#so like for all we know there is only one universe that has been destroyed and reconstructed over and over again

[callingofstars]

for anybody who is a bit lost with the new myriad celestia trailer i gotchu !!

(elaborations below the cut)

in a recent special program the developers said they would be touching on aeon and faction lore more heavily in the main story, and this is what we’re seeing now!

this war of aeons hasn’t just been foretold by one prophecy - since the beginning of the universe, there have been divine forces in preparation for some large-scale calamity that mortals can’t seem to understand yet.

followers of the preservation, namely, try to prepare for this without even knowing what’s going to happen. some pathstriders worship the calamity itself, waiting for all life to end with anticipation. i’m not sure if this event specifically is what they’re talking about here, but it could be.

I WOULD RECOMMEND TURNING ON SUBTITLES BECAUSE OF THIS. absolutely insane lore drop on hoyo’s part, for a couple reasons: the event of the Erudtion’s fall is going to create a chain reaction all throughout the cosmos.

the trailer has also hinted on how Nous falls, mentioning their “end of yearning.” for those unaware, there are three ways an aeon can be killed: in a war between larger aeons, if they stop believing in the path they represent, and a secret third way we are unaware of.

this likely means Nous loses faith or is assimilated into a different path. which in turn is going to mess up some other paths and factions, namely the Masked Fools.

“the fools flounder in tears after the wise have been burned” - this implies the path of Elation is going to suffer after Erudition’s fall, since their abilities are quite literally designed to break logical thinking. the mentions of tears and mourning makes me think that the Mourning Actors are going to play a part in this.

(context: Mourning Actors, though they follow Elation, act as complete opposites to the Fools and remain constantly solemn to act against Aha’s path of laughter)

Jingliu wants to take advantage of this war between aeons to kill even more aeons. the abundance and the hunt have been at war on the Luofu forever, and she implies that the Xianzhou Alliance has the ability to KILL AN AEON. if either Lan or Yaoshi fell, their endless battles would cease and only one would reign over the planet.

do i think this is the “secret third way”? not particularly. but it is extremely interesting for another reason.

ARE WE SEEING THIS????? THE XIANZHOU LUOFU HAS NANOOK’S BLOOD. this is important because, in legend, the aeon of destruction’s golden blood is extremely powerful, and if someone were to drink it, they would undergo some sort of “transformation”.

we don’t know what this means exactly, because as far as my knowledge is concerned nobody has done it. i have a speculation that the trailblazer is very connected to this, but am not sure how yet.

silly mention to the imaginary tree lore :3

also is this implying the fact that some factions believe paths and the imaginary are bad? are people trying to destroy it????? because if so that would be a disaster i think

ALSO THIS. THIS IS EXTREMELY INTERESTING. they’re referring to Phainon, surely, but Amphoreus is the “end of time”? i had always thought of it being a looped memory of the past, but what if it’s the future?

this has ties to other aeons, namely the finality, who exists at the end of time and whispers prophecies of the end to everyone else. basically every divine force agrees that there is a calamity that will kill every god, and it lives at the end of time.

what if this prophecy isn’t referring to an event, but a person who embodies calamity? if the end of time isn’t anything to do with the silver rail or even the universe, but it’s a place where time has no end? LIKE AMPHOREUS?

i’m just thinking. the Erudition seems closest to where Phainon is undergoing his trial right. if Lygus really was an emanator of erudition (might’ve missed a page there but that’s what i gathered). if the “end” has something to do with Phainon.

and we’re gonna have to clean up the cosmos after all of this goes down. sigh

ANYWAYS I AM SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

[whereserpentswalk]

Angels are beings of pure cosmic order. They exist in opposition to most other cosmic entities, considering demons, fae, gods, and elder things to all be their enemies. They exist purely to uphold the laws of the multiverse, protecting the laws of physics and upholding reality, occasionally keeping breaks in reality at bay.

Because angels are very hard to make from scratch they tend to recruit other entities into their ranks. They'll take from anything, though they tend to prefer to incorporate entities that are weaker then themselves as a way of keeping them under control. To incorporate an entity they can't simply change their allegiance, they must fully transform them into an angel, destroying their identity as anything other then angelic.

We know the most about humans who've been turned into angels. Partially because humans are common in the multiverse, having convergently evolved countless times, and partially because humans make easy targets. Sometimes they'll prey on humans from universes with limited knowledge of the supernatural, sometimes they'll prey on humans from cultures that worship angels, sometimes they'll recruit humans curious about magic.

Physically transforming into an angel can be a horrifying process. It sounds liberating, and mabye for some it is, but it's a destruction of so much of one's self. All your smallest flaws, everything someone could consider an imperfection, is stripped away, anything about your face that's considered ugly, anything about your body type that's considered unusual, any scars or tattoos or signs of age or markings that tell the story of your life, it all goes away. You'll find yourself looking in the mirror and you aren't yourself anymore. You're like someone else's idea of a better, more easily digestible you. Even things you might have hated will be gone, but your self will go with it. Most people who want to be that perfect blond haired blue eyed doll are shocked when they realize that their face is no longer their own.

Not to mention what they change about you to make you less human. They take away your reproductive organs, your digestive system, your need for sleep. Even your ability to feel pain or to cry is taken. Depending on what role you're given you might not even be humanoid anymore. Your body will no longer exist for yourself, anything that doesn't serve the higher goals of angelkind is stripped from you, regardless of if you want it to be taken from you or not.

And the most terrifying part is the loss of free will. You will be assigned to whatever role is thought to be most useful for you. You'll be cosmicly powerful but your powers will only have the uses you're meant to. And it doesn't matter if you like the job you're given or not, what's supposed to matter is what you're good at, and if you don't like what you're good at then you're screwed. Even your very body and your powers were meant to do one thing and one thing only. You might see the multiverse, you might get to talk to people, you might find out more about magic, but it will never be for yourself.

And the worst part is the loss of free will. The one thing every other being in the multiverse has, will be gone from you. You cannot disobey orders. And even when your lack of free will isn't directly effecting you, you will always feel it, always understand that you are truly no longer your own person. Even when you're just sitting there you can never really know if it's your choice to do what you're doing or not. And everyone you interact with, you'll understand that if the evoke the right rules they can force you to do exactly as they please with enough creativity.

People always say that they wish they could just have a single purpose that they know. But to truly have that can be horrifying. No wonder so many fall.

[holoska]

after debating for weeks whether to stay very far away from the deltarune soriel discourse or let myself ramble about my faves like I want to, the latter has finally won out

I've had time to properly absorb the weight of all that happens at the end of chapter 4, and obviously I do feel for both kris and susie. that is The Point of the scenes being from their perspectives; after everything they just went through and all the worry they had for toriel's safety (for the second time in 24 hours!), the scene they come home to is maybe the most uncomfortable slap in the face possible. it sticks out to me that the last thing susie talks about before the dark fountain is sealed is her wanting tomorrow to be the same as yesterday and for everything to always be able to go back to how it was, and that's what greets them - a blatant, obnoxious sign that things are changing. even though the scene has a lighthearted side, its overall tone adds to the downcast feeling the chapter ends on.

having said that, as someone who has spent the past 9 and a half years being normal about sans and toriel, I'm still very very happy that this is a canon scene we got 💜

the fandom may be largely not considering their perspectives in the slightest (or worse, only viewing their perspectives from the most bad faith angles possible), but I for one love this for them!! as other very good posts have pointed out, toriel has been sorely in need of someone who's there for her - an awful lot of people in town saw the divorce play out and have something to say about it, the holiday family are closer to asgore than toriel, kris is her child and stuck in the middle of their parents' issues, and while she's friends with alphys, them being coworkers and alphys being kris' teacher likely puts a distance of sorts between them. but sans is new in town, someone she immediately connects with, who has no pre-existing opinions about her family and has seen firsthand what toriel has to put up with from asgore. in every universe, sans is exactly the kind of person toriel needs in her life.

there's less to work with from sans' perspective given how little we know about him, and I'm not all-in on sans being from deltarune just yet (more specifically I do love the theory, I'm just giving myself room to not be too disappointed if it doesn't happen), but the new version of it's raining somewhere else being named 'the place where it rained' emotionally destroys me forever. either way it drives home just how happy toriel makes sans in both worlds and I love that so so much :']

to be clear I'm not saying they did nothing wrong, their choices negatively impacted kris and susie and they were objectively disruptive and inconsiderate after kris went to bed. but I like that they're being messy and flawed, because it means this isn't just "my faves are getting closer in the background yippee" but that their relationship is potentially an actual part of the story, and that's how you get The Good Stuff!! we wouldn't have had meaningful character moments like noelle finally standing up to queen if queen hadn't tried to control noelle and just listened to her from the start, or susie comforting ralsei with her bloodied hand if he'd told her and kris every detail of the full prophecy the moment he met them and never kept any secrets. if all the hints towards a flower shop dark world turn out to be true then it's pretty clear the story is building things up to make those future character moments hit, and considering we still don't know what happened with the dreemurr divorce at this point, chapter 5 seems like a perfect opportunity to dive into all of that.

plus, as sweet as susie's bond with toriel is, I honestly think susie seeing this side of toriel needed to happen. a lot of the fandom's complaints about toriel right now boil down to her not being the "perfect mother" they thought she was, and what bothers me about that is toriel was never meant to be that kind of character. toby has said that she's not the classic video game protagonist's mother who sees you off on your journey and you can come home and visit any time, and nothing changes and she never has any substantial character of her own. in undertale she literally handholds frisk through the tutorial, she becomes the first boss in her attempt to protect them when every other human left her care, and once they leave she won't let them come back or even call her phone because she can't face seeing them knowing they'll leave again and likely be killed. she's more than just the mother figure of the game, she's her own person with likes and dislikes, hobbies and flaws, and a past and trauma she can't overcome until the best ending.

we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of her history in deltarune, but that same principle holds true: she isn't the perfect parent you return to after each day's adventure, who gives you butterscotch pancakes every morning and never has any real part in the story because that isn't the intent behind her character. she mentioned her loneliness back in chapter 1, kris has secrets and problems they aren't letting her in on, asgore is being relentlessly inconsiderate of her boundaries, and for all susie's praise of toriel being a good mother, I think that house of cards was going to fall eventually. my hope is that, like her blowing up at ralsei ultimately bringing them closer, susie being able to see toriel as the imperfect adult she is but one who does genuinely care might help them build a stronger bond in the end too.

I think I always knew that if soriel ever inched closer to being canon there'd be discourse about it, and toriel slander is unfortunately nothing new. people are just being annoying about it currently and it sucks when I genuinely love what's being built up here!!

anyway crossing my fingers for a scene where toriel invites sans to the festival before she gets thrown in the bunker/he gets sent to undertale/the roaring happens/all of the above 🤞

[lunarrosette]

I don’t think I’ve made a proper post but I need more ppl to join in my misery but Glenn can never reunite with his universe’s Morgan

Cause the thing abt the universe swap is that every universe has their own afterlives so the Morgan that Glenn fell in love with originally does not exist in anyway in the world Glenn is in not in life or in death and the Morgan here (while likely living the same life up to to moment she met Glenn in the original timeline) is still a different person

All I’m saying is imagine finding out that the afterlife is real but knowing that you can never seen one of the only people you’ve ever loved in death because they don’t exist in this world anymore

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[meticulousmaker]

another random thing that stands out to me rewatching Steven Universe as an adult:

throughout the show there's this clear Vibe that Steven has inherited some big magical destiny, right? and it makes sense narratively: he's the son of Rose Quartz, leader of the rebellion, now being raised by her friends who were the last remaining survivors of an interstellar war. he's like a human child in most ways, except he has magical powers that start to become more obvious as he's getting older. no one like him has ever existed before. it's a big deal. raising him and figuring out how he's going to grow is its own unique challenge, because nobody knows what to expect. so of course there's this magical destiny vibe, given all that.

