#we were supposed to be doing that the wHOLE TIME AND NO ONE TOLD ME

[somerandomcockroach]

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

Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you

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

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

I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part

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

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

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

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

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

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

PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS

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

SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.

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

THE GOD MUST BE WRONG

RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.

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

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,��� Orion sighs.

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

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

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

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

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

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

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

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

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

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

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

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

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

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

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

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

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

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

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

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

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

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

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

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

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

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

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

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

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

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

Prowl twitches his wings

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

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

“I believe it would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

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

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

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

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

Prowl tilts his head

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

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

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

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

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

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

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

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

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

“I did not.

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

“Congratulations.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You know how I feel about killing.”

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

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

“You killed them.”

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

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

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

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

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

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

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

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

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

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

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

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

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

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

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

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

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

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orion falls silent.

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

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

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

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

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

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

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

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

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

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

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

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

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

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

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

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

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

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

Orion looks pained

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

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

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

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

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

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

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

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

"And?”

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

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

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

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that's a really reasonable question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What should I do....”

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

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

He doesn't know where to put himself.

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

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

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

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

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

Orion looks... distraught.

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

“Orion Pax.”

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

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

“What...what are you doing here...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just.

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

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

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

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

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

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

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

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

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

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

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

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

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

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

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

He sighs helplessly

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

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

Orion twitches

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orion frowns

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

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

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

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

Orion's finials twitch slowly

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

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

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

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

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

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

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

"But..."

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

Prowl nods silently.

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

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

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

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

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

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

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

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

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

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

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

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

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

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

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

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

He turns around and walks away.

[pinkyqily]

IT'S OKAY, WE'RE OKAY, WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY JUJU WATKINS x READER

Summary: After the losing game against Iowa, you and juju get into a nasty argument that leads to your teammates separating the both of you.

Warning: Angst Angst Angst, swearing, throwing shit around, bad juju and reader

Authors note: The match was something, so that is why we get angst for times like this, anyways happy reading feedback and requests are always appreciated 💕.

Tension within the team was high no one said a word as everyone entered inside the bus. All you wanted to do was sit down next to your girl and comfort each other, but that was a no brainer as she passed by and ignored you.

Her ignoring you kinda hurt but you weren't gonna push past it. You tried sending her texts only for her to swipe them each time, you saw her groan turning off her phone.

A pit was forming down your stomach but you ignored the feeling like a fool.

You knew the type of player juju was when things don't go the way they were supposed to. Right now with the loss she was definitely beating herself up over it. no one likes to lose, especially to a team that wears the ugliest shade of yellow.

Arriving at the hotel felt like you were about to step into a battle zone. Once again you tried getting juju's attention by grabbing her hands, but all she did was yank her hands away from yours like you were some insects coming to disturb her.

You tried one last time by tapping her shoulder until she finally snapped at you, raising her voice, something that she's never does always trying her best to be calm with you.

"Bro what the fuck do you want can you not get the hint that maybe I do not want to deal with your shit tonight". You heard her say which was shocking. Because she never had an outburst likes this not even infront of your teammates or others, so her doing this just made you feel like an attention seeker which made you embarrassed.

"First off, watch how you're talking to me because I do not curse at you whatsoever and all I was trying to do was comfort my teammate who thinks the whole world is on her shoulders when the team has a few bad games but it fuck me right?." You said to her.

a few of your teammates who hadn't head upstairs came to where you and juju trying to calm things down, but that only made things escalate.

"Wow this coming from the player that left the 3 pointer line all wide fucking open and probably cost us the game". The moments those words came out of juju mouth she insanely regretted them but it was to late because you already heard them.

"I'm so sorry that not everyone can be there own fucking Judea watkins that's oh so prefect". You threw back at her tears clearly streaming down your face

It was too late for juju to say anything as kiki and Ray came separating the both of you.

The looks from your coaches were equally heartbreaking because no one wants to witness their best players tearing each other to threads.

A wave of guilt filled juju as everything she said to you hit her like a brick stone she was obviously in her head and wasn't thinking at all but the damage was already done. She made you cry and hurt you're feelings what type of girlfriend and teammate was she?. Was all she wondered now.

You we're already walking off with kiki.

She tried saying something but was cut off by one of the coaches who told her not to.

"It not worth it juju just head back upstairs, we'll be having a serious talking about both of your behaviors ray please help juju up to her room". she heard coach say, heading back the other way with ray, head facing down has she pulled her hoodie strings ashamed of how she acted.

What she didn't see was the way you turned around, hoping for her to say something at all it could've been anything but she didn't.

Only leaving both of you to sleep with heavy hearts having a thin wall separating you once more, you guys were definitely not okay and no one was okay.

[blueskrugs]

I Know I Could Have Loved You | Brock Boeser

at long last, it's here! this is my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, written for @one-night-story! Once again, I am SO sorry this is a bit late, but I had a really brutal week.

I hope you enjoy!!

length: 2000 words

You met Brock Boeser in 2015 when you were both freshmen at the University of North Dakota.

He wasn't your best friend at first. 

In fact, he'd rolled his eyes and when you were forced to partner with him for a stupid project in your intro to stats course. You don't remember exactly when he did become your friend, but  before you knew it your weekends were spent watching hockey games, then going out for fast food french fries with Brock, or lounging in each other's dorm rooms while you did homework. (Or while you did homework, and Brock pretended to do his own.) 

You don't know when you fell in love with Brock Boeser, either, just that you did.

Brock dated a few people while at UND, like most of the hockey players did. They stuck around for a few weeks or months before disappearing. Brock never bothered to introduce you to any of them. You tried to not let it bother you. 

“You should move to Vancouver, "Brock said suddenly one summer day. He'd signed his ELC just a few months prior—instead of returning to UND with you in the fall, he’d be off to Vancouver for training camp with the Canucks. 

