#you KNOW the creators would’ve tagged it as such if that was the intent

[spopsalt]

https://www.tumblr.com/zhanael/737323861598748672

This person missed the point of the criticisms SPOP has been receiving completely. I haven’t seen one person complain that the world was saved with the power of friendship bc it WASN’T. It was saved by a poorly written rushed abusive romance. In fact, the critics actually wanted to see Adora’s friendships save the day instead of her awful romance with Catra since the show is called She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, despite the princesses barely getting a role. And if there HAD to be a romance, it could’ve been with Glimmer, which would’ve made more narrative sense and sent a better message to kids.

Next, I’m not sure why OP described SPOP as a show with a “pastel color palette about friendship and love and unity” as if these things detract from the bad writing, plus these themes weren’t even handled well. I have no issue with Catra being redeemed and I liked her in seasons 3 and 4. That’s not why the show is being accused of abuse apologism and this isn’t comparable to when Sugar was accused of being a nazi apologist over the SU finale. SPOP was rushed as well (I’m not sure if it got canceled like SU) but Catra’s redemption either should’ve started sooner or the romance should’ve been ditched. SU at least had a much better writing, representation, and messages for kids. It’s funny since imo SU and SPOP are not two sides of the same coin as OP claims. If OP wants shows that are ACTUALLY comparable to SU with “pastel colors, nuanced yet positive and relatable messages about love, fun for kids,” then they should watch MLP and Amphibia instead. Also I haven’t seen one SPOP critic who’s “appalled by anything that is remotely challenging to toxic masculinity” so that’s a load of BS. As for the remaining claims, those may pertain to the SU critics for all I know, but I have yet to see any SPOP critics express such sentiments or behave in such a way. The “hate blogs” for SPOP are really just critical blogs like yours that make valid points rather than “a shit ton of bad faith misinterpretations” and aren’t “tearing [the show] to shreds,” plus the only harassment I’ve seen towards teens over a kid’s show has been from SPOP fans themselves.

This post also included a bunch of nonsense in the tags which I can no longer see since OP recently deactivated their account (in fact the only reason I’m able to share a link to the post is bc someone reblogged it), but they contained more misinterpretations of the criticisms along with slander towards the critics. I’m so sick of SPOP fans continuing to have no critical thinking skills while blindly defending the show and demonizing anyone who dares criticize it. It’s pathetic.

Thanks for the ask! Yeah, the show was saved because of a rushed abusive relationship. The thing is, I wouldn't be half as mad if it wasn't directed towards kids. I don't believe it's intentional, but kids are getting the thought that the way Catra treated Adora is ok because she loved her. Basically the "He bullies you because he likes you!" thing. Instead of actually considering if they have a valid point, they just assume that the critical blogs are just angry homophobic white straight men when a lot of the blogs are queer women like me. Also, yes a pastel color palette makes up for us having to watch a rushed toxic relationship in season 5. It's like spop stans don't realize that their perfect little show can have flaws and anyone who calls them out are homophobic racist. Also from my experience, nobody said the creator romantizes abuse, they are complaining that the show itself does whether it realizes it or not. This show is being marketed to kids and kids will believe that this is ok. That's probably my biggest gripe with the show.

[fandeviantart]

Frequently Asked Questions

Last updated 12-28-24

What IS “fandeviantart?”

The purpose of this blog is to find random artwork, usually of original characters and usually on deviantArt, and create fan art for said character(s).

Why would you want to do something like that?

Back in the day (and maybe still ongoing; who knows?), it was fairly popular to make “bad art” blogs, “redesign” blogs, and “bad oc” blogs. These blogs often showcased art by young and/or inexperienced creators with the intent of mocking and shaming them. These new creators were often not told of their work being featured, and getting dogpiled and trolled was commonplace. Basically, their art was posted without permission for the express purpose of making fun of it. This blog aims to provide genuine fan art and showcases of art for artists that might not otherwise get recognized.

How does an artist get picked for being shown on this blog?

Generally, I (Oboe) will search random topics I might be interested in and/or think I might find a suitable piece in. Occasionally I may take requests directly from artists or as a recommendation from other folks. The purpose is to find people that would’ve had a possibility of getting mocked on one of those old “bad art” blogs.

Can I participate?

Absolutely! As long as your intent is genuine, anyone is welcome to take part. All that’s required is showing the original image (or at least the artist) and the work you created for them. If you want me to reblog your work onto this blog, simply tag me or add it to the #fandeviantart tag. Thank you for your interest!

[lonestardaily]

Here at Lone Star Daily, our mission is not only to provide you with content but also to help our fellow creators get exposure. We are happy to announce that now, this will also include our writing friends. Each week we will provide you with a decent (not comprehensive) list of the fanfics that have been posted for the week. The week will run from Friday - Thursday, as that way it does give us an opportunity to put the list together. There’s no requirement to tag us as we will check the tags #911 lone star fic and #911lsfic while also combing through ao3. We currently are only going to post new fics, not updates. You can check out this week’s fics below the cut.

Please feel free to give this post a boost to give our writers a chance to receive some love for the work they do for the fandom as well.

(if your fic is not tagged with a tumblr, it’s because we couldn’t find one - feel free to send us a message and we’ll be happy to add one)

TARLOS FICS

Blanket Hog by @lonestarbabe

↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | T | 1753)

T.K.'s got a tendency to be very cold ever since he got hypothermia. Good thing he's got a hot boyfriend to keep him warm.

A Mother’s Love is Unconditional by @sapphire11

↳ (Andrea x TK, TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | G | 1498)

Andrea Reyes pays TK a visit with the intention of having a little "talk" with him. (Set during 3x04)

Down to Clown by @chaotictarlos

↳  (TK x Carlos | Missing Scene | E | 1651)

TK makes it up to Carlos for bringing home a lizard.

Spilt Cocoa by @alidravana

↳  (TK x Carlos | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | T | 1640)

TK ate the last of the marshmallows that Carlos was saving for his hot chocolate.  Which normally wouldn't have been a big deal, but after a long shift, misplaced marshmallows was Carlos' breaking point.

Marshmallow Thieves by @isastrxnd

↳  (TK x Carlos | Future Family Fic | G | 751)

A future fic where Tk and Carlos spend time with their daughter on a snowy day.

Strand’s Home for Wandering Strays by @mooshkat

↳  (TK x Carlos, Judd x Grace | Domestic Fluff | G | 4344)

Lou was just the beginning of TK bringing home the strays that he rescues.     

I Need You Here Tonight (And Always) by falloutmars

↳  (TK x Carlos | Spec fic | T | 6686)

Season 3 finale speculation fic. Carlos is trapped.

One Jump Ahead by  Deathskidhufflepuff

↳  (TK x Carlos | Kid Fic | G | 1630)

TK meets a kid he never would have thought twice about before.

Pretty Face (Pretty Boyfriend, Too) by @iboatedhere

↳  (TK x Carlos | POV Outsider | T | 7047)

5 moments of jealousy + 1 moment of envy.

The Warmth We Make by @sapphire11

↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | T | 1599)

A nice cup of hot chocolate is just what TK knows Carlos needs to unwind after a hard day at work. Too bad TK forgot he ate the last of the marshmallows and "hot chocolate without marshmallows is a travesty." as his boyfriend has reminded him every time they have it.

Do Not Say it Crawled! by @velvet-ink

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coda | T | 1015)

Carlos has trouble going to bed knowing that Lou is roaming free.            

Something to Cling To by TheWeatherOutside

↳  (TK x Carlos | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | T | 3119)

When the call came in about a police car that had been involved in a crash, TK didn't think anything of it. Not until he saw the broken body of his boyfriend.  

breathe by ilikeyougreenie

↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | T | 4858)

5 times tk told carlos to breathe, + 1 time carlos told tk to

miscommunication at first sight by novakskline

↳  (TK x Carlos | Coffee Shop AU  | G | 6632)

"Carlos Reyes that was pitiful, you didn't even get his name!" Grace said amusedly, shaking her head at her best friend.

"It would've been weird to ask for his name, he was just ordering a drink! He only knows mine because of the name badge." Carlos defended, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What happened to the smooth and confident Carlos that is always charming the customers?" Grace asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He saw a hot guy sweating in workout clothes." Carlos groaned and picked his hot chocolate back up.

Marshmellow Mayhem by @noxsoulmate

↳  (TK x Carlos | Roomate AU/E2L | E | 6307)

Living with a roommate isn’t always easy. Especially not when their name is TK Strand and it seems their goal is to annoy you to death. The theft of his last marshmallows is the final straw for Carlos – and might just turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

126 FICS

Lunch with Lou by @doublel27

↳  (TK x 126, TK x Lou | Missing Scene | G | 1457)

TK brings Lou into the firehouse after he's been cleared and the rest of the 126 has comments.

the other side of a cloudless day by @marwani-strickland

↳  (TK x Carlos, Judd x Grace, Mateo x Nancy, Paul x Marjan, Tommy x Owen | Spec Fic | T | 5852)

a bright, cloudless morning and a building collapse.

CHARACTER FICS / OTHER PAIRINGS

As it Was by @moviegeek03

↳  (Owen, Owen x Robert, Owen x TK | Hurt/Comfort | G | 4752)

Owen has always been good at separating things. Before and afters. All separate. Even his brother. Well, brothers. That was why Owen hadn’t talked about Robert yet. Why TK didn’t know everything. Yet. He planned to tell him. He did. When the time was right. He had no way of knowing a ceiling would come down on him and TK on a call, forcing all the things in his life to suddenly come together. In every way. No longer separate.

Some Risks are Worth It by @ramblingdisaster73

↳  (Nancy x Mateo, Nancy x TK, Mateo x Paul x Marjan | Spec Fic | T | 4416)

Nancy goes to TK & Carlos while Mateo goes to Marjan and Paul for help, but they are both keeping secrets from their friends. Too bad their friends are lovingly nosy, and how long do secrets really last at the 126?

Namesake by megas217

↳  (Owen x TK | Coda | T | 729)

Owen tells TK about his younger brother who TK’s named after.

Who’s the Best Cupcake Decorator? by @breannacasey

↳  (Grace x Tommy | Friendship Fic  | G | 899)

As Tommy and Grace prepare for the twins' birthday party, their competitive side decides to come out.

Coffee Date by @marwani-strickland

↳  (Nancy x Mateo | Coda | T | 1337)

nancy and mateo go out for coffee - post 3x14

you and me, hibiscus tea by @marwani-strickland

↳  (Paul x Marjan | Coda | T | 1695)

after a rough shift, marjan and paul go over to his house for tea. - post 3x14

Austin Alone by @boasamishipper & @lilalbatross

↳  (Owen x Billy | AU FWB2L | E | 4548)

After the reopening of the 126, Billy and Owen give being friends with benefits a try. Inconvenient feelings ensue. / Season 3 AU, Owen-centric.

[mothmans-mothballls]

okay i’m gonna rant about it in a post bc i’ve been rabid about this for a few days. maybe it’s bc i read frankenstein in my free time and not in school where we would’ve analysed it or w/e but. when i read that thing abt 10 years ago i was so impressed with the subversion of how Victor Frankenstein was the actual monster and the creature was more sympathetic and intelligent than him. how he was the entire reason the situation turned as bad as it did. and i thought DAMN. way to go for an author of that culture and time period.

AND NOW YOU MEAN TO TELL ME,,, THAT THIS IS ALL ACCIDENTAL, AND THAT SHELLEY CONSIDERED VICTOR. TO BE,THE RATIONAL SYMPATHETIC ONE AND THAT SHE FOUND IT APT TO COMPARE IT FAVOURABLY TO SLAVERY.

and i know that victorians were massive racists so that’s not necessarily what’s surprising, it’s just. how in my mind she wrote the OPPOSITE story of what I’ve now been led to believe she set out to write. never would i have EVER IN MY LIFE guessed that she found the creature to be unsympathetic and considered Frankenstein the hero. not for money could i have guessed it based only on the book

and i don’t know if i have a point to make and i don’t know where i’m going with this but i’m splitting at the fucking seams processing this shit. now for years i’ve described frankenstein as a story about the monsters you make of people you’re responsible for when you don’t TAKE responsibility, when you decide that they’re monsters and then work to make it true, when you abuse and neglect them, when you’re selfish, take your pick of stupid mistakes mr frankenstein makes

the creature is shown consistently to want to make friends? to be inherently gentle? to take an interest in things the victorians considered good, like the bible and intellectual pursuits? people who talk to him without seeing him LIKE him  and only become frightened when they find out what he looks like? his own creator hates him for the way HE MADE HIM and all the creature does for as long as he can bear is to try to reconcile this, to ask his creator to finish his work by helping shape his mind, by giving him a place to belong, anything. and all victor does is whine passively about the consequences of his own actions. by refusing to solve the problem like an angry tired toddler and then acting shocked when the consequences he was warned about come to pass. it’s not a black and white story but come on

i always assumed the “frankenstein’s monster is evil” thing came from movie adaptations that wanted a simpler story and a bigger shock factor. but even his other creator, his author, had no sympathy for him

and i’m trying to like. is this a mistake on the part of the author? is this a sign of the changing times that the same text reads so differently now? is it my own lack of knowledge of this kind of literature? is it a combination of some or all of these? is it a secret fourth thing? i’ve loved this story for what i saw in it. and like “if you see it it’s there” and all that. but intent MATTERS and what do i DO WITH THIS INFORMATION NOW

how do i ENGAGE with this work, knowing what i do now. how much is it my PLACE to do and what DO i do what SHOULD i do what CAN i do

i. i don’t have a way to end this. i’m not a literary analyst. i normally just rant in pms with friends or in tags. i wanted to yell into the void today

[aboveallarescuer]

I just found this post on Dany’s tag and saw that it was made a day after I posted a Tamzin!Dany gifset, so I’d like to say a few things:

1) I do like Emilia as Dany a lot. There’s an interview where Emilia said that she suggested having Dany slouch down while she’s sitting, which would have been amazing: 1) It would have shown that she doesn’t enjoy being regal and made her character more similar to book!Dany, who sits on her bench with a foot underneath her; 2) It indicates to me that Emilia’s personality was similar to book!Dany’s. Indeed, I made a point of using her in a previous gifset right after I found an old interview where GRRM says that book!Dany is “very funny”. My intent was to show that yes, I think Emilia could’ve brought book!Dany to life on screen if she had been allowed to. She’s a good actress and a sweetheart and I love that she has a good grasp of Dany’s character and that she never stopped defending her even after that nonsensical dark turn. 