What's interesting to me, though, is that this magical destiny is in no way literally, physically present in the story, it's just something everyone kinda feels. Like, there's not some ancient prophecy about a half-gem, half-human savior. He's not the Chosen One in any literal sense, he just happens to give off Chosen One vibes. And I say that's interesting because it means that the fact he was kinda raised with this Chosen One vibe is completely a decision everyone around him made, for better or for worse. And the show is aware of this, because the weight of Rose's legacy and everyone's expectations of him is a constant theme, and as Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all grow and develop, they also realize the downsides of them putting those expectations on a child. Like, Steven spends his whole childhood being told about how great Rose was, and how because he's inherited her gem he will probably inherit her powers - and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Imagine how awful things could have been if Steven had no exposure to the Gems and no knowledge of what they were or how they worked, and then his powers started coming in? It was hard enough even when he was surrounded by the most qualified Gem Experts on Earth. But being primed for all of this "you're going to have your mother's magical powers" stuff put a heavy weight on his shoulders, and then the fact that nobody else quite knew how his abilities worked meant he was constantly faced with the adults in his life looking to him with concern because they didn't know what was happening with him. That's gotta leave an impression on a kid - and, well, throughout the show and especially in SU Future we definitely see that it does.

I like the way the show handles the pressure that's put on him, and the fact that everyone is just... trying their best in a completely unprecedented situation. Nobody knows what to do or how to raise this kid, and that inevitably causes problems but everyone is trying. And Steven can feel that everyone is trying without knowing what to do and he just wants to help and not be a burden and none of his caretakers have said that he's a burden but he can feel everyone's confusion and concern and the expectations he's not living up to and he cares so much, about everyone, about everything. He's in an extremely unique position that grants him opportunities to help that nobody else has, and he feels like he's failing everyone if he can't fulfill that, and in the end it never should have been his job to fix things but somebody had to try. Somebody had to try, and he was one of the only people with the ability to stop the Diamonds, stop the war, stop the lies, stop his world and everyone on it from being destroyed... and he was just a kid.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

If you have the time, I have a physics question that has been breaking my brain. What exactly is energy?

I've tried so hard to wrap my head around it but even all the engineering dads of youtube can't make me understand.

The thing with physics is that the simpler something is, the harder it is to put it into words. Energy is almost as simple as it gets. The textbook definition of energy is just "the capacity for something to move against a force," but that's not satisfying, because it's too simple. So let's try something else.

Think back to the Big Bang. What was the Big Bang made of?

Particles, right? Just a lot of particles. We didn't even have hydrogen yet, that would take about 400,000 years. In fact for the first few microseconds, we didn't even have protons and neutrons and electrons, we just had quarks and gluons. The stuff of the Big Bang - the stuff you could touch - was just particles.

Where did those particles go?

You know: into stuff. Everything around you is made of those particles. I mean, by weight, less than 1% of all matter in the universe is solid stuff, but you get it, right? The planets and the stars and dark matter and black holes and penguins and sunflowers and you and me are all made out of those particles.

But the Big Bang wasn't just "a bunch of particles." "A bunch of particles" would just...sit there. If the singularity behind the Big Bang was just a bunch of particles, it would just be, like, a marble, or a block of tofu. It wouldn't have done anything.

Part of the difficulty of understanding energy is that we thought it was a substance for so long. Like, from the time when fire was put into the same category as earth, wind, and and water as one of the classical elements, up until, like, the 1850s. And talking about it like it's a substance and thinking about it like it's a substance is a tough habit to break. But it's not a substance. The Big Bang WAS only "made of" those particles. There wasn't anything else there. Physically it was just particles.

Those particles just had personal qualities. Like having a charming personality, and a good sense of humor. Intangible qualities. Two of them, specifically.

Their qualities were hot and fast. And hot is just fast but small! So really they only had one quality: an absolutely fucking stupid amount of FAST.

We've already covered where the particles went. That's all the stuff you see when you look around.

So where did the fast go?

That's energy. The single personal intangible quality possessed by the particles at the moment of the Big Bang. And energy can never be created or destroyed, right? So the fast isn't gone. All of the particles had fast, and so when they spread out, they took the fast with them, as they turned into atoms and chemicals and stuff.

All of the energy in the universe is just the fastness from that single moment of ignition, transforming and transforming into different expressions of motion.

Hope this helps.

[dakusan]

S K Z   D I C K   A N A L Y S I S

stray kids ot8 x reader | field research, god-tier dick, you won’t walk tomorrow

🖤 synopsis: eight men. sixteen hands. one universal truth: they’re all built different. this isn’t a thirst post. it’s a forensic study. a field report. a soul-snatching gospel of hips, tongues, and the quiet cruelty of a man who knows how to fuck. some of them worship you. some of them destroy you. all of them leave you shaking. welcome to the skz dick analysis. we’re not just rating dick. we’re decoding it.

💌a/n: i don’t even know how we got here. one second i was sipping tea like a sane person, the next i was writing about han jisung crying in your arms post-nut while “That That” by PSY (feat. yoongi, because of course) blasted in the background. filth. absolute filth. but you know what? it’s what they deserve. it’s what we deserve. also if it wasn’t obvious by now — yeah. my favourite colour is red. has been for years. red + black is a whole era. i don’t just want to write skz dick analysis… i want to bleed it in velvet. p.s. reblog this post like it gave you a hickey p.p.s. tag your bias & cry about it in the notes p.p.p.s. give some love to Flavor click the link or don't

⚠️warnings: : 18+ ONLY (MDNI) — explicit sexual language and themes, kink-based character analysis, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, overstimulation, body worship, size kink, oral fixation, possessive behavior, creampie mentions, implied breeding, power imbalance, aftercare, emotional collapse, use of pet names (e.g. "good girl"), choking, mirror play, neck biting, fear of God inserted through dick game, and aggressive levels of brainrot. all fictional, all consensual, and all unhinged.

🎶now playing: "Flavor" – VX

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

BANG CHAN // 방찬

Length: 6.5" – 7", but it’s not the size that breaks you — it’s the command. It’s the way he angles himself just right, drags it out slow at first, then gives you everything when you’re begging prettily.

Thickness: Thick and hefty, the kind that makes you gasp when he slides in. Veins you can trace with your fingers. Warm, weighty, always throbbing against your thigh when he gets needy.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Calculated. Insane. He doesn’t just fuck — he directs. One hand pinning your hips, the other on your throat, whispering “Take it like a good girl. You’re doing so well.” Alternates between deep, punishing thrusts and slow, ruinous rolls that leave your legs shaking. You’ll lose count of your orgasms — he won’t.

Cum: Heavy. Warm. Deep. He always finishes inside — slow thrusts, gritted teeth, holding your hips still as he fills you up. Groans in your ear, “Fuck, you take me so well.” The kind that drips out for hours and makes you blush when you shift in your seat the next day. Breeds you like he means it, like it’s a ritual, not a reflex.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just fuck you — he orchestrates your undoing. With precision. With obsession. With love so filthy it makes you sob. You’ll forget your name. You’ll remember his.

Lee Know // 리노

Length: 6.5" — sleek and sculpted like everything else he owns. Elegant curve, perfect for that spot. His hips do most of the talking. He knows what he’s working with.

Thickness: Just enough to make you stretch and shudder. Not monstrous — but deceptively perfect. Every thrust feels like a calculated violation of your sanity. Fit like a lockpick, not a sledgehammer.

Stroke Game: Deliberate. Cruel. Precise. The kind of man who watches your face while you fall apart and smiles. He’ll edge you with shallow strokes until you’re begging, then snap his hips once and have you seeing stars. Minimal movement, maximum destruction.

Cum: Warm. Coats your insides with slow thrusts and low moans. Doesn’t always finish inside — sometimes he likes to paint your stomach, your thighs, your tongue. But when he does finish in you, he makes you stay full. “Don’t let a drop go to waste.” Then fingers it back in while whispering, “Good girl.”

Dick Game Verdict: Not loud. Not messy. Just lethal. He’ll fuck you like a science. Break you in silence. Leave you so ruined, you’ll flinch when someone says his name. He never rushes. Because he knows — when he’s done? You’ll never look at anyone else the same again.

Changbin // 창빈

Length: 6" — don’t let the number fool you. It’s the girth that has you blacking out mid-thrust. Short king? Try wrecking ball. When he slides in, you feel every inch, every time. You’ll swear it grew mid-session. It didn’t. Your walls are just traumatized.

Thickness: Unholy. We’re talking stretch-your-soul level. You’ll see stars before he even bottoms out. Has that heavy, veiny, “you’re not ready for this” kind of presence. Leaves you breathless, wrecked, and praying for a second round you know you can’t survive.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Punishing. Zero brakes. Thrusts like a gym playlist — fast, powerful, relentless. No teasing, no build-up — just impact. You’re folded in half, being pounded like a drumline, choking on your own moans while he’s still breathing steady. “C’mon, baby. You can take it.”

Cum: Heavy. Sticky. Endless. Loves finishing inside — but also loves watching it drip out of you. Will thumb it back in just to see you flinch. Grabs your chin after and says, “What’s wrong, baby? Thought you wanted all of me.” Leaves bruises. Leaves marks. Leaves memory loss.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s not just built. He’s built for destruction. You’ll scream. You’ll tap out. You’ll beg — and he’ll just tilt his head and go, “Already?” Sex with him isn’t just a night. It’s a full-body event. And he’s the headline, main act, and afterparty.

Hyunjin // 현진

Length: 7 – 7.5" — long, elegant, dangerous. The type that makes you gasp when he pushes in slowly, watching your face with hooded eyes like he knew it would hit that deep. Fills you up like he’s been dreaming about it for days.

Thickness: Sleek but firm — a velvet blade. Enough to stretch you, but it’s the depth he reaches that changes you. The curve? Unfair. Like it was sculpted to kiss your g-spot just to hear what you sound like when you lose composure.

Stroke Game: Flowy. Deliberate. Unfathomably deep. He starts slow. One hand gripping your thigh, the other tilted under your chin, lips barely touching yours. Once you’re a whimpering mess? He speeds up just enough to overwhelm you. The hips don’t lie — and they destroy. “Take all of it, baby. I’m not stopping.”

Cum: Slow, hot, emotional. Finishes deep with long strokes, burying himself fully as he breathes your name like a prayer. Moans in your ear while holding your waist tight. Likes to cum inside — watches it drip out with dazed eyes and kisses you between the legs like an apology.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t fuck. He haunts. Every moan is a poem. Every thrust is a love letter sealed with bruises. He’ll make you feel like a canvas and leave your body shaking like he wrote a sonnet with his hips. You’ll walk home sore and smiling. And you’ll want him again immediately.

Han // 한

6" — average but deceptively powerful. It’s not the size that ends you. It’s the way he uses it — every thrust hitting just right because he’s memorized every inch of your body like it’s his favorite song. You’ll forget air exists.

Thickness: Slightly girthy with just the right stretch. Has that perfect snug fit — enough to make you gasp, never too much to tap out early. Just the way he likes it: “I wanna feel all of you squeezing around me.”