You were both tanning by the lake, and you lowered your sunglasses to look sideways at Brock. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Brock, some of us have to actually finish college before getting a job," you said. You still had 2 years before graduation. "And why the hell should I move to Vancouver?"

Brock shrugged, all forced nonchalance. "Well, I'll be there."

You scoffed. "Sure, from October to April." You didn't know anyone in Vancouver, excluding Brock, who only counted during hockey season anyway.

"But I'll miss you," Brock argued. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I think you'll manage just fine, Boes," you told him. "You survived this long without me before we met, didn't you? You can keep surviving now, too."

Brock pouts at you, but doesn't argue the point further, so you think that's the end of it. You put your sunglasses back in place on the bridge of your nose and settle back against your chair. You can’t deny that it leaves a nice fuzzy feeling in your chest that Brock thinks he’ll miss you so much that he’s begging you to join him in Vancouver.

Brock doesn’t bring it up again that summer, or for the next two years as you’re finishing up college, and you forget about the whole thing. The years pass; you graduate. 

Brock comes to your graduation party, kisses you on the cheek, and spends the afternoon charming your parents and your friends from high school and from UND. Brock always manages to stay within your orbit, never more than arm’s reach away from you. It’s nice, to have him back at your side like this. 

It's only when the party is over and Brock is helping clean up that he springs the question on you again.

"Have you thought about it at all?" he asks, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

You've had a few drinks, and it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up. "What?" you ask. "Thought about what?"

“Moving to Vancouver with me."

You already have a job lined up in your hometown. You haven't thought even once of moving to Vancouver instead.

"Brock, I can't just move to another country."

"What if I want you to?“

"Oh, sure, that will go over well on a visa application. ‘Because my bestfriend wants me to.’"

Brock sticks his tongue out at you.

"You should at least come and visit me," he pleads, "I really think you'll love it."

You roll your eyes at Brock. "I guess I can make time to visit,” you say, ignoring Brock's exaggerated cheer before he squishes you into a hug.

Brock manages to talk you into visiting him in June, because—in his words— "It's prettier in the summer."

He's not exactly wrong, you have to admit, after a week of traipsing around the city with Brock. You're watching a firework show with your head on Brock's shoulder when you realize you're starting to picture yourself in Vancouver, starting a real life here.

"D'you really think I could get a job here?” you murmur to Brock during a pause in the fireworks.

"What?” Brock asks. He turns to you. His blond hair glows in the light of the fireworks overhead. "Never mind,” you whisper back.

You begin searching for jobs in Vancouver that night, in the quiet darkness of Brock's spare bedroom.

Before you know it, you've lined up the perfect job—even better than the one you'd originally found back home, not that you'll ever tell Brock that—and Brock has helped you find an apartment in the city. 

"It's not far from me,” Brock had told you when he was helping you move in, "so you can come over and walk Milo and Coolie whenever."

"Oh, is that the real reason you wanted me to move out here?” you tease. "Free dog walking?"

Brock shrugs innocently but chuckles. "Well, I need someone to watch them when we're on road trips and stuff.”

You throw a wad of bubble wrap at him.

Later, while you and Brock are eating pizza on your living room floor, Brock flops into his back and sighs. You poke him in the head with your foot.

"You good, buddy?” you ask.

"What do you think of dating apps?” Brock says, which isn't really an answer.

You've always been too scared to try dating apps yourself. Instead of telling Brock that, you say, "You're a professional athlete.” And a very attractive one, but you don’t say that part. "What do you need dating apps for?”

Brock looks up at you from his sprawl on your floor. "Because I'm tired of being single?” he asks.

You flip him off. You don't say, I'm single, too, you could always date me. You got used to putting aside your feelings for Brock a long time ago.

"And you think dating apps are the solution? You didn't have any issues getting people to date you in North Dakota.”

Brock rolls his eyes. "I didn't play for the Canucks, then. It's all people I meet now seem to care about.”

You're still not sure how dating apps will solve that problem.

As if he hears your unspoken question, Brock continues. "At least this way, I can weed out puck bunnies or whatever a lot faster, instead of wasting my time.” He cranes his neck around so he can look at you directly. "So will you help me or not?” 

You think you'd rather get stabbed directly in the heart than to help Brock date someone else, but you never could say no to him.

"Fine, whatever,” you say. "Gimme your phone.” 

You're already regretting your decision less than ten minutes later as you watch Brock scroll through his camera roll to add pictures to his profile.

"You can't use your official headshot!” you tell him, trying to snatch his phone. "People are going to think they're getting catfished.”

"I don't have a lot of good pictures of myself!” Brock protests.

You've nixed three more photos—all pictures Brock has evidently stolen from the team's social media—("Why the hell do you save all these, anyway?”)—when Brock throws his hands up and passes you his phone.

"You do it then,” he tells you.

Brock's own camera roll is obviously useless, so you pull out your own phone. It only takes a few minutes of scrolling for you to pluck a handful of good photos out of your camera roll and Airdrop them to Brock. He's looking at you a little strangely when you hand his phone back.

"What?” you ask.

"I didn't know you took so many pictures of me,” he says. 

"I don't take that many,” you defend weakly. It's not like you have an entire album on your phone of pictures of him, or anything. 

Brock drops the subject, but you still feel uneasy as you continue helping him finish his profile. The two of you spend almost an hour bickering over which prompts to choose or the answers Brock writes for them before Brock deems his profile "good enough”.

"'Good enough?'” you argue. “This profile is a masterpiece,” you declare. "We'll get you cuffed in time for Christmas.”

Brock snorts at you. "All thanks to you,” he says, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You try not to feel any particular way about it.

Brock spends the next few weeks bringing you his dating app matches to "approve.” He even shows you some of the funny ones—mostly girls tripping over themselves for the chance to sleep with The Brock Boeser of the Vancouver Canucks. He gets a lot of matches. 

