#specifically from metal's perspective

[wereh0gz]

Ok random idea

A Sonic horror game where it's just a regular Sonic game but you play from the perspective of the villain.

Nothing's truly changed. Sonic's not possessed or suddenly turned evil or anything. He's still his silly goofy little self. But the way the villain's perspective frames him makes it look like there's something DEEPLY wrong with the guy. The way he relentlessly chases you, laughs and smiles when he lands a hit and constantly taunts you. The way his eyes glow with a determination that can easily be mistaken for bloodlust. The way he's just fast enough to where you can't keep up.

The villain player character in this case would be someone powerful enough physically to go head-to-head with him. But his speed gives him the advantage, and that combined with him constantly chasing you makes you feel powerless. Your only real option is to try to evade him and hide as you try to explore the map and reach your goal, all while managing resources to keep yourself alive.

Other characters could come in later on, like Tails, who sets up traps with his gadgets and uses old Badnik scraps scattered about to create enemies you need to ward off, like zombie enemies in other horror games. He always seems to know where you are, though he never directly chases or fights you, preferring to use his brains to catch you off guard and finish you off.

Or Knuckles, who uses the environment to his advantage, stalking you from high up places you can't reach and digging around to catch you off guard. Tikal could accompany him as a freaky ghost enemy, paralyzing you for brief moments so Knux can deal a blow.

Some of the others could be in there as well, but those are the only ideas I have right now.

The game would have different "levels" focused on a character trying to defeat you, each level being a different area of a somewhat interconnected map (think Resident Evil 8). Sonic would be a recurring one that appears in multiple levels and is the final boss. Each area guards a Chaos Emerald or some other thing you need for your evil scheme, but of course you can't get it without going through Sonic and his friends first.

As for aesthetics, considering most of the horror comes from how the player character views the world and our heroes, the world would have a sort of grimy, dark look to it. Sonic and the others would have a slightly uncanny appearance, off from the average mobian, meanwhile the player character looks obviously like an evil villain, but otherwise like a normal mobian (or maybe human? Idk). Almost as if they don't see the heroes as people, but as something else, some terrible force out to get them.

No idea how the story would actually go or how the game would end tho. Maybe it could be like an alternate universe where the villain actually wins, so you actually get to reach the goal in the end? Maybe there could be multiple endings, one where you win, one where you give up and turn yourself in just to end the torment, and one where it's implied Sonic kills you, all depending on how well you do and certain choices you make throughout the game.

I've been in a bit of a survival horror kick recently and have been watching Penny's RE2 playthrough, so this is mostly inspired by that lmao

[curedeity]

Hello hello and a nice Fanfic Friday to you all! Today’s art is inspired by “Leaving Your Tower is Easier in Fairytales” by @starfishes-and-watercolors and boy do I got a lot to say about this fic. I’m struggling so much to explain.

Okay rewrite time number 5:

This fic is amazing. This fic is amazing at building up a relationship, at characterizing two underutilized characters, and at just being a ship fic. The focus of this fic is on Yuki and Motti’s relationship, and a lot of work is put into making this the best part of the fic. Val puts a lot of work into making all their conversations fun and dynamic. The most impressive thing to me, though, is how it the fic shows us the specific moments and things the two characters like about the other. I can specifically see that Yuki likes Motti because of her confidence, and there are other moments like that where you can just see the reason these two are falling in love in this fic. That clarity on selling the dynamic? On making those reasons explicit? That is so impressive to me.

The fic is about Yuki getting captured by the Nemesis Cult, and Motti is kind of a reluctant member there who hangs out with Yuki and tries to help in. I don’t know if these aspects of the plot will become more prevalent over time, but right now that plot serves more as setting to facilitate interesting conversations between Motti and Yuki, who are the focus of this fic. It’s a worthwhile read for anyone, in my opinion.

[yuvany]

"MS.UGLY DUCKLING" ft SIM JAKE

SYNOPSIS : growing up "ugly" was not for the weak. Being absolutely ignored both in and outside of school was not for the weak. No one is ever ugly forever though. Changing schools and meeting new people, but most importantly meeting him might have been the best choice you've ever made in a very, very long time.

CONTENT WARNINGS : angst (with a happy ending) + bullying + insecurities + strangers to friends + friends to lovers + written in second perspective + self deprication + fluff + long + little rushed + partially proofread

ACTORS : ENHYPEN JAKE x FEMALE READER

WORD COUNT : ~ 4k

CHECK BOX !!

i. "WHY WON'T THEY EVER PLAY WITH ME," you asked your mother after returning home from a long and harsh first day of school. Your hair looked a mess, and dirt was scattered across your clothes, yet your voice sounded like childish innocence and pure wonder. Maybe it was too much for such a young child to realise that her newly made friends maybe weren't actually her friends?

(Read more under the cut)

"I'm sure they didn't mean to?" She replied, her voice sounding soft and vulnurable, feeling like she was responsible for the sorrows and grief that her child had been put through, since she was the one who had bought you into this world. Instead of confronting the problem, she told her child that the world wasn't as evil as it seemed, that thinking on the bright side, or the possibilities, were the correct way to live life.

Eight-year-old girl walked up the stairs with heavy weights glued beneath her feet after dinner was finished. You threw yourself onto your bed that was neatly made in the morning before you went to school happily, just to come home opposite of the way you left. The softness of the pillow and blanket laying on your bed was enough to comfort you as you buried your face deep into it and wrapping the blanket around you tightly. You wished for friends, and you wished to be happy, but most of all, you wanted to be like everybody else.

ii. ONE MORE DAY at school, the daily mistreatment never seeming to come to a halt. You walked through the corridors anxiously holding onto the straps of your backback tightly with your pair of eyes wandering all over the place in case of danger. This was certainly not nessecary for a child your age, but when nobody chooses to help, you've got to start taking care of yourself.

Maybe it was your nerves that made it feel as if everyone's eyes were on you, but their mouths would open to release a fit of laughter that they had held in until specifically you walked past them. You crossed your arms, feeling extra aware of yourself now, guessing that they were laughing and giggling at you, which you didn't appreciate, but you were also too insecure and scared to speak up against them.

You reached your locker, looking forward to being able to collect your throught, away from everyone else, the locker shielding you away from their piercing gazes and judgemental stares and whispers. As you look up from your shoes, you see piles of gum stuck onto your locker, the gum being pressed onto the metal aggressively by the people you wished you didn't see. It was them; the popular girls of the school, and few of many people who seemed to despise you. They saw you standing there, shooting you an all too familiar look before walking away with their hips swaying from side to side dramatically.

You approched your locker to finally see what they were doing up close, "UGLY!" it read. You felt embarrased imagining all the people who passed by and saw this. Did they laugh? Did they feel bad for you? What did they think? You wanted to run away and hide in a deep hole you'd dig up with all the stored up shame inside of you.

iii. "MOM, DO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY?" You asked your mother once more, years after the first, but soon to the recent encounter. "I think you're very pretty." She says, but your gut tells you another story. "Really?" You ask, awaiting her response that takes a long while before she hums lowly. That just confirms it, she wasn't being honest. "Thanks," you say, with no emotion in your tone. She looks away and eats her dinner quietly.

You quickly finish yours, and wash it in the faucet, the soap bubbling up and covering your fingers as you scrub and rub the plate, utensils and glass that you used. After finishing that up, you return to your room, locking it behind you. You hid under the covers for a while until it got too suffocating and warm, leaving you itchy and irriatted before sliding out and standing in front of the mirror. You inspected every inch and detail of your face, feeling not so content with some parts. You sighed at your reflection that looked back at you with tired, red eyes. At just fourteen years old, you began caring about how you looked, and how others precieved you, so you took matters into your own hands. That night, you stayed up all night searching for 'how to be prettier' and scrolled endlessly through social media.

The next day, you had decided to get a new hair cut to maybe fix the way you looked, you knew excatly what you wanted, and how to cut it. Before anyone else woke up, even before the first birds chirped their morning tune, you made your way to the bathroom and grabbed a pair of scissors in your grasp. You carefully cut strand for strand, the same way you remebered how the video showed. "It doesn't look too bad." You think to yourself, and then you hear footsteps outside the door. Your eyes quickly scanned the hair that layed on the tiled floor and faucet, wondering what to do with it.

Too late. The door slowly swung open and in came your mom. She was silent upon seeing the scene, the horror only showing in her eyes. "What happened here?" She asked like a sharp whisper. "I just cut my hair..." You reply equally quiet. You see her shake her head in disappointment, so you turn your head down, looking at all the hair that had been flying everywhere while you had fun cutting your hair, and suddenly you weren't as proud of your hair cut like you were before. "Go get the broom, y/n." You obeyed your mother's order and hurried out of the bathroom feeling tears of embarrassment reaching your eyes.

iv. YOU STARTED WEARING MAKE UP to cover up, but to everyone else, you told them that you wore make up becase you thought it looked pretty. Still, they'd give weird glances toward each others, which you knew was their way of judging you.

Each morning, you woke up early to sit in front of your mirror examining your appearance like you always did. Hoping and praying to somehow change over night, you hated how your features looked together. You opened the drawer of your vanity and picked up sponges and brushes, leaving them aside for later use while you chose the different essintials. You had prepared the whole summer break to look pretty. Every day, you followed a new tutorial, improving as you continued. You did all this to look presentable at school.

You thinly spread the foundation across your face, dabbing the liquid evenly all over as you moved onto the next step. You sat there for a long time, perfecting each detail and mole, brushing your brows and coating your eyelashes with mascara, and lastly smacking your lips together after applying lipstick.

You stood in front of your larger mirror that you had ignored and hidden away since you never wanted to see yourself ever, but now you felt prepared. In your eyes you looked prettier. You wore your hair differently, you had earrings and necklaces, the school uniform from last year looking a lot better than you remembered. The confidence boost put a smile on your face as you made your way downstairs and made yourself breakfast.

In the kitchen, your mum was sipping her coffee calmly, but as she saw you walk in, her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't say anything. "Good morning!" You greeted happily, and she waved her hand slowly, still trying to process what was happening. "You look different." She comments, and you are content with that reply, and answer, "Thank you, mum!" You proceed to eat your breakfast and then made your way to school.

At shcool, you felt everyone's eyes hooked on your face. The corridors got quiet when you walked by, and you heard murmurs and whispers about you, "Is that really y/n?" "No way..." "What happened." You didn't know what context to put it in and just walked with hurry in your steps, wanting to get to your class and focus on your studies.

Lunch also happened to be no different compared to before your make over, the group of three girls made their way to your table, cackling amongst themselves, planning what to do today. You, who already finshed your lunch stood up to walk away, not wanting to have an encounter with them, until one of them, the blonde barbie, knocked into you with her lunch tray, spilling her food and drink all over you. "oops!" he chuckled cheerily, enjoying the laughs and fingers pointed at you from around her in the cafeteria. You angrily stood up and rushed over to the bathroom, feeling embarrassed once again.

v. "I WANT TO CHANGE SCHOOLS." You say to your mother after a long while of thinking, fearing that you might make the wrong decision, but what could possibly go worse than how it already is? Your mother is sneering at you from the side as she puts down the bags of groceries by the sink. She hums, and you wait for her reply, feeling your heart beat through your ribs, beating so hard that you start belive it'd jump out of your body any second. To be fair, you'd rather for that to happen than to be rejected of this preposition. "Are you sure?" She asks with uncertainty in her voice after silence, and you nod your head, "Of course." "Think about it for a little more, and then we can ask your father when he returns home." She says and walks away. How much longer could you ponder it when you're already certain.

You help her organise the groceries, washing them in the sink to sterilise it of bacteria before placing it in either the fridge or freezer and taking your sweet time, not knowing what else to do other than lay in your bed or be on your phone scrolling through social media.

So, that's exactly what you did for the past hour or so after your chores.