2) Using Tamzin!Dany in a gifset was never meant to throw shade on Emilia. If people can use Nicole Kidman (another actress that GRRM himself approved) as Cersei without being accused of hating on Lena Headey, why can’t I use Tamzin Merchant as Dany without being accused of hating on Emilia? I know, I know, some antis used to argue that Tamzin would’ve been a better Dany, but none of them truly appreciate Tamzin when you consider their arguments. I’ve seen some of them saying that she’d’ve been better as Dany because she “looks more inbred” (whatever the hell that means) than Emilia, which is gross and offensive. I’ve seen some of them saying that she’d’ve been better as Dany because she would’ve played Dany as a villain (without any proof to back up that claim). But if they had actually watched her work in The Tudors (which I really, really doubt any of them did because 1) they don’t really like Tamzin, they just hold on to any possible argument to hate on Dany and 2) they don’t even make edits and gifsets using her as Dany. I’ve only ever seen one before. And even if they used Tamzin, they wouldn’t be showcasing Dany’s cute and funny moments or making any content that paints Dany in a positive light like I did), they’d have to acknowledge that Tamzin’s character gives us footage to display how soft, playful, cute, funny and charismatic book!Dany is. THAT’S why I used Tamzin!Dany in that gifset. Her scenes in The Tudors perfectly illustrate GRRM’s quote about Dany being “very funny” (note that I used that quote in three gifsets with three different actresses - one with Emilia, one with Freya and one with Tamzin).

It’s so annoying that this even needs to be said (though I could’ve ignored that vague post if it hadn’t been posted in the main tags). Why can’t Tamzin be treated as a normal Dany fancast just like Elle or Freya? In fact, as much as I love Freya!Dany, Ciri tends to look dour and sullen in most scenes, so I’d argue that Tamzin brings out aspects of book!Dany’s personality that Freya in The Witcher can’t. Using different fancasts for different gifsets is a huge reason why gifmaking is fun. Should I have to add a disclaimer for every Tamzin!Dany gifset saying that I also like Emilia!Dany even though no one thinks that’s necessary for any other actress? I guess I also need to say that my book!Dany vs show!Dany gifsets aren’t meant to be anti-show!Dany, I just want to provide more content showcasing book!Dany scenes that make her villainous turn look even more ridiculous and to reiterate that D&D were screwing over Dany’s character way before S8 when one compares how she was portrayed vs. how Dany’s creator wrote her. Show!Dany definitely deserves to receive defense solely for herself too, but that’s outside the scope of a source blog called asoiafdaenerysdaily. 

In any case, there are hundreds of dark!Dany edits out there made by antis, why don’t you spend your energy complaining about that?

[mr-double-downer]

you know how stupid this whole tumblr plus thing is? it comes years late after the nsfw ban which really, providing a patreon style subscription service for exclusive content would’ve been perfect for that crowd of people regardless of your feelings on the matter and while I’m not exactly for that line of work let’s not pretend tumblr banned all nsfw content (which they failed at) because of a shift to a Puritan values (especially a place that loves to call itself the queerest place on the internet). As I mentioned in the tags of a previous post Apple delisted Tumblr from its App Store due to a rampant amount of CP lurking on here, which led to the nsfw ban and the infamous “female detecting nipple system” that absolutely does not work.

Original content does not flourish on this site, anything fan related definitely would fall into copyright law, and sex would sell but it’s banned so where does that leave the intent of tumblr plus? Well as a good mutual said to me it’s to make it so big corporations can move into tumblr and actually use it to make money. I know a lot of people on here would definitely shell out a few bucks a month if meant more content for whatever fandom they’re a part of.

Like you’re telling me that someone like Kaijuno or whatever her name is has enough of a following to justify charging money for an article she wrote years ago for a now defunct website? You think that’s the honest purpose of tumblr plus? We joke about how this site keeps getting sold for less and less money but when do you think tumblr has ever had a positive earnings year? There’s almost no way to profit off this site because it’s inherently to hostile actual content creators in the first place especially if it’s something like original writing.

So don’t fall for staff’s bullshit about doing this for just regular blogs it’s definitely a calculated and desperate move of people trying to salvage a sinking ship of a website and the period in which they could’ve profited from it has long since past.

[imaginearyparties]

I posted 3,311 times in 2022

640 posts created (19%)

2,671 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gay-jewish-bucky

@dingdongyouarewrong

@retiredpunkdxd

@aphrogeneias

@dragonsareattackinghogwarts

I tagged 1,810 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#ilanswers - 429 posts

#ilana.txt - 182 posts

#comment reblog - 162 posts

#anon - 85 posts

#i could queue this all day - 80 posts

#nika👯 - 71 posts

#ipmoshpit - 62 posts

#steve rogers - 60 posts

#stucky - 57 posts

#ren 🐝 - 52 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#maroon / mastermind / paris / anti-hero / you’re on your own kid / would’ve could’ve should’ve / labyrinth / karma / sweet nothing / glitch

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Natasha commits atrocities. You turn the stories of them into her sweetest sins. 

A/N: I didn't proofread this but @foreverindreamlandd and @aphrogeneias did so massive shoutout to them. Inspired by "Queen" by Perfume Genius, covered by Sizzy Rocket. Happy pride to the WLWs, here's some angst.

WARNINGS: 18+ minors please dni, foreplay (almost but not quite sex), semi-graphic discussions of death and violence, morally dubious reader

MASTERLIST

See the full post

454 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

psa

i am not going to write a sequel for you when you didn't even reblog the fic.

i am not going to write your request, that you sent to my dms without asking if i take requests, when i have never once seen you interact with my content.

i am not going to tag you in the sequel that i'm not going to write, when you have not even bothered to notice that the fic you're commenting on doesn't have a tag list.

fic writers are constantly begging for you to reblog our fics. to tell us something you liked about it instead of demanding more. if you're reading on this site, it is safe to assume that you've seen a post like this one.

i am not going out of my way for you when your actions demonstrate that you do not care about the time and effort that goes into my work. that you did not think it was worthy of sharing. so no, i am not writing you a sequel, or a request, or tagging you.

please do better when supporting fan creators. <3

814 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#3

attention - part two

See the full post

1,486 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#2

attention | namor x reader

“Please don’t kill Riri,” you step out towards the front of the cell, placing yourself between Namor and your roommate. The g-d has his back to you but you can feel the shift that happens. You’ve caught the g-d’s attention.

Before today, you’d been acquaintances who shared a dorm. Riri had made fun of you for studying folklore and mythology at MIT. You had offered to share your microwave mac and cheese at 2 AM while you crammed for finals.

That feels like it was ages ago now. Riri doesn’t say anything but you feel her tense behind you. She’s a genius after all; with Shuri in the other room and Namor intent on killing her, she has no power over what the g-d chooses to do to you for speaking against him. You are not a genius. Nor are you a princess. And you’re certainly not a g-d. You’re just an idiot who thought her roommate was being abducted and didn’t have the sense not to follow her. Now you’re the prisoner of a Mayan serpent g-d and his blue-skinned merpeople.

Namor turns around slowly, with an air of casualty that strikes a stark contrast to how silent and still the room has gone. His deep brown eyes trail over you, taking in every inch. They spark with something too dangerous to be amusement.

“And who are you?” he asks, his accent flicking over the words like the devil’s forked tongue.

You gulp, but hold your head high. “She didn’t know about your people, she couldn’t have known she’d be putting you in danger.”

He steps forward, the soft pad of his bare feet in contrast with the sharpness of his gaze, the primal grace of his movement. His eyes scan you up and down, taking in every detail of you. You try to hold still, but you’re sure he caught you tensing. The barest hint of smirk tugs at his lips.

“That is not an answer to my question,” he tells you.

He is close enough to the bars of the cell that you can smell saltwater on him, see where it glistens against his exposed golden skin. You’re struck by the idea that this is what it feels like to be caught in a riptide.

“I’ll answer it if you leave her alone,” you reply.

A twitch of his right eyebrow, so quick you’d have missed it entirely if you’d blinked a half second later. Something dangerous glints in the murky depths of his brown eyes. Your veins thrum with the urge to run. You’re glued to the spot. You can’t seem to look away from him, no matter how much Riri tenses behind you, no matter how much your own mind screams at you not to pick a fight with a g-d.

“I asked your name, surface dweller.”

There’s something in his eye. It’s like being swept up in a strong current.

“Y/n,”the words fall from your lips before you’re even aware you conjured them.

“Y/n,” he tries the name on his tongue.

He takes another step towards the bars of your cell, close enough that you can smell the saltwater on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Shuri’s voice echoes on the marble. You don’t glance at her, and neither does he.

“Princess,” he smiles, eyes locked on yours, “I was just meeting your friend.”

He finally, finally turns his head to look at her. The spell is broken. Your eyes dart to Shuri as he moves towards her. Her brow furrows at you, alarms ringing out from behind her eyes. It is then that you realize your eyes are wide. It is then that you realize your chest is heaving.

You watch Namor’s back as he moves to Shuri, his gait less predatory than it had been a minute ago when he advanced on you.

“Come,” he tells her. “We have much to discuss.”

The two of them walk to the door, which he gestures for her to move through first. His eyes catch yours again. His smirk is foreboding, an omen only a g-d could conjure. Your mind begs you to look away. You ignore the omen and the pleading and hold his gaze again. The smirk widens. He walks out the door.

You’re struck with the terrible feeling that this isn’t the last of your interactions with Namor. You’d acquired the attention of a g-d. It is not lost so easily.

part two

2,684 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

it’s getting to be that time of year again so this is a friendly reminder to fanfic writers:

not everyone celebrates christmas

christmas is not synonymous with winter or coziness

calling explicitly non-christian characters/people "scrooges" or "grinches" for not celebrating christmas or not “being in the christmas spirit” is not chill

erasing an explicitly non-christian character/person’s identity by having them participate fully in christmas with no thought to their own religious/cultural traditions is not chill

i'm glad y'all are having fun with your holiday! just please be respectful to the people for whom it isn't a holiday.

19,553 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Maybe ‘forever’ was a word meant for memories, not people

by Issybettyx

“Mr Watson, most ghosts move things around your house, if that was the only thing to it everything would’ve been fine, but anything else could change whether it’s intentions are positive or negative.”

The man nodded.

“I know, but I also know this spirit isn’t evil, he has good intentions, or maybe none at all.”

There was something about this man Wilbur couldn’t quite pin, something about it spoke you could trust him, shouted it, as if he was some kind of god.

“Right…”

-

Or, Wilbur and Ranboo are ghost hunters called to investigate a man’s new house that is infact very old, but something is off about the ghost that lives in the garden building

Or or crimeboys healing but Tommy’s restricted to how much he can heal (for obvious reasons)

Words: 7186, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, Dream SMP

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Hunters, ghostinnit, Wilbur ghost hunter, Mention of blood, mention of cults, implication of death, Ghosts, Paranormal, Crimeboys - Freeform, Tallerduo, allium duo, Sand duo - Freeform

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/40894323

[feelingsoworn]

i always see the argument that c!dream must be faking his memory probems because when c!sam checked over his books they were all blank besides from one that says “steve is your polar bear” - which can allude to the fact that he never used his books as a diary and just said that to keep up a certain weaker(?) appearance in front of c!technoblade. however, i believe that this scene is not only not decisive enough evidence to claim such a certainty, but also that it might imply the opposite. let me explain:

[From now on all the names will be the characters unless specified otherwise with the cc! (content creator) tag !]

so, when i first watched the scene, i was admittedly confused on whether dream’s diary being left in was intentional. after all, it’s clear sam’s words were not matching up with what was being shown - as when he said “these are all blank!” he immediately ignores one filled with writing and stops looking mid way through the books (awesamdude’s 14/9 lore stream, 11:28). i interpreted this in 2 main ways: 1 - the book having writing wasn’t intentional, they were supposed to all be blank, as proven by what sam said. and 2 - the book having writing was intentional and supposed to be noticed and sam not noticing could be chalked up to his state of confusion/panic, simply looking through them too quickly and assuming the rest were also blank. either way, they still support the theory that dream, in fact, didn’t lie about using his diary - he just isn’t in posession of it right now.

let’s assume interpretation 2 is right first. if you look at the book closely you can see there are 4 pages, with “steve is your polar bear” being written on the first page. i’ve seen people argue that this is proof dream only started using the book in front of techno, hence why there’s so few pages and only information we saw on stream. however, this is ignoring the fact that this wasn’t the first thing dream wrote in that book - we actually see him write down “techno admitted i have a house” first (technoblade’s 14/9 livestream, 14:28), with “steve is your polar bear” being written 3 minutes later (17:30). during this time dream does not return to his chest to change books, so unless, for some reason, dream started on page 2, he must’ve went through his books and gotten rid of information. of course, you could make the claim that he was carrying two books on him, however in cc!awesamedude’s livestream he checks the books before and after it and both were blank - hypothetically he COULD’VE used a third book, however i find that unlikely.

why did he get rid of information, and how could he of known sam and quackity would be visiting and check through his books? who knows. my best theory is that perhaps when they began digging the tunnel he realised punishment could arise and they’d check through his diaries, so he went through and rid them of any information that was suspicious. i also think that technoblade could’ve requested any important information from his diary to help him later on to break dream out, hence the “dream” book in his inventory, and suggested dream get rid of it in his diary to save from it being discovered (since now dream can know for certain the information won’t be lost) - however i’m not too confident in this theory, because it implies the dream book mustve been given to him weeks after the other two (because at the start techno would’ve requested the books in 3 days max, because that’s when he thought he was leaving, and dream didn’t write in his diary in front of techno until the 2nd stream weeks later) and because it relies on the dream book not being as necessary as the other two. 

if interpretation one is correct? well, that implies 1 of two things: dream either kept the diary on him or he got rid of it another way, ex. burning it or giving it to techno (another theory as to what techno’s “dream” book is: dream’s diary). either way, this is in favour of dream simply getting rid of the diary rather than lying and not using it - as, if this was the case, we’d still see the book with every note we saw dream write in cc!techno’s prison podcast livestream.

also, outside to the scene itself, everything dream is enduring in that prison would suggest he is facing a multitude of problems and memory problems are, indeed, one of the more certain ones. in fact out of everything dream has said about himself this is one of the things we have the most evidence for. (generic-dreblr-url actually made a detailed post about the likely causes here)

of course, this is only an analysis of that one scene, there’s still the statement “he can’t have memory problems because he remembers the entire revival book” floating around - which while i don’t personally believe, is another post entirely and something i haven’t put enough thought into to give my 2 cents. and of course it’s entirely possible there’s an explanation i missed, or it was simply cc error, or he did just happen to write it on page 2/in a third book. but overall i think the most likely explanation is that the diary has always been an actual thing, he just, one way or another, hid the information from sam - either from getting rid of pages, keeping the diary in his inventory, or giving it to techno. but, if you’ve managed to get this far, i’d love to discuss this with anyone - no matter if you agree or disagree :O

(also it just occured to me after i finished writing this that dream could’ve easily had 4 different books he wrote in: one is the diary we saw on cc!techno’s stream where he just writes non-important thoughts, ones about what sam and quackity do to him (and whatever else he knows about them), and the last about stuff about himself he doesn’t want to forget. so, take that thought ig?)

[l-sincline]

Cybernetics Chapter 14

Amy Rose is a mechanic, plain and simple. But aside from that, she feels utterly alone in a cruel world where she makes just enough to scrape by. One night she’s visited by a mysterious Cyborg that needs his arm fixed, little does she know this repair will change her life.

Flung from the confines of her normal life, Amy finds herself working with Anarchists set on creating a new life for themselves and the poor people of Mobius. The only downside? Seeing who she thought was her best friend fight against her.