You try to muster the appropriate enthusiasm for Brock, as he seems to be throwing himself into this endeavor with all the energy he throws into hockey.

It's hard, though, when all you can do is compare yourself to them. You wonder what Brock sees in them that he’s never seen in you.

Brock never seems to notice if your encouragement is lackluster.

Matches turn into a revolving door of first dates for Brock. A few times, first dates turn into second dates, and even into a third date or two. 

You force yourself to stop obsessively keeping track of his dates, and to pretend like each date he goes on doesn't drive the knife even deeper into your heart.

Brock's in the middle of telling you about his latest date—you think he’s been seeing this person for nearly a month—when he stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you okay?” he asks.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” you say. It doesn’t sound very confident, even to your ears. 

"You've got that look on your face, the one where you're mad at me, but trying to pretend that you're not.”

You try to arrange your face into something more neutral.

"I'm not mad at you, Brock,” you say. You don't think he believes you. 

"So why do you always get all—” Brock gestures vaguely at your face. “—pissy whenever I talk about my dates?”

"I do not! And besides, I didn't know moving to Vancouver meant a front row seat to your dating life! Don't you have teammates to talk about this shit with?”

Brock scoffs. "They don't care about my dating life, and, apparently, neither do you.” 

"Brock, it's not that I don't care—” 

Brock cuts you off. "Then what is it?”

"I care too much!”

"What?” he says.

"Dammit, Brock, why don't you want to date me?” you snap.

Brock shakes his head. You probably shouldn't have said that.

"What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

"You heard me the first time, Boeser. Why are you searching all over Vancouver for someone to date when I've been here the whole time?” 

Brock takes a step closer to you. You take a step backwards; your kitchen is small, and you end up trapped against the counter.

"The whole time? "Brock repeats dumbly.

You could slap him. "Yes, Brock. Boy, it's a good thing you're pretty and good at hockey, because you can be really stupid sometimes.”

"Hang on,” Brock says. He's moved even closer. "How was I supposed to know?”

"Do you think I'd more to another country for anyone?” you ask.

"Oh,” Brock says. Then he says, "For how long?”

"Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” Brock asks.

“I don't know, sometime freshman year, I guess.” There was never really a lightbulb moment for you; your feelings for Brock grew and morphed so slowly you almost didn't notice until it was too late.

Brock kisses you then, crushing you up against the cabinets with the force of it. His hands are warm on your hips, his lips gentle and firm against yours.

You pull away, a little breathless.

Brock grins at you. “If I had known this was an option, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”

"So, can we delete that dating app now?” you ask, forehead resting on Brock's shoulder.

"We can do whatever you want,” Brock says, leaning in to kiss you again.

You suppose deleting his dating profile can wait a little while.

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 10>

smut warning

word count: 2.8K

Sophia's POV:

I am currently in the bed of the hotel room with Roman all over me, exchanging not so sweet, sloppy kisses.

"You were amazing tonight." he whispered heavily through the kisses.

We were already in our pajamas attire since it's around midnight.

"Thank you. But I wasn't the one who threw punches." I replied in the same way as him and he laughed deeply.

"I hit Randy harder than I was supposed to but he deserved it. The way he was talking at you like he has a chance against me." Roman got heated up again and leaned to kiss my neck and I slightly moaned as I was running my hands through his back.

"You smell so good." the deep voice mixed with the heavy breaths is a deadly combination that caused an unfamiliar tickling feeling down to my private parts.

Suddenly I felt Roman started licking my neck and I think I'm getting wet right now.

"Damn, you put coconut juice on you, babygirl?" he just had to make things more intense than already are with calling me that. "I'm gonna eat you whole." he stopped himself and lifted himself up, so we could be face to face again.

"It's just a body lotion." I giggled while examining his hungry eyes and ignoring the tension I am feeling down there.

"An edible one or is it just you." he made a witty comment and I closed my mouth.

"No, no. Don't close it. I still have work there." Roman spoke and we started kissing again but the ringing on my phone interrupted us.

"Who is it that late of the night?" I asked and reached for my device and seeing uncle's name on it made my eyes pop out.

"It's uncle." I said and Roman suddenly panicked.

"Is it face-time?" he asked.

"No. Standard call. Be quiet." I whisper yelled and picked up.

"Uncle." I said sweetly.

"I want to congratulate you, Sophia once again. You are doing an amazing job. Even beyond my expectations." he complimented me and I laughed nervously.

"Thank you so much. I learn from the best." I replied. "How have you been?"

"Still the same. The issue is severe." I pouted.

"My poor uncle." I said in a weeping tone.

"I'll be fine, sweetie. So tell me how are you with Roman?" he asked and I looked at Roman with horror.

"I think we get along okay, yeah." I said in the coolest way possible but deep down my whole body is pounding.

"If you two are at a hotel in Atlanta for three days it must be more than okay." uncle snapped at me and I gulped loudly. Roman is looking at me with "what the hell is going on" look.

"I just wanted to see the Botanical Garden plus we are in seperate rooms, uncle. Come on now." I said the biggest lie to exist and I hope he buys it.

"I know. I know." he said and I started wondering who might have told him. It's either mom or if he called Jimmy and Solo...more like mom. "Okay, dear. You must be tired already. I just wanted to praise you for your work. Can't wait for the Royal Rumble match next Saturday."

"Me too, uncle. Thank you once again. Get better and I will make sure to visit you, soon, okay? Kiss my cousins and aunt from me." I ordered.

"No chance for your aunt." uncle enunciated and I rolled my eyes. "Good night."

"Good night." I replied sweetly and hung up.

"Somebody told him we are at a hotel and I think it's mom." I stated and Roman seemed puzzled. "We have to tell him about us one day, though." I sighed and sat back on my bed while he was laying on it.

"Now that we are on the topic, you are being promoted from Wise Woman to girlfriend." Roman declared.