Of course it was boring, but you had nothing else to do. Homework was done, your room was clean and you could only wait for dinner with your father. You heard the sound of the stove from your room, and rushed down to help prepare with your mother. You plated the dinner table, helped your mum with the dishes and washed them afterwards, now you waited in your seat for your father to arrive home from work.

You hear the door slide open, the sound of keys jiggling from the entrance. You sit straight in your seat, resembling a meerkat on its legs as you inspect the person who enters the kitchen. Your father walks in with his coat still slung over his shoulders, his briefcase slamming onto the kitchen counter while he sighs. "Hello, dad!" You greet him cheerfully, and he simply nods his head in your direction. Your mum rose from her seat to help him with his jacket and hat, but he just shrugs her off, and you notice both of their irritated moods.

Dinner was quiet - the sound of utenstils hitting each other and then being left on the plates filled the house. "y/n wanted to ask something." Your mum blurts out, wanting something to happen, being too awkward in this stale atmosphere. You see him look at you from the corner of your eye and he clears his thoat. "Really? What is it?" He asks, and you manage to utter the same statement from before. It takes a moment before you get a reply again, but he says, "I'll think about it." You pleaded with both your parents to let you change schools until they finally caved in with an extended sigh.

vi. YOU WALKED INTO THE FULL CLASSROOM feeling everyone's eyes glued on you, the feeling being vagualy familiar yet different. Some leaned over to their friend, whispering something, but as you saw them and they made eye contact with you, you wanted to shove yourself inside a locker. "Everyone, this new student ..." You zoned out her speaking until she placed her palm on your shoulder and asked you to intruduse yourself to everyone. "Hello, I am y/n l/n, and I really hope we can all be friendly," You said, and then walked over to the empty seat that the teacher pointed at.

As you take a seat, you take extra notice of your bench mate. Oh, how beautiful she was, her hair looked neat, her skin looked perfect and her eyes... You finally took a seat and did what everyone else did - copying what the teacher wrote. After class, you observed your schedule, confused by where to go. This school was big, and you were a new student who just joined, there was no way you could ask anyone else for help except the teachers, but the one in you room had already left. The girl from beside you tapped you on the shoulder and you turned your head curiously.

"Do you need any help?" She asked, and you nodded. "Help would be appreciated, thanks."

You spent the day with her, laughing and talking like never before. It was comforting to have someone like her beside you. At the end of school, she walked you outside of school and there you saw a group of other people gathered, and they waved in your direction. You turned to see your newly made friend, Yoona, waving back. Her pace quickened as she rushed over to the group, pulling you along by the sleeve of your uniform when she noticed you standing still.

It was a fairly small gang, but they still stared at you as you arrived. They all greeted each other, hugging and chatting till Yoona introduced you to the rest. Her voice sounding so smooth.

As she spoke, you noticed this guy. His hair was long and swept in waves, his eyes soft and brown filled with warmth and kidness. You learnt that his name was Jake from your friend's introduction. "Y/n, wanna come to karaoke with us?" She asked, and you shook your head. "Sorry Yoona, but I gotta head home now" you say, not wanting to interrupt the harmony established amongst the people. She nodded understandingly and let you go, waving her farewell.

On your way home you realised you had made a new friend. A real one at that, but thoughts of insecurities snaked its way into your mind. What if she was just being kind? To say that this could possibly be one of many occurrence was high, and the possibility that you'd fit in was low.

vii. YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE PARK with them. You've come to the realisation that a new start was exactly what you needed. Your feet swung you back and forth on the swing, hearing the laughter of everyone around you and feeling the warmth in your heart expand. You had gotten close to everyone, but Jake seemed to have a special place in your heart for some reason.

"Anyone wanna go to the arcade?" Someone called out, and everyone said yes, including you who never went along with them. On the way there, you walked along side Jake, chatting with him and joking. "So what made you change schools so suddenly." He questioned, and you shook your head with an awkward chuckle, "Nothing, I just wanted to." Jake had this friendly smirk on his face as he nudged his shoulder against yours, "you can't be serious. You probably had a lot of friends there." You had your eyes focused on the road as you tried to comply a decent reply. "I mean-" as you were about to answer, everyone had already arrived at the arcade. You found this to be the perfect escape.

Everyone rushed inside, being bombarded with games and bright lights. Almost immediately, you spotted the claw machines. You eyed it like it was candy. There were many plushies, but you really really wanted the bunny one. Jake who was close by saw the way your eyes lit up and approached you with his hands in his pocket. "If you beat me in any game, I'll get you that plushie." He says, and you turn to look up at, his lips being extremely close to your face. "Are you sure you wanna bet?" You asked and he nodded his head, "Go ahead, choose a game." You pointed at an air hockey board and Jake ushered you over there with his palm resting on your shoulder.

You played a couple of games, and you were determined to win. Jake, not so much. His eyes roamed everywhere except for the hockey puck, his eyes landed on your concentrated face a handful of times, observing your reaction to each goal. You easily won and rushed over to his side, cheering. Your smiles were contagious, and Jake laughed, exposing his pearly teeth. "You wanted that white bunny, right?" He asked, and you nodded. "You could get whichever one, really." He made his way to the machine, you standing beside him. Jake kissed his coin before inerting it into the machine. It took him many tries before he sighed and collected his calm once more. "You don't really need to continue, Jake." You tell him, but she shakes his head and stretches his arms and back. "I'll get it this time. I might need more luck though." You see him point at his cheek with a smug smile. "That's silly." You reply sarcastically and he pleads with you giving you the puppy eyes before caving in. You stand on your toes and quickly peck him on the cheek shyly. Your heart was pounding and you could feel your cheeks turn rosy at the act.

He winks at you once before turning to the machine with one last try. His focus is evident in his fierceful gaze and you also hope for him to win this time, mostly becuase you start to feel bad for all the coins he's lost.

While being consumed by your own thoughts, Jake celebrated his win. He turned around to hand you the bunny, but saw you spacing out. He snapped his fingers in you face and you shook you back into reality. You finally processed the fact that he had won after staring at the plush in his arms. Jake gently hands it to you and you take it with a smile. "Woah! Thank you so much!" You thank him over all the other people's conversations around you two.

The rest of the evening was spent with silent glances that held adoration between the two of you. and eventually, it was time to go home. You all gathered outside the arcade to wave each other off before going their separate ways.

You notice that Jake was taking the same way as you and you stopped in your tracks to let him catch up to you. "Do you also take this way?" You asked him. "Kind of, I actually wanted to walk you home." He rubbed the back of his neck before you two began walking again. "You could've told me before, you almost looked like a creep." Jake chuckled at your remark and said, "I would've, but I guess I got shy." with his thick accent seeping through.

The sound of crickets and owls hooting filled in the silence during the short walk to your front door step. "Thanks for walking me home, Jake." You say as you search for your keys in your purse. He was silent for a while as you unlocked your door. "Y/n, I have something to ask you." You turned to him curiously and arched an eyebrow. He was obviously nervous as you saw him fidgeting with his own fingers and clearing his throat over and over again to muster up the courage to ask,

viii. "WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME, Y/N?" It had totally slipped your mind that prom was soon. You stood there wide eyed at the question. "You're not joking with me right." You wonder if he's pranking you, but he shakes his head. "Why would I joke with a pretty girl like you." His tone sounds genuine, but you still can't shake this feeling of uncertainty. "There's many other people you could've asked, but instead you chose me." The identical feeling of hopelessness returned after finally being chased away. "Becuase I only want you. Y/n, please." It takes a while for you to open your mouth an reply, but you feel the cold sweat coat your hairline and seeing Jake's soft expression was not helping you to calm down.

"I need to think about it, sorry."

You take notice of how Jake's expression turns dark when you shut the door and lock it behind you. You rush up the stairs and sprint into your room, ignoring your mother's calls. The plushy you had gotten from Jake was thrown onto your bed as you hurry to look out the window, observing him walk away from you. To your surprise, you see him look back at your house. Hurriedly, you pull out a diary that you had hidden under your mattress and write about everything, it isn't until after you're done taking notes that you feel bad for Jake. How must he feel?

You take a look at the plush he gifted you, and groan at the dilemma.

ix. THE NEXT DAY at school you searched for Jake everywhere, but you never saw him. Your mood visibly worsened as the day had come to an end without seeing him once. Yoona took notice of this and decided to question you. "Is everything okay?" She asked you and you nodded your head with a hum. "Yoona, have you seen Jake today?" She shakes her head and pulls out her phone. "He sent me a text this morning that he wouldn't come today since he felt under the weather. Why?" "Nothing, just wondering." You quickly blubber, grabbing your stuff quickly. "Hey, what's the rush? Wait for me alright." You hear Yoona chuckle as she packs her stuff. You apologise and wait for her.

You two part ways at the split road with a hug, and you gradually start to jog your way to his place. You stand there on his door step, bag slung over your shoulder with your fingers twisting the hem of your skirt. "Is it too late to turn around?", you think you to yourself. You shake away these thoughts, and raise your curled up fist to knock, but to your surprise, Jake opened the door, his eyes looked equally as shocked as yours. "Uhm, so I wanted to talk to you." You utter, and see Jake sigh. "Sure, I'm going on a walk if you wanna follow along." You nod and walk behind him.

"So, I've been thinking." His interest perks, and he glances your way. "I'll go to prom with you, but I don't understand why me? I'm not pretty. I'm not that ....good." You voice comes out weak, and Jake stops walking. "Don't say that. Not only are you incredibly beautiful, but you're also so, so kind and caring." He approaches you, his hand gliding up your cheek. "Are you not angry at me?" You ask, trying to avoid his eyes. "Angry? At you? That's ridiculous." He scoffs playfully, and you finally get the courage to look him in the eyes. "I might've been slightly upset since I thought you rejected me, but i guess I have a date for prom!" He smiles brightly and you look at him awestruck. "Of course," you reply and kiss him on the cheek once again with your arms swung around his neck, and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist. "You make me so happy." He is smiling widely as he pecks your face with butterfly kisses.

TAGLIST :: @swaivy

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 7

You are trying to think about future with Konig TW for the work: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in her early 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective TW for this chapter: kidnapping

Chapter Text

He fixed the sink. 

It’s so dumb actually, even to think about it – pun not intended, you are not happy or energetic enough to ever attempt puns right now, not in your drained emotional state. He came to your house, uninvited as always – you thought about giving him a spare key just so he would stop barging inside at every giving moment, but then understood that it would only make matters worse – it would feel like you are inviting him. Like you’re okay with him being here, invading your space just like a foreign soldier he is. 

You stare at the sink – and it’s in perfect condition. No water droplets splashing from various screws, no rust on the metal – it looks like it just got out of the store, and it was never that perfect even when you first moved into this apartment. 

He didn’t even say anything about it – you don’t even remember him coming to your apartment with a bunch of instruments, with anything that can help a grown-up man burst into the apartment of his so-called girlfriend so he could fix her sink without her knowing. 

It’s nice of him, you think. You can wash your hands and brush your teeth without water spilling everywhere, and you don’t have to worry about mold slowly building inside the narrow space of your bathroom. You can even place some of the expensive skin care he bought on the ceramic surface without feeling disgusted every time you touch the white material. You don’t even use that much skincare, you don’t know why he bought it and where he got it. Quite frankly, judging by his ever-cold stare and complete emotional absence of everything connected to the gifts, you think he doesn’t know why he gives you so much either. 

Maybe, he thinks that your relationships are purely transactional. Maybe he always wanted a sugar baby but was too busy to get a specific one. Maybe he is so hideous under his hood, that the only way he knows how to get women is through gifts. 

You don’t even want to like him, you are always on the receiving end of his affection, almost never initiating anything. He is too hot to handle – not in a good way. Being nice to him feels like being nice to a stray dog - thin, malnourished, that type who would return to you even after a few good kicks in the curb. He is attached to you like hot glue and you can’t get him off without breaking the skin – and you are scared of him almost as much as your body is attracted to him. There is something nice about allowing him to love you – even though you feel like he is simply too fucking damaged to love properly. 