Stroke Game: Fast. Desperate. Unhinged. He fucks like he’s trying to get you addicted. Starts off whimpering and soft, then kicks into overdrive when you praise him. Slams into you with frantic rhythm like his soul depends on it. You’re drooling, overstimulated, and he’s still muttering, “One more. Just one more, please.” (Lie. It’s never just one.)

Cum: Hot, fast, everywhere. Finishes with a long, desperate groan — body trembling, fingers digging into your hips. Might cum inside without realizing because he’s too far gone. Or on your chest while panting apologies like “I couldn’t hold it, you were too good.”

Dick Game Verdict: He’s your emotional support slut. Will rail you to pieces and then cry in your arms. Sex with him feels like a confession, a breakdown, and a fireworks show all in one. You don’t just cum — you ascend.

Felix // 필릭스

Length: 6.5" – 7" — smooth and beautiful. Not too much. Not too little. It’s the kind of dick you see once and think about forever. The first thrust always makes your breath hitch — not because of size, but because of how intentional it feels. Like he’s been waiting for this.

Thickness: Just right — sleek and filling. Perfect pressure, perfect stretch, perfect rhythm. You don’t get overwhelmed, you get hooked. Hits that spot and stays there, grinding slow, deep, and steady until you’re breathless.

Stroke Game: Deep. Rhythmic. Lethal. The slow strokes kill you. It’s the way he grinds, chest pressed to yours, whispering soft filth in that low voice — “You’re so pretty like this… all mine.” Will go harder if you ask, but he prefers to fuck you through eye contact and emotional damage. Makes you melt, then makes you moan.

Cum: Warm, slow, and intensely possessive. Finishes with a deep groan and wraps his arms around you instantly. Fills you up and doesn’t pull out — “I wanna stay like this a little longer.” Watches it leak out of you with a dazed look and kisses your trembling thighs.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just make love — he devours your soul. You’ll cry, you’ll shake, you’ll feel cherished and wrecked. Sex with Felix is like being adored into submission. You’ll never recover — and you’ll never want to.

Seungmin // 승민

Length: 6" — but don’t get comfortable. He doesn’t need to be huge — the control, the angles, the timing is what sends you to the ER. Slides in like he’s done it a thousand times in his head. Because he has. “Told you I’d fit perfectly.”

Thickness: Sleek and dangerous. Just enough to fill you right — just enough to make you squirm. He lives for the moment you exhale and say, “Oh my god…” because he already knew it would feel that good. He's been patient. Calculating. Now you're his problem.

Stroke Game: Controlled. Cruel. Clinical. Each thrust is calculated. Each change in rhythm is intentional. The kind of sex where he grabs your jaw mid-stroke, leans in with a smirk, and says: “You’re so loud. You trying to get caught?” You’ll cry. He’ll coo. And then he’ll go deeper.

Cum: Hot. Possessive. Intentional. Loves cumming inside — and watching it leak. Will plug you up with his fingers and say, “You’re not wasting a drop.” Doesn’t make a sound when he finishes — just a quiet gasp and clenched jaw like he’s in complete control even now.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s a fucking weapon. Not loud. Not flashy. Just precision-based annihilation. He’ll gaslight you into thinking it wasn’t even that intense — while you’re still shaking 30 minutes later. You’ll never win. But you’ll beg to lose again.

I.n // 아이엔

Length: 6.5" — a sleeper hit. You don’t expect it to hit like that… until it does. And then you’re arching, twitching, grabbing sheets with a voice you didn’t know you had. He gives you that deep, shaky breath before sliding in like, “Tell me if it’s too much.” (It is. But you won’t dare say no.)

Thickness: Slim but deadly. Slides in too easily. And that’s the trap. He gets deeper than he should, hits angles that make you shiver, and then stays there. Tilts his hips, watches your eyes roll back, and just smiles. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Stroke Game: Evolving. Dangerous. Addictive. At first, he watches you — every gasp, twitch, stutter. Then one day he finds a rhythm that makes you break and he never lets it go. From then on, it’s deep, slow, purposeful fucking. Holds your hands down. Bites your neck. Makes you beg with a soft whisper: “Louder, baby. Let them hear who owns you.”

Cum: Hot, messy, unexpectedly filthy. Finishes with a choked gasp and a twitchy thrust, still buried inside you, whispering your name. Then collapses on top of you, breathless and shaking. Sometimes asks if he can stay in a little longer. Sometimes goes again while you’re still twitching.

Dick Game Verdict: He is the sweetest weapon you’ll ever encounter. You think it’s cute until your legs are shaking, your brain’s gone, and he’s pulling you in for another round with a soft, dangerous smile. He didn’t ask to break you — but now that he has? He’ll never let anyone else put you back together.

[aces-and-angels]

artwork by raghad qanou follow: @rhq2744 verified ✔: no. 221 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet

dear moots/lovely lurkers- please read 🖤

raghad has finally reached the very first milestone in her fundraiser! that's right gang, thanks to the continuous support of friends/strangers alike, raghad's family has raised a whopping ✨£5,095✨as promised, here is another beautiful original by miss raghad herself 🖤

for those who haven't gotten a chance to meet her yet, please allow raghad to introduce herself in her own words:

Hello everyone, I am Raghad Qanou, a second-year human medicine student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, or rather, I was like that, before I lost everything, literally everything... Before the 7th of October, me and my family [8 members] were living in our cute house in the Shujaiya neighborhood in Gaza, after huge suffering to repair it and return to living in it after it was destroyed in the 2014 war on Gaza. My family and I were forced to leave our home and forcibly move under fire 7 times so far! All this to escape death and hold on to the last shred of hope for a decent life! excerpt from raghad's gfm campaign page (read full story here)

i first met raghad sometime in june after she messaged me here on tumblr. one of the first things she shared with me (besides her name lol) was this piece:

title: waiting for a ceasefire "only hope and art keep us alive here in gaza ...." -raghad qanou

since then, we've been able to chat a handful of times-- i told her how much i loved her artwork and she excitedly shared even more of her work with me

raghad is a talented artist- a loving sister- a diligent student- a wonderful daughter- and someone who deserves a chance to live a life worth living. her whole family does

they continue to suffer through horrific living conditions and rely on y'all to help carry their burden. to reveal yourself so vulnerably to the world is far from easy. so often, we are told to grit our teeth and push through whatever ails us in silence. but this is a type of pain that cannot and should not be felt alone. and it will take everyone to band together so we can begin to heal

raghad's campaign still has a long way to go. to help things move along, i am proposing another art reveal ✨

if we can get raghad to £15K- i will unveil another beautiful piece from her collection of artwork!

as of posting, raghad's family has raised £5,095 / £55,000.

for those able, please consider donating by clicking the link below + share this post so others may get the chance to help out too 🖤

tags for reach below cut (note: sorry gang, ik we're not really moots. if you're here- it's cause i pulled people from a post that promoted a gfm in the past. please let me know if you do not wish to be tagged in future posts. no hard feelings, truly 🖤)

@juneybug @kodigobacktosleep @apocalyptic-dancehall @imnotthepersonyouseek @toonirl 

@kingofthebookcase @kazehita @yonch @pinkdreamscape1 

@king-dail @caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @killy @missusmousse 

@j0ckhead @whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars @trexpel 

@mischief16 @foulharbor @draginfyre16 @tangerinesteve @3amsnow 

@fruitpuddle @wallsong @selkiesmile @suzakus-canon-wife @turquoisewavesstitch

@loutrem @thatlethalsoul @visemes @orange-coloredsky @dweamdoodles

@just-a-girl-0001 @samrobotize @aunty-matter @gamelpar 

@roachie-paradise @queruloustea @ehjane @firebird963 @butchdykekondraki 

@dinofur @cthulhu-with-a-fez @purplenickel @ysngie @paper-mario-wiki

[t-a-a-1]

Can you do bayverse optimus ?Tlk if you can.It can be whatever you want i love your scrumptious writing hehe also ignore this if you're uncomfortable!^_^

Raindrops

Summary: Optimus asks you a very important question.

A/N: Written after the happenings of TLK. 4K Words

Raindrops

....

Everyday since he met you, he’s asked himself the same question. 

“Would you come with me?”

It was a question he had imagined the answer to. A resounding ‘no’.

Optimus didn’t see any reason why you would want to go with him to Cybertron. Leaving your friends, family and career behind. All the commodities Earth provided you will be gone the moment you decide to come with him.

And it’s not like he offers you a beautiful home. Cybertron was hostile, after the war it had become ruins. He dreamed many times of showing you his home in its golden age. You would have loved the museums, the theaters, the libraries, the arts. Would you have loved them as much you love your planet? Would it be enough for you to want to stay?

“It seems Earth and Cybertron’s destiny has always been intertwined,” the sun is setting. Optimus looks at his home planet, now on Earth’s orbit. “If that had been any other celestial object, it would probably cause catastrophic events. But it seems like Cybertron was made to not disturb Earth’s gravitational pull and magnetic fields.”

Your field wasn’t physics but you had basic knowledge on how things worked. Just like he expected you to do, you started to ask the real questions. Something he was trying to avoid as long as he could. 

“But I wonder if that’s because Cybertron currently lacks a core … Maybe once we are able to restore it, Cybertron’s gravitational pull will be too strong and destroy Earth.”

You look at him but he seems lost in thought. You didn’t blame him, having his home planet back must be unbelievable. After so many years of war and lost friends, what he always wanted is right here. 

“When that happens, we’ll have to send Cybertron back to its original place in the universe.”

You expected him to continue the conversation some way or another but it's as if he wasn’t listening or rather he did not want to. Maybe he is tired of everything and wishes to leave immediately. Probably not wanting to deal with humans anymore. 

Sighing heavily, you turn around, the wind moving your hair. The smell of the grass was strong and so a new aroma. It was hard to describe. Metal but alive. It was probably Cybertron. It didn’t bother you but it was different. 

Looking back at Optimus made you realize that maybe he wanted to be alone. It is a lot of process for today. 

“Well, then I guess this is goodbye–”

And suddenly, a servo is in front of you. Stopping you from walking any further. You look back, only to find Optimus’ faceplate extremely close to you. 

“I-I … My apologies, I don’t know what took over me.”

It’s like you triggered something in him with your words. But you weren’t sure what. Now he looks confused and lost. As if I wanted to say more but can’t or don't have the words. You wanted to guess but your mind made you believe stupid ideas. Ones in which you prefer to not indulge any longer. They will only cause you unnecessary pain. 

“It’s alright, you must be emotional. That’s all.”

You wait for a few seconds in which you could see Optimus’ blue optics in all of their glory. They were beautiful as they were mysterious. So close that you could see the small circuitry and cables that make up his optics. Such intricacy that you find yourself lost in them. 

And then … you are ashamed. 

“I must go.”

You say as you look away, expecting him to move his servo but he doesn’t. 

“I must go.”

You say again and this time you see the hesitancy in his faceplace.

He slowly removes his servo and distances himself from you. His optics looks away and then looks at you in a repetitive manner. 

“Do you–”

“I–”

“Oh sorry, you go first–” You raise a hand, trying to get his attention only to be interrupted by the Prime. 

“No, you go first.”

It was awkward. And the fact that it was that way made you wonder what went wrong. In what moment did things between the two of you become so uncomfortable? Was it just the sudden realization of final peace? Was it too unrealistic for the two of you to believe? What is it? 