AO3 Tags:  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Amy Rose/Shadow the Hedgehog, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog), Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles “Tails” Prower, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik, Rouge the Bat, Whisper the Wolf, Cream the Rabbit, Knuckles the Echidna, Badnik (Sonic the Hedgehog), E-123 Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Slow Burn, Partners in Crime

AO3 Link

Previous/Next

Amy’s disguise wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, but she could deal. A doctor’s uniform. A red dress with a pristine white lab coat over top. She’d stuffed her normal clothes and cloak into what little space she had left in her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. The knife tucked away in one of her outer pockets on the lab coat and the small blaster was firmly tucked between her dress and her body at her ribs. It would take a little work to get it out, she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. She whipped around as the door hissed open behind her- it was Blaze. The cat shut the door behind her.

“Let’s chat.”

Amy held her lips in a straight line. Blaze was clearly not too trusting of her, fine. But being locked in the weapon room alone with her didn’t exactly tickle her fancy.

“About what?” She finally bit and took the bait.

“You.” Blaze replied simply with a wave of her hand as she walked over to one of the walls, leaning down to open a cabinet towards the floor and extract a drink and some glasses, looked like whiskey. “Do you drink?” She asked.

“No.”

Blaze shrugged, putting one of the cups back before pouring herself a drink. When she was done she took a sip of it and turned to face her once more, leaning against the counter.

“What’s your deal?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Blaze sighed in annoyance.

“Why are you here? I saw those clips of you on television you know- not exactly impressive.” She scoffed. Amy frowned, crinkling her nose.

“Well I didn’t exactly go out of my way to get myself in either of those situations to impress you.”

“And yet, here you are. In my hideout, working with my allies. So I ask you again, what’s your deal?” Her golden eyes narrowed. Amy hesitated, but recalled what Shadow said, and spoke.

“Shadow came to me to fix his arm. Robotnik and the Blue Blur came after me, so I had to move. There. That’s my deal.”

Amy jumped as Blaze slammed her glass on the counter.

“I don’t appreciate little girls that play dumb, miss Rose.” She drawled. “I’ve done my research, you have a friend working for the Blue Blur. You could’ve very easily allowed yourself to be apprehended by him. You could’ve given up all the juicy details about Shadow’s arm and he probably would’ve let you out, you could’ve worked on his team. So tell me, Amy, why exactly you’re here in my hideout working with Shadow and Rouge and the resistance.”

Resistance.

That was the first time she’d heard that term. She could only assume Blaze had let it slip to her on accident- though, Blaze didn’t seem like the type to make mistakes. It must’ve been purposeful.

“I was…” she searched for the words “…scared. My best friend had just tricked me to try and get me captured the day after I got targeted by the Doctor. Shadow had proven himself to be nothing but trustworthy to me, and he was clearly intent on defending me. He gave me the option once he’d gotten me away. I could join him, or he would just let me go off on my own. While we talked he pointed things out to me I’d never known before- I’d lived in the outer ring my entire life and not once did I recognize how unfair it was. I was under that illusion of if I worked hard enough I could move inwards too. But it’s not true, all those people like me- lonely, barely scraping by, living in huts and tents and eating month old preserved food, they could be helped. Whatever Shadow was doing seemed like the right way to help them.”

When Amy had finished Blaze picked up her drink and gently took a sip, thoughtful smirk playing on her lips.

“Well said, Amy Rose.” She put the glass down. “Let’s get back to your team.”

-

Blaze had turned them out onto the street as soon as they’ve polished the details of their plan. It had to be around one o’clock now, maybe a bit later. They’d need to work efficiently. That started with actually getting to the building.

Rouge was dressed similarly to Amy, though she’d been given slacks and a blouse with a lab coat as opposed to the dress. Amy found herself actually favoring the dress over the slacks, it would give her more leg movement. What Rouge lost in leg movement she would be able to make up for in flying, Amy didn’t have that luxury. Shadow was a bit more dangerous looking, outfitted to appear like a guard, he carried a blaster that had been provided to him to fit in with the other guard’s blasters openly, but beneath the vest he wore long sleeves to cover his arms. The look was completed with sunglasses which did a fine job of hiding his eye.

Amy’s heart jumped in her chest as she spotted their destination. It was a very, very tall skyscraper. It’s architecture was angular, white, and outfitted with many windows. The guard at the door turned to them as they approached, but Shadow waved his hand as they turned into the alley as if to indicate they’d be entering from the back. The guard turned away.

“That was easy.” She muttered.

“Android guard.” He replied shortly.

The trio stopped, Amy craned her neck to look up to where the top of the building was. She could’ve sword it touched the clouds.

“I’ll meet you both up there.”

“Roger.” Rouge replied, lifting into the air and scooping Amy up under her armpits.

The hedgehog sucked in a breath of air quickly, but wasn’t given much time to dwell on the thought of being many feet up in the air before Rouge had begun flying towards the roof with immense speed. The roof got closer, and closer, and-

“Alley-Oop!” Rouge tossed her.

Amy gasped as she was flung towards the roof, she landed on her feet and fell forward into a tuck and roll from which she promptly stood up.

“Solid landing!” Rouge complimented as she touched the ground soundlessly beside her.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to-!”

“Who’s there?” They whipped around to see a guard rounding the corner on them.

Amy slipped her bag off her shoulder and snapped it into its hammer form before pulling Rouge behind an outcropping pipe. Rouge looked at her quizzically but Amy crept around the pipe until she came out sneaking behind him. She held up her hammer and then- bang! A solid hit on the back of the head sent the guard tumbling to the ground.

“Check him for an ID card.” Shadow’s voice came from behind her, he must’ve just teleported up.

“On it” she replied, quickly beginning to pat the guard down. She found his ID clipped to his belt and tossed it to Shadow. “You’ll need it more than us.”

He nodded before walking purposefully to the door to the stairwell, swiping the card in front of the scanner. The door clicked quietly, it had unlocked. Shadow pushed the door open and gestured for Amy and Rouge to follow.

“Well, here we are. Belly of the beast.” Rouge quipped.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this the beast.” Shadow retorted.

“What would you call it then?”

“Belly of the… side quest.” Rouge snorted.

“All those earth an analogies and you come up with ‘belly of the side quest’ as if that’s any better than belly of the beast.”

“Well it’s-“

“Shh!” Amy found herself slapping a hand over Shadow’s mouth and holding a finger up to her own. He seemed offended that she’d done such a thing, but she felt confident he would get over it. Sure enough, voices were coming up the stairs towards them.

“What do we do?” Rouge asked, voice hushed. Shadow removed Amy’s hand from his mouth.

“Act natural, only go on the offense if they question us.” He began his trajectory down the stairs once more.

Their group was silent, Amy wondered if that was suspicious, if she should say something to break the silence, but it was too late. They rounded the corner and the other two mobians- doctors it seemed- were coming up the stairs.

“- I just can’t believe he had the gall to stand me up like that.”

“Guess he had too much money already to give a shit about a little nurse.”

“Hmph. He could’ve just appreciated…”

The voices faded as they walked past the trio and continued up.

“Go team.” Amy said with a sigh. Rouge snorted, Shadow just rolled his eyes.

“We’ll get off at the next floor and see if we can find a directory.”

Rouge took lead as she pressed her ear up against the door, listening for a long moment before stepping back and pushing the door open, Amy and Shadow followed suit. They stood still for a minute to search for a directory, Amy was the one to point it out only a few paces down. Shadow traced his finger down the words before pausing on what he was looking for and moving over to the corresponding map. He searched for a moment before he pointed at a room in the basement.

“This is where you and Rouge need to go.” He began to trace a path, “follow this hallway to get to the back loading zone, accomplice will be waiting there with the transport.” She assumed he meant Blaze, but avoided her name due to the possibility of cameras.

“Where will you go?” She asked. Shadow glanced back to the directory before pointing out a room on a floor just a few levels below them.

“Here.”

The Vault.

Very menacing name for a room in a medicinal science building.

“I’ll meet all three of you back at the original contact point. Don’t wait here for me.” Amy bit her lip- he could handle himself. But it didn’t make her stomach stop churning with worries. “Let’s go.” Rouge bumped Amy’s shoulder as she turned to walk down the hall to where she saw the elevators. Amy turned on her heel quickly to keep up.

“Hey!” Amy turned to look at Shadow as she walked, “Stay focused.”

She offered him a nod, knowing that in his own way they were words of encouragement. It felt settling, like it meant it would be fine. The feeling didn’t last long however as she stepped into the elevator and the heavy doors closed. A woman’s voice came from the speaker.

Destination: Basement Level

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 13 - So Far from Home

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe, Megatron/Sunstreaker, Skywarp/Sideswipe, Skywarp/Sunstreaker Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Skywarp, Knock Out, Twin Twist, Topspin, Hot Shot, Undisclosed Characters Additional Tags: Public Sex, Rape, Dubcon, Sticky, Fingering Words: 10595

( Previous )

“And here I was already hoping I wouldn’t see you like this again,” Knock Out tutted him, his field speaking of his exasperation.

Sunstreaker grunted, not really in the mood to deal with the medic. Alas, he needed the repairs.

Indeed he’d brought this entirely on himself. Megatron’s fury was a painful thing to be on the receiving end of. If he just hadn’t been so… So… Insubordinate, disrespectful, all of this could have been avoided.

Everyone knew that. Knock Out knew that. 

But it was hard. It was just a few slips. A look held too long, almost a challenge, an order not followed quickly enough, defiance—even though he hadn’t meant it as so—and hate, as if he had any rights to such emotions. 

Megatron had let him be a couple of days, probably busy with his ever important leadership business, but then the fist had come down—literally as well as figuratively. And delay as there may have been, oh, Megatron had left no confusion as to what he was being punished for. It wouldn’t have been much of a lesson if he didn’t know what he was being taught.

Aside from the dents, it was predictably his valve, intake, and the rest of his internals that had suffered the most. Swallowing hurt, his array throbbed with a steady beat of pain, and he didn’t even want to read the reports to know what the pit had been done to his internals to make them ache like that. He was, again, leaking something from the inside out.

But the aftermath really wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the process to get him there was. And most of the pains would end soon, too. Knock Out would fix everything he had permission to fix, and the rest… Time would soothe those.

The memories would stay, though, and let those be his motivation to not repeat this. Behave himself, in the future… He was already supposed to know better than this, anyway, and he did, but pits, his damned pride. It was so hard to do what he knew he needed to do to survive it here when it meant trampling his dignity at every turn.

What did he get for failing at that? This. There was no more dignity in having Knock Out repair the injuries Megatron had laid on him.

This wasn’t worth it.

At least Sideswipe had been spared, this time. His brother hadn’t done anything wrong, when not enjoying themselves wasn’t forbidden. Was Primus the type to give a damn and Sunstreaker might have said a prayer in thanks for Megatron not choosing to use them against each other this time. He very well could have made Sideswipe hurt for Sunstreaker’s sins, but it didn’t look like his misdemeanor had yet been severe enough to warrant that.

May it be that it wouldn’t come to that again in the future, either.

His twin waited with patience he didn’t actually have through the repairs Knock Out performed, the medic as professional as ever, and then off they were, back to living their miserable life in fear of the next time Megatron chose them. 

Time passed, and at the very least Megatron left them alone following his lesson, apparently deeming the one time sufficient at reminding him of the correct course of action for any of the mates. The tyrant wasn’t wrong, either, but they only remained grateful they didn’t need to prove as much right away. 

Of course it didn’t last indefinitely. There were summons, there was interfacing, sometimes in Megatron’s wing, sometimes in the harem wing, interspersed with those blessed spells of not getting their Lord’s attention. They didn’t become the ones Megatron liked to torment the most often, as little as the other mates seemed to think of any of it as torment. They were… Middle of the pack, really. Starscream continued to be the most special of them all, and Skywarp got quite a bit of attention too. What had he said, Megatron liked wings? Seemed to be true.

Thank their useless creators that they hadn’t chosen to craft the brothers with wings. There were other mates Megatron preferred over them, too. They were all but an afterthought to him.

That suited them just fine. 

But when he did remember they existed too… Megatron was rough, that never once changed. He was uncaring of anything but himself and his own pleasure, and his pleasure was fast and hard. As much as their frames had gotten used to his girth to the extent they could—they were still convinced nothing would ever help their throats—Megatron’s impatience and pace could get uncomfortable very quickly.

If they weren’t prepared for it. And they never were.

It was pain that didn’t need to be there, though. It was another thing they had the power to remove from the equation, to make things a little easier on themselves.

Wouldn’t they want that?

“Megatron called you in for tonight,” Skywarp said one late afternoon, plopping down next to them in the entertainment room. They had found out he was one of the harem members with access to comms, limited as his ability and permission to use them was. By design, naturally, but it still let others, Megatron in particular, contact him with anything he might need.

Quite often it was with the task of informing who was the lucky mech chosen for this or that.

And tonight, it would be them.

Sunstreaker sighed and tried to focus back on the main screen where a show many of the mates followed obsessively was playing. Romance, in an environment where there was absolutely none of that to be found, but he had to admit the show itself was oddly charming. Sideswipe couldn’t stomach it the same way. Too sappy for him. Even now his brother had been playing with a datapad instead of giving any attention to the screen holding such a rapt audience, although now he pulled himself enough from that world to give a lame smile to the Seeker. “Cool, thanks.”

It wasn’t cool and it wasn’t news worth thanking anyone for, but it wasn’t Skywarp’s fault. He was just the messenger. No point in getting angry at him. 

“Do you want help prepping?” Skywarp asked like he asked every time. In the past they’d always shot his offers down as unwanted and unwelcome, but slag, if they were going to do this… Were they just going to do it with each other? That didn’t exactly seem appealing.

None of this was fucking appealing, but that thought even less so.

Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s optics, knowing there was no eagerness in either of their gazes. Just… Resignation. 

But this would be better.

And it would be easier with Skywarp.

Sideswipe nodded at length, looking back at the flier, then nodded again, more firmly this time. It still sounded more like a question when he accepted Skywarp’s offer with a, “Yeah?”

Skywarp grinned, his wings immediately perking up. “Sweet! Come on, let’s go to the berthroom so we don’t disturb everyone,” he said with a meaningful look around them. So many optics focused on the screen, although with how commonplace fragging was, Sunstreaker wouldn’t have bet most of them would’ve even noticed anything amiss even if they’d started right there and then.

It was still a thoughtful gesture, so Sideswipe set his datapad aside and nodded, and together they got up despite only one of them even wanting anything to do with this. Skywarp led the way from the entertainment room, his wings twitching almost happily.

Was it really that important to him that they got ready? Or that he could help them with the task? Pits.

They followed the Seeker all the way over to his cot, which was a relief because they really wouldn’t have wanted to use their own cots for this. And then… Slag, this was going to be awkward. Or at least they thought so. Skywarp didn’t seem the least bit concerned or out of his element, and he probably wasn’t after however long he’d spent in the harem. He sure seemed thoroughly acclimatized. 

No, the Seeker just plopped himself down, caught Sideswipe by his arms, and pulled him into straddling his lap, which his twin ended up doing before he had even fully caught up with what was happening. That was where Sideswipe ended up in, then, blinking at the flier who grinned down at him.