But he fixed your sink, he gave you a bunch of gifts and he gently advances over you without feeling overbearing. You don’t know how much you could bear without him wanting to actually put something in you, besides his fingers and various dry-humping sessions but, at least for now, he feels safe. 

König leaves you money in places you are not looking at first – almost like he is ashamed of paying you. Acknowledging how artificial your “relationships” are too much for him, but he still wants you to feel the best life possible. He is soft, and gentle with you, almost too much – even though you have various bruises when his grasp became too much on the softness of your limbs. 

Dating him – as much as you couldn’t even call it dating, more like receiving his advances and accepting the way he likes you like an obedient dog – made you actually read the news. Carefully watch through the reports, seeing all the accomplishments this small army is receiving here – how mercs are saving you, helping you, being a bunch of fucking saints even though their commander spends too many hours harassing an adorable little civilian in her house, doing nothing but making you hot and bothered and uncomfortable at the same time. 

You want him to leave. 

You want him to stay here, with you. 

He fixed your sink and now you can do your skincare routine with actual time put in. Everything that stands on the white ceramic is bought by him and you would rather throw up than rely so much on someone you don’t really know, but you don’t have a choice. The cafe is closed, and every other job opportunity is either worse or not going to make any difference in your situation – and with how often König shows up, demanding attention and immediate acceptance of his gifts, you don’t want to know what he will do if he finds out you are trying to run away from him again. 

You don’t anymore, of course. You’re a smart girl, you’re a good girl, the best ever. You don’t understand your own feelings, nothing you experience feels right, but you do know that having him around is comfortable. It’s nice, really, you want to like him so much, but you are too tired to feel anymore. Luckily, his feelings are intense enough not to demand anything from you – his love is big enough for the two of you. 

— Why are you so quiet, Schatz? 

He hugs you from behind, hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. He is warm, body temperature is almost unhealthily hot. In full gear, as always, you never ever saw him without it – even when you’re more intimate together, the only thing you can see is either the lower half of his face, scars on his mouth, and clearly shaved jaw with multiple razor cuts, or his dick – and you prefer not to look at it. 

— You fixed my sink. When? 

Hands are keeping you securely in place, not allowing you to move even for an inch. He isn’t wandering, at least, not leaning under your clothes. You’d feel ashamed for wearing washed-put shorts and some weird T-shirt you pulled out of the laundry, but you don’t want to turn each of his visits into a special occasion, especially considering how chaotic it is. You want to wear that really nice lingerie he brought to you – all soft and expensive fabrics, laces, and too much open skin – but you are too creeped out by the fact that he knows your exact size. At least with homely clothes, you don’t have to worry about being too seductive, too inviting and provocative. 

His hands are still squeezing and playing with your tummy. It feels like he relishes in every aspect of your body, no matter how perfect or imperfect it is – and his touches, hungry and almost agonizing in their desperation and greediness, are flattering. You never had anyone so utterly into you – never had any romantic partner who would treat you like their greatest possession. You want to feel like a real person, not just a romantic interest or object of obsession, but…god, his hands are warm and he treats you right and the loneliness of your life is worse than anything you could handle. 

— Few days ago. Had free time after a mission. 

He has an awful lot of free time for someone his rank. Sometimes he disappears for a few days straight and comes back only to be even more hungry with your body. He never spends the night, but always finds some time to burst into your apartment, look at what else he can change to make your life a bit easier – he broke one of your favorite tea cups and bought you a set of new ones, he threw away every old dish plate you had from the previous tenant and bought you a bunch of shiny silvery ones – things that made you feel even worse about yourself because oh god, why do you need to rely on him to but you the most basic fucking stuff. 

— You shouldn’t have done it. I can take care of it. 

Your mouth tells lies that even you don’t believe in. 

— It was leaking. Wanted to do something nice for you, Liebe. 

My love – you read the translations of a few phrases he is using towards you. German is hard and unforgiving, you are screaming at that damn owl for fucking up your pronunciation again as you desperately try to find something to fill your day without a job or worries about money. You are going to the store multiple times a day, buying milk, cookies and salt – all separately, just to do something. It fells like lockdown again, a desperate attempt not to go crazy by being stuck in 4 walls. 

You think – this is what drives housewives from American sitcoms to use recreational drugs and too many antidepressants. 

König thinks – you look so perfect like this. Almost like his perfect little housewife, hands are clinging to the kitchen counter and eyes desperately darting from side to side. He can practically smell your fear and it makes him go feral – he was a good fucking person, his mutter taight him to be a good boy and his father beated how a real man should behave into him. Yet he relishes in the fact that his weak, fragile girlfriend is shaking in his hold, like a kitten almost. He wants you to feel safe with him, but…well, he can indulge in himself a bit. After all, he does sacrifices everything for his service, right? And deserves a bit of pleasure after a hard day of killing terrorists. 

— Thank you, but…please, tell me before you are doing anything in my apartment. I would have just called my landlord. 

You wouldn’t because even when all of your rent debts is paid off and you don’t have anything else that you owe to the owner of the apartment, you still don’t have to see her disappointed and angry face. You had this leaking sin for three months already and just started to live around it – it was normal, there was some comfort in that brokenness. Now there isn’t one, and you just feel guilty for being scared of a man just because he probably stole your second set of keys and decided to fix it.

— When we’ll move to our own home, you won’t have to worry about asking permission from some Arschloch. You could change the sink or a couch every other day if you want to. 

“When we’ll move to our own home”

Such a simple phrase, really. König’s hands are slowly caressing your lower tummy, his erection already thrists into your ass through the fabric of your shorts and you immediately feel the heat rising in your body. You might not understand if you like him or not, but your body certainly craves his touch – craves the comfort and pleasure that being his provides. 

Such a simple phrase that fills you with dread. Living with him, under one roof – living in his country even though you never been to Austria and can barely learn the language. Living with him even though you don’t know what to answer if someone asks you about your relationship. 

Such a simple phrase that König wants to turn into reality. You, barefoot because of course he would build a house with floor heating, he won’t have his wife slipping on some slippers while he is away and hurting herself, in the kitchen that he would made for your desires and height – he isn’t much for cooking and if you are not also, he’d search for a housekeeper – looking at some weird Austrian dish that you can made for him when he comes home. Perfect family, just like his mother told him he has to make – just like his father was never able to. 

He is a simple man and if you won’t want to play along with his little housewife fantasy then, well, you’d have to eventually. König hates the thought of hurting you – but he also hates a lot of things about himself and a bit of pain won’t add to much. He could handle you being upset, easily. He could handle whatever you’d throw at him – literally. 

— I don’t think I can move in with you. 

— Why? 

— I’m not even Austrian. Don’t think I can just go and live in your country like this. 

— You can get a visa through marriage. It would be easy, soldiers have privileges. 

He still was a part of Austrian special forces – even if his service was long ago paid to KorTac, it doesn’t mean that he just gave away all of his documents and privileges that it gave him. There are a bit of things he can do without looking at the law too much – and giving you proper citizenship is one of them. 

Of course, it would also mean you can’t possibly leave him without destroying your new life once again, but…he likes it as a feature. Insurance that you won’t just run away as soon as the opportunity strikes. 

— Marriage is too fast, no? I mean…

— You don’t want to be with me! — No. Yes. I…I mean, we can’t get married right now. 

— We are not doing it right now, Schatz. I still yet to find a good ring around here. 

— I don’t want a ring. I…I can’t marry you, even in a couple of months! We barely know each other, we…we talked about it, you promised that we would go slow…

Oh. 

And now you’re crying in his hold, tears smearing your face as you are trying to make him let go of you. He can’t have that, he won’t have that – he just got out of his office. countless hours spent in searching for the biggest hideout in this city. Horangi fed him with reports of various sightings, Hutch is already halfway on breaking another data package they got from the last mission and, if anything, it felt like another week or two in here – and he could finally get that sweet, sweet leave. 

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had any breaks in a year already – only a week when he got shot in the side and spent a couple of days laying in the medical, still screaming at the recruits for being so fucking unprofessional – so much, in fact, that he had to get out of the bed early and spend two weeks as an instructor for any of those useless fuckers. Maybe, after this mission, he could take a month or so off – just so he could spend more time with you. Honeymoon and a future wedding do sound fun if he could make you come around before the end of his deployment here. He wouldn’t want to kidnap his future wife like some asshole, after all. 

— How slow do you want me to go, meine Mädchen? 

There isn’t a right answer to this question. He doesn’t ask whether or not you even want to marry him – just when. Your perfect answer would be no, I don’t know, give me a break and let me figure myself out for at least a dozen months so you could come to your senses and move to some distant country on the other side of the globe. 

But he holds you close, his erection is mere inches away from penetrating your body – he is grinding into your ass shamelessly, using the softness of your thighs as his own sex toy – and your mind becomes dizzy. Every time he touches you, his fingers trail on your delicate skin, and you feel dumb. No thought, head empty, only desire to back your hips against his crotch and move a little. 

— I don’t know. Just not…not like this. 

— Then like what? How long should I wait? 

A month won’t be enough. 

Even half a year won’t be enough to process your feelings. 

— I don’t know. 

You want to say yes, but you don’t want to be the one to decide. Having responsibility is too much, and being the one in charge of yourself isn’t something you really want. Maybe, you should just agree. Maybe, you don’t have enough energy to process this. 

— We don’t have much time here, Liebe. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…

His hands are gripping you even closer – his fingers are shaking almost, and you’re scared of seeing this man being so weak for you, but there isn’t anything you can do to help him. Your fingers are softly caressing his – you doubt that he can feel much under his gloves, but you want to be at least attentive. You don’t want him to feel bad, to think that you are ungrateful for everything he has done to help you. Maybe you’re afraid of making him mad – or, maybe, you want him to be closer to you. Maybe, you want him to like you more. Maybe…

— I will probably be there for another week or two. Mission will be over sooner than we thought. 

— You will leave? 

König wants to lie to himself that you feel sad about it. He can hear the pain in your voice, the way your fingers are shaking on top of his. He hates being weak, scared, he purged everything that was liable in his body before he even became the colonel – but he stays here, in this run-down kitchen corner of your apartment, looks at your delicate body in his hands and feels weak. 

Not that you will say no, that you can run away. He is terrified of himself because he knows that he won’t take no for an answer. He will get you out of here, haul you on his shoulder like some sort of trophy, and make you his no matter the kicking and screaming he will receive. And he doesn’t want to let himself go around you – to lose control. 

— Not without you. 

— I don’t want to leave. 

He squeezes your waist one more time, letting go of your body. He can be patient – he needs to concentrate on the mission at hand anyway, not being all lovey and romantic with you. He may give you space – a few centimeters at best, maybe, if you would a good girl and give him everything he asks for. 

— You can have a week to think. But I will be back, verstehen? 

You nod and he turns your head to the side, kissing you. He has to lean down to reach your lips, he is too fucking desperate to taste you on his tongue when he moves it further down your throat. It’s sloppy, unexperienced, the technique is basically non-existent but you clung to the counter and moan as he slides his hands down your shorts, finding your center. It’s moist, slippery, welcoming two of his fingers with ease – and then he withdraws it immediately. 

You whine when he stops moving, and your pussy is clenching around nothing when he chuckles. You’re weak, fragile, desperate and delicate – he isn’t used to handling stuff like you, but he will make sure to find all the bubble wrap in the world to use on you. He’ll be your perfect husband – if only you would give him a chance. 

— Gather your things, lamm. Don’t bring too much, you’ll find better things in Austria. 

— But…

— You’ll like it, I promise. Do you trust me? 

— N…no. 

— You will. 

He leaves you in your apartment after a few minutes of just…looking at you. Eyes wandering on your shaking body, fear and desire mixing on your face – he is soft with you, but you know that this softness comes with a responsibility that you could not handle. 