“Nothing, I was just wondering if there’s something you wanted to say before I leave?”

Optimus servo clutch into fits. He opens his intake but nothing would come out. It was strange to see him this way. So confused, so … innocent. As if he was a kid trying to ask for another piece of cake. Too shy to ask and yet you find these small moments to be a treasure. 

“I was just wondering …” 

He hesitates again. He closes his optics and lets out a heavy vent. Turning his entire body around, you are unable to see his faceplate. 

“When the time comes … Will you …”

His voice becomes so low that you are unable to hear him. 

“What?” 

You ask him, confused by his sudden lack of confidence. 

“Will you … me?”

He says again but the loud wind and low tone voice weren’t helping the situation. 

“... What?”

You ask once again, your voice gets louder, showing your clear annoyance at being unable to hear him.

“Will you come to Cybetron with me?!”

Suddenly, he turns around, you can see his faceplate again. 

It was that expression again. One that you had only seen a few times. That of pure distress. Worriness. Anxiety. You had seen it before. During that time you had been captured by a Decepticon, badly injured and bleeding. His troubled expression was the last thing you saw before going unconscious. 

But now? What was that distressed look for? What was he so worried about?

“I, I–”

What were you nervous for? Why were you stuttering? Your cheeks are getting hotter and you can’t speak. You can’t manage words. The expression on his faceplate had left you stunned as your brain tried to understand the reasoning behind it. 

The longer you take to answer, the more pain is evident on his faceplate. His eyebrows squish together and his optics tremble. His lips formed a thin line that slowly became an upside down smile. He is begging you to end his torment and yet you know you have to tell him the truth. 

.

.

.

.

It’s quiet around the hangar. 

A small base had been built near Stonehenge. It was the logical thing to do after Cybertron had appeared above the ancient pillars. Although the American Government wasn’t too pleased to make negotiations with the British to let them have a base in their land. 

You weren’t even supposed to be here but due to all the commotion in the last days, they let you stay. As well, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots enjoyed your stay. No one asked you when you will leave nor ever mentioned that you were a bothered. So you decided to stay for a couple of days until things settle down. 

And because your boss had asked you to stay and bring back the full story when you are done. 

“Are we just going to pretend Prime is ok?”

“Not like we can do much either or.”

They probably didn’t see you. As they were too busy talking to each other, carrying a few boxes of what you thought to be Energon. Meanwhile, you were typing on your laptop behind some piles of metal. It’s not like you were hiding but you rather found yourself a place where you could not be bothered when you needed to concentrate. 

“I still can’t believe (Y/N) said no … I thought the two of them had a strong bond.”

“Yes but everything she knows is here,” Bumblebee puts down his box as Hot Rod walks close by.  “Besides, they were too different … things wouldn’t work out.” 

“But does she even know that Optimus’s processor has identified her as his Conjunx?” Hot Rod also puts the Energon box down and sits on top of it. “Boss-Bot won’t be able to attach to anyone ever again … Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel?” Bumblebee inquiries. “His Conjunx is someone who lives a fraction of our lives. The universe enjoys the game and the Primes are the pawns.” 

“And they know how to play well.”

It started to rain. It wasn’t unusual for rain to come and go in England. 

The bots look at it with amusement. This was unknown in Cybertron. It will take a long time before they can rebuild Cybertron and go back home but this will be one of the things they will miss the most. 

“What is a Conjunx?”

You came out of your hiding spot, behind the bots and they quickly stumble in their steps as they look down on you. 

“What are you doing there?!”

“What is a Conjunx?”

You ask again, not caring whether Hot Rod or Bumblebee looked like they just had seen a ghost. 

“You don’t need to know that,” Bumblebee quickly starts to walk away while Hot Rod keeps looking back and forth. He looks hesitant but doesn’t speak, waiting for Bee’s next action. 

“You said Optimus saw me as his Conjunx,” you don’t move but rather speak loud enough for him to hear. 

“Yes but there’s no need–”

“She should know,” Hot Rod interrupts the talking yellow Mustang. 

“Optimus wouldn’t want it,” Bumblebee stops walking and turns to look at his comrade and you. There is certain determination in your eyes, letting him know that you won’t stop pushing it until you find the answers you were looking for. You had always been known for that, probably something Optimus likes about you. 

“Optimus will die of sadness if she doesn’t know.”

Bumblebee doesn't say a thing but just ex-vents heavily. 

.

.

.

“Would you stay with me?”

That’s what you wanted to ask but you already knew the answer. A resounding ‘no’. There was nothing for him on Earth. Humanity had once betrayed him and now he is doubtful. Humanity will help rebuild Cybertron and after that the transformers will leave. It would be a selfish thing to ask him to stay. You can’t ask him to give up on everything he fought for. His home, his family and friends, everything was on Cybertron. And you just were a human who wanted him to stay. 

It’s still raining. 

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop looking for him. 

Although you can already feel yourself getting sick. Your hair is wet and your clothes damp. 

It wasn’t unusual to rain in England but you hated how unpredictable the weather was. The wind was also strong but the base was already too far away to back away now. You had to find him. 

Suddenly, a truck you immediately recognized makes his way towards you. The bot you were looking for appeared in front of you but he aggressively stops and opens his pilot door, signaling to go in. 

You didn’t hesitate and jumped right in. Optimus closes the door and starts driving away as you are welcomed with warmness. Although you were cold and tired, you didn’t wait any longer.

“I was looking for–”

“Have you gone mad?” Optimus asks, his voice showing his clear annoyance. “ What are you doing in the rain without proper protection?”

“What? That doesn’t matter, I was–”

You wanted to start asking questions but you started to sneeze. 

“How can I leave knowing you are this helpless?”

And after that, all previous questions left your mind. 

“Excuse me? I can take care of myself.”

“Your actions tell me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, maybe he had a point. Running in the rain to look for him was probably not the best of ideas. But you were not about to tell him that. 

“And what about you?” you sneeze again although more softly this time as to not to prove his point any further.  “Aren’t you too told to be outside without an umbrella, you could be getting rusty anytime now?”

Optimus didn’t say a word. Your words will resonate at the back of his processor. He can’t believe he ever thought you would say yes to coming to Cybertron with him. You were right, he was an old rusty robot. Too many scars, too many mistakes and injuries. He can’t provide you with anything. Not even a family. 

And yet he is selfish. 

And you sneeze again.

And again.

“Great, I think I am going to get sick.”

He hates that word. Cybertronians also get sick but rarely. But humans are different. According to his research and observations, humans tend to get sick often and tragically a lot of them die. 

Optimus didn’t want to say a word, his pride told him to stay quiet. That you don’t need his concern, you do not wish it nor want it.

But you sneeze again.

“I’ll be taking you to the closest hospital,” he says as he makes a turn, heading for the closest road. 

“I am not going to the hospital, it's just a cold–”

“You are going to the hospital and it's final,”His voice is demanding but you don’t care.

“No, I won’t–”

“Why won’t you take my feelings into consideration?!”

His inside trembles. You could feel how his engine gets louder. The air coming from his vents got warmer and for a moment you felt your heart race. Out of guilt for making the Prime lose composure.

“What if you die?” he asks again. “What would I do after you are gone?”

The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds. As if he was living the circumstances he speaks of. 

“Have you thought what my life would be like without your presence?” you feel the seatbelt across your chest get tighter. “Do you really wish for me to be tormented for eternity.”

“This isn’t about me going to the hospital, is it?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence answers your question. 

“Let me out Prime, I want to talk to you, face to faceplate.”

He drives off the road and takes you to a heavy section of a nearby forest. Raining still, the tall trees prevent the rain from fully touching the ground. But some drops still make it through. Not like you cared about getting wet, you already were but Optimus had other plans. 

Opening the door and removing the seat belt, you jump out of his alt form. You watch him transform, a scene you will never be tired of. It's beautiful as it is scary, yet he is gentle. He knows it can be scary and he moves slower, softly as if not to scare you. 

Optimus doesn’t mass shift but he tries to see you at an eye-level. It must be uncomfortable for him and before you ask him why he doesn’t size-down, you feel him move closer.

He puts one of his large servo on top of you, protecting you from any rain from touching you.

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say as your breath is agitated, your heart pumping against your chest.  “I need to hear it from you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

Without you knowing, Optimus’ spark is also pulsating strongly against his chassis. He moves his optics away for a second, only for them to return to look at you. 

“You are a valuable asset to the Autobot cause.”

“Is that all?”

“You are also an important comrade.” 

You didn’t expect him to fully understand what you were asking. But you were hoping he could read your undertones. 

“I am giving you one last chance,” you say, your hands turning into a fist. You weren’t the best at this either and if you were honest, you didn’t know what you were trying to achieve.  “Is that all you feel for me?”

The Prime has always been known to be eloquent. Especially with words. But when it comes to you, he loses all sense of vocabulary. It didn’t use to be that way. There used to be a time when you meant nothing to him but a friend. 

But you had never stopped looking for him. After the attacks in Chicago, even after Sam’s death, an occurrence in which he blamed himself, you never stopped looking for him

What is it? Why did you do it?

“Look at the rain … Can you count each drop that falls from the sky?”

Optimus moves his optics to look at his surroundings. The rain, the trees, the beauty of nature. It cannot compare to you. 

“No, I can’t,” you respond quickly, your face full of wonder.

“Then, you are the rain,” he says.  “And I am trying to count.”

He sees your hands soften. Your expression had become awkward, with now avoiding eyes and pink cheeks. He has this need to hold you but respects your anatomy. 

“I can’t tell you how I feel because there are not enough words to describe it,” he calculates his words but he finds himself taking longer to answer. “I could recite you all of Cybertronian poetry and yet that doesn't feel enough for me.”

You keep looking at him and he looks away. Your eyes were too beautiful and it distracts him immensely. 

“But if you were to ask me to count each star in the universe I would,” he lets his spark do the talking, finally subsiding the yearning it has been holding for a long time.  “If you asked me to bring you a star, I would bring you a constellation.”

“This old rusted body belongs to you but if you ask me for my silence and distance, I won’t retaliate.” 

“And if I asked you to stay with me, on Earth, would you do it?”

You know it was a selfish question. You didn’t want to make him choose between his world and you. But you just had to know if there was a small possibility, a small chance that the life you had with him could still be a possibility. 

After the accidents in Chicago, you had looked for him, only to find him broken. Sam’s death had affected him greatly but in that grieve of losing loved ones, something sparked. 

Three years. You had lived with him for three years, in an isolated cottage. Where he could have all the dandelions he wanted. Where he could care for animals and the two of you would look at the stars and try to count them. Each one of them. 

“If that’s what you wish,” Optimus says. “I would stay by your side as long as you would have me.”

“I can’t,” you look away this time. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“You have a duty to complete and Cybertron is your home,” there is more to it. More doubts than you are able to articulate.  “When you asked me to go to Cybertron with you, I said no because I don’t think I am worthy to be on your side.”

“Have my actions made you feel this way?” 

“You are Optimus Prime … I think anyone would feel unworthy,” you pause, thinking about the earlier events. “But today, Bumblebee and Hot Rod told me that you see me as your Conjunx.”

Optimus opens his intake only to close it. He looks side to side, trying to evade eye contact. One of the few times you can tell he is shy. But him acting in such a way has also made your body betray you. You wonder if he can tell just how nervous you are. 

“Does that mean — You do?”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” his voice is delicate with an apologetic tone. As if you had just caught him stealing extra energon from the resource room.  “Without noticing, my processor had one day started the Conjunx Ritus and as time passed, we both successfully completed the requirements.”