He wasted absolutely no time, either. One of Skywarp’s servos was very quick to trace Sideswipe’s hip, reach behind him, brush over his aft—which earned him a sharp gasp—and trail down to brush against his valve cover.

It was… Honestly, unwelcome as all fuck and Sideswipe’s plating was absolutely crawling, but they’d already dedicated themselves to this course. And Skywarp meant no harm. He was just… Eager. A little too eager, but well intentioned. 

Sideswipe caught the Seeker’s arms for balance as his claws continued to play with the edges of his cover. There was… Arousal, in Skywarp’s field, more pronounced now than it usually was. There was no question that he was into this, and they… Tried to ride that tide to drown out even some of their own unease. Sideswipe’s optics still scrunched shut as his frame slowly began to respond despite his reservations. Skywarp’s touch was all kinds of experienced and knowledgeable, no surprise there.

And he seemed to be a pretty fast learner too, because his other hand slipped behind Sideswipe too, this one to grab his aft. Sideswipe’s back arched at once, and after just a few more seconds of toying with his valve cover, that snapped aside. They did their best to ignore their growing disquiet, told themselves this was for the best, that nothing bad was happening.

It was just Skywarp. 

Whose digits sank into Sideswipe’s bared valve without delay. A very quiet moan slipped from Sideswipe’s lips as his sensors were swiftly located and stimulated. There was no denying his frame was starting to like it, and he tried to agree with it, tried to get his mind to stop battling his body, just to… Make this smoother, make this easier. 

Skywarp, at least, was very good at helping that process along, squeezing Sideswipe’s aft again, lightly scratching it, doing these little things that were quick to drive Sideswipe’s frame higher.

Why was his aft such a weak spot for him, seriously. Skywarp took thorough advantage of that detail until Sideswipe was hitching his hips back into the servos behind him, clutching onto the Seeker a little tighter.

That was when there was a click that came from neither of the twins, and Sideswipe finally opened his optics to glance down between him and Skywarp, where Skywarp’s spike had emerged from its housing—ready as ever, despite the fact they hadn’t really done anything to arouse the Seeker in return.

Not that foreplay seemed all that necessary for the other mates.

Skywarp didn’t ask. Skywarp didn’t ask a damn thing before he’d already caught Sideswipe by the aft, lifted him, and then slowly lowered him partway onto his spike. Sideswipe tensed from helm to pede despite all the positive sensation his sensors reported, his vents coming hard and fast–

There were no apologies. It didn’t look like Skywarp thought he’d done anything out of the ordinary. He stopped there, suspending Sideswipe atop him, but he didn’t lift him off, he didn’t take back any of his actions, he didn’t–

Sunstreaker did nothing.

With Skywarp’s touch still on Sideswipe’s aft, it was only so long that his mind could fight his frame before the physical took over. His valve loosened just a bit. Rippled.

And that was all the invitation the Seeker needed to continue lowering him. Sideswipe’s mouth fell open as more of his frame was impaled in a way that had nothing to do with pain or discomfort and everything to do with simple pleasure. He didn’t know how Skywarp had judged so rightly that his spike would be none too big, or if he hadn’t judged it at all and had just done it anyway, but it remained that he wasn’t as big as Megatron.

Almost anything not as big as Megatron was just fine by their frames’ standards, nowadays.

He didn’t drop Sideswipe at any point, didn’t hurry the process overmuch, only eased him down until their arrays were in contact and Sideswipe’s weight rested on Skywarp’s lap, not his servos. Once there, he stopped. Gave Sideswipe a bit of time.

Sideswipe took it eagerly, venting heavily and trying to play catch up with the progression of things. He was full, but not to the extent Megatron stuffed them. He wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt good.

Sideswipe’s forehelm fell to rest on Skywarp’s shoulder, another, louder moan drawn from him when Skywarp continued to use his freaking aft against him. If that wasn’t such a turn on for him that everyone could exploit to their sparks’ content as soon as they found out about it–

Slag.

He hadn’t said anything so far, but now Skywarp looked up at Sunstreaker and spoke up—patted the cot next to him. “Come on, I don’t want to leave you all by your lonesome,” the Seeker laughed, then transferred his servo back to Sideswipe’s aft—lifted and dropped.

Sideswipe didn’t know what to do with himself. His frame cried good things, his mind screamed for it to please stop, despite what rational thinking said. Rational thinking said this was for his own good. 

His emotions didn’t agree one bit.

His frame didn’t give a damn.

Feeling like he was in a trance with not much going on in the way of solid thinking, Sunstreaker sat down next to them, watching as Skywarp traced his claws up Sideswipe’s aft and lower back. It drew a low groan from his brother, and a shudder. “Can you ride me? I don’t have enough hands otherwise,” Skywarp asked, a grin audible in his voice. With some difficulty Sideswipe lifted his helm to stare at the Seeker. Dumbly. Like he didn’t quite compute the request.

He didn’t exactly want to be doing this in the first place, and now he needed to do it himself?

But it wasn’t like Skywarp was likely to know how conflicted they were. He merely raised his optical ridges a bit expectantly, patting Sideswipe’s aft.

Could people just. Stop doing that. Please. It unraveled what will he had to keep denying his frame, because wasn’t just this what they were here for? Get ready, with Skywarp’s help?

Was it really fair to expect Skywarp to do all the work?

Sideswipe fought back his tears and nodded mutely, then braced himself on his knees and carefully lifted himself up.

Skywarp’s spike dragged across his sensors, and as much he had expected the whole thing to feel good, he still wasn’t prepared for it to feel good when so much of him wanted to fight the whole thing. It was stupid to be so affected by the zaps of pleasure in his frame, a good portion of his thoughts vacating his helm at once.

Or maybe he was just desperate to escape it a little bit. 

The drop down was even worse. Or better. Whichever way you wanted to look at it. And not thinking… That was good. Don’t think.

Just do it.

So he did. Up, then down, as if he wanted this, with his frame very much into it. Skywarp was too, if his encouraging revving was anything to go by, but that was to be expected.

Focus on the motion. Focus on how it felt.

Just.

Don’t.

Think.

Sunstreaker was doing a pretty good job of that too, and though he was sure Skywarp made no secret of what he was doing, he still jumped when the Seeker’s servo slipped between his legs.

As if he hadn’t been staring at the two of them the whole time.

“Open for me?” Skywarp requested of him, his digits brushing against his valve cover. Sunstreaker hesitated—fought himself, caught between the two thoughts of how he didn’t want this any more than his brother did, but how they’d already decided on it.

How it was better for them. 

Wasn’t less pain a desirable thing? Wouldn’t it be better to make things easier for themselves? Make it that much easier to survive until they got out?

He let his cover retract, and like with Sideswipe, Skywarp got right down to business. His focus was impressive, too, because not only did he proceed to thoroughly and effectively finger fuck him, he never stopped groping Sideswipe’s fragging aft, encouraging his brother where he may have otherwise faltered. And that, despite the fact Skywarp’s field openly spoke of his own pleasure.

Yet he didn’t let it distract him.

Sideswipe was panting, and Sunstreaker was soon no better, although he was quite sure a part of it was just from the toll of the emotional conflict, not simply from the pleasure steadily building in his frame. His legs spread without any real input from him, giving Skywarp better access, more room, that the flier made the most of to drive him even higher. 

Until Sideswipe overloaded, tensing in Skywarp’s lap and curling in on himself. It wasn’t the best of overloads, achieved through a war, but it was one nevertheless—and enough to pull Sunstreaker over the edge as well. His valve clamped down on Skywarp’s digits that continued to move through the uneven clenching, even as the Seeker overloaded into Sideswipe’s valve with a satisfied rumble.

Was it just experience that let him remain so functional through his own pleasure? If the other mates felt good with Megatron, was that a necessary skill to keep their master satisfied, when there was no question that it was his desires that were to be the most important at all times?

He didn’t want to know.

They both slumped once the charge tapered from their frames, Sunstreaker propping his weight on his servos and Sideswipe leaning more heavily onto Skywarp. Skywarp really didn’t look anywhere near as affected, but then again, he hadn’t also battled with himself the whole time. He gave them a moment, though, gently removing his digits from Sunstreaker’s valve and equally carefully tracing the lips of Sideswipe’s, where they were stretched around his spike. 

Sideswipe was shivering just so, but the deed done, he couldn’t say he wasn’t eager to get off of the flier. So that’s what he did as soon as his legs felt steady enough, lifting himself off Skywarp and stumbling off to the side to sit on the Seeker’s other side. Transfluid was slowly dripping down his aft and legs. Transfluid and lubricant both.

That was that goal achieved then, huh?

Except, Skywarp wasn’t done.

“Lemme take care of you too,” he said, then surprisingly firmly pushed Sunstreaker down onto the cot. His back thudded with it, but before he could do more than growl in offense and confusion, Skywarp had already wiggled his way between his legs and thrust his spike right in.

Sunstreaker moaned, or groaned, or whatever the strangled sound was that he made, unprepared for the intrusion he never agreed to. With his frame already having one overload behind it though, he couldn’t say it would’ve felt uncomfortable, and that was the worst part. Skywarp’s digits really hadn’t done much in the way of stretching, but his spike sure did, and yet the suddenness didn’t even sting.  

The pace Skywarp set up wasn’t exactly harsh. It was fast, yes, but also smooth, and nothing about it was thoughtless.

In other words, it was primed to make the both of them feel good, and that was exactly what it did whether Sunstreaker liked it or not.

And he really wasn’t sure he liked it. 

But it also felt a little too late to do anything about it. It was already happening, and his frame was definitely gaining more interest with each passing second.

What reasons other than his own reservations did he have to not see it through?

He didn’t fight it particularly much when his hips began to rock into Skywarp’s thrusts, staring at the ceiling and trying to forget what had led him here. Pits, this was… So messed up. This whole situation was. All of it.

But what else was new?

Just don’t think. Let it happen. It was only going to get worse once they’d get to Megatron.

This was nothing compared to that.

He got the feeling Skywarp lasted just as long as he pleased, because it was only when Sunstreaker tensed in overload all over again that the Seeker came too, in near perfect sync. He had to have been waiting on him. Which was… Nice of him, Sunstreaker supposed. 

His valve was quick to end up in the same state as Sideswipe’s, though at least Skywarp didn’t pull out before he’d finished or something equally unpleasant. It was only after there was nothing more coming from his spike that he pulled back and left Sunstreaker to collect himself and his legs enough to close them. He closed his cover for good measure, although now it looked like Skywarp wasn’t planning anything further. 

Sideswipe had gone to staring at the floor, too far in his own head to even fiddle his digits.

And Skywarp, true to form, didn’t look like he had any grasp whatsoever of their discomfort. “You’ve got a couple of breems before Megatron expects you,” was all the Seeker said, his wings twitching in satiation. He looked between them, so… Oblivious. Perfectly happy with the way things had gone.

Sideswipe didn’t lift his helm, only nodded mutely, but Sunstreaker met Skywarp’s gaze. For all the good that did. He knew his expression was beyond blank, his emotional slate about wiped empty, but whether Skywarp was so caught up in his own world and its expectations or whatever else was spurring him on… Skywarp smiled at him. A real bright smile. 

“And… Thanks for the help,” Sideswipe said, very quietly, drawing the Seeker’s attention back to him.

“You’re welcome!” he chirped back. “We should do that again sometime!”

No. No, they really shouldn’t.

“Sure,” was all Sideswipe said, voice so barely above a whisper. 

Sunstreaker growled, pushing himself up to sitting and swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. A couple of breems before things would get worse.

This was a pretty good prelude to that already, though. 

Sideswipe closed his cover too, after this much delay and after having already leaked a sizable pool on Skywarp’s cot. It didn’t seem Skywarp took an issue with that, though they could only hope the Seeker would at least clean it up after they left. The stench of interface was already constant in the harem wing. They didn’t need stains all over the place too.

Not that there really were any, and they would’ve probably appeared a long time ago if they were going to at all. 

Skywarp didn’t say anything further, but he did fetch cloths from his subspace and handed each of them one.

There was something they hadn’t yet earned their rights to. Their subspaces were still safely locked. It would’ve been nice to have access to them, as much as they expected they wouldn’t ever be just theirs again. If not the guards, then Megatron was sure to always have permission to root around in them just as he pleased. They wouldn’t be private anymore.

But still. The ability to carry things with them without having to hold it physically was a luxury they had always taken for granted. Not so anymore.

They accepted the cloths despite their envy and cleaned the worst of the splatters off themselves, just as Skywarp did. Oh, there would be more soon, but for the moment it would be nice to not be as visibly dirty. It was useless, not like every damn mech in here didn’t know just what happened in and to the harem, but they’d still need to make the short but public walk to Megatron’s wing.

What was it about their dignity that they tried to preserve? There was nothing left to preserve. 

Skywarp started to prattle on about something or other after a few more moments of silence, and didn’t leave before their minutes were up and it was time to go. “I can walk you,” he said then. 

They nodded, just… Tiredness seeping into their struts at the thought of having to entertain Megatron once again. There was no avoiding it, though. They’d known better than that for quite some time already. 

Better get it over with and hope for the best. At the very least they were prepared, now. That was a first, but it should help things some.

Hopefully.

They followed Skywarp through the harem wing, out the main doors that never led to freedom, and through the spacious halls to the doors of Megatron’s wing. Skywarp waved them goodbye with a, “Have fun!” as the guards opened the doors for them.

Sideswipe waved back, and in they went. It was a by now familiar trudge to the doors at the very end of the corridor and into the lounge they led to. Megatron was already present, as was Soundwave, and they both glanced up on their arrival. “Go to the berthroom. I’ll be with you shortly,” the tyrant said a bit curtly, and that was enough to make anxiety flutter within their spark. Megatron in a bad mood was even worse than Megatron in a good mood, and neither was ever good.

Once the Kaonites turned away, Sunstreaker sent a baleful glare at the datapad they were perusing, as if he could blame all their suspected troubles on it. Nevertheless, they walked through the lounge and into the berthroom, though they didn’t go so far as to get up on the berth itself. Not without permission. Sideswipe went to lean a shoulder against it anyway, crossing his arms. His gaze fell down again, watching his pede as he scuffed the floor with it.

Sunstreaker frowned and similarly folded his arms across his chassis, trying to stomp down on the hate that wanted to stubbornly curl in his spark. He’d already gotten corrected for displaying such feelings once, he didn’t particularly fancy repeating the experience. Especially if Megatron was already in a lousy mood.

They got to wait for a while before the floor trembled with Megatron’s pedesteps and the tyrant entered the room, earning a glance from the both of them—Sideswipe’s no more than a peek from beneath the rim of his helmet. “On the berth,” Megatron instructed them, he himself walking over to his desk to set some datapads down on it. The twins hauled themselves up on the berth ahead of him, though Megatron was soon to follow.

Sunstreaker sat to the side as Megatron caught Sideswipe by the legs and pulled him to him, spreading them to position himself between his brother’s thighs. Sideswipe retracted his valve cover as Megatron’s servo approached his crotch, and the tyrant’s claws sank in without encountering any resistance.

“Wet,” Megatron commented, cocking an optical ridge down at him. Sideswipe flinched, expecting… Something negative.

But no.

Megatron merely rumbled in clear approval before fetching his digits and replacing them with his spike without any further preparation on his part. 