You went to the bathroom to wash your face and calm down a little bit – everything in your body begged you to run after him and scream for him to take you right here and then – and you look at the sink. That fucking sink. 

*** Maybe, you shouldn’t have had this conversation with him so late in the evening – you decided to go out of your apartment to clean your head. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have fixed your sink because when you didn’t have to think about problems in your apartment, you actually had time and energy to go out at night again. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have left you here is such disarray – maybe, if you had actually fuck that night, you wouldn’t have the strength to venture into creepy alleys and pass through crowds of weird, scary people. 

Maybe…

— Stand right here, missy. 

— Saw you with that asshole in the hood a while ago. How does it feel to betray your country? 

— I thought our women knew better than whoring themselves with foreign scum. 

— She can have him to come to us. 

— Think he would come to get his slut? 

— He’d have to. All hostages are good in our situation. 

Maybe, if you won’t tell him to at least wait before making you his, you wouldn’t get into the hands of terrorists that he was supposed to fight.

[rdng1230]

Sal Deluca Meta

Okie dokie here we go. Just remember y'all asked for this.

Here are some repeated talking points I’ve seen about Sal and why I think most of them are ignoring certain contexts or misattributing things to Sal that were said/done by somebody else. Also just general thoughts about our little mook.

Hen Begins

That Sal was a raging racist/sexist/homophobic. 

Let’s deal with the first one first. Is he a member of the white boys club? Absolutely. He makes no effort to include Hen and doesn’t really acknowledge her at all until he’s complimenting her for her skills at the end of the episode. This is OBVIOUSLY not good. He should’ve been kinder and more welcoming to her. But the only one who specifically makes negative/mean comments about Hen is Gerrard and Tommy. Literally the only thing you could even interpret that way is him saying “for real?” to Gerrard’s diversity hire comment and the fact that he drops the pick axe or whatever the hell that metal thing was on the floor along with everybody else besides Chim. Not great, but also with what we know about how other rookies are treated even by Hen herself, I don’t think any of this behavior falls into “irredeemable racist monster” Buck chased Ravi with a chainsaw for christ sake. 

Ok now the sexism. He actually stares daggers at Gerrard for the entirety of his stupid “waste of taxpayer money/women won’t be able to rescue my guys” spiel. Like the camera specifically focuses on Sal looking pissed as hell. Another thing I’ve heard falsely said is that after Gerrard storms off, Sal/Tommy follow him. That’s not true. They do get up and leave but they actually leave in the ass opposite direction. Sal’s face when he signals to Tommy to get up reads to me as “let’s get the hell away from the fallout of that grossness.” not “I agree with what that dinosaur just said.” But I also realize people can interpret that moment differently. 

I think the sexist reading largely comes from the Kristen Stewart conversation. And come on, This is the lesbian website, if we start dinging people for finding Kristen Stewart attractive, we’re all going down. Plus again, Buck was STEALING EMERGENCY EQUIPMENT TO GO GET LAID AND HE’S EVERYBODY’S FAV SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. We see Sal kind of ignore Hen but also agree with her at the same time during this exchange. Again a case of Sal not really acknowledging Hen but not attacking her either. Go and look at his face when Tommy says that NY bitchiness comment. Sal does not look at all happy with him. Most of the time when anyone is being actively mean Sal looks pissed off, not approving.

Ok now the homophobia thing. And it's at this point I’m going to bring up the idea that some characters seem bad/good not based on their actions but on whose perspective we’re viewing those actions from. I see this being a problem with several characters. Most notably Taylor Kelly. But that's a whole other post. 

Sal’s team Jacob comment is homophobic and gross but it's also 1) 2009 and 2) directed at someone who he clearly knows incredibly well and who we KNOW gives as good as he gets. I easily could’ve seen this interaction reversed with Tommy saying that to Sal because that's who they are and how their friendship works. But because we’re seeing this from Hen’s perspective it's another thing that makes her feel isolated and othered. And again THAT IS NOT GOOD SAL SHOULD NOT BE DOING THAT. But I don’t think Sal at all said that with the intention of putting Hen down, it very clearly reads to me as Sal teasing/riling Tommy up as they always have. Now obviously the harm still hits even if the intent wasn’t present. But I think if we can forgive Tommy for comments that were MEANT to be mean, then we can forgive Sal for comments that were just him fucking around with his best friend of several years. 

That Sal was the ringleader or Gerrard’s right hand man

Does Sal have a sort of in charge vibe? Yeah absolutely. But very notably the only thing he actually initiates is the olive branch. It’s him that offers a hand to Hen and says nice job and you’re good at what you do. I also will die on the hill that the hemorrhoid complaint was his. Chim would definitely say that but not in an official report, Tommy would definitely bad mouth Gerrard, but not like that. Now who is known for kind of cruder language and a short fuse and absolutely would put that down in an official report? Sal motherfucking Deluca that’s who. 

One notable thing that I find interesting is that Hen herself distinguishes Gerrard’s behavior from the rest of the team's. She definitely gives them hell during her big speech but when Chim does dishes with her she specifically says men like him not men like them. Just something I realized on my most recent rewatch. 

To summarize, the only real thing Sal did that was unique to him (because they all failed to stick up for Hen, yes even Chim. Chim was nice to her but he never actually stood up for her to Gerrard’s face. He tried to redirect the conversation a couple times but that was it.) was the Kristen stewart comments and the Team Jacob comment. I would argue Tommy’s comments in Chimney begins and his NY bitchiness comment in Hen Begins are way more targeted, hateful, and fucking rude. (said with all love because we know Tommy had a bunch of growth and change and became the man we all know and adore.) IMO nothing in Hen begins that Sal says/does is as bad as what Tommy did/said.

Bobby Begins Again

Ok another reason why I don’t think Sal is this irredeemable sexist/racist/homophobic pig is WHY ON EARTH WOULD HEN STAND UP FOR HIM IF HE WAS???!?!?!? Hen is THE FIRST PERSON TO CALL OUT THAT CRAP even from the first episode she says something like “why is that always the first instinct with you whiteboy macho types?” So why why why why would she stand up for Sal if he hadn’t shown any improvement in that area in the now 7 years minimum that she’s worked with him. Answer: she fucking wouldn’t. Ok moving on.

The Bobby stuff

So remember how I said perspective changes everything? This is the major reason why. We as the audience love Bobby and know intimately the struggles he’s faced, so we’re naturally going to be angered by anyone who is antagonistic towards him. The thing is Sal doesn’t know ANY of that. This is what Sal knows about Bobby.

He’s from somewhere in middle America and has never worked in a MAJOR American city like LA/NYC. That’s it. He COMPLETELY ACCURATELY I MIGHT ADD predicts that anybody with that background will struggle to adapt to the specifics of LA. It’s Sal that has to pick up Bobby’s slack as he adjusts, calling out the shots at the tree trimmer call, taking the initiative with Maurice even though Bobby does ultimately do the saving. (Which Sal actually seems impressed by btw.) Bobby still can’t even read the city map when they pull up to the restaurant fire call. 

Now imagine you’re Sal. First you had Gerrard as captain, who (I think it's fair to say) you DID NOT LIKE. One of the things he did was put down firefighters who disobeyed orders by rescuing people. We saw this with the “fetching a tide” call and with saving the boy in the submerged car. Hen disobeyed orders but showed real skill as a firefighter. And all she got for her troubles was being berated by her Captain. 

Ok then after Gerrard you have an interim captain that seems like a decent dude, but he leaves and for a while you have a revolving door of retiring brass that are checked out, behind the times, or just generally disengaged. You become used to filling in as captain and get actually pretty damn good at managing the team. (I say this because Sal leads the team several times in BBA and nobody looks at all like this is a new development) Then they finally pick a nobody who has never worked in a proper city before and to you he’s just the newest asshole that will probably screw up and get someone killed. Sal has no idea about the challenges or traumas Bobby has had to face, just like we have no idea what might have happened in the 5+ years between HB and BBA. Sal has probably MANY REASONS not to trust Bobby that we don’t know about. 

So how would you feel after you’ve successfully rescued a teenage boy’s life, if your new captain who you’ve known for like a day and still doesn’t even know how to get the engine to calls on time, calls YOU stupid for SUCCESSFULLY SAVING A CHILD’S LIFE. I think you’d be likely to blow up a little too. 

Was Sal a hothead? Absolutely. Was he being smart by mouthing off to Bobby? Absolutely not. But I think his lines to Bobby during that scene are so telling. “You’re just the latest jag off in a long line of jag offs to come to this house and think you know how to run it.” In other words, he’s not really seeing Bobby during this exchange (he couldn’t possibly, Bobby is still being very closed off and won’t tell anyone what his story is for years) he’s seeing the long line of assholes that started with Gerrard that Bobby is unknowingly falling into the pattern of. Just like how Bobby didn’t really see Sal and one relatively tiny restaurant, he saw his wife and family and a massive apartment building with no way out. That to me is the tragedy of Bobby and Sal. I genuinely think they could’ve learned a lot from each other if they had left their baggage at the door. 

In other words, would we judge Sal if he had gone after Gerrard in the way he went after Bobby? I doubt it. And that to me is what Sal is actually doing, going after Gerrard and all the other nameless asshole captains he’s been dealing with for YEARS. Sal was hotheaded and impulsive, but at the end of the day I think he was just dealing with misplaced anger that he put on Bobby, something both Buck and Eddie have done at some point or another even when they DID have all the information. If you can forgive the lawsuit arc, and Eddie’s comments in season 5 about Bobby’s kill count than dear god I think Sal has more than earned a pass. 

Overarching things I find interesting about Sal that I don’t see anyone talking about 

He cares a lot about the people they save on rescues, he’s the one on the majority of calls saying some variant of “its gonna be ok/we’re gonna get you out/don’t worry. Whatever the firefighter equivalent of bedside manner is, this guy has it. 

His personal code of who he gives a shit about seems to boil down entirely to who has skills/is talented and who isn’t. The minute Hen shows real promise by saving that little boy, he is down there hand shaking and complimenting her. Ditto Freddie Costas. “Smart kid, probably saved his own life with that move.” You see this in his conversation with Bobby too “that wasn’t luck man that was skill.” You have to earn Sal’s respect and the way you do is by demonstrating competence. Sal genuinely does look impressed with Bobby for apprehending Maurice and showing ingenuity, the problem is it's immediately undercut when Bobby belittles him for saving the kid. 

Anywho, that’s my Sal defense thesis. There’s probably other stuff I forgot but that's the bulk of it. I reserve the right to randomly reblog this with any other shit that comes to mind. Also as a disclaimer I still LOVE reading toxic Sal or asshole Sal content, absolutely eat it up with a spoon gimme gimme gimme. But I think it would be unfair to say that’s the ONLY read of him. He clearly does give a shit and is capable of growth and change, he just also happens to have a short fuse and very little willingness to go about things in a tactful way. 

TLDR: free my man, he did do some of that shit but so did your blorbos, it's just your blorbos had the narrative on their side when they did it.

[graceofagodswrath]

Ok ok ok your "Humans of Transformers franchise are space orcs" rant is out of this world.

I detest with passion when humans are reduced to pets and plot devices when instead the story could be about two alien species finding one another equally amazing/terrifying for their own respective reasons.

Here is my question: do humans and Cybertronians see how eerily similar they are? They have love of music, familial relationships, similar urban infrastructure, societal structure, financial systems, competitive entertainment, organized societies and war, colonialism, recreational intercourse, marriage...

Not to mention, why was it never addressed how similar both species look: bipedal, waists, noses, cheekbones, 5 fingers, chins, facial expressions and sense of aesthetics and beauty? Sure, humans have hair but in rather strategic places.

Veins and wires, blood and energon, metal and flesh, nanobytes and blood cells, Sparks and brain impulses, sexual organs...