"I am?" I smirked and climbed on his lap. "Whose girlfriend?" I ran my fingers softly through his abs.

"What do you mean whose? Mine!" he grumbled.

"I got it but am I Tribal Chief's girlfriend or am I Joe's girlfriend?" I asked.

"All of my personalities are yours." my boyfriend announced with a smile and I smiled back at him.

"As scary as this sounds, I love it." I said and leaned to kiss him again.

...

I slowly opened my eyes and I saw I am lying on Roman's naked chest. He is still sleeping peacefully with his arm around my shoulder.

He looks very peaceful while he is sleeping. His tied hair is not so tied anymore. There are fluffy strands everywhere and he looks unbelievably cute.

The second I looked down, however, I saw a big bump in the sheet.

Holy heavens. That's NPT. Robert got these too but it's not close to this size I am witnessing right now. This view is scary. How big is that thing?

I immediately got up and ran to the bathroom before he wakes up and becomes uncomfortable.

As I shut the door I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Why the hell am I so nervous? It's not like we are gonna do this right now but one day we will and I fear this is gonna hurt a lot.

I decided to stop thinking about this and just brushed my teeth. I think I need a consultation with Cleo and Tina because I have to be prepared.

I need advice.

For the first time in my life.

I used the time to do some skincare and fix my hair and I hope when I walk out the door everything is back to normal.

After the deep breath I took, I opened the door and went back to the room.

I saw Roman still lying on his bed, already awake. He must have been waiting for me to get out of the bathroom, so he could go.

Also, there was a pillow on his crotch.

"Good morning." he said with a smile and got up with the pillow.

"Good morning." I replied trying to look completely unbothered by the sight. I gulped loudly, didn't even bother to ask.

Will he just wait to go down or will he...I better not think about this.

...

Roman's POV:

I think that Sophia definitely saw my loaded gun earlier in the morning. When she got out of that bathroom she kinda looked like she's seen a ghost.

It's good she knows I'm a perfectly erectile functional man and I will be until I die if I spend the rest of my life with her. I just know it.

...

Right now I am sweating my ass off in that sauna and Sophia's perect half-naked body covered with sweat and barbie pink one-piece swimsuit that was making her breasts pop out, don't help at all.

"Is your body okay?" she suddenly asked me and I furrowed my eyebrows out of confusion.

"From the fight last night." my girlfriend specified. I can't believe she is really my girlfriend already.

"Yup. I am strong like a bull." I squeezed my right bicep indicating my strength.

Sophia just giggled and looked down.

Sweat was dripping down her cleavage. I have a sudden urge to lick it.

"Are you alright, though?" I asked her.

"I'm not sure. Ever since I woke up I have pain in the lower back." she put her hand on the hurt spot.

"Let's get out of here and make a massage appointment." I grabbed her hand and we got out of the tiny hell.

The breeze of normal air filled my nostrills and body with coolness.

"We have to take a shower first. We are a sweaty mess." Soph giggled and went to the shower.

Although my intrusive thoughts yelled at me to join her and rinse together I just waited for her respectfully and then I went to wash myself.

"I'm sorry, sir. There are no available masseurs for today." the receptionist apologized to me as I requested a massage for Soph and myself.

Okay. Little does my girlfriend know that I am a literal problem solver. I saw a shelf behind her that had body oils on it.

"Could you give me a massage oil then? A relaxing one, please." I asked politely and she gave me exactly what I was looking for then I pulled out my debit card.

Judging by Sophia's expression, she looks baffled and I just gave her an assuring nod.

Sophia's POV:

I am laying on my stomach with a towel beneath me and one over my butt. All of this is on the bed in the hotel room.

I feel like I'm gonna explode any second because I'm basically naked in front of Joe although he can't see anything but still.

"You sure you know how this works?" I asked again.

"One hundred percent. I'm an athlete, baby. I know a few tricks." he reassured me and I heard the bottle opening.

I felt him spreading the relaxing oil all over my body.

"I want you to loosen up a little." he gave me instructions. Probably he felt I am as stiff as a rock right now. "Imagine I am just your masseur now, not your boyfriend. I'm not gonna touch you inappropriately...unless you ask me to do it." he whispered the last part and I felt I got chills all over my body.

"Okay." I said with a high pitched voice and I heard a sudden chuckle.

"But you are still tense." he concluded as he continued to softly touch my body continuing spreading the oil that smells of menthol and camphor and was filling my nostrills with pure calm and relaxation all of the sudden.

I started to breathe deeply as well.

"There you go." Joe said quietly and started softly massaging me from my shoulders. "Now you are gonna tell me exactly where it hurts."

He was going lower and lower until he touched my lower back and I hissed cause he shoot the right spot.

"Right there." I answered and he brought his focus to that exact place as he was massaging slowly at first and going gradually faster. The tension in that part was growing and I am feeling a serious amount of pain which was supported by my quiet moans.

"It's okay, babygirl. You can go crazy. Don't surpress the pain. Show me how much it hurts." I went a bit louder and released the pain.

All of the sudden however, I stopped feeling pain and pressure in my lower back. Instead I felt that the pressure moved between my legs.

A very weird kind of pressure.

Meanwhile Joe started kneading all around my back with slow movements but the tension wasn't disappearing. It was rising.

"Good girl." my boyfriend whispered, sending chills even into inside of my brain and I felt the tension that accumulated between my legs, suddenly got released, making me moan out loud but not of pain.

It was pleasure.

A very unfamiliar sensation.

Damn, is this why people go to massages that often?

"Soph, did you just have an orgasm?" Joe suddenly asked me and I freezed all over again.

"What? No." I immediately denied. "I mean I don't know." this just slipped out of my mouth and I put my fist on it.

"What do you mean you don't know? This a 'yes or no' thing." he said and I thank God that I can't look at his eyes right now since I will die from embarrassment.

