they would usually be awake around six thirty to eat a meager breakfast and start walking to Pomefiore-- 

Which meant that if you happened to take a bite out of this delicious frosting that he held in his finger, you would wake up unable to move and miss the entirety of breakfast altogether. He would also add the extra bonus of closing your door so you would have to scream for someone to come get you. 

"Essentially two birds with one stone, right [Y/N]?" he sits down at the edge and leans over you, "Your screaming will piss Vil off so much, probably throw him off his whole morning routine. Heh, even in this scenario you are my partner in crime…" 

Ace moves to trace the chocolate on your lips, a smile on his face as he wonders just what words you would be yelling out first thing in the morning. After this maybe he should go set up his camera to record Vil lecturing you while you were stuck in your bed. 

Ah. 

His fingers weren't moving. Why weren't his fingers moving? 

"Haha...ha. O-Okay, I got this. [Y/N] say 'ahh'." 

A warm hand cupped your face as he used the one not holding the sweet confectionary, pressing his thumb against your lips and swallowing down the rather huge lump in his throat as it slowly made its way past them. Ace pressed down lightly, your mouth parting slowly as his nail scraped against the top of your teeth which allowed him to press down and watch as your mouth parted open for him. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He was sweating, why was he sweating? A normal prank would have him smiling as adrenaline rushed through his body but this wasn't the kind of rush he was expecting. 

Ace was nervous. 

Thumb pressing against your tongue, he stopped his exploring there and not daring to go another step. He remembers back in his dating days during middle school, his girlfriend always insisted on doing the 'cutesy' thing and feeding each other. Strawberries, cotton candy, anything that was just cheesy and picture perfect enough to make him sigh in annoyance. Back then it had all just been a bother. 

But with you, why was it making him feel so--

"Augh!" 

Ace pulls his finger away, your lips still parted slightly as he grabbed his hand as if it was burned. 

Come on Trappola! What the hell is wrong with you!

You! You with your soft lips, warm tongue and inviting face that looked so so peaceful while sleeping. As if nothing would wake you! Just leaving the door open so anyone would come in and take advantage of the opportunity right before them. 

The infamous prefect of Ramshackle...looking so defenseless. 

"[Y/N]." 

Ace leans over you once again, the finger covered in chocolate this time making its way past your lips with no shame as his eyes seem to glaze over with unprecedented confidence. This was all for the sake of a good prank. Hell, he should one up it and sleep next to you tonight. You would wake up to Ace looking over you, unable to move as he teases you for not noticing his presence sooner. 

"You should really lock your door at night." he shivers when he feels your tongue lapping at his finger, "Otherwise next time I'll have to pull an even naughtier prank." 

He presses down on the slimy muscle, eyes widening when he starts getting a reaction. His finger moves up and down, tracing your tongue as your body starts to slowly respond to the attention of something sweet teasing your tastebuds. 

"Mmnnn." 

The chocolate was all gone when Ace pulled his finger back, licking his lips as he saw a faint trail of drool connecting his finger to your lips. You should have the taste floating in your mouth as your body slowly took in the curse. 

Ace barely notices himself panting until he takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the sheets covering your body as he leaned in ever closer. Maybe he should check? After all he wanted to prank you so good that you wouldn't forget about it. The thought making you squirm and open your mouth, begging him to put something inside-- 

"Ace?" 

Blood nearly rushes all the way back up to Ace's head as he hears Grimm's voice, the little creature looking at him tiredly as it floated towards him. 

"G--Grimm?! What--!" 

"My tail and ears hurt! I can't believe [Y/N] just left us there. When they wake up I'm going to--" 

Grimm yawns as he makes his way over to you, gently laying on your chest as the Heartslabyul student quickly stands up and makes his way through the door. He doesn't waste any words on saying good night as he steps out into the hall, gently shutting the door behind him and sliding down to the floor. 

What the hell did I just do? 

He looks at the finger that had done the act, staring at it as if it had a mind of its own. Your mouth had been so warm and now his entire body felt cold. Anf you weren't even aware that you had just left him feeling like this! 

Ace sighs as he runs a finger through his hair, standing up and making his way downstairs to check if Deuce has woken up. 

Not necessarily noticing how he bit at the top of the finger that had become so intimate with you. 

                                                        ~~~~~

Omake 

"Kalim? It's four in the morning why the hell are you awake?" 

Ace blinks as he supports a sleeping Deuce, the other still snoring away as Kalim smiles and places a finger to his lips. 

"I'm going to see if I can sneak in a cuddle with [Y/N]. Grimm mentioned how warm they were yesterday and I've been curious ever since!"  

"Oh, cool. Have fun then." 

The Heartslabyul student keeps walking as the Scarabia dorm leader opens the door to your room, whispering a goodnight. It was only when he heard the click of your door did he nearly drop his fellow student. 

"WAIT WHAT?" 

[ms-demeanor]

You are the one who reblogged a post with a bunch of resources about treating wounds and foraging and using a rifle. You, other anarchists, are where I’m getting the sense of the “life” I’m supposed to look forward to. Not movies.

You know how I know you’re not talking about me?

Because I’m actually really, really fucking cautious about not reblogging information about foraging because I literally know someone who poisoned his dumb ass foraging and died and I would not share that kind of resource with someone who I’m not 100% sure is excellent at woodcraft and has a shitload of outdoor experience. I actually pretty stridently recommend that you DON’T learn how to forage from online resources.