Imagine Autobots arrive on Earth for the first time expecting some primitive cave-dwellers, only to encounter a less advanced mini-version of Cybertronian cities (New York, Singapore, London, Rome, Tokyo, Rio, Dubai...) and societies running on scientific, artistic and philosophical development which has no right existing on the ruthless, all-organic planet such as Earth is. Societes run by creatures who 4.000.000 (the duration of their war) years ago were hanging from the trees btw.

Autobots would be terrified.

Lemme make sure this response saves this time, cause it took me a minute to answer cause my first deleted and I had so much written I got unbelievably angry and refused to even look at the tumblr app.

But here we are.

So, this is EXACTLY what I have been thinking about for who k owe how long. It’s also the intro to this wack as fuck universe idea I’ve had in my head a while, and have kinda hinted at in my other works, but I’ve never gone into detail about.

And I still won’t.

Anyways, yes. It’s crazy that we backlit humans so much when any other sentient species is about. Transformers, TMNT, etc (I’m on a one track mind, feel free to jot down any other fandoms I can’t think of). The main theme of these stories? HUMANS SUCK. And that is severely unfair. People want to cry about how much our generation doesn’t give a shit anymore. Have you SEEN the media we feed kids???

That’s why I live Humans are Space Orcs so much. It really puts into perspective how unique and batshit our species is.

So, onto the Transformers vs humans concepts. The ONLY reason (forgoing technoism and general hate towards organics) cybertronians don’t see humanity as an imminent threat, or one in general, is because of size. WE BE SMALL AF. Can’t blame them, I get it. We do the same. Insects? Fuck them mfs.

But have you seen a botfly or tick burrow into your skin? The infection that comes form that? Have you seen ants jump a small animal as a colony and absolutely shred it? Or a spider only biting you, and the horror the venom causes (recluses and huntsman’s specifically). We have a good fucking reason for disliking these mfs.

But transformers? These are organic experiences. Worst they go through are rust infections, spark death, the works. They are not at risk the same way we are. That is why they view organics as small and inconsequential. They have no idea how hard we fight to simply stay alive.

And now the similarities. It’s understandable that they wouldn’t immediately recognize the physical, cultural, and psychological similarities between our species. Transformers are an incredibly diverse race, like any other. But specifically in physical form. Your average cybertronian holds a similar appearance to your average human. We tend to have the same features, just with different names. Eyes, noses, faceplates, ears, two arms, two legs. Sure that’s average for them too. But they are unique because of the fact that they have two forms. Vehicle mode. Their mode decides what they’re second mode looks like, which can create extreme diversity is appearance. Small, large, many limbed or not.

So the immediate similarities probably wouldn’t jump out to them in an odd way. There’s also the idea that because they’re so spread out in the universe, they’ve seen other organic races that are also similar. Pairs of every body part could be the common denominator among species.

That goes culturally too. War, love, music, government, politics, it’s all a natural form of sentient evolution. Another common denominator. It’s how it’s done that makes it unique. And the similarities between human and cybertronian culture is uncomfortably familiar.

I think that’s why cybertronians are seen being closest with humans rather than other species in the shows and comics (obviously because the audience is human and they need relation to characters but shhhh forget that for a sec). This is where the theories start.

Let’s say cybertronians begin to recognize the weird similarities between our species. The really, really weird stuff. The itty bitty details. Like:

- how we also mainstream kissing on the lips as the top tier romantic gesture.

- use verbal tone and cues for our language.

- have intensely complicated interpersonal relationships in the exact same manner.

- suffer from extreme mental health issues like depression, anxiety, PTSD (I totally headcannon that forms of adhd, autism, and ocd exist in cybertronian society, have y’all not seen my boy rodimus prime??)

- will also destroy each other in the name of our gods, until we have a common enemy.

That’s just the basics I could come up with. The only time I actually saw a moment where a transformer genuinely take a moment to realize that humans can be a threat, was in transformers prime. Episode 6 of beast wars (I think, correct me if wrong), where Miko beats the ever loving fuck out of an insecticon (I think) and upon Megatron hearing this, just goes blank Kubrick stare for a hot second. Man had an ugly realization that did not fit in with anything he had experienced his whole life.

AND THEY NEVER FUCKING ADDRESSED IT EVER AGAIN. Sick of this shit. Could’ve had the most badass character development, where the humans actually proved useful and did something (it would have fit Milo’s character so perfectly too) and scared the utter shit out of the transformers. BUT NO. They continue to be annoying as fuck.

One thing I loved about TF Prime was that it canonically turned Unicron into Earth. And humans came from the earth. Which relates humans beings and cybertronians so hard. Cousins Fr. We are the cybertronian equivalent of organics, and transformers the inorganic equivalent of humans. The individuality, the chaos, the culture, it clicks. There is so much material to really go into it.

But they never do. Don’t get me wrong, I love Transformers lord and just discovering more without humans being involved. We’re just annoying af at this point. But there is so much u tapped potential in transformers actually taking the chance to LEARN about us. But we’re just friends (pets) to these mfs.

That’s why I love TF Earthspark so far. Transformers ingrained into human culture because they’re not from Cybertron, and cybertronians having to adapt to human culture because they have no where else to go. Granted, it’s a kids show. There’s only so much they can do. But I’m excited for where it’ll lead. It really shows how much of threat and ally humans are, and how we are just as diverse as cybertronians.

I need to write another fic about cybertronians meeting humans their size from our world tho. Need to continue my old piece. Would give me so much life. Y’all help motivate me, college draining my ass.

[graysexualcreature]

before i go into this post i should be specific: i am a matpat fan. i have watched matpat for a long time. therefore, i am an inherently biased perspective.

something i will never understand is the visceral hate for matpat. like mfs will act like they have the biggest slam dunk ever and then pull out something from 10 years ago. like yes there was some questionable stuff back then but people can change as time moves forward. bro is just living his life you don’t have to like his theories you don’t have to watch his videos nobody is sitting you down and tying you to a chair and forcing you to watch his videos. you dont have to make up reasons that you hate him you dont have to go digging for old shit. you also dont have to viscerally hate him because he made a theory and got it wrong i fucking guarantee if he was a much smaller creator nobody would be dogpiling him the way he gets dogpiled.

also: the people who think he is the only one who did the research and work for ALL OF THE THEORY CHANNELS for YEARS is just insane to me. I guarantee you he has a whole ass team for each channel he’s not doing this shit at lightning speed if you see something that looks like it might be a stolen theory then maybe you shouldn’t pin it on one member of an entire team. matpat does not have magic superpowers. calm the fuck down. when a car breaks down you don’t immediately blame the metal shell that surrounds the inner workings. matpat has mentioned MULTIPLE TIMES that scripts and theories are a multiple person effort that involves a lot of input from multiple people. His earlier videos are definitely different but when you look at something from more recent times and try to say that he is the sole creator you just sound fucking ridiculous.

people make mistakes. everybody makes mistakes, but when the internet comes into the equation and stuff gets preserved all of a sudden it’s as if everybody must be infallible as a human being.

also: the amount of rage people have towards him over theories is fucking insane im sorry. i understand being serious about a topic but putting visceral hatred onto a human being who is just as human as you are is not the answer. if the theory is that bad you can easily just change somebody who believes it's mind using evidence he's not some omnipotent being who is brainwashing people into liking his theories. If somebody isn't willing to listen to you then that's a them problem not a matpat problem. Also, this stuff does not matter when you step outside and enter the real world i guarantee nobody in the local park is going to be as worried abt video game theories as you are.

[katakaluptastrophy]

John Gaius' commitment to a certain aesthetic for his space empire is...certainly something...

They are using fountain pens on spaceships. Fountain pens. To the extent that every vaguely intellectual character (other than Abigail Pent, who is repeatedly described as "neat" and "immaculate") is constantly described as having ink stains on their hands and even faces, and the smell of ink is referenced repeatedly.

And when they're not writing with fountain pens, they're using necromantically stabilised blood (this isn't just a Harrow quirk - the Sixth have special spikes on their clipboards for signing documents...).

Amongst the Lyctoral traces Abigail finds in the library at Cannan House are "a warped automatic pen with a thin inner cylinder of ink and a plex casing, rather more antiquated than one with an ink cartridge."

It also seems reasonable to assume that the "clockworks" they wear are analogue watches, as Nona scolds Cam for referring to her beeping digital watch as a "clockwork" on New Rho.

And besides the fountain pens, regency navy uniforms, swords, and general 20th century pulp literature culture, a few more things that characters specifically describe as antique or ancient include:

Sunglasses

Metal industrial shelving

Paper books with glossy pages

Black tie formal wear

Automatic doors

LED lights

Chrome kitchen fittings

Guns (to the extent that Abigail specifically says to the Sleeper "you come bearing ancient weapons")

And fine, these are all within the realms of things people are reasonably allowed to have a personal preference against...

But you know what else the Nine Houses don't have?

VACCINES.

What was the thought process by which Dr Science and Humanitarian Empathy decided to bring back routine childhood illnesses from the 1950s?

Speaking of the 1950s, why - in a society that appears to find permanently magically manipulating the bodies of living people trivial - does the standard of eyecare seem to also be from the early 20th century?

As a glasses wearer, I totally appreciate that there may simply be a social preference for glasses despite the existence of flesh magic. But Abigail Pent swapping between two pairs of glasses would seem to suggest that varifocals went the way of the mumps vaccine...

And our perspective on this is entirely from some of the most privileged people in the Dominicus system.

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on the Papas' (lack of) involvement in the songwriting process and their connections to the concepts / themes of their albums

thanks for the kind words and thanks for the ask! these were great questions and really enjoyed writing this response. your questions really made me think! (and when i start thinking i always think too hard and take forever to answer– sorry this took so long!)

i'm putting these questions together because i feel they are closely related. this is a topic i've recently been thinking about a lot, actually.

A Ghoul Writer was first mentioned in that 2010 interview with Primo. the Ghoul Writer is Special Ghoul, the Nameless Ghoul character who gave interviews in Eras 2 and 3. in interviews with him, either he himself or the interviewers would usually mention he's the Writer. i'm not linking anything specific here because you can find this happening in pretty much any Era 2 / 3 interview. (though there's one Era 2 Nameless Ghoul interview that refers to the Writer as a separate character.)

the only Papa who wrote his own music was Nihil. the music video for The Future Is A Foreign Land shows that he and his Nameless Ghouls wrote the song together, and he's credited as a writer on Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic. (pic: back of the SIOSP record)

after Nihil, none of the Papas were involved in the songwriting process. everything after Nihil was written by A Ghoul Writer.

PITCHFORK: On the new album, the songs/lyrics are credited to "A Ghoul Writer." Are you this "Ghoul Writer"? If so, what inspired the words? PAPA EMERITUS: I am not the Ghoul Writer. Pitchfork (April 2013)

Does Papa contribute to the composing process? NAMELESS GHOUL: No, Papa doesn’t contribute to the song-writing. Metal Paths (August 2015)

so the later Papas were interpreters of the music, not writers.

as for the question of whether the Papas embody the sins of society or criticize the sins of society by parodying them, i think it's a bit of both– and i think it depends on which perspective we're looking from.

obviously from a real-world perspective, Ghost as a whole is meant to criticize and parody the issues the music is about, and the personality and characterization of each Papa is closely tied to the themes of his album.

from an in-universe lore perspective, as interpreters of the music, each Papa has his own relationship with the themes of his album. i think the Ghoul Writer writes each album for / about the Papa who's going to perform it. however, this is not necessarily a positive gesture.

here are my notes / thoughts on how each Papa relates to the themes of his album:

(trigger warning for mentions of misogynistic violence / rape / forced pregnancy)

Opus Eponymous and Primo: Primo refuses to comment on his interpretation of Opus Eponymous, but it's pretty clear what he thinks. Primo is a misanthrope who believes humans are “vermin” that have doomed themselves due to their “intellectual decline”. in his eyes, humanity is unworthy of life and will eventually be destroyed. Opus Eponymous has been described as an "orthodox devil-worshipping" album, and it is a very violent album, which is great for Primo because he's an orthodox devil worshiper and he loves violence and murder and wants everyone to die. 'Elizabeth' celebrates an alleged serial killer who is said to have killed hundreds of women / girls. 'Stand By Him' is about a woman being raped by a priest, who then accuses her of witchcraft and has her burned at the stake in order to cover up the assault. and the overall narrative of Opus Eponymous is about a woman being raped and forced to carry + birth the Antichrist, which will eventually kill her. this is something Primo thinks is good and anticipates happening because he believes in the cult very literally and agrees with its message / mission of human extinction. Primo is definitely a villain.