"Well..." okay, maybe I have to tell him. "I don't know cause I never got one before." I confessed. I really haven't though. I usually treat sex like a duty and I don't care if I feel good, as long as it gets done faster than possible.

Also, the other methods of pleasuring a woman haven't worked for me as well.

"Pardon?" I could hear loud and clearly the shock in Roman's voice. "You are a saying a woman like you has never received an orgasm in her life?"

I felt my cheeks burning.

"Yes." I confirmed.

"Dear God. What did Sophia do to deserve this? Am I the chosen one?" not Roman having conversations with God now. I started laughing.

"It's not funny. A woman like you should receive at least two a day." I finally turned my head to him and he seemed genuinely pissed off.

It is cute, not gonna lie.

"I have an idea." he said. "Why don't you turn around and let me bring you another wave of pleasure but this time with my fingers. How does that sound?" never have I ever heard this sentence in my life.

"You are gonna be covered fully with the towel, sweetheart. Don't worry. I know I don't deserve to see you fully naked yet." Roman reassured me and I felt the tingle down there again.

"Um..." he really put me in a position where speechless is an understatement for my current state of loss of words. I feel like I swallowed my whole tongue and I will never be able to speak again and in this case, I'd be thankful for that.

"You don't have to do anything. Just lie there as you are. I'm gonna do the work, okay?" he really seemed excited to do this yet he was speaking in a cool, chill tone as if it's nothing.

I took a minute to think about this. It's just a little touch. I won't have to do anything. It's not sex basically, so I'm not gonna give away myself fully.

"Okay." I simply replied. I can't believe that I actually said that.

Roman went to the bathroom to wash the oil from his hands since it can be dangerous for the private parts.

During that time I turned around - laying on my back with the towel fully covering my chest and vagina.

Once, he came back, my boyfriend leaned to give me a deep, passionate kiss on the lips while sliding his tongue as well.

He was standing right next to the bed and suddenly I felt him kneeling, so we could be at one level.

Is this how he's gonna..?

I saw a spark in his big brown eyes. He was eager but I could sense a small amount of nervousness. Way smaller than mine.

"What I want from you is to spread your legs a little bit and not take your eyes off of me." Roman instructed me and I just nodded my head.

He then slid his big hand under the towel and reached my freshly waxed triangle and then went down.

My breath hitched.

"It's wet...and incredibly soft. Good god." Roman exclaimed.

"Thank you." I muttered while trying not to look away.

He then started rubbing my clit and I moaned softly.

"For a wrestler, your hands are pretty soft and smooth." I remarked and he seemed impressed.

"Oh yeah?" Roman asked and started going faster bringing a new wave of tension and soft vocal performance from me.

"Mhm." I whimpered and bit my lower lip.

"You sound amazing when you moan by the way." Roman whispered and I pressed my lips. "Let's get you a little louder." as he spoke, I feel he shoved his two fingers in my vagina, catching my breath from the sudden surprise.

However, he continued going deeper and deeper with them. His fingers are honestly so long, it feels like we're having sex.

Which brings me to the question what's gonna feel like when he actually gets in me.

As of now that concept sounds very exciting and for a moment I imagined he is fully in me, so I started moaning louder.

"You are so tight, Soph." my boyfriend breathed out. "So tight that it might be a problem."

"Why?" I cried out from the pleasure that's building in my body.

"Might be a problem for me to fit in you...at first." so it really is true.

"It's gonna be okay, baby. You are the chosen one." I panted as he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and then I just felt the pleasure taking over my whole body.

The intensity of this orgasm made me rest my head back. Therefore I stopped the beautiful eye contact me and Joe were having.

I had no idea I could moan so much and so loud.

"There you go, babygirl." judging from his tone, my boyfriend sounded satisfied. He gave me a small kiss on the lips.

I kinda got so used to his fingers that I felt awful when he took them out of me.

I opened my eyes, took a look and saw he was licking the juice that was on them.

"I just had a 5-star lunch. Are you hungry?" Roman asked me as if it was nothing and I just laughed out loud.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Please give me your headcanons/ideas on Ranger Marsh, and my life is yours🙏 (He's my favorite old man yeehaw squeeeeeee)

YEAH HE IS

Ranger marsh is THE FATHER OF ALL TIME to me because listen-

I live in Florida. Whenever they talk about manatees or red tide or the effects of a cold snap im like YOOO I KNOW ABOUT THAT!!!

I need yall to understand 🙏 hes part of the fcking ecosystem.

He understands the needs and behaviours and everything about the everglades and its creatures. He knows how to talk to them and they know him and love him. He chooses to go out and help right away with this " I gotcha dont worry about nothing!" attitude

Hes so connected with it and its beautiful-

Its just that sense of community hes got with all the creatures in the everglades that makes me 🥺 hes got such a kind heart and he seems like the person to choose to do something because someone has to yk?

Alot of people would be offput by all the bugs and heat and etc, but he just goes oh well and keeps going along and I think that is SO special

And im gonna be honest here. Alot of people ARENT. Like at all, and they do the dumbest sht

One time my dad and I were on a board walk near a river that had gators in it and there were signs about it too. We saw this??? Fcking guy in a whole business suit with his kid wanting to give a little gator fcking store bought chicken nuggets??? 💀🙏 we like kindly explain uhhh heyyy don't do that cuz u don't want gators to associate humans with food or (gestures broadly to all the many reasons u shouldn't feed wild animals)

And then we continued our walk, but when we turned back we fcking saw a mini crowd (with several small kids leaning THROUGH THE GAP in the railing) surrounding a guy with a kiddie fishing pole trying to??? Idk feed the gator the chicken nuggets.

There were signs about not disturbing the wildlife.

I didnt exaggerate a single aspect of this btw.