“And before I knew it, my Spark belonged to you.”

“But we are so different.”

“And yet here we are,” he makes a pause and he hears the rain. He tries to calm down before asking his next question, knowing that this will break his Spark. “Does my affection displease you?”

“No, no, I just–” you stumble with your words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Is there a possibility that perhaps, in your heart, you reciprocate my sentiments?”

And you stay silent. Mostly because you don’t fully know what is going through your heart and the implications behind it. Can this even be possible? Are your feelings even real? Can he comprehend what your feelings are? Can this … Whatever it is, be real? 

“Please end my torment,” his faceplate looks to be in distress, his optics yearning. Longing for something unknown to the both of you.  “Your silence makes me have hope and I don’t want to suffer when you destroy my delusions.”

Gently, you walk towards him. You reach out a hand and touch his faceplate. Rubbing your soft skin against his cold metal. You watch his optics close, his engine gets louder just a bit but you hear him. As if your touch had saved him, healed him from whatever his processor agonized him with. 

“You are cold,” you say as you put your forehead against his faceplate. “Until you get warm, I’ll stay with you.”

Optimus didn’t need to ask further. You didn’t have to say anything either. He just basks himself into this moment. Not knowing what the future holds but he doesn’t care as long as you are with him. This moment won’t last forever but he wants to think that one day it could be true. 

A moment were he believed he could spend eternity counting the raindrops and stars in the sky with you. 

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A/N: Sorry this took so long. I’ve seen all the Bayverse movies but TLK is a movie that is a bit hard for me to write about because I don’t understand it much lol. But I still hope you like this and that it's not too OOC?  

It was fun to write this! So thank you so much for the request! :) 

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Wrong move | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: He thought you were in love with him....maybe he needs to show you how much you need him.

Warnings: SFW - Possessive!Salesman - Obsessive!Salesman - Controling!Salesman - Red flag basically - Unhealthy relationship - Power imbalance - DARK!Salesman - grammar mistakes -

Note: Not part of "Home Bliss", this is a different universe.

"No"

These were the words that have been in the Salesman's mind for a week now. His aparment, a place he used to love coming to since you were here waiting for him now felt like a empy box. Walls too grey to look at, too dull. The food did not have teaste and his bed felt too big.

When did things go wrong ? He did everything right.

Saw you one day at the local park, got enamoured by you. Followed you around, got to know your schendelure so he could see you from afar. Was able to hack your phone to know every last detail. Your social media were poorly secured. He got to know you like he knew his own skin, when he finally did approach you, you were already his.

And after two years, two years of beautiful moments together, perfectly crafted by him, each one calculated and made so you would fall more and more for him. He got you to move in with him, he was accepted by your friends, your family loved him, and saw him like part of it.

He was sure, centrain that this was the right moment. The perfect one. This was your favorite season, favorite month, perfect hour of the day and a well secured place so you would not feel pressure over it.

Some part of him wanted you to come to him willing.

But your words were marked liked fire. The exchange and after events lived rent free inside his head.

How he had managed to keep his facade he has no idea. The aparment (after you refused to get back) was the one that suffered his rage. All the expensive forniture was destroyed by him, some walls had blood by how much he had punched them.

He was a mess, a disaster. How could yo do it  ? After everything? Weren't you two the perfect match ?

A ding from his phone, the ding he had set just for you sounded.

"Sorry, I think its better if we stop seeing each other. I will pass to get my things soon"

The phone went flying. Were you breaking up with him by text ? When he had read all the exchange with your friends  ? Like how scared you were and how fast it felt. Why were you doing this?

And your doubts ? He never saw them, you seemed content by his side. And loved him like that.

But your personal diary on your phone said different. You felt trapped, like he knew too much, like he was not being honest.

Maybe he should have been more...severe? Showing you just how bad he could be, maybe he let your leash go too large and now he was paying the consequences.

But would he give up ? No. After all you were just confused, and scared, you just needed a reminder of how much you needed him. How he could be the only one for you.

He took the phone back, the screen broke but other functions working. He ignored your message and instead went to his contacts. He had many friends, friends that could ruin you completly.

"I need a favor"

Leaving him was the start of your nightmare.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

At first the relationship was fine. How does peopel put it ? Honeymoon? Well you two had it for very long.

He was the man any woman could ask for, gentle, caring, doting, never forgot a special date. And would get your favorite things.

But something was off. His eyes, the same dark eyes that sparked when he saw you, these eyes would change to sharp and cold around others. You felt like he was always on you, even when being away for work, he would just know when to send you a message or call you.

Would meet you randomly on the streets, knew when you wanted to do something even when you never mentioned it.

Something was wrong. Your gut told you to run from him but you did not know how. After all on the eyes of everyone he was perfect.

Then he asked to marry you, and you saw your chance. You could say you got scared and that things just did not work out after it.

But it did not go that way.

Once you had got your things from his aparment your Boss called, he had said how sorry he was but the company was cutting off some employees and you were one of them.

Your work, your dream work. The one you had passed years preparing yourself, tears and blood for it. The one that made your parents proud.

Ripped out from you with one call.

Then it came your social circle. Slowly your Friends stopped meeting with you, some removed you from their social media, and some blocked your number. You never got to know what was wrong, or what you did.

And later your parents, it was a shame losing your job, it was worse not being able to get another one.

"Sorry we are looking for something different"

"Your solicitude was read but right now we need another thing"

"We will call you"

Rent became impossible, and so you had to move back with them. Your mother was not happy, telling you how much of a failure you were, how your brother was making money overseas and how your sister had made a family.

Your father did not even look at you. Like he felt guilty, not even the company he used to work for would take you in.

Your days became a circle of sending out curriculums and doing your best to keep your parents happy even when you knew they did not want you there.

And some days you would go to the park and cry. Not caring if others saw you, your life was ruined, you had nothing. Maybe....maybe if you had said yes....

Checking your phone you saw the contacts, mom, dad, brother, sister and him. You were sure you had removed his number but it kept coming back. Maybe you were getting sick because of the stress.  Your finger went over the call buttom till you finally hitted it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

He never wanted to see you like this, so broken, so out of life. Maybe he had insolated you too much. Let some lies to your Friends and mother that grew and now they hated you. Your father was a rough one, he had used some...other methods for him. But did coperate at the end.

"You dont seem so good" Were his first words and you looked down at your lap.

"Im sorry for have called you.., after everything"

"Dont say anything. I was glad I got your call. I wanted to know how you were doing" He lied, he knew you were miserable.

Only him could fix it.

"I have...well things have been bad" You addmited "I dont want to burden you with it, maybe this was a mistake"

You went to get up and leave but a firm grip on your hand stopped you. His eyes, cold and sharp like he was seeing his prey.

You, you were his prey.

"Sit" It was an order not a request "Lets talk for a bit more, maybe I can help you, for the old times"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure? (Y/N) you can still go back and say no" Your fathers voice cut off.

You were wearing a beautiful weeding dress, outside from a ceremenoy to take place.

"Dad...you have been saying that since I told mom and you that I was getting married. This is good, we actually made up and I even got my work back, with double pay. Was not what you wanted for me?"

Your father did not respond. He still remembers that night. The night your "perfect" boyfriend appear. When he told him how your life would be so bad you would be wishing you were gone.

"And if thats not enoguh, maybe leaving her limp like you will do the trick"

He had tried for many months to hide his injury, the injury that man had caused him and promised to do the same to you.

"Dad? Its your leg hurting? You are crying"

"No dear, im fine. A little emotional to see you go"

When the doors opened and he walked you in and saw the monster you were going to marry he felt like dying there. When he gave you to him he could see it, he was liking his pain.

"I will take good care of her" Were his only words, and by the time his eyes were on you it had changed.

Love? Obsession ? A twisted sense of care ? No one could tell, no one dared to ask.

Him ? He was just happy you finally accepted what was best for you.

Him, he was the best for you.

"Till death do us apart"

Not even death would be able to separate you from him.

[ju-nebugg]

tiny incredible detail i just noticed that i haven’t seen being discussed yet:

in the first moments that jayce returns from the alternate timeline, during his conversation with salo/viktor, vik turns to look at the anomaly and jayce is standing behind him. jayce is hit with a wave of energy from the hexcore and asks “is salo still in there” but JUST BEFORE THAT he looks like THIS:

look at those eyes. the yearning is astronomical.

he then has to physically tear himself away from the sound of his partner’s voice, and the force of the anomaly’s power snaps him back to his mission.

poor jayce has just gotten full confirmation that the man he loves is not only his universally-destined cosmic soulmate, entwined in every timeline, but that he must destroy him in order to save the world. brutal stuff, yeah? he’s seen a vision of a different viktor, one so much older than he’d ever thought possible, who’d comforted him and helped him see the best path, but now he’s been confronted with his own viktor. that voice, coming from a place so foreign but still so distinctly his viktor, and he has to fight his every instinct to just give in right there and then. that weakness slips through, and then the powerful reminder of piltover’s impending doom forces him back to reality.

but oh, he aches for him.

we all know how absolutely devastating his task must be, but this moment just made it so much more heartbreaking for me. gosh. look at him. ugh.

[just-animaxiz]

TIME TO PREDICT SOME SHIT IN BINGO!!!

There are still unsolved questions and what happened and we only got a teaser to show us! I want to know more about NSR 2!

Also to note:

We are getting TWO new playable characters - One revealed themselves to be a keyboard player based on the silhouette here! The fourth member - Not so much! Either they're gonna be a bass player or a singer!

We haven't got the aftermath of Vinyl City nor the Old NSR Bosses and others! And since it's been 3 years, that means all of them might have new glow ups. Yinu specifically because she'll be from a child to maybe an adolescent! (9 to 12!)

We don't know what happened to Kliff so I assume he was being punished for his attempt at destroying Vinyl City with a falling Satellite for petty reasons.

Hopefully we get sneak peeks of the bosses too! So far we have clear visions of two! There's also a third but it's during a battle scene, I didn't get a good pic!

The Mystery Mural Man has been a secretive character in the NSR universe. The only confirmation of his existence is the Mural in Tatiana's tower. Nothing else.... AND THE CREW LIKES TO TEASE US WITH ROCKTOBER NON CANON STUFF SO PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW IF HE'S REAL

NSR 1 has a past focused on Zuke but not Mayday! We know Zuke's history with Eve and DK West, but Mayday's always an interesting girl to me! She's different from everyone else (Flowery eyes) and there's not much about her other than her love for Rock, Kul Fyra, a vague family history, and how she and Zuke formed B2J! I do hope the sequel touched this since they teased her glow up!