Infestissumam and Secondo: interestingly, there is actually an instance of Papa telling us about his interpretation of this album. in Secondo's own words, "the new album is about the presence of the Devil. The title, Infestissumam, means 'the biggest threat' and refers literally to the arrival of the Antichrist, but what it is also is about is what man has traditionally regarded as diabolical presence– namely female form and swagger." Infestissumam is about how humanity can connect to the presence of the Devil, both physically and spiritually. i think this theme really shows through Secondo. to him, all the things traditionally regarded as sin –especially sexuality– are good things. to him, Satan is the way to freedom and enlightenment. on the flipside, all the things promoted by christianity –holiness and virtue and repression– are stupid and stifling. Secondo is a jerk and he loves to have sex and party and he just doesn't care. Secondo, more than any other Papa, is dedicated to indulging in sin and saying "fuck you" to christianity.

Meliora and Terzo: it's complicated. i don't want to give a detailed explanation right now because i already have a separate post in my drafts about my analysis of Terzo's relationship with the themes of Meliora (it will be long). for now, this is what i'll say: Meliora is about the absence of god, and it's described as futuristic and "pre-apocalyptic." the title "Meliora" means "for the pursuit of better", but it's meant to be ironic. it's about the mistakes people make / the bad things people do in pursuit of better. so as your ask states, it criticizes ambition, greed, and abuse of power. i think Terzo wants to criticize those sins. but i think that he also embodies them, to a certain extent, and i think Meliora is also criticizing him.

Prequelle and Cardinal Copia: we don't really have any canon material that indicates Cardi's personal opinions on the album, but there is certainly a connection between the character and the concept / themes of the album. Prequelle is described as a "positive" album about the plague. it's an album about society falling apart during the apocalypse. it's also an album about celebration and survival in spite of being faced with the inevitability of death. i think Cardi certainly embodies this. Cardi is surrounded by death. Prequelle Era begins with Papas I, II, and III being murdered in order to promote Cardi's success, and it ends with Papa Nihil dying, which allows Cardi to ascend and become Papa IV. in a way, Cardi is both a plague rat and a survivor. it's not his fault they died. he didn't ask for them to be killed, and he was not their killer. but he is the herald and the carrier of the true killer, the actual driving force behind everything (Sister Imperator). through all this, Cardi is having a good time! he's dancing the night away! he's glad everyone standing in his way has dropped dead! he is a rising star and he feels invincible! and he is certain he will survive this.

IMPERA and Papa Emeritus IV: the main themes of IMPERA are "spiritual annihilation", reactionary sentiment, and regression. it's about how people who fear progress are afraid of losing their sense of meaning / purpose and their place in the world, so they turn to misogyny, violence, religious dogma, and fascism. they cling to the idea of having a cause to fight for. i think Cardi is certainly criticizing these issues. he doesn't agree with any of this at all. however, there's still a connection between the narrative of IMPERA and Cardi's character arc in this Era. narratively, IMPERA is a concentrated / condensed version of the apocalyptic narrative that plays out through the first 4 albums. it's about the cyclical nature of the rise and fall of empires. IMPERA Era begins with Cardi ascending to the title of Papa. but after the feeling of triumph wore off, Cardi became very aware of and very fearful of his own inevitable end. he knew that no matter how great his achievements were, he would be forced to step down so his successor could take his place, just like his predecessors had for him. Rite Here Rite Now is about Cardi struggling to make peace with this idea. as a side note: i really like the irony of the fact that Cardi was never actually the leader of his own empire– he was a puppet emperor who got his marching orders from his mother. it connects to IMPERA's theme of political manipulation.

[specialagentartemis]

The Murderbot Diaries and Terminator: Dark Fate: What Does a Killer Robot WANT, Anyway?

The Terminator (1984) is probably the most famous killer robot in media, setting the image for a what a killer robot is.  It’s shaped like a bodybuilder, weapons built into its metal skeleton, eyes hidden behind cool and impersonal sunglasses, a threateningly “foreign” accent, and no feelings, no remorse, and no desires besides killing its target.  Kyle Reese describes it to Sarah Connor bluntly: “That Terminator is out there! It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop... ever, until you are dead!”  And the film supports this wholeheartedly.  We get a few scenes from the Terminator’s perspective, and they do not really indicate that it has much in the way of personality or free will.  It’s scary because it is a ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical machine built to kill.  It will not stop until its target is dead, or it is.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991) gives us a nice Terminator, a Terminator captured from its controlling Skynet and re-programmed to help Sarah and John Connor rather than hunt them.  This Terminator gives slightly more suggestions that it has a personality of its own, but ultimately it is still now ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical in protecting its charges, but it still dies at the end in the course of fulfilling its objective.  It was, after all, programmed by the human rebels to protect John Connor, and it did.

Did the Terminator want any of that?  The second film halfheartedly cares a little, and the first film certainly did not at all.  It’s an irrelevant question.  It’s a robot; it’s incapable of truly wanting anything, it just does as it’s programmed.  It fulfills its objective.

In modern sci-fi, that’s not really a satisfying answer anymore.  It looks like a human, has human organic parts built into it, and it clearly has the ability to process large amounts of information and make complex and reasoned decisions.  Why do we write it off so thoroughly?  Does a Terminator like what it does?  Would it choose this?  What does a Terminator want?

The Murderbot Diaries (2017-present) by Martha Wells isn’t a direct answer to this question, but it sure is considering it.

The titular Murderbot is very similar to the Terminator: a human-form cyborg, a robot with human organic parts built in, a machine with guns in its arms made to do a job and that job being to protect and/or oppress humans.  But as a thinking, feeling, complex entity, it has opinions about that job.

You know what else is a clear response to early Terminator movies’ fundamental uninterest in the Terminator’s inner life and personal opinions on things?  Later Terminator movies.  Specifically Terminator: Dark Fate (2019).

The fact that The Murderbot Diaries and Dark Fate came out at roughly the same time, in the same sci-fi AI-story zeitgeist, looking back critically at the 80’s and early 90’s Terminator and asking, well, what would it do if it didn’t have to murder, who would it be if it had the choice, is telling.

The Murderbot Diaries stars Murderbot, a SecurityUnit owned by a callously greedy and corner-cutting company that uses such SecUnits ostensibly to protect but in reality to intimidate, control, and surveil human clients.  It calls itself “Murderbot” and all SecUnits as a whole “murderbots” for a reason.  The world of the books sees SecUnits as mindless killer robots kept in check by their programming, in a very similar way that the Terminator was presented in 1984. We see the story from Murderbot’s point of view: it’s snarky, depressed, anxious, bitter, funny, and very opinionated.  It also really, really hates intimidating, controlling, and surveilling people, and it specifically broke its own programming meant to keep it compliant so it wouldn’t have to hurt people.  Instead, it wants to half-ass its job and watch soap operas… but it’s sympathetic to humans in danger despite itself, and when it chooses humans it cares about, it will go to great lengths (ruthless, but very tired and full of fear and pity) to protect them.  What does it want?  To be given space; to not be given orders; to have the ability to take its time and watch its shows and determine what its job as Security means to it.

Terminator: Dark Fate takes a different tack.  (It’s actually about three badass women and I’m very sorry for focusing on the man-like character here BUT) Dark Fate presents an alternate timeline off the main series, where the Terminator succeeded in killing young John Connor.  Previously, we had seen Terminators that would not stop until they were dead; this one fulfills Reese’s other warning.  It will not stop until John Connor is dead.  Well…. it succeeded.  John Connor is dead.

Now what?

In the opening scene, we see this from his mother Sarah Connor’s perspective.  The Terminator appears out of time, ambushes and kills young John Connor, and then stands there looking impassively at the destruction it wrought while Sarah screams.

It looks cold and satisfied when that scene is first presented.  But when we see it again from the Terminator’s perspective, it seems to just stand there, staring stupidly, suddenly with no direction in life.  It fulfilled its objective.  It followed its programming.  Now it has no more objective, can receive no more orders, and its programming has nothing more to tell it to do.  It eventually disappears into the woods, learns more about humanity, grows a conscience, lives in a little cabin with a woman and her son fleeing an abusive husband in an apparently mutually very supportive relationship, chops wood, drives a truck, and gives Sarah Connor insider information to allow her to track down other incoming Terminators as a way of atonement.  It does have remorse, if given time to think for itself and realize it.  It doesn’t really want to hurt people, and even, similar to Murderbot, has a drive to use its strength and intimidating-ness to protect the people it chooses.  It mostly wants to be quietly and safely left alone.

Both the Terminator and Murderbot are killer robots left adrift, aimless, reeling, suddenly having to decide for themselves what to do with their lives for the first time.  Both are stories that circle back to the original Terminator premise and say, okay, but that killer robot isn’t killing for the sheer thrill of it, it was forced into doing that by a top-down authority in control of its programming.  That would kind of fuck someone up, actually.  It’s a hopeful narrative: these things are people, and they don’t want to be hurting other people.  When given the option, they just want to rest, make amends, understand the truth, find a place they belong, and see the people they care about safe.  And I think it’s fascinating that not only is smaller, literary sci-fi asking this question and telling this story, but so is the Terminator franchise itself.

We also just as blatantly see the evolution of Sarah Connor as a character.  In The Terminator (1984) the Terminator is sent to kill Sarah Connor.  When I was watching it recently with some friends who had never seen it before, they guessed—almost correctly—“oh, it’s because she’s the rebel leader in the future!”  Sorry guys, this is a 1980s mainstream sci-fi blockbuster.  Her as-yet unborn son is going to be the rebel leader.  That’s why the robots in the future need to kill her, before she gives birth to the hero of the humans.  Blech, I know. 

Over the course of the movie, though, she becomes tough, fierce, and brave, the type who can and will survive the apocalypse; in future movies and tv series (like The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 2008, where she gets to be the eponymous title character this time!), she gets to be a strong leader in her own right.  This is particularly true in Terminator: Dark Fate, where Sarah Connor is a tough, grizzled, middle-aged Terminator-fighter, who steals heavy weaponry from the government to track down and kill Terminators arriving from the future.  She becomes a mentor to the new woman being hunted down by the new Terminator threat, Dani Ramos.  This time, though, Dani isn’t fated to be the mother of the human rebel leader—she is destined to become the human rebel leader herself.  Along with Dani’s own Kyle Reese figure, a cybernetically-augmented human fighter from the future named Grace, women get central action-hero and rebel-leader roles in Terminator: Dark Fate, feeling like an awkward apology for the sexism inherent in the premise of 1984’s The Terminator.  (However, Dark Fate stops short of committing to the Dani-Sarah/Grace-Reese parallel and letting them be lesbians.  It’s still a mainstream action movie, I guess.)  We even see the development of a curt but resentfully respectful understanding between Sarah Connor and the Terminator that killed her son.