And this was why they had prepared beforehand, although Sunstreaker realized they hadn’t quite accounted for the fact it would please Megatron. Did they really want to do that?

Weren’t they doing that most of the time anyway?

Wouldn’t the little defiance they were still allowed have been worth it?

Wasn’t this for them, not for Megatron?

And… Even as Megatron set up a truly punishing pace that still didn’t manage to really hurt or damage, having that, his preferences accounted for, no matter how unintentionally… It took off some of the edge of danger in his field. It was still there and for their own good they ought to tread very carefully lest they set the tyrant off, but it wasn’t as pronounced.

Had their act been a good thing, then? For them?

It appeared so.

Sideswipe tried to stay quiet, but it didn’t hurt enough. It felt too good, despite everything, his frame taking even the roughness as something positive with the way it scraped his sensors—every sensor, with the sheer width and length of Megatron’s spike, what was supposed to be far too big for them.

And had been, before. At first. Now?

Little moans began to fall from Sideswipe’s vocalizer, and something burst in Megatron’s field. Lust. One of his massive servos came up and wrapped around Sideswipe’s throat, forcing his helm back just to make room for it. 

It squeezed, threatening the structural integrity of Sideswipe’s entire neck. Sideswipe fought hard not to tense, because if he did so now, things would start hurting for real.

It was hard, though. They knew exactly what Megatron was capable of, the kind of pain he could deliver for the smallest of reasons—just because he wanted to. They hadn’t given him a reason, so surely he wouldn’t now..?

But they weren’t going to underestimate Megatron’s wickedness.

Megatron’s other servo slipped beneath Sideswipe’s aft and hoisted it up for a better angle, all the better to drive into his twin with all the force of a piledriver. And still, still it kept registering as pleasure, even if barely so. There was an edge of pain to it all, yes, the kind that heralded guaranteed soreness after all was said and done, but Megatron wasn’t using his Primus damned skills to damage Sideswipe. He could have, so easily. Angled himself a little differently, and he could have.

But wasn’t Megatron utter control? In this and everything else, he did just what he wanted and nothing else, and made everyone else do just what he wanted and nothing else. If he wanted to hurt, he did. If he didn’t want to hurt, he didn’t.

Simple as that. 

And despite his concern, Sideswipe couldn’t deny his frame’s responses to the treatment. Maybe a part of it was just self-preservation at this point. Enjoy it, or else it would be just that much worse. Either way his brother closed his optics tightly, trying to keep some of his wits around him despite the force Megatron was handling his frame with, the servo that kept such a tight hold of his throat—as if such was necessary.

As if Sideswipe would have tried to go anywhere anyway, anymore.

He didn’t so much as grab onto Megatron to ground himself, in fear the tyrant wouldn’t approve of that and would let his displeasure be felt. Instead his claws sank into the berth on either side of him. At least that much was permissible. 

Sunstreaker didn’t really want to watch, but he did so anyway, unable to look away either. Megatron had… Frustration in him, that much was clear. He took his violent time with things, rumbling harsher with every sound that Sideswipe made—every sound of shy pleasure, not outright pain. They already knew Megatron could last about as long as he very well wanted to, and now it looked like he planned to thoroughly ravage Sideswipe’s frame before deciding he would be done.  

There was nothing they could do about that. They could have tried, like they had, but it wouldn’t have worked.

So they didn’t. Sideswipe kept clutching onto the berth as Megatron drove in and out of his frame and kept him from slipping away even by accident with the combined grip on his throat and behind, trapping him into that cycle until he ached.

And yet it didn’t stop. This… Would have been awful had they had not prepared themselves. Despite everything, Sideswipe was glad they had, and Sunstreaker very well couldn’t blame him for that. It was he who had gotten a turn first, and likely, he who got the worst of it. With any luck Megatron would have worked through most of whatever was bothering him by the time he decided to switch his attention to Sunstreaker.

It wasn’t very fair, but that was how it went.

Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around his shins as they just… Waited. Sideswipe overloaded hard in the middle of it, without any warning even to himself, his hoarse cry ringing out despite the crushing hold on his throat. Megatron growled at that, slammed it one more time, and then… Then he allowed himself to overload as well, grinding against Sideswipe’s pelvis with well enough force to wear away the paint. Sideswipe keened when the searing pulses of Megatron’s come hit his sensitized sensors, triggering another, smaller overload right on the heels of the previous one. 

He felt raw despite the lubricant that had already existed before they got started, and the more of it that had joined the mess during it. How much worse would it have been if they’d gone in dry?

Pits…

Sideswipe’s ventilations were all but wheezing when Megatron loosened his hold on his throat and pulled out to a flood of fluids, the tyrant revving himself—pleased enough, for now. In a slightly better mood if Sunstreaker was any judge of that, just as they had predicted. 

And then it was Sunstreaker’s turn. “Ride me,” Megatron commanded him, moving off of Sideswipe who rolled to the side, out of the way. That was about all he managed before he slumped against the berth, needing a moment. He’d be fine in a bit, all cool.

Sunstreaker held back his sigh and crawled over to the tyrant as Megatron laid back on the berth, very intent on not doing any of the work this round from the looks of things. His spike had retreated halfway into its housing, and as Sunstreaker didn’t want to know what body part of his he’d be expected to use to get it back out if it escaped entirely, he was swift in straddling the martinet’s hips, retracting his valve cover and sinking down on the spike before it could retract further, and before he could think better of it—hesitate. 

He could feel it begin to pressurize anew when met with the warmth of his valve.

Disgust welled until it threatened to strangle him. He did nothing about it. 

But he took too long. “Get to work,” Megatron said to him, voice on this side of a growl. Displeased, when his mood was already questionable.

Sunstreaker’s was no better, but it was him who would suffer if things didn’t go according to Megatron’s whims.

So, despite his full frame shudder, he stopped dawdling and lifted himself up before dropping back down, hating the feel of the tyrant’s spike filling every inch of him even as his frame took interest. It didn’t feel bad, not after the lubricant that had gathered beforehand, and not after Skywarp’s spike had already relaxed his calipers just so.

He didn’t want his frame to enjoy it, but it did so anyway. Wasn’t that becoming the story of his life?

That wasn’t enough for Megatron. “Faster,” was the next order he was given, and it was such a close thing that he didn’t glare at the tyrant with abject hatred. But that order, too, was growled, and Sunstreaker was under no illusion that any misstep on his part would be ignored. He dropped his gaze on the last second, focusing on Megatron’s chest even as he did as told.

Faster, harder, because that was how Megatron fragging well liked it, and oh, who was he to not deliver? He had to draw his field in so tight just to hide his anger, and yet there was nothing he could do to stop the shaking of his frame.

But there were so many things that could have caused that. Megatron, blessedly, didn’t comment on it.

If it had only gotten left at that, but no, the damned mech just had to start groping him too. Megatron’s servos landed on his waist, then traced its curve up onto his chassis, his servos smoothing along his armor firmly, but with no intent to harm.

Sunstreaker tried his hardest to ignore the touch that wandered along his frame, slipping back to his aft at one point too, as much as he didn’t give near as much of a damn about that body part of his as Sideswipe did. He closed his optics and did his best to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t want to do that either, but it was still preferable to Megatron’s fragging fondling.  

But the tyrant’s servos were big and covered so much of his frame so easily. It was difficult to just pretend they weren’t there.

And not even that was enough. He didn’t think much of it when Megatron’s servo traveled up his frame again, except, then it grabbed the back of his helm and pulled him down. Sunstreaker faltered in surprise, only for his engine to whine with the same emotion when Megatron crushed their lips together. Sideswipe revved with the same next to them, but slag, not like this wasn’t anything new either, was it?

Megatron just happened to be in the fragging mood for it or something.

Sunstreaker shuddered when the tyrant’s glossa forced entry, his mouth ever so reluctantly falling open, and now there was no escaping any of it—no pretending it wasn’t happening, with how… Intimate Megatron had once again made things. Interfacing, that was all but ruined by now.

He hadn’t yet quite reached the same point with kissing. That had always been more special, more rarely done, more important.

More meaningful.

But that part of him belonged to Megatron too, and he reminded him of it with the possessive press of his lips, the way his glossa invaded, used. Sunstreaker hardly remembered to even move, his vents rasping as he tried to just withstand it, but it didn’t matter anymore. Megatron didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t appropriately riding him anymore. Sunstreaker noticed too late when the tyrant’s servo slipped behind him again, but he fucking well noticed it when one of those thick digits pressed against the entrance of his valve, right next to the spike already stretching him past his supposed capacity.

His optics blew wide and he tried to jerk forward, away from it, but Megatron’s hold on his helm tightened and he growled in warning. He didn’t even need to say anything to get all of his meaning across.

He was to go nowhere.

Sunstreaker still would have tried if shock hadn’t frozen him in place when the digit pressed again, more insistently this time, and kept pressing against the resistance of his rim. A cry spiraled from his throat as the tightness increased, as did the sting, until Megatron heedlessly and brutally forced his digit in right next to his damned spike. Sunstreaker tried to jerk forward again, but it was already too late. His vents wheezed. It hurt.

This time it really hurt.

Megatron finally pulled back from his mouth and Sunstreaker’s helm dropped to rest against the tyrant’s chest, his frame desperately trying to adjust to the stretch of his rim and lower calipers. His valve clenched and fluttered, but that only made it burn that much more.

He wanted to ask why. Sideswipe wanted to ask why. They wanted to ask why. Why did Megatron only continue to harrow them, even when they tried to behave themselves?

Was nothing enough?

But they didn’t say anything. They didn’t do anything. Sideswipe was crying, quietly, tears running down his face. Sunstreaker mostly felt numb when Megatron pulled his digit to the side, only adding to the stretch, testing his frame’s limits further and further until Sunstreaker was crying out again. The pain was becoming very real, his HUD flashing warnings at him, although no real damage was done. Yet.

As it turned out, no real damage would be done either. Megatron didn’t push it further before he returned his digit to where it had started, then pulled it away from his valve entirely—left the rim to clamp down around the spike only. Tension Sunstreaker hadn’t even noticed he had suddenly left his frame and he released a gush of air, staring blankly at the grey metal of Megatron’s chassis. 

He knew better than to fight, he really did, but pits if he didn’t want to anyway, good sense and reason be damned.

But he didn’t. Megatron rocked his hips and Sunstreaker was only relieved he apparently wasn’t expected to do the work anymore. His frame shivered but he let it be used, waiting so eagerly for Megatron to finish.

It didn’t take long, then there was a bloom of heat at the depths of his valve, and he didn’t want to feel relieved to have Megatron’s transfluid all over his internals, but he was—because it was one step closer to all of this ending soon, hopefully. Only temporarily, until the time they made their escape, but even that temporarily was so dear to them.

He didn’t get an overload of his own, but Sunstreaker couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed over that, despite the stirring arousal in his frame. 

Megatron pushed him off of him once he had basked in his overload for a moment, and Sunstreaker went eagerly, the moment Megatron’s spike entirely vacated his valve one of relief. His valve entrance was sore, Sideswipe’s entire valve ached, but hadn’t they gotten off relatively easy this time? 

So far. Who knew if Megatron still had something more planned.

He did.

“Lick me clean. Together,” Megatron said, still lounging indolently on the berth. His spike hadn’t retracted.

Fresh tears welled in Sideswipe’s optics and Sunstreaker hung his helm, but what choice did they have except humiliate themselves so?

What choice did they ever have?

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

Sideswipe resolutely ignored the moaning coming from the back of the entertainment room in favor of focusing on moving his next piece on the game board. The game was full with four players, himself included, and there was absolutely no reason why he should let the fucking interrupt a good time.

Absolutely no reason.

It was really damn hard though. If he just turned off his audials, he wouldn’t hear the conversation and commentary of his game partners, so that didn’t really work out either.

Sunstreaker had done it, though. His brother was leaning against his back, doodling around on his art pad like he never seemed to get tired of doing, and streaming music directly into his audials instead of listening to the actual sounds of the room. Sideswipe couldn’t blame him. The sounds weren’t really… Pleasant. What was it, a threesome going on over there? Foursome? He wasn’t sure and he wasn’t going to look.

But everyone else ignored them too, so he ought to try to do the same, right?

“Just give up, Hot Shot, there’s no way you’re winning here,” Twin Twist was chortling as he moved his own piece. Sideswipe cracked a smile too, because the fellow twin wasn’t exactly wrong. Hot Shot wasn’t doing so great.

The mech made a face, but took his turn without yielding. “Fat chance. I still have the time to turn this around! Somehow…”

“You wish,” their fourth player laughed, and then it was Sideswipe’s turn again. He wasn’t going to win either, but he might be the third. Or second, if he was lucky. 

Come on, the first time he’d played this was when he’d ended up here, you couldn’t really expect him to wipe the floors with the others yet. He was sure they were the same games played on Free Cybertron with maybe some slight variations, but he’d sort of missed out on most of these sorts of pastimes, during his life. 

The harem with its luxuries really was a way to make him realize how much of what was even just normal for most he’d never had himself. 

It also made him realize how damn lucky he had been to never unwillingly end up as a buymech or indentured industrial worker or something like that, which was always a very real possibility when living on the streets. There were those that sold their frames willingly.

And then there were those that didn’t.

Somehow he’d ended up far closer to the latter camp, even if he wasn’t technically a buymech or a shareware. The beats were still pretty similar though, he figured.

And he and Sunstreaker had already considered the possibility that in order to survive once they were out of here, they might need to become just that. It was an easy job to get into if you had the looks, and luckily for them, they did.

But even if they needed to go down that path, out there would still be better than in here. At least they’d be working for themselves. They’d be free. Struggling to get by, maybe, but that was still going to be a vast improvement, not to mention nothing new to them. The methods of how they were going to make ends meet in Kaon might change compared to what they’d done in Iacon, but there would still be plenty of familiar in that life. 

He glanced up at the main screen when the name of Optimus Prime was mentioned in the talk show that was playing—followed by laughter, from the tv as well as the mates following the show. A butt of some joke then, as usual. That was all the Prime ever seemed to be here. You’d have thought they might even somewhat pretend to take him seriously, considering he was the leader of the entirety of Free Cybertron and the single most powerful mech on all of Cybertron, but no.

They just made fun of him, while constantly putting Megatron up on a pedestal and speaking of him with admiration and reverence. It was so… Casual, too. Constant. The same sentiment permeated absolutely everything, even when it wasn’t stated outright. 

It was hard to even remember to frown at it anymore, with how everywhere it was. He’d be frowning all the time if he did that, anyway. Besides, it just got them curious looks from the other mates, who, despite clearly having come from all over Cybertron, seemed to have entirely forgotten that the world outside of Kaon wasn’t a hellscape where freedom went to die.  

No, Kaon was where it came to die. Look at them. Just look at them all, in here. 

How could anyone ever call this place Free Kaon?

Yet they all did. 

The music, too. It sounded different from that of Free Cybertron for one, where the options you had were immeasurable—probably part of Kaon’s “cultural identity” there or something, they seemed to put such a big weight on maintaining that.