Like thank fck gators are ambush predators and not chasers cuz those guys can run and climb like nobody's business... and hide under cars

SIDE TANGEANT ASIDE alot of people just aren't in tune with and have like a totally unrealistic and detached from reality expectation of that kinda nature. But ranger marsh (i headcanon that his first name is Rover btw cuz not only is that a flooding guy name but cmon- RIVER MARSH?!!) Is always so patient about explaining that kind of stuff to the others in the show

Hes got an understanding and a system on how to handle things.

Also I do appreciate how he struggles with understanding technology and prefers old fashioned ways. Because while there are alot of folks like that, alot of people can be... very aggressive about it if u disagree with them :(

But ranger marsh, while he can't understand, he still does come around and appreciates it the best he can yk? Like sure he doesn't get WHY and he sucks at it, but he comes around and appreciates it, even if it isn't always for him

The awe he felt when the gup k went under water and he saw the world he loves from an entirely new angle? Oh my god my heart-

He would absolutely take in any stray creature that needs help, he feels like the kinda guy that would've tried to help a wild animal heal up in the garage when they were a kid and everyone else told him not to touch it 🥺

Also personal headcanon time:

I dont think this guy could keep a secret for the life of him. Like this guy doesn't even realize, he feels like the guy would would see something weird and then go " well ill be i never did see anythin as strange as that before" to a fcking bush or the sky

He sort just has this factual way of speaking that reminds me of people who go "well yeah well when ya go n talk her dont mention x and x cuz I'm pretty sure she's suspecting her boyfrens been cheatin on her and oh I wasn't supposed to share that was i."

Also I feel like maybe I'm just projecting and making him autistic but like??? Has a hard time dealing with change??? Likes being in the wild with a bunch of creatures??? Probably needs his "two hours of contemplating on the back porch" every day ????

Hes absolutely the type to want to dig in the mud for hours thank you, he absolutely went fck living a normal life in society I want to be friends with the animals under my porch

I desperately want him to basically go "hm ok ur staying here for tonight" to calico jack who is the equivalent of a (very kind and gentle) feral stray 🙏

I'm gonna make a post about their dynamic later lol

Cuz likes its an old funky pirate cat with isolation issues thats probably scared of gators and Caimens for I lost me leg reasons and hasn't had like a normal meal in probably over a decade at least

(Cj probably can't handle dairy but he's gonna try (and fail) ranger marsh probably makes delicious mac n cheese)

also cj literally uses a peg leg that can NOT be good for his back, like there's so much special care needed if u have a proper prosthetic but a peg leg is like 💀🙏 so bad

I feel like CJ is this very kind and gentle soul, but the second he meets someone his age (cuz they ARE around the same age) he just becomes a wet gremlin, ill yap more about it on their dynamic post tho

As for the question of "ayyo whats up with ranger marshes wife or rather tweaks mom what's up with that"

I dont think tweaks mom died or anything, I think they just divorced when she was in like middle school and then he got her legos to try to help her feel better 😭

probably just cuz of personal differences... but yk some people can get kinda :| during divorces and stuff

I feel like they were probably high school sweethearts that got married before they even grew as people

It seems to me like tweak was probably homeschooling and definitely was skipping grades and whatever

I liek to think she has lego models of all her gups and that she had an emo phase in middle school 🙏 she still has the spirit in her soul but let's be real she's probably too busy elbows deep in an engine to upkeep that stuff anymore lol

(Ik we saw a younger tweak before in the show but like who says it wasn't at a different point in her life lol)

I dont think she was necessarily into emo specifically as a way to rebel her own parents btw (at least not her dad) but just because she liked the culture lol and was probably on my space as a teen

She 100% tried to take her dad to a monster truck show at least once and he absolutely did not understand the hype 😭 but tweak was inspired to take inspiration from the mix of animal designs and unique shapes into something more eco friendly and versatile tho

Like the gup k is just a wetland monster truck 🙏

She absolutely had years of trial and error with all sorts of gizmos that exploded at least a few times before she got the hang of engineering

Probably tried to make all sorts of things to help the little critters her pa took care of

Might be part of the reason he doesn't understand tech that well because when ur a kid without alot of money u gotta work with what u have and sometimes that doesn't always work out XD but hey restriction of choices can lead to alot of unique and creative solutions!

idk the exact reason why ranger marsh and his wife would've divorced,maybe it was just a difference in how they envisioned their life styles and the fact ranger marsh seems a bit too "introverted and quiet" for a more social life and environment with a normal job tbh

(Cough autism cough they are both autistic in different ways cough)

but the everglades have always been tweaks home and I doubt she wanted to leave. I think she still talks to her mom and stuff but just... not that much

I dont really think ranger marsh would've tried again in that type of relationship, hes too busy being busy with life and enjoying the small moments

And hot cocoa from the machine that tweak gave him as a gift

He absolutely helped her keep her room organized and tidy as a kid tho, but look at her room into he octopod now XD

Also SOMEONE MAKE HIM SAY " BLESS THEIR HEART" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THATS THE NUMBER ONE SOUTHERN SAYING-

Like 🥺 idk if yall know but bless ur heart can mean alot of different stuff depending on the context- it can go from "oh my goodness thats awful I can empathize with that and I wish them the best" to "well.... that person has no FCKING idea what they're doing but.... bless that idiots heart hes trying😂 🙏"

[naga-raja-suresh]

Suresh's nose had fixed itself, there had been nothing to stop it from going back to what it was supposed to look like so it straightened itself without any further interference. The Naga grinned, "I was keeping you prone. You kicked me in the face. Slightly different... -what do the children say these days- Vibes? But you're right. Even is even." It wasn't something to stay on. He could move past it for the time being. He listened to the laugh. Interested in the sound. He knew that Callum hadn't been telling the whole truth but Suresh was not about to wholesale believe the witch. Not now, not ever. He simply nodded, "That is what he told me." Because it had been. He leaned his head on the couch and listened to whatever semblance of the truth poured from Corvinus' lips. The relationships with the Lightless was contentious at best but they had found a common ground until the man sitting across from him had appeared. Suresh nodded his head. The way Corvinus told it was a bit different than how the Hellhound had painted the circumstances. And somewhere in the middle was what had actually had happened. Suesh nodded again and said, "Yes, I believe he called you a walking abomination." But that was between Loughty and his god. His need to right the scales. True believers had their place in all orders. Suresh's golden talons clicked against each other as he folded his hand over his chest. At the string of mostly rhetorical questions Suresh shrugged, "Why do any of us hide anything? Because we do not trust." The comment about nagas and Callum made Suresh's eyes narrow and he shook his head, "Naga's are natural. Old or not. Just because no one knows what our life expectancy actually is... we are natural." Well, they were natural. Whatever he'd done to augment himself... that was something else.