[alicentsgf]

im very set on there being 8 survivors now, anything else cheapens the story a little for me. i think it was always going to be 8, no matter what else changed. even before the writers were set on who the 8 would be they knew the 8 roles the characters would have to fill. this was always implied in the pilot, but now im convinced.

even just going off what we've actually heard via dialogue, any more than 8 feels unlikely. at lotties compound one of them said they were "all here" implying it was just the 6 of them left alive. the other 2 would then be travis and someone else who is either dead or assumed to be dead. i know people have speculated on that line in season 1 about some survivors living off-grid but personally i still think jessica just meant travis.

the number 8 has come up a couple of times in meaningful ways and its especially relevant to understanding why it matters that they're the Yellowjackets, a soccer team. it isnt just backstory, its like the key on a map, symbolic shorthand to help you understand the wider story. their on-field dynamics and roles so often mirror the ongoing dynamics and roles of the characters.

minus duplicates (like allie/akilah being nat's duplicate) there are 8 positions in a starting line up and we know via their shirt numbers all but 1 position is assigned to a specific varsity player. i know this is super hard to visualise if you arent a massive soccer nerd like me so i repurposed a graphic i made a while back.

in soccer specific jersey numbers are traditionally worn by particular positions, e.g 1 for a goalie, 9 for a striker, etc. every single varsity player in this show wears a traditional number. theres no way that happens by accident, it was a choice. the image above shows you what it tells us about their field position. as you can see the unassigned role is the attacking playmaker position, the person who makes the most pressurised, pivotal decisions. the real life or death stuff. misty fills this role, she has both ended and saved more lives than the rest and i'd say destroying the blackbox was pretty damn pivotal. in the pilot when the girls run out for the pep rally she is the only one thats focused on apart from the varsity girls and theres a player missing from the line up. that seems deliberate.

you can also see the only (teen) dead of the 8 are laura lee and jackie. this is where our reserves come in. sometimes also called substitutes or game-changers (subtitution is a major theme in this show just by itself but thats another post). when a player goes down you look to the bench to see who can fill their role. laura lee and jackie have both already been subsituted: travis takes laura lees place at lotties right hand, becoming her partner in the right side of defense, naturally protective but can progress with the attack to support his winger (nat), and then melissa takes jackies place as shaunas focal point, encouraging progression and driving the attack. however, even then travis and melissa dont fit quite right. simply put, people (and cats, no matter how similar they look to the original) cant be so easily replaced. travis, melissa, and misty are often othered. never accepted as part of the core team. (i have a suspicion van was meant to die and have javi take her place positionally. for a while he seemed like he might have a similar ability to deflect death against the odds and a closeness to the wilderness travis and lottie would want to defend. imo whenever the writers decided javi was dying or van was living, the others story inevitability changed too.)

the number 8 relates to the wilderness too. the 8 the knife made at the seance when javi asked if they were all going to die? the way the symbol of the wilderness has 8 elements?

im not saying this diagram shows for sure which element represents who, but i thought i'd give you guys an idea of what im seeing.

to be clear, im absolutely not saying the survivors are all that the symbol represents. if an in-universe explanation is given it will obviously be something else (i.e. that its a map of some sort) but i think the creators of the show chose this design for a reason that perhaps relates more to the survivors than anything else. it being a map would be more of a visual backgronym, with the characters as the actual inspiration for it.

for me the symbol has to represent them because the entire point is that they and wilderness are indistinguishable. us not knowing whats the wilderness and whats them is by design. that promotional poster of the characters forming the symbol? sitting inside of it? supernatural force or not, its in them. like lottie said, "is there a difference [between it and us]?" thats the shows thesis statement.

it makes sense Tai's jersey number is the 8 when she most embodies what the wilderness represents. shes the central midfielder, equal parts attack and defense. two warring halves, neither one exactly good nor bad, just primal vs civil. as shes placed at the very center of the game she has to play equally in both her own half and the other. her finding a way to balance both sides is key and this follows because historically and mathematically 8 has often been the number that is used to represent balance, splitting evenly from 8 to 4 to 2 to 1. life vs death, creation vs destruction, spiritual vs physical. neither can exist without the other. "does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?" = living requires killing. but too much of either and theres disruption, a hole in the ecosystem as a species exhausts its food source. I wonder if thats what the yellowjackets did. killed too freely and disrupted the balance. once again, tai would embody this. her arc this season would reflect the wider narrative in its entirety - the primal takes over and natures left unbalanced. its why i dont think any of the survivors end this show alive. not because of cosmic justice, this story isnt so much about morality, its about duality and balance. when the wolves are killing too many deer the only thing you can do to reset the scales is cull the wolves.

so yes, it always had to be 8. if the 8th survivor is melissa, then it was very likely decided long ago that one of the extras would eventually come to the fore to play this part. ultimately they were just waiting to see who they thought was the best fit (or maybe what big name older actress they might be able to snag and match to a teenager lmao). either way it always had to be someone who could step into the space jackie left in order to complete the team. no more practices or scrimmages, they know their roles now. the ones we met in the pilot; the butcher, the overseer, the shaman, etc. for so long they had no striker, no sharp point to their attack, but thats not true anymore. melissa subs in for jackie, but soccer is fluid. players can switch position due to substitution. now its shauna who leads the attack, becomes the striker, the captain, placing melissa in the space shes left behind. no more killing for necessity, this is killing for sport and every position is filled. the story until now was just match prep, this is where the game begins.

[sailingintothenight]

“A safe heaven.” Bob Reynolds Imagine.

Summary: Little Bob was led to believe heaven didn't exist, but now, with you, he knows it's real.

A/N: Hii. This is my first imagine about Bob. My page used to be about Tom Holland and Peter Parker but I haven't written about them in a while for personal reasons. I wasn't sure whether to keep using this account or create a new one, but I'll wait to see how my failed attempt to write about this little ray of light called Bob goes. I've been following Lewis' work for a while, but I saw him in the Marvel universe and his character is so adorable–almost everyone fell in love with him, I'm sure hehe–so I hope you like this. Thank you so much!

Warnings: just fluff.

“Can we… uh… sleep together again tonight, (Y/N)? Please?”

When the night swallowed the sun and New York City shone with artificial lights, as fictitious as his courage (still small, like a baby plant) to face those hours alone in the darkness of his room, Bob would appear in the tower's living room or kitchen, ready to sleep but waiting for you two to be alone or just with Yelena present, almost buried in clothes that were a size or two too big for him (considering he was quite large), on his gray sweatpants, and his nervous hands tucked into the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt with the letters I ♡ Los Angeles printed on it.

His timid request would be lost in the noise of life that followed its course outside the place, his voice loud enough only for you to hear it. That nocturnal dynamic between you two started innocently and stayed that way after one night when your mind expanded in your sleep and sank beyond the walls, capturing his nightmares as yours, feeling the violent beat of his heart inside your own, visualizing his expression behind your closed eyelids, and the pain and confusion when he woke up not knowing where he was.

And somehow, you found a way for him to see your fear of a lonely room, speaking to him in your warm voice, and Bob, who always tried to do good despite doubting his own goodness all the time, suggested timidly that maybe sleeping with someone else would be a temporary solution until you two find a permanent one. It was supposed to be a matter of one or two nights together, a week maybe, (so Bob would find peace in sleeping, without feeling the terror of his past materializing in his dreams if he woke up, realizing he wasn't alone anymore) but then he started asking you that question, day after day.

You always said yes, and Bob would smile to himself before walking away first.

"You adopted a puppy and didn't tell me." Yelena chuckles that night, sitting in one of the high chairs around the granite table as she finishes her dinner, speaking softly so as not to disturb the peace that was beginning to build in the place, between different people who sometimes coexisted amidst so much chaos. "Bob is in love with you, you know? that's why he follows you around like he's a stray dog ​​and you his home."

You laugh softly.

"I can be your home too, my love."

Yelena grimaces in disgust, as if an unpleasant smell has reached her nose.

"Don't make me throw up my dinner."

"Hey, I made that dinner."

“And that’s why I love you.” She smiles, pretending to be cute as she wrinkles her nose, a failed plan because she is cute, with her beautiful face and her daily attempt to put the past behind her. “I mean, you are perfect, baby, with your amazing cooking skills, your cute little face, and the way you threaten to blow Walker’s head off when he starts acting like a jerk. It’s so funny he still hasn’t figured out why he gets migraines. So I understand why Bob likes you so much.”

Perfect, because that’s how they intended you to be, giving you powers that you didn't ask for. They made a weapon out of you, discovered in the middle of nowhere and without instructions, one that destroyed an entire complex.

When you close the door to your room, the warmth expands and stays there like a golden light, always present whenever you are present. Or at least that's how Bob sees you, with his blue eyes that once again had the brilliance of a star and always tried to hold your gaze, with you comparing the color to a new kind of ocean, safe and peaceful.

Like a force of nature, but one created in a laboratory, you arrived to destroy the little peace Bob had managed to find in his solitude, shaking his world with your magnetic presence. But Bob also loved the way your deep gaze could rest when life became routine, that little white dot that shone in the corner of your pupil disappearing when there was no threat, turning you almost into an angel when he saw the tenderness in your dreamy eyes when things looked a little better.

Now, sitting against the headboard of your bed, one leg tucked under the other, Bob shows you the book in his hand, a nervous smile on his lips.

Pride & prejudice.

"I finished it."

“At an alarming rate.” You chuckle as you sit on your side of the bed: and Bob, who liked to stop and look at the flowers in the park near the tower, pet the cats in the front yards of the houses and read poetry, smiles with the compliment. “How long did it take you?”

“About 9 hours.”

“I’m impressed, Bob.” You smile proudly, and Bob will be able to see that sweet image of you clearly in his mind for the rest of his life, even when his head becomes foggy.

Then, a thought that was meant to stay inside, finds its way out from between the cracks of his own shyness.

“You smile pretty.” With him near to your lamp on the nightstand, the amber light makes his hair and messy locks shine, especially when his sweet smile disappears from his lips and Bob lowers his head for a moment, revealing the profile of his defined face and a glimpse of his flushed cheek. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Only one of your fingers makes contact with his chin, pushing it upward as soft as a feather, but with enough determination for him to meet your smile and hold it, though his gaze falters, nervous, but always warm and sincere. “We can watch the movie tomorrow if you want.”

“Is there a movie too?”

His eyes widen slightly, eyebrows rising.

“There are several, actually.”

His surprise doesn’t seem to fit in his expression, and it’s adorable and amusing until you both lie down under the thick blanket.

It doesn't take long for Bob to fall asleep after a long day (too tired from always overthinking about everything) lying on his left side, burying half his face in the pillow that smells like you, making him feel as if you were a memory from his childhood that he knows never happened, but one that he does want to remember and not erase from his fragmented mind.

However, there's a moment that breaks the peacefulness of his night with the noise from the other side of the big glass window, in a world rebuilding itself after the horrors experienced by his darkest side.

You're lying on another pillow, half sitting, back against the headboard of the bed with the same book in your hands, now looking at him. There, with no intention of overstepping his boundaries, your own fingers, the ones you once raised so that an entire building would crack and collapse, slide across his forehead, softly pushing back that brown lock of hair that frames one side of his lovely face—but you can see, you can feel, that this dream is less terrifying, less painful.

"Bob…"

Like a whisper that finds every dark corner of his mind, disappearing every shadow of that future nightmare forming in his head, your soft voice makes Bob wake up with a slight, barely audible gasp. He opens his eyes, looking lost just for a second, but he instantly recognizes where he is, the lavender scent of the place caressing his heart until it calms his confusion.

His gaze searches yours, head still on the pillow.

“I’m sorry. I dreamed 'bout that chicken costume again.”

You chuckle softly, a warm sound like that ray of sunshine on his skin during his time in Los Angeles. Bob looks like a tiny caterpillar in the safety of his little house—or that’s what your mom used to say about you—when he pulls the blanket closer to him, his body making a slight movement to scoot closer to you.

“Don’t worry, Bob, we can do this until you feel better.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). You are so nice.” But when reason stumbles for a moment, Bob finds the strength to speak, in a whisper so as not to clash with the peaceful surroundings, closing his eyes because there with you, the darkness behind his closed eyelids isn’t an endless pit trying to swallow him up. “Can we do this forever?”