But the lyrics, too. The love songs, the war music, the ballads and everything in between, it all elevated Kaon as the greatest thing in the whole goddamn universe, either subtly or outright. You could expect it from some of it, sure, the genres where the kind of nationalism was natural even in Free Cybertron, but it was fragging everywhere here. Maybe it was just an odd phrase here or a few words there, but almost anything you listened to and it would one way or another promote Kaon, its culture, people, leaders or lifestyle. 

There wasn’t exactly any of Free Cybertron’s entertainment available though, so if they wanted to listen to music, that was what they got.

Same with the movies, games, anything that came from the tv, literature, news, tabloids…

The list was endless and covered everything.

It didn’t really crackle in their audials the same way it had, which was… Disturbing, to say the least.

But probably unavoidable, no matter how they might want to keep their Free Cybertron’s sentiments and pride. 

“Sunstreaker?”

Sideswipe glanced up when Skywarpt’s voice sounded from the doorway. The Seeker was passing his optics over the room before he zeroed in on the golden mech, his wings perking up.

Sunstreaker glanced up on Sideswipe’s prompting and brought his audials back online, flinching when the continued sounds of interface assaulted him–

But did his best to ignore that in favor of focusing on Skywarp. “Yeah?”

“Knock Out was wondering if you’d want to practice some body painting with him,” Skywarp grinned. “Someone got their paint slagged and needs to have it redone,” he continued with a leer into the hallway. Sideswipe could hear someone grumbling, probably whoever had managed to get their paint ruined like that. 

He had to wonder how that had happened, but quickly decided he probably didn’t want to know. 

“...Why me?” Sunstreaker asked suspiciously, even as he set his drawing tablet down. Sideswipe could feel his hopeful eagerness right along with his caution. It wasn’t that they actively distrusted Knock Out or anything, but this came without much warning, you know?

“He thought you might want to learn, is all,” Skywarp shrugged. “I mean, you like painting and tending to your finish and all that… You don’t have to, though, ‘course.”

So. Knock Out wanted a protégé? 

Lucky for him he had found a rather eager one. 

Not that Sunstreaker was about to let that on. “Sure, I guess,” was all he said, leaving his tablet with Sideswipe and getting up to leave the room. Sideswipe watched him go until he disappeared into the hallway, with Skywarp waving him in the direction of the washracks and its paints corner along with the mate that was… Wow, definitely in need of a repaint, that much was for sure. 

Sunstreaker decided he wasn’t going to ask about that.

The other mech looked a bit relieved no one was bringing the state of his plating up.

Knock Out was already picking paint canisters when they entered, shaking them to mix their contents back up. “Ah, Sunstreaker, good. I thought you might want to get a hang of this. Why quit at just knowing how to polish yourself, hmm?” the medic mused, waving their victim of the day forward.

“It’s a skill, for sure,” Sunstreaker commented, doing his best to downplay his budding excitement. He’d seen and experienced firsthand what Knock Out could do, though. How much better would it be to know how to perform miracles like that himself?

“You’re already an artist, I expect you’ll get the hang of this quickly,” Knock Out said a little offhandedly, but that didn’t prevent Sunstreaker from preening. The other mate stifled a chuckle even as Knock Out turned him this way and that, presumably to judge what exactly needed to be done.

“Do you want any changes to your colors? No? Alright. Sunstreaker! Let’s start this by stripping what’s… Left of his paint. Then we can get down to business.”

No joke, the poor mech looked better with bare grey plating than he did with the patchy colorwork that had been left on him. Once they’d made sure his armor was clear of any bumps and scratches, they set the primer, and that was where the lesson really started. Knock Out was exacting on how it was to be applied.

Knowing what Knock Out could do, Sunstreaker didn’t question it and followed the instruction to the best of his ability. He knew he was far slower than what the master himself was, but Knock Out had surprising patience so long as Sunstreaker actually did as he was told, as those were the ways to get the very best results—all that Knock Out would accept. 

Sunstreaker, being a bit of a perfectionist himself, didn’t disagree. He didn’t have near enough experience to judge Knock Out’s methods beyond the results he got with them, and the results spoke for themselves.

With the primer in place, the fun could start. It was one thing to choose the simple colors one wanted to have, quite another to bring them to life the way Knock Out could, and Sunstreaker was hungry for that knowledge. First stage was, naturally, how to apply paint just right, none too thick, none too thin, to stay in control of it at all times. How else were you supposed to get the results they were after? Knock Out even came prepared with blank metal sheets for Sunstreaker to do some practice runs on, before he tried his fledgling skills on actual living metal.

Somehow he almost got the feeling Knock Out had been planning this for a while now. Luckily for everyone, Sunstreaker had always been a fast learner when it came to something he had an interest in, and this, this he was definitely interested in. It spared him some frustration, Knock Out some nerves, and their subject some ruined paint. Oh, he wasn’t about to get it perfect, not the way Knock Out could, but by Primus he would give it his best go. Luckily, his fellow mate seemed to have already accepted the fact that his paint wasn’t necessarily going to be as professionally made as the others’, and had likely volunteered for this if Knock Out had approached him with the suggestion first. 

It was for a good cause!

As Knock Out had done with their own paint jobs too long ago, it all came to thoughtfully applying different shades in different areas to create the kind of otherworldly depth and artificial play of light and shadow removed from the lighting of the environment—all to better bring out the features of the mech’s armor.

In his humble opinion, Sunstreaker didn’t think they made quite as dashing of a canvas as he and Sideswipe had, but then who could? They were unusually attractive by design, for whatever reason. Vain creators, perhaps? The exact reasons didn’t really matter, only that they had always enjoyed their own looks. Who didn’t want to look good, or better than just “good”?

All the same, having a paint job à la Knock Out could only help a mech, even if they lacked the physical characteristics to look as dashing as the twins could. Far be it from Sunstreaker to be so cruel as to intentionally ruin someone’s paint job, either. He didn’t need to lower himself to tactics such as that to remain the most attractive mech in the room. It would only demean him, make him petty. 

No, he needn’t be so.

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

“Is he having fun?” Skywarp asked as he observed their game. They were almost done with it, and yeah, Sideswipe wasn’t winning this one. He was on the running to reach second place though!

And Hot Shot was still losing.

“Who? Sunny?” Sideswipe asked back, a little distracted as he tried to plot his next move. Dammit, he wasn’t going to accept third place if he could find a way to get higher than that.

“Yeah.”

Duh, who else could Skywarp even be talking about, honestly?

Was he having fun? Sideswipe grinned. “Yeah, he is. Nice of Knock Out to teach him.”

Skywarp laughed. “Honestly, Knock Out probably just wants someone not him who can look after everyone’s paint jobs too. He takes our looks real seriously. Like it’s a point of personal pride to him or something.”

Sideswipe laughed too. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. How’s he ended up in that role anyway? Did someone tell him to do it?” Megatron, maybe?

“Not as far as I know,” Skywarp denied that guess, though. “Preeeetty sure he just finds less than perfect looks personally offensive, and since he needs to be staring at the bunch of us a lot, he took it upon himself to make sure everyone looks tip top.”

“Won’t hear me complain about it,” Twin Twist piped in to a chorus of agreement from the players and a few other mates close enough to listen in on the conversation. Sideswipe snickered, but really, he could join in on that sentiment. It was nice to look good.

It would be even better if Sunstreaker learned the trade too. He really was enjoying himself. It was challenging, there was no doubt about that, but not like Sunstreaker, being an artist, wasn’t already very familiar with the concepts of light and shadow and color theory and pit, whatever else went into paint jobs like that. It was just a different way of applying the same skills, and Knock Out knew the technique and best tricks.

One had to wonder how long it had taken Knock Out to figure all that out though, and if he had had instructors at some point. If he hadn’t… Doubly nice of him to pass his skills onto someone.

Even if it was just to reduce his own workload, as Skywarp suspected. There were a lot of mates in the harem, and while they could generally keep their finishes clean and tidy, sometimes…

Sometimes things just got a little too frisky for the good of anyone’s paint, either because of Megatron, or because of the mates themselves. And then those paints needed fixing.

And really only Knock Out seemed truly qualified to do it. Combine that with already doing everyone’s repairs and maintenance, and maybe he just wanted a bit more free time in his hands.

But Sideswipe didn’t want to be thinking about the reasons for the ruination of anyone’s paint job. Those were limited, here, and… Not really pleasant thoughts.

Focus on the game, Sideswipe, focus on the game.

Annnnd he so wasn’t going to make it to second place. Twin Twist was going to win at this rate, Hot Shot at last place was already guaranteed, and it looked like Sideswipe was going to become a solid third. But hey! Better than losing entirely! He’d definitely done enough of that already, but maybe he was finally starting to get the hang of this.

He might even win with a bit more time.

…Not that he really wanted to have enough time to get that good with the game. It would mean… Not getting out of here anytime soon, and he wasn’t okay with that.

Even if they weren’t yet any closer to figuring out how they would actually make their escape.

“King of the hill!” Twin Twist hooted when he made his very final move and officially won the game. There was laughter and some tossed congratulations from around them, even as Hot Shot groaned. Sideswipe giggled, lost the second place four moves later, and won third place two moves after that. 

“That’s it, I’m not picking this game back up before I’ve studied tactics,” Hot Shot announced, frowning at the game board. There was more good natured laughter that Sideswipe found it easy to join in on, but then Topspin made an appearance on the scene and bowled his twin over.

To… Right. There was kissing, then groping, some announcement of a celebratory fuck, and off they were!

Sideswipe cringed, though no one seemed to notice his discomfort. In fact, Skywarp glued himself to his side and before Sideswipe knew it, one of the Seeker’s servos had slipped between his legs and scraped over his panels. Sideswipe tensed at once, but before he could think of an appropriate reaction, and appropriate way to say ‘what the fuck, no!’–

Skywarp had leaned in to bite his neck. Sideswipe could feel the almost frustrated arousal in his field, and guessed it had to have been a while since Skywarp had had his last interface. 

It wasn’t anything personal. Skywarp meant no harm. He just wanted relief.

It was still so unwelcome.

“Want to celebrate your third place?” Skywarp asked, and fuck, things were devolving fast everywhere around him. Twin Twist and Topspin were thoroughly distracted with each other, someone else had grabbed Hot Shot and they seemed to have a hell of a lot of fun, and they weren’t the only ones.

Somehow, Sideswipe had ended up in the midst of more than a little interfacing, instead of being able to stay on the sidelines like he usually would have.

“Not- not really,” he stammered, his field drawing tight to himself to not taste the arousal surrounding him from all sides. He didn’t want to ruin Sunstreaker’s fun either though, so at the same time he drew just a little away from his twin so as to not distract him.

Not like anything horrible was happening. Megatron hadn’t arrived or anything. It was just the mates doing what the mates had a habit of doing, and this time Sideswipe had gotten unlucky enough to get caught in the middle of it. 

That was all.

It was like Skywarp didn’t even hear, or maybe he was so far up in the assumption that of course Sideswipe would be fine with it like anyone else would be that he completely failed to notice he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine with it. Skywarp’s servo didn’t leave and he gushed warm air from his helm vents against Sideswipe’s neck. It didn’t matter that Sideswipe tried to close his legs or that he tried to pull away.

Skywarp didn’t notice. Neither did anyone else, for that matter.

“‘Warp, I’m… I’m really not in the mood right now,” Sideswipe tried, and that finally seemed to catch Skywarp’s attention enough that the Seeker pulled back to look at him.

With concern. “You okay?”

No. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just… Kinda hungry.” What was wrong with him, that he wouldn’t want to interface, huh?

But low fuel levels seemed to be an acceptable excuse, because Skywarp nodded and pulled back. “You go fuel,” except he continued with a very suggestive caress along Sideswipe’s thigh, “Wanna catch up later?”

No. Pit no. “Maybe. I’ll let you know, okay?” Sideswipe smiled, hoped that smile wasn’t too weak, then extracted himself from the midst of the other mates, grabbed Sunstreaker’s art pad, and fled the scene. The whole room. He stumbled into the dining hall instead, despite the fact fuel was the second to last thing he wanted right then—right before fragging. 

There were exactly three other mates in the room, but they left him alone after he waved a greeting, pretended to be fine. Sideswipe himself went to the furthest corner of the hall and sat himself along the table there, soon dropping his helm into his servos. 

Why was he even so upset? He knew what Skywarp and the others were like. He should’ve expected that, especially after a game that long. They got horny in less time already, and once they did, they didn’t exactly bother to hold back.

He should’ve seen it coming. Left as soon as the game ended. He couldn’t just… Suddenly expect them to lose their blindness to someone’s unwillingness to interface. They were so caught up in all of this that it didn’t seem like they could even fathom another mindset anymore. 

Even though they all had to have been in Sunstreaker and his position once upon a time. Their frame designs spoke of so many different city-states that they had each originated from. They weren’t all Kaonite. Most weren’t. They couldn’t have been born into this, this… Life and culture. They had to have had normal lives at one point, before they were more than likely taken just like he and Sunstreaker had been taken, and brought here, and then bent and twisted until they didn’t see right from wrong anymore.

Would that happen to them too, if they stayed here too long?

They couldn’t allow it.

They had to get out.

Before they lost their fucking minds to this mess. 

( Next )

[spookyboogie3]

The trope Last Minute Hookup shouldn’t be used for LGBTQ+ relationships.

AND DEFENDING MY LAST POST ABOUT THIS.

I DO NOT hate any of these pairings. A good many of them could have been handled differently by the creators, writers, and networks. But this isnt me hating the relationships or characters or shows. Just going off about how they shouldnt have been tacked on at the end of their respective series. 

As of writing this all of these shows have ended their original runs. Except for Supernatural which is on its last few episodes. And Supergirl, which announced its coming to end with season 6.

LGBTQ characters and relationships aren’t as common in the media as straight-cis characters and relationships. Sure things are improving but a lot of networks and writers still don’t fully understand why representation is important why they can’t keep using the same throwaway tropes they’ve been using for the straight-cis relationships.

You could name any piece of media and find and name one character that isn’t LGBTQ+, but you can’t do this with LGBTQ+ characters. We haven’t gotten to the point where they are as common as non-LGBTQ characters.

I have a whole paper I wrote on why asexual representation is important to have in the media and the same logic applies to any part of the LGBTQ+ or anything that falls under minority.

Back to the topic on hand. The trope of “Last Minute Hookup.”

Its exactly what it sounds like. Characters get to together at the very end of the story. These characters could have a on and off again relationship, lots of ship teasing, the classic “Will They or Wont They?” trope. What makes it different for non-LGBT characters in relationships to do this, we know what these relationships look like. Not to say the that both Non and LGBT relationship cant have similar struggles, however members of the LGBTQ+ community know how hard it is to feel like your identity and self matters and is normal.

I know that the whole “will they, wont they” thing is done for drama and networks and showrunners think if they give the fans what they want that they’ll start losing viewers and they have nothing to look forward to. Which is true to some degree. But most of this comes from the writers not knowing how to fucking write relationships.

Let’s just focus on whats it like to be in a non-straight relationship.

Heres an example: you have an action series, with 2 male leads and halfway through the show, they get together. Cool. Now you have a Battle Couple.