I lay this out because in the same way I see the literary DNA of the Terminator in Murderbot, I see elements of Sarah Connor in Dr. Mensah.  She’s the human protagonist—the one who would be the protagonist if All Systems Red had been from the human perspective—and feels like the answer to a similar question to “what does a killer robot want?”, namely, “what if, instead of enemies locked into battle to the death, the badass human and the killer robot worked together and came to an understanding? What if they could be friends instead of enemies?”  Mensah also feels like a feminist response to some of the issues I had with Sarah Connor—that she didn’t get to be the leader herself, that despite her own strength and tenacity being the mother to the leader was the most important thing she would do—and responds to them in a similar way that Dark Fate somewhat apologetically does. Mensah is the leader of her society (her planet).  Mensah is a mother and she is a scientist and a leader and gets her badass action-hero moments (MINING DRILL).  She is the first to reach out to Murderbot.  To ask it how it feels, and calm down the others later when they’re afraid; her relationship with Murderbot is unique.  She’s a foil to Murderbot in a parallel but opposite way that Sarah Connor is a foil to the Terminator.  And while in Dark Fate they are not friends (the Terminator did still kill Sarah’s son, even if it didn’t specifically want to) we see the same kind of desire reflected: what if they were at least allies?  What if they were working together?  How would that relationship go?  What kind of understanding could they come to, about what it means to be human and to be machine? It's a smaller part of the movie and they don't give a whole lot of answers, but it's there.

Both All Systems Red (and the subsequent Murderbot Diaries books) and Terminator: Dark Fate were released in a very different sci-fi zeitgeist than The Terminator was.  They’re both looking back, and reacting to it: Dark Fate directly, The Murderbot Diaries indirectly.  And they’re approaching the concept of the Terminator and its Sarah Connor figure with similar questions: What does the robot want, aside from its programming to kill, and if it could be freed of its programming to kill, what kind of relationships—with society, with the concept of self-determination, and with its human woman foil—could it potentially be able to develop, with that freedom?

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: This time, it's different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. At this point he’s stopped lying to himself – Joel’s here to see you.  pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: some angst, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts and actions (but no smut -- as always, dm if you want specifics), divorce mention. a/n: The next few weeks of my life will be insane (and NOT just because succession is coming back). I want to keep updating this, but something's gotta give, because the way I've been writing is not sustainable unfortunately. So updates may end up being shorter and the fic having more parts, or updates might be less frequent with longer parts. Also, a question for my loyal readers: Do you make your shirley temples with ginger ale or with Sprite/7up? Because I came from a sprite/7UP family but once i discovered ginger ale instead i was HOOKED. So i am a Ginger Ale Shirley Temple Truther.

-May 5, 2003-

Please pick up, please pick up, you cross your arms in front of you, looking over your shoulder. The pointed toe of your heels clacks against the asphalt as you tap it repeatedly, a steady beat. You have no reason to be so nervous, right now. It must have something to do with who you are calling, not just why. 

“Hello?” the droning ring is interrupted by a voice that sounds skeptical, they don’t recognize your number.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Hey, you,” his tone evens out when he hears you say his name. He had given you his cell phone number a few weeks back, the night he’d caught you smoking on your back porch. In case I’m not home and something’s goin’ on with Sarah, he’d said. It made sense, though all it did was tempt you to call him many times before this, and not about Sarah. You were worried because…maybe this was out of line.

There’s noises in the background that threaten to drown Joel out – saws and various power tools whirring, a jackhammer, men calling out to each other. It’s loud. At your job, you close the door to your office if someone is typing too loud on their keyboard. “I uh- I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hear a door shut in response, and the noise fades to a low purr. “Not at all. Everything okay? Sarah alright?”

“Yeah, this isn’t about her, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“It depends,” In your mind, right now he’s leaning against a messy metal desk, one of his hands planted on its surface to keep himself stable, the muscles in his forearm flexing under tension. He’s got a toolbelt slung low over the waistband of his Carhartt’s. He’s a little sweaty – it’s hot out, today – his cheeks flushed, pieces of dark hair clinging to his forehead. The image is doing something for you, and you have to take a deep, measured breath to reset before you can answer him.

“Do you…know anything about cars?” you ask. 

“A little….why?”

“I took my car to get serviced, and…I’m pretty sure I’m about to be swindled.” You hesitate, then qualify. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and…you seem like you might be good with this sort of thing.”

There are a lot of things you know a lot about, and cars are just not one of them. From your perspective, a car is simply a means to get from Point A to Point B, and the less you know about the how, the better. Although your complete lack of understanding definitely doesn’t help you in your current situation. You’d considered calling your brother, and even your father – but you knew they’d be no help, having lived in Manhattan their whole lives. 

Bradley had a nice car, but you suspected it was more for his image, and less because he knew anything about them. Plus, you didn’t really ask for much of each other outside of sex – and if you started too, it might initiate another talk about where you ‘see him in your future’, and the thought alone is grating, because you don’t. 

Since you moved away from home, you’ve spent a lot of time asserting to yourself that you’re completely independent. But moments like this remind you that it’s not entirely true…it’s not possible to be on your own in the way you want, and you always end up needing someone. 

“I might be able to help.” Joel sounds unconcerned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They just told me my car needs a new battery, and I need new tires.”

“How old are they?”

“I don’t know like-” your phone vibrates furiously in your hand, an incoming call from your coworker. “Oh my god, leave me alone,” you groan out loud. “-Not you, Joel, sorry. I stepped away for lunch and…you know how it goes. Anyways, I don’t think I’ve gotten either of them changed since I got my car.”

“How old is your car?”

“Seven years.”

“Good lord,” Joel mutters, and he sounds somewhat disappointed. “Yeah, you should get both those things.”

“They weren’t lying? It’s gonna cost a couple hundred bucks.”

“No, I doubt they were,” he gives a warm chuckle, and it melts away some of your stress, even if your wallet is about to take a considerable hit. “Where’d you take your car?”

“I don’t know, just…some place around the corner from where I work.”

“In the future, you should go to Robert’s place in town. He’s done some work on my truck. Probably will cost a lot less.”

“Noted,” you nod. “Thanks so much, sorry for catching you at work.”

“Not at all, I don’t mind…” Joe answers. “Shipments keep getting delayed, so…it’s been kind of a slow day.”

“I’m jealous,” you say. “Because I swear, lately, whenever I leave the office for more than two minutes everything explodes….or at least it feels that way.”

“Sounds like you’re important,” Joel says, you can hear his smile over the phone, see it, practically. 

Scoffing, you answer. “Hardly. But uh, thanks again. I definitely owe you one.”

You expect him to say goodbye, so you’re surprised by what he asks next. “What are you doing Friday?” 

“I don’t know. What are you doing Friday?”

“I’m assumin’ Sarah’s probably left something at your place….if you’re gonna be around, I might stop by to get it….”

“You want me to smoke you up?” 

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant,” You’re direct.

“Look, I’m just sayin’ if it happens, I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I already told you, you’re welcome anytime,” you say. “But won’t Sarah-oh wait, no, she has that school dance, doesn’t she?”

Sarah had taken to writing important events in her life on the calendar that hung on your fridge. It was usually blank, you were good enough at remembering your own plans without utilizing it. But she had told you the empty calendar made her sad, so now it was filled with her doodles and notes, scribbled with blue glitter gel pen. And Friday night’s event she’d underlined three times.

“She does,” Joel answers, seemingly amused. 

Another call comes through on your phone. “Okay, yeah, I gotta go. But I’ll be around Friday.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop by,” Joel says, and you ignore the flash of heat through your abdomen – excitement – at the idea of him coming over.  “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 9, 2003-

Joel arrives at your place before the sun sets, once again. But this time, it is different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. Of course, he’s got his excuse, but really, at this point he’s stopped lying to himself – he’s here to see you. 

“Well, well, well…” you open the screen door, lean against the doorframe, and cross your arms over your chest. “If it isn’t the neighborhood space cowboy.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

You squint at him, but the way the corner of your mouth quirks gives you away. “Touche.” 

God, he’s already regretting this. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. But it’s become increasingly difficult to resist you, and that’s assuming that you’re even interested. He’s all-but kissed you and he’s still not quite sure where he stands. You’re not easy to read, but he has always enjoyed a challenge. At the end of the day it’s never a bad idea for him to brush up on his flirting, Tommy’s words from a few weeks ago have been getting to him. For much as he believes it’s bound to happen, Joel doesn’t want to end up alone.

“Come on in,” you push yourself off the doorframe and lead him through your house.

The last time he’d been here you’d been wearing some long-sleeved, satin pajama set. He remembered because he spent all night trying not to touch the fabric, though maybe he was just looking for an excuse to touch you. Tonight, with your back turned towards him, his eyes wander down to the curve of your ass in your low-rise, bootcut jeans. He feels the slightest bit of shame about doing it, before deciding that what you can’t see won’t hurt you.

“How was the mechanic?” he asks once you’ve entered the back porch.

“Oh fine,” you say, sitting down on the couch, gesturing to the spot across from you. “I’m just pissed I had to spend a bunch of money on a car battery and not something more…fun.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Joel sits. “Honestly, I’m surprised you called me from the mechanic and not from a ditch on the side of the road.”

“This is my first car, Joel. I grew up in a walkable community,” you pick up an already-rolled joint, the faintest acknowledgement that you’d planned for this ahead of time – and lift it to your lips. 

“It’s okay, I’m teasing.” Joel assures, and lets his gaze linger while you smoke, just admiring, as he often does. When you pass the joint over to him, he speaks again. “I have to be good tonight, cause Sarah’s gonna be home in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, first school dance, big deal,” you raise your eyebrows. “Help me out, because I went to an all-girls school. It’s middle school. Do kids go with dates?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Sarah just went with a group of friends.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. “Speaking of, I have to be good, too. I’m going to her soccer game tomorrow.”

Joel feels his brows knit together in confusion, and it causes you to continue on. “She keeps asking me to come to one, and I haven’t been able to, so I feel bad. I guess her season’s almost over.” 

“Tomorrow’s her last game…” Joel mutters, looking up towards the ceiling, where the smoke is collecting, and exhales. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“Obviously, but…” you shrug. “...I want to.”

He chuckles to himself, runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower he took before this. “You’re really prepared to put yourself through a middle school soccer game…” 

“Look, Joel,” Your eyes are half-lidded, focused on him, and your arm is slung over the back of the couch, fist supporting your temple. “In case you couldn’t tell…I’m doing this thing where I try to engage in the community I live in. But so far, your family members are the only ones who’ve included me in anything, so until I find someone else….” you trail off. “You’re stuck with me.”

Joel doesn’t want you to find someone else. Being stuck with you is hardly a problem. He wants to tell you, but instead, all he manages is: “We’ll be good tonight.” Still, he’s not entirely convinced that he can trust himself to make a promise like that. 

It’s a tad too early for the sun to be setting, but it’s early in May, so the weather is perfect, and he’s sort of itching to be outside. Maybe there’s something to be done before the light wanes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks you.

You seem taken aback by his request, wrinkling your nose.”….I don’t know.”

“It’s a nice night, you might enjoy yourself. And we’re in good company.” 

The grimace on your face disappears, and is replaced by something more amiable. “We are,” you tilt your, make a decision. “Yeah, okay…let’s do it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once you’ve locked your front door, closed your windows, Joel walks side-by-side with you down your driveway. You only make it about halfway down when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name, then his. 

Your next-door neighbor, Denise Watson, leans over the railing of her front porch, while her husband John sits in a chair behind her, giving a lazy wave and returning back to his puzzlebook. Joel nods at him, and notices the color has drained out of your face. The Watsons have lived on this street since before even Joel and Sarah moved in. They’re in their late 60s, retired, all their children grown – which gives them plenty of time to get into everyone’s business. 

“Hey,” you offer the most unenthusiastic greeting he thinks he’s ever heard. You’re paranoid, and he’d laugh if it were just the two of you, alone. But it’s not, and he knows these just so happen to be neighbors you’ve been lying to.

“How are you doing, hun?” 

“I’m good,” you say softly, and Joel watches Denise’s eyes flick over his direction. 

“Same here,” he manages. 

“What are you ya’ll up to?”

“We’re just goin’ for a walk,” Joel answers, looking your way. You nod at him, wordlessly, then at Denise. 