Your hand strokes one side of his hair, and a soft smile appears on his lips.

You can almost see the iron blows from his father's fists that sank into his body, that played cruel tricks on his mind until that little brown–haired, blue–eyed angel had his tiny wings ripped off and was convinced that heaven never existed.

But now, for Bob, it is real. At least with you, it is.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 7

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

Author's note: I'm still tipsy so there may be some errorst that I overlooked. I'll edit them tomorrow.

CHAPTER 6: Square Root of a^2+b^2 Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

You were not in the mood for a party. 

You were hardly ever in a mood for a party, but today you had a good reason. Between meeting the alleged soulmate of the man you’re tasked with destroying, almost getting roofied, stopping a rape attempt, and breaking down in the arms of Mark Grayson, you wanted to spend the rest of today buried in the sheets while random clips of old sitcoms played on your phone as you dissociated. 

And yet here you were at five p.m., dressed in uncomfortable “casual” partywear and standing in front of Amber’s sorority house, a giant monster of exposed bricks and a symmetrical number of windows on each side of its deep blue front door. 

[This system does not encourage procrastination, but if the Host is so exhausted, you could have stayed in your dorm. You managed to raise Mark Grayson’s affection and darkening to impressive levels in a single day, so a small break would not be unreasonable.]

“You don’t understand, maybe it’s your age or the fact that you aren’t human, but being a grownup means doing things even when they’re annoying.” You scratched your elbow, the fabric of your top was needlessly tight, and then you pressed the doorbell. “Besides, it would be rude to Amber.”

[She already told you that it would’ve been fine if you didn’t attend.]

“If I didn’t attend, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the party entirely.”

[How do you know this?]

“I just do.”

[You are quite full of it.]

You sighed and pulled on your collar. “Amber is a good person, she’s the type to worry. I don’t want her to waste time worrying about me when she can be having fun.” It doesn’t help that you took a rain check on that nacho run with her and the others and went straight home. You also felt bad for not replying to her anxious text messages.

[You barely know her.]

“I know enough.” You pressed the doorbell again. 

This time, someone answered immediately.  

Amber. Today her dark brown hair was adorned with gold hairclips in the shape of tiny butterflies and she wore a burnt orange peplum top that flared daintily over white skinny jeans. 

“You made it!” she exclaimed, pulling you into an abrupt hug. 

“I said I will. Here.” You lifted an eco bag full of different brands of chips. “I don’t cook.”

She looked confused but took the bag from your hands. “Thank you, but uh, you didn’t have to bring anything.” 

That was odd. You were sure that it was basic etiquette to bring something for the party host. Then again, it has been a while since you’ve been to a party thrown by university students, or by anyone, really.

“Come in, come in.” Amber motioned for you to enter. “Everyone is in the living room, we just ordered pizza. Got any preferences?”

���As long as it’s not drugged.”

She looked startled.

You shifted your weight from one foot to another. “Too soon, huh.” 

Realizing that it was your poor attempt at humor, she laughed a little too hard. “Well, the girls and I agreed to always have someone watching the food and drinks.” She started walking and you followed. “We ordered five of every flavor.”

She stopped right before you crossed the doorway leading to the living room. 

“Listen, you know, you don’t–”

“Please.” You raised your hand. “I wasn’t the one who was attacked, and I appreciate your concern, I really do, but babying me will only cause me more stress. I’m fine, truly.”

“...All right.”

You smiled. “Now let’s go.”

You wanted to go. Like, leave. 

After Amber introduced you to her dozens of sisters and you reassured her that you can make do on your own, you spoke with random people here and there, some of them shared classes with you, others were actual strangers. With forty-five minutes of small talk and laughing at jokes you did not understand while you chewed on triple cheese pizza (which was good), you felt like you already fulfilled your guestly duty and it was a safe time to bid goodbye. 

But before that, you wanted to taste the truffle-flavored pizza, so you excused yourself. 

On your way to the kitchen, you passed by the bathroom and heard sniffling. 

That was none of your business, so you attempted to keep walking, but then came the sobbing.

You sighed and knocked softly on the door. “Hello? You all right in there?”

“I-I’m okay.”

“...Eve?”

No reply.

“I’ll go if you want to break down in peace but if you want to talk, I…” You shut your eyes, regretting this already. “I’m here for you.”

[How nice of you.]

Shut up.

There was silence at first, then you heard shuffling and the sound of the door unlocking. Eve’s eyes were swollen and her nose was red as a cherry.

Yep, this was a mistake.

“May I come in?”

She nodded and stepped aside.

You carefully shut the door behind you and stayed standing while Eve sat on the toilet. 

You stared at each other before Eve confessed, “My boyfriend cheated on me.”

Ah. Real or fictional, the universe was never short on scum. “I hope you dumped him on the spot.”

She laughed and then sobbed. “I did.”

“Did you cry in front of him?”

“No, I was too mad, that’s why I broke down here.”

“Good.” You crossed your arms as Eve continued to blow her nose into the tissues. “That’s good.”

After three minutes of nothing else, Eve finally looked at you. “I-is that it?”

“I can quote a philosopher, if you think that would help.”

She gawked.

“No? How about a song? Let me think… ‘A man is a two-face, a worrisome thing, who’ll leave you to sing the blues.’” [1]

That got her to laugh this time, just laugh. 

“Look,” you started, “I’m not an expert with relationships or comforting people.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. I already gave you a quote.”

She laughed again. “I can use another one.”

“Um, ‘you’re going to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince’?”

She shook her head, smiling. “That actually helps.”

“Good.” You uncrossed your arms. “Do you want me to get you anything? Pizza? Peach soda?”

She shook her head. 

“You gonna be okay?”

“I will be, but I think I wanna stay here and be pathetic a little longer. Besides, I don’t want Amber to see me like this, she’s a worrier.”

You grinned. “All right.”

“And hey.” She pushed a scarlet strand behind her ear. “Thank you. For asking and for staying even though you’re…y’know.”

You shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. Any girl would worry about another girl crying at a party.

You headed for the kitchen where two of the sisters were arguing which of The Sims installments was the best one. In this reality though, The Sims equivalent is called Live Dolls. 

Both girls took a moment to acknowledge you with friendly nods and a smile before going back to their debate. 

“How can you possibly say that 3 is the best when it can barely load even with an Intel Core i7 processor?” shouted the brunette with ruby streaks.

“It has the best open world and relationship-slash-memory system among all of them!” defended the blonde with giant hoop earrings. “And there is the customization for both body and furniture, and also the personality traits, need I say more?”

You didn’t know about the best, but if Live Dolls was anything like its real-life counterpart, the fourth would be the worst.

Not wanting to intrude, you opted to silently grab the last slice of truffle pizza on the kitchen island and then book it, but instead of a delicious greasy crust, your fingers hit a familiar set of knuckles.

“I’ll trade you the slice for a kiss.”

You smiled to yourself. You didn’t have to look to know who it was that just stole your slice. “I doubt the pizza’s that good.” 

“Fancy seeing you here, princess.”

Mark Grayson leaned over the table, the collar of his white t-shirt hanging lowly as he bent closer to you. From this angle you could see his collarbones and the slopes of his chest. 

“Am I distracting you?” His Adam's apple bobbed with each syllable.

“No, I just, I need to discuss–” You looked down. Big mistake. 

Mark was a tall guy, and he did not have proportionally sized feet; no, in fact, his feet were bigger. He also liked to wear fitted jeans, you only noticed now, and from where you stood, he had other parts that were more than just proportional. 

Rough fingers gently guided your chin upward, leading your gaze to a pair of hungry-looking eyes.

“Up here,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

“I…wanted to have a private conversation with you.”

He smelled so nice–

“You guys know we’re still here, right?” Hoop Earrings interrupted, sounding more amused than annoyed.

You snapped out of it and took a step back, Mark’s fingers sliding away.

Ruby Streaks pitched in, “We’ll order another batch. In the meantime, you kids find someplace more private. Upstairs or the bathroom, please?”

“Sorry about that, ladies,” Mark replied, his hand slipping into yours like it was second nature. “Let’s go, doll.”

“Doll”? That was new. But you didn’t hate it, like how you didn’t hate how he led you so casually up the stairs. 

Perfect. It’s best to get this out of the way quickly.

“Is this really okay?” you asked as he entered a random bedroom near the end of the hall, tugging you inside with him. 

“They’re the ones who offered.”

“I know, but it feels rude. I can’t even stand letting family inside my room, let alone strangers.”

Mark chuckled. “Trust me, no one’s going to care. This room is reserved for guests.”

“I see, well, that’s good.”

“Do you mind locking the door?”

“Um.” You preferred locked doors for your room, but that was unnecessary here. You were just going to thank him for comforting you during your breakdown. “Actually, no. I want to make this quick.”

“Trust me, babe, you don’t want quick with me, and you deserve better than that.”

“Really, I want to–” One half-glance at him and you instinctively turned back to face the door. “Mark, please put your shirt back on.”

“Oh, you like to do it that way, huh? Okay–”

“Mark.”

“Wait. Are you serious?”

“Yes, I want to have a conversation with you, as I have said.”

“I thought that was your way of asking for sex.”

“I can see that.” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“But did you really not think I was planning to sleep with you?”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t mean anything, it’s just…” From the look of his face, you could tell his gray cells were firing rapidly, trying to find the right thing to say. “I believed…that my signals were there, but there seemed to be some miscommunication. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m sorry as well. I guess I should have been more clear.”

“No, no, you said what you said, I just heard what I wanted to hear. I thought for sure you wanted to–” 

“–to get laid on a stranger’s bed, in a room that seems to be reserved for spontaneous hookups?”

Brown eyes blackened. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It is for me. I don’t do one night stands or random makeout sessions.”

“Oh, because you’re so much better than the rest of us, right?”

That was… “What?”

“I see the way you look at everyone else, like you’re too good to be here, like we’re below you. Newsflash, princess, just because some of us don’t spend ninety percent of our time doing advanced reading and sucking up to teachers, doesn’t mean we’re idiots.”

“I never–”

“Some of us work hard, even if we don’t show it, and we deserve to party and have as much meaningless sex we want because that’s what we need to get through a hard day, and if you don’t get that, well tough. Not everyone can be a frigid loser.”

His words were an ice-cold knife through the heart.

Mark exhaled and backed away, running his hand over his face and hair.

Your jaw slackened, but you forced it back shut. 

What else was there to say?

His lips parted but the beeping of his watch made him click his tongue.

You didn’t slam the door, you were tired. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be in your own bed with your weighted blanket suffocating you while old sitcoms played in the background.

[Ding. Affection: 51%. Darkening: 21%.]

[Ding. Affection: 50%. Darkening: 21%.]

[Ding. Affection: 52%]

[Ding. Affection: 49%]

[Ding. Affection: 51%]

Ding, ding, ding, ding–

You bumped into several bodies, and you couldn’t apologize because if you opened your mouth again, you would lose whatever semblance of control you had left.

You were halfway out the hallway when you bumped into a wall of brick wearing a light blue dress shirt.

The brick held your forearms to steady you. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You nodded in acknowledgement and tried to leave but he asked, “Are you okay, miss?”

“Sorry, I gotta go.”

You retrieved your arms and pushed past him and then past the heavy blue front door. 

You sent Amber a message: thanks for the invite, see you in class, and you speedwalked back to your dorm.

***

You did not cry. You don’t cry.