Suresh considered what Corvinus thought would be the things that he would reject outright. He wasn't going to give Corvinus a blank check. The Naga let out a soft amused noise when the witch said he didn't mind getting his own hands dirty. Of course. "If you are disliked that is entirely up to you." But whatever the witch chose to do he would do. A favor that he could reject was fine with Suresh.

He glanced down at his hands. Looking at his talons. Then back back up at Corvinus. "The talons are what bother you? Really? Alright then." He cracked his neck and drew in a breath and a soft shimmer on his hands, talons gone like they had never been. "Standing in the rubble looking across at each other... No. There is no rush. Though the next time I think neither of us will be holding back like we were..." A soft acknowledgement that what had happened between them was a mere skirmish. "Most people that know what I can do either crave it or are repulsed by it. I'm not fond of either reaction." Suresh reached his right hand out across the space between them, palm up, offering it to the witch. "You don't have to pretend." He held it there waiting, just to see what he would do.

An elemental witch... It didn't feel right. But wanted a face to the Nameless. Something with no face and no real intentions were difficult to guard against. And there was always the possibility that the leader could be trapped and then killed. However Suresh was not in a rush to gather all the important people in the city into one spot for the Nameless to possibly act against. "I will reach out along the channels I am able to use. And give you a location when appropriate. But why offer him up? You could have given him one of us couldn't you?" Suresh agreed that others feared power. It's why he hid so much of his. His eyes drifted over Corvinus' face as he spoke about being erased from living and written memory. "We've seen our share of Ozymandias' I think. But for us, it goes in cycles. We are the gods and we are the monsters. It just depends on the age and who writes the histories. But we are the myths and legends. Things that the others can only hope to aspire to."

He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the mention of being slapped, as if they both hadn't taken their fair share of blows for the night. At least Corvinus had wrapped up his fairly quickly. Torture nonetheless but it had been fairly quick and not so...invasive. Or at least in his own eyes. "And you broke several of my bones. What's a little kick in the nose for that?" A nose could gush blood easily, that was true, but it allowed him a glimpse of the healing in Suresh as well. Not as quick, but effective either way. He did wonder if it would automatically set properly like his own body or if it would fuse into whatever position it was left in. But at the mention of Callum, oh, that earned a whole laugh. "A territory dispute? That's what he told you? Oh, he is quite the liar then. There was no territory dispute. Just because our countries aren't far from each other doesn't mean mean anything. I've never once claimed all of bloody Ireland and certainly not Scotland. I have an estate and property around it, that's all I ask others to not step into."

Clearly the man was trying to keep things under wraps, to hide his history from the others. Corvinus knew better, had come face to face with what the Lightless leader now tried to hide. It did make Corvinus all the more curious what else the renowned Hellhound was trying to keep hidden. What was one blood witch the others were aware of? Who else had he gone after. "I call him the cú sídhe. Hellhound, not too much of a thing to us Irish. I'd never even heard of him before but apparently he had a name amongst others. It just wasn't important enough to reach me so there couldn't have been any territory dispute to begin with. I was happily minding my own business at the time." Well, not exactly. He had been meddling around in political affairs at the time but that wasn't important. "He found me. He hunted me. All because my lifespan defies 'natural order' as he put it and I had blood on my hands. That's what he did. He sought out those that were alive for too long and snuffed them out, or if they committed any sort of egregious crime that justice had not been served. Judge, jury, executioner." Of course, Corvinus had learned all of that after the fact, when he had become aware of Callum and had temporarily been on his radar. Corvinus had simply gotten bored of tracking him across Europe and a few other continents.

Though a thought did occur to him. "It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Why hide it? What else has he killed for sins or for simply living longer than others?" He was staring into space for a moment, as if considering, before his gaze returned to Suresh. "What do you think he would do if another very old naga had crossed his path? Perhaps that's why he hid it from you."

The scale was a reach, he knew that. Especially after he had just been caught with naga blood; it meant it would most certainly not be used for mere decoration and would simply go into spellwork. Likely against Suresh himself. But he took the rejection in stride, giving only a small shrug though certainly a face of disappointment at the potential to deny a favour. "Oh, don't worry. I won't ask you to kill anyone or anything like that. Or any pieces of you. I have no issue getting my own hands dirty. Think of it as more insurance down the road. Especially if I'm so disliked within this city and want to enjoy my time here." Hopefully enough of a reassurance that whatever the favour was shouldn't be too gruesome though Corvinus couldn't say for sure. He merely liked the idea of being owed.

How quick the other was to retreat. He rose an eyebrow, gaze drifting down the other's long form and eyes particularly on the talons. Those were his main concerns for the moment. "Put the claws away and I certainly wouldn't mind if you did. The thing with us ancient beings is...we don't have to rush to kill each other. I could wait another thousand years and still have every chance to come back and end you if I wanted. The mortals, their lives are so fleeting. If they don't kill now, they may not have another chance. There have been surprisingly few that have upset me enough to warrant me murdering them right away." Though those that did...well, he always went beyond simply attacking them and killing them. Even killing was a game. Wipe out the family, leave them for last, let them know they were being hunted and let them live in fear of it.