By making LGBTQ relationships happen at the end of a series that’s already had plenty of other non-LGBTQ relationships happen before it, it makes it look like the people in charge don’t care for it or were afraid of backlash. But it’s the end of the series so its not like they can get the show cancelled or anything. (The only people who are going to lash out at LGBT couple or characters are homophobic people, we don’t want them around any way so just make stuff super gay, so they’ll leave)

This is especially a problem when the writer and network have spent the whole series queerbaiting the audience with these characters.

 Side note for anyone is doesn’t actually know what queerbaiting is:

It’s a marketing technique used in entertainment, which the writer or creators hint at but then don’t actually depict sex-same romance or LGBTQ representation. They do this to attract (bait) the LGBT/queer or straight ally audience into the show with the suggestion of representation but at the same time avoiding this as not alienate other audience members *cough* (homophobes) *cough*

Definition is from Wikipedia, not a reliable source says my highschool teachers and college professors but fuck em

The Legend of Korra is a great example of Last-Minute Hookup. Korra and Asami had VERY little ship teasing, and that was in the last 2 books/seasons. Any thing that was perceived as romantic came from the fans wearing shipping goggles. So to a lot of people just casually watching, yes this looked like it came out of nowhere. Nickelodeon had some serious balls to say how brave they were for putting 2 girls into a romantic relationship.

Theres a few problems with this.

A. It never actually aired on TV (to my knowledge). The last 2 seasons of Korra were put on Nicks website.

B. The confirmation that this Korrasami was canon had to come from the creators on twitter because of how unclear it was.

C. The show did the bare minimum when it came to hooking them up in the series. They walk off holding hands (very cute btw). They didn’t even get a kiss. Aang and Katara had a Last Minute Hookup at the end of ATLA after 3 seasons of ship tease and THEY GOT A KISS. Hell the original end of LoK*, has Korra and Mako kissing. *(the first season, they didn’t know they were getting more seasons at the time, no matter what you hear the writers say, they’re full of shit)

D. Anything continuation of Korra has come in the form of comics, which her and Asami are in a fairly well written relationship. Yes, they do kiss. Yes it would’ve been great to see this stuff happen in series.

A show that handles this a little bit better is Adventure Time. Not by much though. It implied several times that Princess Bubblegum and Marceline have history together and its shown more and more in its last few seasons that there is some ship tease happening. However its not until the finale where they kiss, and they are shown in the last minute of the show cuddling together in Marcy’s house. HBO has picked up Adventure Time and has a miniseries called Adventure Time: Distant Lands, where Bubblegum and Marceline’s past relationship is shown.  

I had brought up in my original post about being upset with networks making LGBTQ+ relationships canon in the last season/episode. I originally had Catradora tagged. While Catra and Adora have history together, they did not become official couple until the end of the series.

Yes, I was wrong about the network making things canon in the last episode as they’ve always had ship tease with each other, and it probably was the writers’ intent to put them together by the end. They do technically fall under the Last-Minute Hookup, however.

I wanna talk about Once Upon a Time really quick. Fans of the show were hoping and wishing for an LGBTQ couple for the show as a lot of characters, especially Regina and Emma, have alot Ho Yay moments. The showrunners weren’t going to put those two together, for whatever reasons they may have for that (im indifferent on all the shipping going on with this show). The showrunners thought to put two characters together, and hoo boy did it not make people happy. The characters they put together are Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and Ruby the red riding hood, which would be fine if they had properly been developed.

The entire episode they did this in was a mess. They stopped the current arc during the season 5 episode ‘Ruby Slippers,’ to go over the characters that haven’t been seen in years, Dorothy was introduced and last seen in season 3, and Ruby was introduced in season 1 and was last seen in season 5 before ‘Ruby Slippers’. The characters get together in the same episode the meet in and are never seen again. The characters barely interacted, barely got along, and showed little to no ship tease or interest in each other and BOOM they are in love and together aaaaaannnnndd they’re gone. Other than having One Million Moms, a Christian fundamentalist organization, protest against the show and want it taken off the air (yes this really happened). The fans weren’t please with this development of the characters either.  

(also Mulan was right there and already knew Ruby from a previous episode, and Mulan already is established to like girls as shown by her being in love with Aurora. Don’t know why the writers didn’t just put these 2 together but whatever I guess)

So they tried again in season 7 with MadArcher. The characters of Alice, a version of Alice in Wonderland from another realm (its complicated) and Robin, the daughter of Robin Hood and the Wicked Witch (it’s also complicated). And the writers did a lot better here. Both characters were allowed to have time together and have a history together too and it was done over the whole season. Not just one episode.

Now even though the writers decided to do something different with the last season and it could be detached from the previous 6 seasons, MadArcher is not really a Last Minute Hookup per say but still falls under my thing about it being the last season so who gives a fuck if One Million Moms gets mad us and tries to get us cancelled again.

 I would like to say I have never watched a single episode of Supernatural in my life. I may one day. But as of right now my knowledge of it is coming primary from what ive seen on tumblr. You know a great source for doing research and looking for reliable information among the piles of shitposting.

From what I know from fans, the writers of Supernatural have been queer baiting for years. I mean it’s the CW, I’m not that surprised. What also wouldn’t surprise me, that by the end of the series Castiel is back and he and Dean actually start and relationship or strongly hint at starting one. I actually fear for the writer lives if they threw out a confession scene after years of queerbaiting and potential ship tease (debatable) and they don’t put them together. Fans are going to be angrier than they probably ever have been with this show and the showrunners and writers really would be known for queer baiting.

From what I know about how previous shows have done and if anyone that has ever worked on this show wants to continue living, Castiel will be back from Super Hell (is that what yall are calling it?) and he will get together with Dean. And they will fall under the Last-Minute Hookup trope and my networks make LGBTQ relationships canon last season.

 One last show I want to talk about is Supergirl, which in has been recently announced that the 6th season will be the last. The show started on CBS but moved to the CW after the end of season 1. So more CW bullshit. There is no confirmation about whether the CW or any of the Supergirl writers are planning to do this, its all speculation. Supergirl is more LGBTQ friendly than some other shows on the Network. One of the main characters came out a few years ago and had a girlfriend a season and has had plenty of hookups with other ladies around the Arrowverse. They even introduced a trans-woman superhero in the form of Dreamer.

Let’s talk SuperCorp. Lena Luthor was introduced in the 2nd season and has been a major character in Kara’s life ever since her introduction. Even if she isn’t involved in the plot, Kara always goes to her to talk and check in on her and worry about her. They are best friends. Since the 2 have met, there has been plenty of Les Yay going on. The writers seem to be aware of the fans wanting SuperCorp to be canon and they keep throwing in moments like Kara and Lena struggling together or Kara carrying Lena bridal style.

Why I bring this up after the announcement of Supergirl’s final season to start next year. We may get SuperCorp. Kara has a relationship with William in the show and not a single person likes this relationship. The writers may scrap it and get put Kara and Lena together for the final season. This is a big maybe though. The Supergirl writers and crew get called out a lot for queerbaiting.

   Let me know if you guys have any other examples of last season/last episode LGBTQ+ hookup.

And please let me know if you see any mistakes. This was all done in one sitting so I may have some things wrong.

Also check out the video by @aretheygayvideos on this topic too.

[idratherlivefreetofail]

I’m just gonna write for a little bit because this is on my mind and I originally wrote out this post a few days ago but tonight something else happened related to this. I just want to get my feelings and thoughts on this out there somewhere and off of my chest. I’m not gonna use any tags and I’m gonna try to slightly censor names so this post doesn’t pop up in any tags even if I don’t tag the post. I’m also gonna put it under read more too. 

So there’s been a lot of drama around Scott**Cawth*on lately, the creator of the F*NAF series. He was trending on Twitter a lot recently because information got out that he donated money to M*itch*McC*onnell and T*rump and democratic politicians that don’t support trans people. He posted a response about this a few days ago basically being upfront and honest that yes he did do this but not because he wanted to hurt the lgbtq+ community or other minorities or because he supported these politicians social views but because he felt like they’d be the best to help the economy. There’s a lot more too it than that and his words are much better than how I could describe or explain it. But after reading it and reading some of the responses to it and now he’s retiring...  I honestly feel super conflicted about this whole situation...

On the one hand, I don’t necessarily think that Scott is a bad person or a bigot, but he did do bigoted actions. He’s done a lot of genuinely good things and I think most situations have more to them then just what’s on the surface. I honestly think he was trying to do what he personally thought was right but it feels like he’s just ignorant on how what he did contributes to oppression in America. I don’t even hate the people who accept his response and still want to support him either. I’ve seen many different types of people still support him. I appreciate him being honest and actually responding to it though. Plus anyone who doxxed him over this and sent him death threats and made him and his pregnant wife’s lives feel like they’re in danger before there was a even a response or explanation, deserves a serious fuck you! How can you sit there advocating for human rights and people to be treated equally when you do that sort of shit?! That’s crossing the line! You’re no better than some of the bigots out there if you think threating to kill someone would ever make them want to support you! Plus how do you think that makes people in these minorities look too? But on the other hand, it doesn’t matter what his intentions were. People have a right to be angry at him, upset with him, criticize him and not support him in the future anymore. He actively supported people who have done horrible things and continue to do horrible things. People who actively want to hurt people in US and want certain groups of people to not exist. Especially people of color and the people in the lgbtq+ community! Anyone who thinks this is people “canceling him” because of his views and because he’s a republican, DO NOT understand why this a big deal or why so many people are hurt by these actions! It’s so much more than just a difference of views or opinions. Which shouldn’t even be considered political or opinions in the the first place! People’s rights are not fucking pizza toppings or ice cream flavors! People fighting for their rights to live and fucking exist in peace shouldn’t be considered politics! I don’t give a shit that he’s a republican, I give a shit over him supporting people who want people like my sisters to not have rights! Do I think democratic politicians are that much better? No and I think not enough people who aren’t bigoted criticize them when they do something shitty. I don’t even hate republicans because I know there’s some who aren’t bigoted and don’t support these politicians. I think politics have problems all across the board and now turned into this fucked up game of “pick the one YOU think is less shitty! ;D” It’s a big mess. Plus I’m sorry but donating a ton of money to charity also doesn’t excuse horrible actions. There’s been a ton of shitty people who donated to charity to make themselves look better. Not saying that’s what Scott did, I’m just saying that reasoning is a bad excuse when you use it on people being critical of him. Just because you admire someone or like what they create doesn’t mean they can do no wrong. Sometimes you need to be critical of them and call them out when they do something genuinely bad. Yes there’s people who are against him that have gone too far with that. But I’ve seen so many of the people supporting Scott just brush off his bad actions like they aren’t a big deal at all and I think it kind of gross. All I ask is for people to think for themselves in the situation and be open to listening other perspectives

It’s all such conflicting feelings for me personally and honestly I don’t know how to feel because I understand all the feelings and perspectives from each side. Plus this disappointment hits me personally because I genuinely enjoy f*naf and the things Scott’s created and what those games inspired people to create. There’s a YouTuber I really enjoy who does mostly f*naf videos and I’m sitting here wondering if I should still watch him. I had a huge hyperfixation on with fnaf during a time where I wasn’t really letting myself enjoy anything a few years ago. If it wasn’t for these games I never would’ve discovered Seán and his videos. If you’ve been following me for a long time, you KNOW why that’s a huge deal for me! I guess it’s a case of separating the art from the artist but still. This is really conflicting for my own morals and my own empathy, I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m just conflicted and disappointed. I don’t want to support Scott in the future though and that’s my own opinion. 

[mistergrass]

a dump of podcast thoughts/recs

I have been listening to a whole lot of podcasts in the last month, and so I thought I’d just lay out what I’ve listened to so far and my general thoughts (but I’m not gonna tag any of them because I might get too honest - which means REALLY no one is gonna care about this lmao) 

I would also love some recs for both fiction and non-fiction if anyone’s got any! 

Fiction:

The Magnus Archives - This is, unsurprisingly, my top top recommendation for podcasts. The story being told is so intricate and well thought-out. I love pieces of media where I can turn my brain off and trust that the creators know exactly what they’re doing. And I love anything that knows its intent from episode 1. I think I could go on for ages praising this podcast, but tldr; 

HIGHLY RECOMMEND 

The Penumbra Podcast (Junoverse) - I am not a fan of high fantasy, which is the main reason I haven’t listened to Second Citadel (other than the one-off eps in s1), so I’ll just focus on the Juno Steel stories. But I listened to this after catching up with TMA because so many people seemed to recommend it. Because of that, I think I might have gone into it with slightly higher-than-necessary expectations....

Here are things I like about it: the environment is well sound-scaped (especially in later eps), the universe is really cool and fun to learn about, and the romantic subplot between Juno and Peter really is a great time. 

That being said, I can get a little frustrated with the writing at times. Story beats are sometimes paced oddly, and at other times the narration can over-explain what’s going on -- especially wrt character emotions. S2 I think is the biggest culprit of this “tell don’t show” method, and it can expand to hurt the individual mysteries and the set-up of the metaplot, too. Overall, S2 was a real dredge to get through. (But credit where credit is due, Juno Steel and The Monster’s Reflection were incredibly crafted episodes of that season). 

But it was worth it to me for S3, which is a fun vibe and shifts from focusing on individual mysteries to character explorations in a found-family dynamic. The real strength of this podcast are the unique and engaging characters and their dynamics (which is why when Juno isolates himself in S2, it gets kind of dull). It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely been a very entertaining season. 

Uhhhh, kind of recommend? Maybe only if you’re really into the noir/sci-fi/detective genre. 

Death by Dying - The worst thing about this podcast is that there’s only five episodes. Oh my GOD what a gem of a show. The deadpan, absurdist humor in this show is so insanely up my alley and so well-written. But one thing I love about this podcast is that even in five episodes with a format that is mostly obituary-of-the-week, the emotional arcs of the characters are really well-maintained. Charolette, in particular, is a tragic character to follow through the MC’s eyes, but in a way that makes total sense considering the situation. This show is so clever, so fun, and finds ways to be really poignant at times, too. 

HIGHLY RECOMMEND 

Two Princes - I know I said I don’t like high fantasy, but I’m also gay and sometimes that just beats out. Who doesn’t like a light, fluffy story about two princes falling in love in some perilous magic forest? It’s a gas. Also, it’s just really well-produced and an easy listen. You very much get what’s on the tin,  and that tin is some high-quality and very tasty cheese. 

RECOMMEND 

Limetown - God, I’m so upset about this one. 

The first season is a masterpiece. WONDERFULLY produced, beautifully sound-scaped, insanely intriguing and engaging, along with a wonderful MC who is far from perfect in her endeavor for forbidden knowledge. I don’t think I can recommend it enough. 

The second season... is fine! You still want to know what’s going on, so it’s easy to keep listening. But, tbh, it takes a bit of an odd turn. I don’t want to spoil it too much, but I would’ve been okay with the shift in direction if it was leading somewhere satisfying. But the S2 finale is... well. Choices were made, I guess. I’ll just say that I was really cheated out of an emotional pay-off. 

If there was a promise of a 3rd season that would explain these things in more depth, I might let it off. But it looks like the production team is shifting its focus to the TV series being made out of this. I might watch it -- but I am worried now that they won’t know how to land the plane no matter how smooth the take-off is. 