But you did have Golden Girls on full blast as you fixated on the ceiling until dawn arrived.

You took a cold shower and went to Professor Harper’s class looking like a raccoon.

The system informed you that Mark was in the auditorium today, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. You wanted to focus on the history of stoicism and not on Mark Grayson’s furious black eyes when he called you a coldblooded loser and accused you of being a snob.

Easier said than done. You didn’t jot down a single note and you had no memory of anything Professor Harper said in the past two hours.

[Did Mark Grayson’s words truly hurt you, Host?] The system inquired when the bell rang. [His affection is sitting at a comfortable 52% so you are still favorable in his eyes.]

You don’t get it because you’re telepathic and omniscient.

[Nigh-omniscient, and without further authorization, I can only hear your superficial thoughts.]

Whatever. My point is that it doesn’t matter if he likes me or loves me; when he or anyone talks to me like that, I’m going to feel bad. 

[But he likes you.]

Well, he has a horrible way of showing it. 

[Weren’t you the one who informed this system that humans are contradictory creatures? You have the advantage of knowing his true feelings so why do his words upset you so?]

It’s complicated, little one. You felt like an old lady speaking with a hypercurious toddler. And while I was offended by his remarks, I am not upset.

[How fortunate, because here he comes now.]

Mark approached your desk. “Hi.” His voice was small.

You did not spare him a glance as you organized the contents of your bag. “Hello.”

“I want to talk with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re not going to look at me?”

“I can listen and pack up my things.”

“Right… Look, I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

“You chose very specific points about me to attack.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“So you came up with them on the spot? It’s that easy to find reasons to insult me?”

“No, you’re twisting my words.”

“No, I’m trying to understand them.” You zipped up your bag and finally faced Mark. You crossed your arms. “You called me a frigid loser. You said I was condescending.”

“I never said that you were condescending.”

“You implied it, rather firmly, might I add.”

“Okay, okay, but you need to understand, you were… I just…” He rolled his shoulders. “I didn’t like that you seemed to look down on my way of life.”

“I have never looked down on you or your choices. If meaningless sex means that much to you, then go to town, but my not wanting that for myself does not make me a frigid loser.” You were panting by the time you finished.

[Ding. Affection: 55%]

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay.”

“Do you…wanna grab something to eat?”

You turned away from him, suddenly finding the burger charm on your bag very interesting. “I’m not in the mood for burgers, or coffee.”

He laughed. You didn’t.

“That’s fine, we can go to the canteen.”

You slung your bag over your back before he could reach for the straps. “We should leave before the next class arrives,” you murmured, moving ahead of him.

“Professor Harper sounded pretty impassioned about Thomas Aquinas,” he remarked, his long legs taking small, slow strides to match your unhurried pace.

You grunted.

“Did you write down everything? Including his spiel on the seven cardinal virtues?”

You hummed.

“...you think it’s going to rain today?”

You shrugged.

Mark didn’t bother to say anything else, which you appreciated. His usual entertaining and dare you say, even endearing attempts at eliciting a reaction from you have become an annoyance, the buzzing of a fly that cannot be smacked away.

Mark sulked next to you like a six-foot-tall shadow while you kept your chin up and focused on walking. This wasn’t ideal but you can deal, you would take awkward and tense silence over awkward and tense small talk any day.

Thankfully, the trip to the canteen was short.

Mark held the door open. “You go and find us seats while I order–unless you want to go and order.”

You put down your bag on a vacant table. “I’ll go.” You needed to be on your feet for a while longer, to shake off excess tension. “What do you want?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be sloppy joe day today but I think I want something with rice, the staff has been really branching out. I hear the chicken adobo[2] is good. Although the–”

Your increasing lack of patience must have been showing because he clasped his hands together and rapidly spurted, “I-I’ll just have the sloppy joe special.”

“Drink?”

“Bottled water.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, the money…and she’s gone.”

[He’s slumping over the table.]

I can imagine.

[Did you not forgive him already? Why are you being so short-fused with the target?]

It’s complicated.

You approached the counter and smiled politely at the woman behind the cashier. “Hello, one sloppy joe and one order of adobo rice. Can you give me extra rice with that? And some vinegar and two waters? Thank you.”

You paid her and stepped aside to wait for your order.

“It’s you.” A male student stood next to you. The voice was familiar, and so were his arms and chest.

[Ding. Host, this is one of the supporting characters of Invincible. He doesn’t hold as much importance as Amber or Eve, but this system might as well introduce him.]

He shot you a dimpled smile. “I’m–”

You snapped your fingers. “Brick!”

He blinked slowly before chuckling. “Actually, it’s Rick.”

[This character is named Rick Sheridan and he might be gay.]

Might be?

[In the TV show he is definitely gay, but who knows in this universe.]

And?

[And I finished talking.]

Of course.

Hiding your exasperation, you grinned at Rick. “My bad, but I do remember you. Sort of. You were at Amber’s party.”

“Yup. You got me worried there for a second, but at least you look good–fine, I mean.”

He was tall but wider than Mark. He had golden hair and baby blue eyes to complement that All American smile.

For an unimportant extra, he was cute, in that generic young Caucasian man way. 

Rick shook your hand and you cringed at your own thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking, by the way.”

“Anyone would’ve done the same.”

You rubbed your elbow. “Not anyone did, only you.”

The serving lady called and you went to retrieve your food tray.

“It was nice meeting you, Rick.”

“You too. You need help carrying that?”

“N–”

The food is lifted from your forearms. “No, we have it handled, thanks.”

You didn’t know when he closed the distance but now Mark possessively clasped onto the food tray. 

“You were taking forever, princess, I’m starving.” He smiled at you but shot a nasty side eye glance at Rick, who glanced at you, then at Mark. 

Then, he chuckled.

“Okay, I gotta go. See you around.”

You bowed your head lightly in agreement before turning to Mark, whose eyes have zeroed in on Rick’s departing form like an eagle to a mouse. 

“Mark.”

He blinked and smiled at you. “Yeah, princess?”

“Who’s looking after our bags?”

“Don’t be silly, no one’s going to steal anything from us.”

“And this confidence is based on?”

“Come on, this is a university.”

“Right, because no university student has ever committed a crime.”

“Well–”

“Almost feels like judging a book by its cover, huh?”

“I–”

His smartwatch beeped.

He swore under his breath.

You grabbed the tray. “Go, I’ll be right at our table, watching over our things.”

“No.” He kept holding the tray. “I’m staying, I’ll eat with you.”

“Mark, we can eat later, your boss is looking for you. That is him, isn’t it?”

“At least let me carry the tray.”

You pulled. “Unnecessary.” 

“Please let me do this one thing for you.” He pulled back.

The tray wouldn’t move no matter how hard you pulled.

“Would you let go–” 

His watch blasted an even louder alarm, yelling like a siren.

An old man’s voice followed, “Mark, do you copy?”

“Shit–”

Mark reached for his watch and you fell backward with the tray, the food spilling on top of you.

Amazing.

For years, your teenaged self feared this exact situation, on your butt with lunch all over you and surrounded by people you barely knew. You didn’t expect you would go through something like this at your age.

Mark’s watch beeped and rang and flashed lights and he looked tempted to smash it into pieces. 

He opened his mouth and stretched an arm towards you, but you refused to take his hand.

“Just go,” you breathed, wiping the sloppy joe and adobo cocktail off your sweater. “Don’t want to make your boss angry, do you?”

[Ding. Darkening: 24%.]

***

Mark shot through the fifty-foot reptilian monster, splitting its skull in half instantly. 

As the giant fell to its knees, he flew towards the helicopter of Cecil Stedman, his gargantuan buttmunch of a boss. “You called me over for this?” Mark gestured towards his current mission partner, who hovered next to him. “Eve could’ve handled it!”

“You know she can’t.”

“Then send the damn team for all I care. I’m not your damn errand boy.”

“No, you’re supposed to be a superhero, and last time I checked, taking care of kaiju-level[3] threats comes with the job.”

“I have a life outside of this bullshit. I’ve missed over a dozen of my classes!”

Cecil sighed. “Maybe it’s time you make the choice then.”

Mark pushed his face closer to the man who unfortunately paid his bills. “Let’s not go there, Cecil, because you won’t be happy with the choice I make.”

He pulled away from the chopper. “Don’t call me unless it’s an actual emergency.”

He then flew higher into the sky.

Eve and Cecil shared a look.

“I’ll talk to him,” she muttered. Pink sparking between her fingers and under her feet as she thrust herself upward.

“Mark–Mark, slow down!” Eve yelled through the clouds. 

There was no one on this planet who could keep up with Mark at his top speed.

He clicked his tongue but slowed enough for Eve to catch up.

“What is up with you lately? You’ve been moody as Hell the past few weeks.”

Mark smirked. He recalled your words last night; “What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” 

You said “Hell.” Mark didn’t think you could even physically say “Hell,” but it was so hot when you did. He can still remember it, your voice, your tone, your indignant expression that bordered on disgust. 

His cock stirred at the memory.

Shit. 

He told himself to focus on Eve. His hormones calmed down in seconds. 

“I’m not going to school because I need it. I like having stuff that doesn’t involve the life or death of civilians, but I’ve barely been in any of my classes because of this hero gig.”

“This is not a gig, this is our life.”

There it was again. Holy and perfect superhero Eve. “Spare me the whole ‘great power, great responsibility’ speech, will you?” Mark shivered at the flashbacks of his mother forcing him to recite the story of the Sword of Damocles[4] before he could eat breakfast. And lunch and dinner. And his snacks.

“I understand how you feel.”

“No, you don’t.” He hit the breaks and stilled in the air, catching Eve off guard. 

He regarded her angrily. “You have parents who love and support you. You have a boyfriend, you have a future, and this life isn’t even yours. No one is going to look at you differently or judge you if you decide to hang up the hero cape. Me? This is all I get to have, so don’t you ever tell me you know how I feel.”

Eve’s face went from surprised to hurt to calm. Tranquil, like the surface of the ocean, hiding deep and inexplicable emotions. “My dad never wanted me to be a hero. He didn’t even like me getting a scholarship. It wasn’t because he was worried for his little girl, it was because he didn’t want anyone in his family outshining him, especially if it’s his daughter. When I’m home, all he does is talk down to me and mom usually lets him.”

Mark unclenched his fists.

“And,” Eve continued, “Rex cheated on me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” Her hands flickered pink as she pivoted in the air. “But hey, they’re just tiny problems compared to yours, right?”

She flew away, leaving Mark alone.

“Two for two.” He groaned into his hands. “Nice going, Grayson.”

[1] This is a line from Blues In the Night. The version sung by the Queen of Mars is my personal favorite cover:

[2] Adobo: a Filipino dish with meat (typically pork or chicken) braised with soy sauce, vinegar, black pepper and bay leaves. They say that there is “no recipe” for adobo because of how much freedom you have in making it. Heck, I once had a tomato (yes, no meat) adobo LOL. 

[3] Kaiju: Japanese for “strange beast/creature,” though it is a term commonly associated with Godzilla-sized monsters. 

[4] Sword of Damocles: this Greek parable is evocative of the famous proverb “With great power comes great responsibility.” To give you a summary, a man named Damocles was given the chance to live like a king for a day, but the actual king ordered that there be a sword hung above the throne, suspended from the ceiling by a single horsehair. It’s not a perfect representation of the popular take on great power and responsibility, but I’m sure you guys understand why I referenced it.  

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Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

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