At least he was getting somewhere, one step closer into settling in officially as the leader of the Nameless. An order here and there didn't mean much while he was still pulling the strings from the shadows. There was clearly a dislike for the actions so far, but no real admiration for how far he could get just yet. That would come with the meeting. "An elemental, I believe. He didn't want to talk too much about his powers." But he would invite the others. Gather them all. There was a brief though it would be the perfect setting to destroy them at once but that was hardly any fun and would only descend into chaos so quickly. "Simply tell me where to be and I'll make sure he's there. You finally get the meeting he's been avoiding and thankfully I'm quite good at luring. As for being so disliked....people just don't appreciate power. They fear it instead. But it's better than damnatio memoriae." Something he'd ensured for his predecessors.

[ratkiing-a]

having a kinda crummy day and then i got some news abt a policy change at work and now i'm even more grumpy and i just feel like i'm gonna burst into tears at any moment

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[jrueships]

im going into my new work tomorrow, first time ever😐

[savage-rhi]

.Magenta.

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[racke7]

I took a year's worth of writing-classes, way back in the day. And this was one of the most important things I learned.

It's not your job to "make the story better", it's your job to "help the author make the story that they want to write".

If a scene felt confusing to you, maybe just try to give a step-by-step summary of what happened in that scene (what they were talking about, what they were doing, the implications that you could read into it, etc). Sometimes you're spot-on (and your confusion is important), sometimes you just failed at reading, sometimes the author might go "wait, fuck, did I not explain this part?".

BUT.

But, very importantly, this is for writer's workshops. This is advice for how to be a beta-reader, or an editor. This is the "constructive criticism" that an author specifically asks for prior to publishing.

Don't drop this kind of stuff on someone who's already published their fic (unless they're specifically asking their readers for it). Because that just puts you into the: "unasked for criticism"-hole, and you don't want to go there.

“But let me give you the dark side of writing groups. One really dark side of writing groups is, particularly newer writers, don’t know how to workshop.

“And one of the things they’ll try to do is they’ll try to make your story into the story they would write, instead of a better version of the story you want to write.

“And that is the single worst thing that can happen in feedback, is someone who is not appreciating the story you want to make, and they want to turn it into something else.

“New workshoppers are really bad at doing this. In other words, they’re really good at doing a bad thing, and they’re doing it from the goodness of their heart. They want you to be a better writer. They want to help you. The only way they know is to tell you how they would do it, which can be completely wrong for your story.”

—Brandon Sanderson, Lecture #1 Introduction, Writing Science Fiction And Fantasy

[highflyerwings]

…

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[sitronsangbody]

Please, please be considerate of your fat friends' needs and limitations. Fat bodies are heavy to carry around. I move about the world slower than my thin peers, and I've often had to choose between pushing myself to keep a pace that takes absolutely all my energy, or being left behind, when walking in a group. I don't always feel safe to ask that everyone walk slower, because there's a prevalent idea in society that fat people need to exert themselves as much as possible at all times in the service of weight loss, and that we never "really" need rest, therefore it's a good thing whenever we're exhausted. Fat people and thin people alike are taught that fatness is a flaw, one that fat people ourselves are to blame for, so we're not entitled to any accommodation or consideration. A friend of mine who is fat recently told me about a dinner party she went to where the chairs were far too small for her and she was sitting very uncomfortably. After the meal she politely suggested moving the party to the couch, but the others didn't want to. She spent another couple of hours in unnecessary pain, and didn't dare tell them about it. I love my thin friends, but some of them just don't realize that I weigh probably twice as much as them, and yet I balance it all on the same size feet and carry it on about the same size bones. I'm like if they had a whole other them to carry around at all times. Why would that not have an impact on how I function? Please - take us into consideration when we're part of activities. Ask us which activities work and which don't. Adjust the pace so no one has to be dry heaving and sweating barrels on what's supposed to be a casual walk. Make sure venues have seating that fits us. Make it safe for us to speak up if we need something. When we do, don't treat us like we're the problem. Finally: yes, we have heard of losing weight. Even those of us who might (and many never will, whether you like it or not), won't do it on a moment's notice. If your response to "fat people deserve accommodations" is "what if they weren't fat though", you're playing a fantasy game. It's pointless. We are fat and we are here and we do partake in society. Work with that.

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes in therapy I feel like I don't have trauma in some correct sort of way. Like I'll be explaining that my childhood wasn't even really traumatic, just kind of bleak and boring. The worst my parents ever made me feel was disappointed, but not surprised. it was all so very mundane. And whenever some therapist asks me what I mean, I'll tell some random story that I happen to remember off the top of my head of what my childhood was like, or one that I think illustrated what kind of people my parents were and what their relationship was like.

Like this one time I remember when I was like 10 or so, I can't remember where we were going but the whole family was getting into the car, and dad started bitching at mom about how come when their first car was in his name, it was their car, and then when they had their own cars they had his car and her car, but now that they only have one car again, it's still just her car.

And then mom bitterly pointed out that the reason why he doesn't have a company benefit car anymore is because he lost his lisence for driving drunk with the kids on board while she was on a business trip. (And while mom didn't bring it up at the time, he had also tried to cover this up and act like nothing had happened. And she wouldn't have found out if my (11/12-year-old at the time?) sister hadn't thought of calling one of mom's friends like "hey cops showed up and took dad so we're home alone now idk what we're supposed to do now" and she came to watch us and told mom.)

...And I was like 10 and sitting quietly on the back seat listening to them bickering about this because they still both bothered to be mad about it. Not mad enough to get divorced or anything, but still bitter enough to bitch at each other about each other. And a therapist will be like wow how did that make you feel, and ???

Bored of it? Disappointed, but not surprised? That was just what life was like. Quietly waiting for bitter adults to be done bickering with each other because you can't do anything to fix this and while they could, they won't do anything to improve their lives. Life was just like that.