Despite everything, RECOMMEND 

Archive 81 - (I have only finished through S2) 

My feelings on this show is that I do not have the auditory processing skills required to keep up, lmao. But I don’t think I can really hold that against this podcast. This show doesn’t hold the audience’s hands, which is something I actually really like (even if I do get lost sometimes in what’s happening, lmao). This is obviously another case of the creators knowing EXACTLY where they’re going in the story, too. I also don’t think I’ve heard any other podcast with sound-scaping at this level. The biggest themes of this show are sound and ritual, and itreally follows through on that wrt how the sound is edited. The vibe of it is so mysterious and unique, it does such a good job of making you feel like you’re in a totally different world.

RECOMMEND

Wooden Overcoats - (I have only finished through S1)

This show definitely has a Fawlty Towers feel to it, and the humor is very fast-paced and British in that very specific UK-sitcom way. Because of that the humor is very dry, but definitely fun to listen to. And the characters are a real hysterical bunch.

My biggest critique, however, is that sometimes the episodes end in a way that feels like a big bummer. British sitcoms of this nature usually hinge upon an incompetent/anti-hero MC who tends to deserve the different comical misfortunes that fall upon them. Usually they get up afterwards, having learned nothing, and the cycle continues in a harmless way. But sometimes that vibe doesn’t really hit, and a few episodes will end with these big tonal shifts where the schadenfreude ends up drying out. You sort of just end up feeling bad for everyone involved instead lol. It’s what has me hesitating going into the next season, but I’ll definitely start it up eventually. It’s well produced, and honestly the characters are just too fun to keep away from (Antigone in particular is my favorite). 

If you like British sitcoms, I’d recommend. Or if you’re looking for a cynical laugh. 

Other podcasts I’ve started are EOS 10, and Dreamboy. I really didn’t like the first episode of Dreamboy, but I’m gonna give it another try since it’s so short. EOS 10 seems well-produced, but not really up my personal alley. 

Non-Fiction 

I’m not gonna give these ones as long of blurbs, just know I recommend them all highly. 

You Must Remember This -  Old Hollywood history that is wonderfully researched, and focuses a lot on women of the time. The recounting of these histories feels very honest and she really doesn’t pull any punches when giving detailed and accurate accounts. A truly wonderful show. 

Welcome to Your Fantasy - A deep dive on the history of Chippendales that is WILDLY entertaining. I sort of can’t believe I got as sucked in as I did. The host has a wonderful humor about her, but is still great at getting to the heart of some of the heavier issues at hand. 

Last Podcast on the Left - My favorite true crime/conspiracy podcast by a long mile. It’s equally hilarious and well-researched. I know a lot of people are kind of anti-true crime lately which is very understandable, but I do appreciate each of the host’s personal philosophies on the matter, which I think comes through in a lot of their episodes. 

[softkuna]

Sukuna || Interview || Fic - oc

Part 1

Content   ║  Punk!Sukuna x oc. There is a reader version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count      ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Original Character. Swearing. Female Pronouns.

Creator   ║ I swear this will go somewhere, I just enjoy the set up too much. So this is the version with the oc that I have. Her first name is Koyori. I have tagged this so that if you dislike ocs, you can read the other version. But! If you like ocs, hopefully you’ll like her ;v;. I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!!

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

  “-didn’t you say the band?”

  “Yeah, but this is better.”

  “Sure… but what happens if-“

  Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

  His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

  Koyori whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

  “Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

  “I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

  Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

  Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. Koyori held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

  The interview process began.

  Koyori sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “I’m Yama Koyori, and to join me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

  The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

  “After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

  Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

  Much of his dissertation, Koyori hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

  “There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

  His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

  Koyori leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

  Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but Koyori found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and Koyori would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

  The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

  Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer. As practiced, “I ans-“

  “You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Koyori’s head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

  The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as Koyori’s pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

  “Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.  

  “Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

  “Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

  The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

  It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. Koyori scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

  As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

  Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

  Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

  He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

  The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

  God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

  “Let me check the tag.”

  “What?”

  The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also sorry.”

  Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

  He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

  “I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

  He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

  “While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

  While the editor and videographer chatted together, Koyori leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

  She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

  He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘Yami Koyori would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, If his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

  “Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

tags: @lovesakusa​

[cruelangelstheses]

all we can dream

fandom: fire emblem three houses rating: T characters: claude/m!byleth words: 2.2k additional tags: canon compliant, post-timeskip, pining description: claude needs a gift for byleth’s birthday, but he has no idea what to get him. a/n: HELLO !!!! this was written for the FE gift exchange @nagamas on twitter and tumblr! i wrote this for @oomph833!! i hope you enjoy!!!! <3 title from “so i thought” by flyleaf (again lol)

read it on ao3

—

“Hilda!”

Hilda looks up from her food as Claude slides into the chair across from her. She raises an eyebrow in an expression of mild concern. “What?”

Claude rests both his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together. “Teach’s birthday is coming up, and I have no idea what to get him.”

Hilda snorts and takes another bite of her fish. “That’s what’s so urgent? I thought we were under siege or something.”

“The only thing that will be under siege here is my conscience if I don’t get him something amazing,” Claude says with a frown.

Hilda shrugs. “It’s not like this is the first time you’ve ever given him a birthday gift. You got him that Golden Deer bracelet back when we were students, remember?”

“This is different,” Claude says. “That was a gift from a student to a teacher, just a little something for him to remember his class by. But now…” He trails off. He’s not sure how to explain it without completely exposing himself. “I just...want it to be more personal.”

Without blinking an eye, Hilda says, “Kiss him.”

Under different circumstances, Claude would have laughed and winked, coupled with a clever quip like “He wishes” or “I already have.” Not today, though, not now, not after five years of lying awake at night, wondering where Byleth was, when he’d come back, if he’d come back. He just barely manages to cover his emotions with a cough, which causes Hilda to raise her eyebrow again, so high up that it completely disappears underneath her bangs.

“You’re joking,” he says, reaching over and popping a piece of fish into his mouth with his fingers to distract them both.

Hilda scowls and rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m joking,” she says, but when their eyes meet, Claude can see the truth. He should know—it’s how they work, making jokes or faking tears to hide their feelings, but a sliver of reality always slips through, if one only knows where to look.

Hilda breaks eye contact by leaning way back in her chair, so far that Claude half-expects it to tip over, carrying her with it gracelessly to the floor. When that doesn’t happen, Hilda says, “How about, like, a ring or something?”

Claude sighs and rubs a hand across his face. Clearly this won’t be going anywhere productive. “It’s a birthday gift, Hilda, not a declaration of my undying love.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both.”

“You’re impossible.”

Hilda flashes a playful grin. “I try my best.” She lets the chair fall back into place. “But seriously, Claude, I think you know him better than almost anyone else here. You don’t need my help. You’ll come up with something.”

Claude chuckles sheepishly. “You give me too much credit.”

—

“You should make him something,” Ignatz suggests.

Claude watches as he moves his paintbrush fluidly across the page, slowly but surely turning colorful pigments into a perfect rendition of the landscape in front of them.

“Easy for you to say,” he says, not unkindly. “If I tried to draw Teach, he’d probably be insulted.”

“It doesn’t have to be a drawing or painting,” Ignatz says. “Besides, I don’t think he would. It’s the thought that counts, right? As long as you give it your best shot, I think anything you do would make him happy.”

Deep down, Claude knows that Ignatz is probably right, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what to make. Still, he thanks Ignatz for his time and heads off to find the next person on his list of potential advice-givers.

—

“It should be something practical. Something that Byleth’ll use,” Leonie says as she paces back and forth in the greenhouse. “Something he sees every day that makes him think of you.”

Claude leans his back against the wall. “Like what? A new weapon? He already has the Sword of the Creator. I don’t know if I can compete with that.”

“Then don’t,” Lysithea says without looking up from her book. She must have come here to study in relative peace while Leonie was on gardening duty. “There are plenty of other things you could give him that he’d make good use of. Boots. A satchel. An overcoat. An amulet that protects against ghosts.”

Claude tries not to laugh at that last suggestion. He can’t quite tell if she’s serious or not. Either way, at least now he has some more concrete ideas, even if he’s not sure how to incorporate them yet.

—

He finds Marianne and Raphael at the stables, where Marianne is taking care of the horses, while Raphael seems to be searching for some large bags of horse feed to use as weights. Claude decides to call them over and ask them both for their opinions at once.

“It’s gotta be sentimental,” Raphael says. “That’s my rule when I give gifts to my little sister. It’s gotta be something that’ll make her feel really soft and happy inside, like a stuffed bear.”

Claude nods slowly. He knows he wants the gift to mean something, but he’s not sure what sort of gift that could be.

He turns to Marianne, who has been waiting for Raphael to finish speaking. “Marianne?” he says with a tilt of his head. “What do you think?”

Marianne looks down at the ground, then back up at him. “Um...I agree with Raphael,” she says. “I think it should be something more personal. That way...you can show Byleth how you feel and what he means to you.”

The way she phrases it makes Claude briefly wonder if she knows. He was sure he’d hidden it well from most people, except for maybe Hilda.

He brushes the worry away in record time. “Thank you both,” he says, clearing his throat, and then he rushes out of the stables before either of them can inquire any further.

—

“You should take him out to tea,” Lorenz says as he, ironically, takes a sip from his teacup.

Claude snorts. “Of course you’d say that.”

“I’m quite serious,” Lorenz replies, setting the teacup down. “He invites us to tea all the time, sometimes for our birthdays, but sometimes simply because he wishes to. The least we can do is return the favor from time to time.”

He raises an interesting point.

“It doesn’t have to be tea specifically,” Lorenz adds, “but taking him out somewhere and spending time with him in addition to a physical gift would be very thoughtful and meaningful, in my opinion.”

“Huh.” Truth be told, Claude had half-expected him to just suggest buying something fancy. That’s likely what he would’ve said five years ago, at least. But his advice, though different, isn’t necessarily wrong. Just unexpected.

“If I might ask,” Lorenz says, “why is this so important to you? You’ve been running around the monastery like a madman all day.”

Claude shrugs. “I just want Teach to know how grateful I am for all he’s done.”

The thing is that somewhere between meeting Byleth and now, it became about more than just gratitude for helping him get closer to achieving his goals. He’s not sure when or how, but he knows that what he feels for Byleth is something new and deep and lovely and terrifying. Claude still has dreams of watching him fall, still wakes up sweating at the thought of cradling a dying Byleth in his arms.

Sometimes, he lies awake and wonders what Byleth’s lips would feel like on his.

But none of that is important, or so he tells himself. What’s important right now is that he gives Byleth a gift that is even somewhat adequate, and finally he at least has some clue how to do it.

With his list mostly exhausted and an idea brewing in his mind, Claude rushes over to the dorms. He can only think of one person who could help him with this.

—

“Hilda!”

Hilda sits up on her bed, where she’d been lying peacefully and doing seemingly nothing—not sleeping, just relaxing. “What is it now?”

Claude closes the door behind him. “I need you to teach me how to sew a whole overcoat.”

“You what?”

Quickly, Claude explains his idea. Hilda listens intently, her chin in her hands, her expression unreadable. When he’s finished, Hilda thinks for a long moment. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Oh, I know.”

—

A week later, Claude leads a blindfolded Byleth to a place farther up the mountains, a grassy area that overlooks a cliffside.

“I feel like the victim at the beginning of a murder mystery,” Byleth comments as Claude lightly pulls him by his arm farther and farther away from civilization.

Claude laughs a little. “You’re not, I swear.”

“Right, because a murderer would definitely say, ‘Oh, yes, you caught me, I’m about to murder you.’”

Claude snorts. “Well, in that case, yes, I am a murderer, and I am taking you away from Garreg Mach under the guise of a birthday present just to murder you and leave your body in the woods.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Byleth says, deadpan. Claude has to stop himself from bursting into laughter and losing his grip on Byleth’s arm.

After a few more minutes of banter, they reach the place where Claude set everything up. “Okay,” he says, letting go of Byleth. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

Instead of untying it, Byleth simply pushes the blindfold up off of his head. In front of them lies a large picnic blanket with a basket full of food, silverware, and a small tea set sitting neatly in the center. On one side of the blanket, folded neatly, is a black overcoat with a yellow ribbon tied around it.

“Claude…” Byleth says, seemingly in awe. Most of his faces are relatively similar, but Claude is fairly certain that this is the “pleasantly surprised” face. “What is this?”

“I told you,” Claude says, slowly making his way over to the blanket to pick up the coat. “A birthday present.”

Byleth takes a few tentative steps toward the blanket, as if afraid that he’s not allowed to touch it. “I just...didn’t expect all this.”

Claude smirks to cover his nervousness. “Well, then, you’re definitely not gonna expect this,” he says, holding the coat out to Byleth.

Curiously, Byleth takes the coat and unties the ribbon, unfolding the overcoat with increasing shock. When he holds it out to examine it, Claude swears he can see Byleth’s jaw drop just slightly.

The coat is mostly black, with long, large sleeves similar to Byleth’s signature overcoat. This one, however, has a medium-sized golden deer embroidered on the back—and on the inside of the coat, near the neckline, is a message embroidered in small, golden lettering: Thanks for everything, Byleth. I think you put the very first crack in my walls. —Claude

“I…” Byleth shakes his head in disbelief as he pores over every inch. “Did you make this?”

Claude shrugs. “Hilda helped. A lot. And the other members of Golden Deer gave me ideas. So it’s kind of from all of us. But...yes.”

Byleth smiles, soft but undeniably there. His eyes shine with something Claude can’t quite place. “This is amazing,” he says, holding the coat close to his chest. “I can’t thank you enough, Claude.”

It’s one of the most tender phrases Claude has ever heard come out of Byleth’s mouth.

Combined, Claude has incorporated everything the Golden Deer suggested. It’s practical, it’s handmade, it’s meaningful, they’re spending time together, and…

A declaration of love.

Claude can feel himself blushing. “What can I say?” he says, sitting down on the blanket. “You...mean a lot to me.”

Byleth sits down across from him, carefully folding the coat and setting it down by his side. “I could say the same about you.”

“Then say it.” The words are out of Claude’s mouth before he can stop himself. That never happens. He never speaks without calculating everything beforehand, ensuring that it comes off perfectly natural despite being meticulously crafted.

Byleth chuckles. He must be able to tell. “You mean a lot to me, too, Claude.”

Surprisingly, it’s Byleth who leans in first. Perhaps it’s because, despite being incredibly different, he was never treated that way, whereas Claude is still paralyzed by the fear of not being enough, of not fitting in with anyone, of being branded a freak, an anomaly, for daring to exist. For months he’s wondered if exposing his true feelings would cause Byleth to think the same.

But here he is, surrounded by nature on a warm autumn day with a strange warmth in his chest that he can only describe as the feeling of being loved not for who he should be, not for who he pretends to be, but for who he is—a feeling that, until now, he’s only imagined in dreams.

Then again, Claude of all people should know that dreams are always closer to reality than you think.

And when the man he’s fallen in love with moves to kiss him, Claude finally rids himself of his inhibitions, if only for a moment, to bridge the gap between them.