Juuuuuust in case I double checked my blog back through august.

What are you talking about? No forage resources or rifle resources here, at least not for the last 22 days. The one wound treatment thing I’ve reblogged this month is a link to CERT classes, which are community emergency response classes.

I don’t make a secret of the fact that I am pro gun ownership but I also don’t make a secret of the fact that I think if people are pro gun they also need to be pro gun safety education - there are way too many firearms in the US for us to *not* teach kids how to handle them safely. But I sure do NOT talk about having gun battles on this blog because I think that’s glorifying a fantasy version of a fast, easy revolution that I don’t believe in.

(however, as always, if you’re in my general area, don’t know how to use guns, and would like to learn I am available to teach you the basics, as much as social distancing and global pandemics allow anyway)

But. Also.

Buddy, let’s pretend it’s four years ago, or nine years ago, or twenty years ago. Let’s pretend that whatever party is in office doesn’t matter and is totally unrelated to everything.

Have you ever lived through a large earthquake?

A tornado?

A hurricane?

Sometimes infrastructure fails and knowing how to treat wounds is a very, very, very good idea.

Everyone should take a first aid class. I think first aid classes should be a requirement for graduating high school. I first got CPR certified with my girl scout troop when I was 12 and my mom took me to a mobile morgue class when I was 7 because my mom was the department safety coordinator for the DWP in Los Angeles and she was in charge of earthquake drills and first aid training and disaster preparedness and the Northridge quake had just happened.

I grew up taking first aid incredibly seriously, reading “Hatchet,” and my idea of fun is getting a vehicle stuck in an inland sea or going backpacking and encountering a bear. Learning woundcare and treatment for heatstroke and hypothermia is. Like. It’s a pretty big part of making sure I’m doing stupid bullshit as safely as possible.

Also, yeah, I’ve totally superglued my finger closed and used fishing finger wraps to seal a cut and used coffee stir sticks and electrical tape to make finger splint. Even with insurance it still costs me a couple hundred dollars to go to the ER or several hours to go to an urgent care, and that’s when I’ve HAD insurance. Knowing how to safely treat non-life-threatening injuries is just something you should know how to do if you’re broke in America; I’m lucky that I can afford to go to the ER now; that has not always been the case for me.

You ever hung out with really drunk friends? Do you know how to check eye tracking? Do you know how to put someone in the recovery position?

You ever had a friend get clocked with a boot in the pit? Do you know how to check pupil dilation to see if you need to get to a hospital ASAP?

Buddy, you don’t have to be worried about the end of the world to want to get prepared to handle an injury while camping and you don’t have to be an anarchist to think it’s a good idea to know how to treat heatstroke.

ANYWAY there’s this flaw in the human brain called negativity bias, which is where we remember negative, scary stuff more than we remember good, positive stuff.

I’m generally a pretty positive blogger, the resource lists I reblog tend to be things like “here are mutual aid groups” and “learn how to be a hacker” and “here’s how to support people who lose access to abortion.” If you’re getting primarily negativity out of the stuff that I’m reblogging I believe you’re missing the forest for the trees, bud.

The way to handle and cope with negativity bias is to be aware of it! If you’re sitting there going “everything is terrible!” ask yourself “is everything actually really terrible or am I only remembering terrible things?”

2020 is actually a fucking FANTASTIC example of that because there has been a lot of bad shit going on but there have also been really great examples of humans helping each other and people working to take care of each other and apparently Venus might have aliens and that’s just really fucking cool. There is a BUNCH of negative shit out there and we do hear about it all the time but don’t let that bury the positive shit.

You know what I want people to take away from that resource post? That you can and should protect your community from speed traps by reporting cops on traffic apps, and that by reporting cops on traffic apps you are doing a tangibly good thing to prevent marginalized groups from being targeted by police.

That’s a real, simple, easy thing that you can do to actually help people - speed traps don’t work if people don’t know about them and it’s why cops have tried to make it illegal for drivers to warn each other about them.

The idea that the government of the United States is going to collapse tomorrow and things will devolve into gun battles in the streets and foraging to keep from starving seems fairly farfetched but even if that does happen you know that mutual aid helped people survive the great depression, right?

And I don’t want to do the “you should feel #blessed that you’re better off than those people in POOR, UNDEVELOPED countries” thing but people get up and live their lives every day in conditions that require them to forage and navigate violent areas.

It’s shitty that people have to live like that, I wish they didn’t have to and I don’t want more people to have to live in extreme poverty in places that are violent, but it seems kind of. I don’t know. Arrogant? To decide you’re better than that so you might as well lay down and die.

“What do I have to look forward to” - buddy, the world doesn’t owe you a happy ending. You have the rest of your life to look forward to. You have friendships and laughter and cool projects and the people you’ll help someday and the people who will help you someday and sunsets and ripe fruit and meteor showers to look forward to.

Nearly everywhere in the world, through all of history, even peasants danced.

You’ve got the world to look forward to.

And if everything does go to hell in a handbasket and there are gun battles in the streets and you’re trying to make sure you’re gathering morels and not deathcaps then you’ve STILL got the world to look forward to and how you go into it is going to be up to you no matter how a fucking election turns out.