“How lovely.” She smiles, and it’s sincere, so he knows she doesn’t suspect anything. “It’s nice to see you two getting along so well.” Even from where he’s standing, Joel sees her eyebrows lift suggestively.

You and Joel both answer the insinuation at the same time.

“Yeah, well-” 

“She looks after Sarah for me, so-”

You bob your head enthusiastically. “Mhm, yeah. Sarah. Great kid.”

Denise opens her mouth again, and you speak so quickly, Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you’re afraid of what she’s going to say next. “We gotta go,” you shuffle backwards a few steps, quickly, and collide with Joel’s chest. “Before it gets dark out,” when you turn, you’re looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Oh, alright,” Denise says, sounding a little disappointed. “Ya’ll stay safe, alright?”

“Of course,” Joel calls over his shoulder, managing a halfhearted wave before he’s trailing you around the bend in the cul-de-sac that takes you out of view from The Watsons porch.

The second you’ve made it you whirl to face him, your jaw drops, and you both erupt into laughter. You grip his bicep and lean into him, pressing your face into the cotton of his t-shirt to stifle the noise. He’s tempted to pull you under his arm all the way, but he resists the urge. Would that be okay? He’s not sure. And he’s not necessarily in the best headspace to make the decision.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, swiping under your eyes as you pull back, and start walking a few steps ahead of him. 

“It’s like I’m back in high school,” Joel says. Neither of you decide to mention what your neighbor had insinuated, but it is objectively funny. 

“Oh, I’m sure you were trouble.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel says. “Although I did sneak out quite a bit. But it was only to see girls – well, one girl.” 

“Sarah’s mom?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” Joel isn’t sure why he’s mentioned it. It’s not really something he’s interested in speaking on now – or ever – for that matter, even if every person he’s mentioned it to has questions. What happened? What did you do? You poor thing. Above all else, he hated being pitied. 

But you don’t press him, and change the subject. “So…a few weeks ago you had said you and Tommy had a work project you were gonna book. Did that pan out?”

Joel cocks his head, surprised you remembered. “Actually, it did. Funny you ask. Things moved slow but…we signed the contract today. I’m sort of celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” you look over your shoulder slightly to give him a genuine grin. “But uh…you should’ve told me. Had I known we were celebrating, I would’ve tried to make things more exciting.” 

“Can’t think of anything better.”

You pause, because you’ve reached the end of your cul-de-sac. “Suit yourself.” you say. “Are you gonna lead though? I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Joel expects some kind of quip in response, but you just shake your head and narrow your eyes. Tucking your hair behind your ears, he senses a bit of uneasiness. “You alright?”

“I’m fine I just…” you shake your head. “I don’t love being stoned in public.”

“You’re alright.” Joel puts his hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to fall into step beside him. “Come on, darlin’, just walk with me.” It’s terrible how easily the term of endearment slips out – and he waits for your reaction. But all he feels is the way your body loosens under his touch. 

That brings him some satisfaction, but as usual, it’s not enough. Because if you’re not going to stop him, he longs to push the hair off your neck, kiss along your pulse point, feel you melt even further as his thumbs work at the muscles in your shoulders. Joel fantasizes about what his name might sound like, coming from you, in a breathless sigh. The image works him up a little too much, and he lets his hand fall back to his side.

For a while, you both walk in silence, your fingers brushing against his every so often, but neither of you acknowledge it, apologize, or decide to step further away from each other to keep it from happening again and again.

It’s a beautiful night, the warmth of the day dwindling under the blanket of thinning clouds tinted pink in the sunset. Joel is amazed at how content he feels, can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way – not worried about someone, or something, or letting anyone down. 

It’s May, so almost all the native flowers are in full bloom. Tulips planted in gardens, pansies overflowing from pots on porches, dandelions dotting pristine green lawns. Stepping away from Joel, you pause in front of an empty, overgrown lot that’s basically turned into a wildflower patch. 

“This is nice,” you say, decidedly. “It’s pretty.” 

“I told you.”

Once more, he expects some clever retort, but your eyebrows are pinched together, and you crouch to look closely at some bluebonnets that are the same color as the tight-fitting henley you’ve got on. “I know you mentioned it back there but… Sarah’s told me…about her mom.”

Joel feels himself stiffen. “Yeah….well, she never really got to know her.” 

When he’s feeling particularly remorseful, his brain replays a memory of Sarah, only four years old, toddling around the tiny apartment they lived in and calling out for her mother. His ex had left when she was so young, so he had known there was no way Sarah actually remembered her. But all her classmates had two parents, all the movies she watched at home depicted loving, complete families. That night, after tucking her in, he’d retreated to his room, and cried for the first time since his divorce. Ever since then, it was impossible to shake the feeling he wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, he felt better about it then others. Sarah grew out of that phase, and Joel thought that’d be the last of it. When he finally bought the house, he felt like he’d proven he could do it alone. They would be fine. That was until Joel found an old photo of him and his ex underneath Sarah’s pillow while he was changing her sheets. The discovery left him with the same feeling all over again. 

Now, in the wake of the excitement that he’s signed onto his first real contracting gig, a promotion, a raise – this information from you deflates him all over again. 

“You don’t like to talk about it?” you guess correctly. 

“Not particularly.” Normally, Joel would shut something like this down. But he can’t bring himself to be cruel to you. “We were young. What happened was for the best. I wish Sarah understood that.”

“You don’t give her enough credit. She’s a bright kid,” you answer, standing up and putting your hands on your hips. “Anyways, I get it. When you cut yourself off from a bad situation, it's hard. The alternative is worse, though. People forget that part.”

Joel feels a little reassured by what you’re saying. Why he immediately went on the defense when you brought it up, he’ll explore later. “I wish more people understood,” he murmurs. 

“Me too,” you nod, and you nudge him gently to keep walking. “And people process things differently. It makes sense she's curious. It’s a very human thing.” 

“I know.” What was it that you had said a few weeks back? They’re always with you, no matter what. That’s not a sentiment Joel can completely wrap his head around yet. “It does make me think sometimes…maybe she needs some else….someone who isn't…me.””

“Oh, come on, Joel,” you halt in your tracks, almost like he’s offended you in some way. You look up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re a good man.”

Validation. He doesn’t get it often – ever, really. And he doesn’t need it, but….coming from you, he feels like he just wants more. And more. He can think of a few ways he might get it, too. Some less innocent than others. 

“Should we turn around?” he asks. You nod. 

There’s a bit of light still remaining in the sky by the time you round the corner to Joel’s street, but the sun has set long ago. He’s probably supposed to say goodbye, standing at the end of your respective driveways, but he finds that end to the evening rather disappointing. 

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about right now?” you ask, Joel. He’s a little hesitant to answer, based on the ornery glint in your eyes. All he has to do is raise his eyebrows, and you continue. “A shirley temple.”

Joel can’t help but laugh, and he sees how you light up at the sound. “You serious?” he asks. 

“I know they’re….for kids, but…I don’t know. They’re really fucking good.”

“They are,” he answers, and you’re at the end of your driveway. He hesitates for a second, thinks you might say goodbye, but you just check over your shoulder to make sure he’s following you. He does. 

“This is probably the weed talking, but I’m going to make some.” You unlock your front door, and he holds it open to let you step inside, before following. 

“You have the stuff to make them?” he questions. 

Yes, you bob your head, then walk to the corner of your front room and flick on a light. Warm light floods the room, and you walk through the archway into your kitchen. When he follows you there, your back is towards him, opening a glass-doored cabinet containing various liquor bottles, wines, cordials, and accoutrements. 

“You want one? I have to say, I’ve been making them a lot lately, and I think I’ve perfected the recipe.”

“Well in that case, I’ve gotta try,” Joel wanders to your small kitchen table, about a quarter of it covered in neat piles of paperwork. There’s a messenger bag slung over the back of a chair, and in front of it is there’s a thick contract. The page it’s opened to is riddled with blue ink, crossing through sentences, scribbled in the paper’s margins. He can’t make out any of the jargon in the fine print. Next to it sits a pair of thin black reading glasses, and a sleek fountain pen engraved with your name. 

His eyes fall next to a stack of old photographs sitting atop an opened envelope. With two fingers, he pushes the top photo off the stack, once, twice, three times, until he gets to the bottom of the pile, and they’re spread out in front of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be snooping like this, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. 

Joel doesn’t recognize the people in most of the photos. One of them is a school photo of a young boy, with Spring ‘03 printed in the lower right hand corner. But the remaining two…he realizes are of you, but you’re young, your cheeks rounder, features not quite as defined. Younger than Sarah, if he had to guess. In both, you’re wearing the same thing – a black turtleneck, a plaid skirt that hangs past your knees, and black Mary Janes. 

In one, you’re cheek to cheek with a teenage boy who you’re giving bunny ears. Your brother. Has to be. You look too similar. His arm is across your shoulders, and you’re smiling so wide your eyes are closed. 

In the other photo, though, your face is blank. A wide, empty stare, straight into the camera. Behind you, his hands on your shoulders, is an older man whose gaze has the same determined set Joel has seen on you before. Something about the photo, the haunted look on your face, makes him feel like he’s seen something he’s not supposed to, and he slides the print underneath a stack of papers.

“If you’re gonna look at those papers, I’m gonna need you to sign an NDA,” you say over his shoulder, and Joel is startled by the sound of your voice, and the feeling of a glass, cold and damp with condensation, being placed in his hand. “Here.”

You peer around his shoulder, face brushing against the side of his arm as you see the photos. “Oh,” your voice drops slightly when you realize what he’s looking at. “My brother sent those. That’s my nephew, Ethan.” You point to the school photo of the little kid, but don’t offer an explanation for any of the others. 

Joel clinks his glass with yours and notices that you’ve balanced a toothpick with two maraschino cherries on its rim. It’s refreshing, delicious, and the fizz tickles his nose as he takes the first sip. 

“Restaurant quality,” he tells you. You lean back against your counter, studying him. When you stare at him like this, as he’s caught you doing a handful of times before, it always makes him feel feral. Like some kind of animal, the way he has to hold himself back from pouncing. You look at him like there’s no one else around, and yeah, there’s no one else around right now, but even when you’re in public, you’ve done it, too. And he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop – he doesn’t really want to. “How’d you perfect the recipe?” he asks. 

“Practice,” you glance at the bubbles dancing through the ice in your glass before focusing back on him, sheepish. “Sarah likes them.”

So you’ve made them for her. Joel sits his drink down. “She does.” 

“Are you hungry?” you ask. “I think I need a snack or something.”

“You don’t have any ice cream, do you?”

“Uhhh…check the freezer?” you say over your shoulder, rummaging through your cabinets for a bowl, and Joel rises to do so. “I think I only have coffee-flavored, though.”

“Good choice,” he answers. His favorite.When he opens the freezer, he’s met with a blast of cool air, a cloud of steam. 

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” you tease, coming to stand next to him, but Joel is too focused on the box of orange popsicles he sees in front of him, and pulls them out to look at the box. “You like these?”

“Not really. I’m partial to cherry.”

“Sarah loves these,” he remarks. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t buy them for her anymore, because one time she ate twelve in one day.”

You sniff, grin. “She told me that.”

He studies the drink that you’ve set on your countertop, the box in his hand. “So you bought these for her?”

“Yeah, why?” you cross your arms, almost defensively.

“Are any of the other snacks here just for her?”

“...No,” he can tell you’re lying, and your eyes flick over his shoulder for a second. “Don’t look in that cabinet, though.” 

Joel can’t help the incredulous smile that breaks out over his face. “God, no wonder she’s always over here so much. You’re givin’ her all the junk I don’t let her eat, aren’t you?”

You hold your hands up. “I think she deserves to be comfortable here. Do you want her to starve?”

Joel’s sure he’s staring at you slack-jawed. Not because he’s upset with you, no. It’s quite the opposite. He shakes his head, grins, and starts laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” but you’re giggling, too. “It’s not funny.” You reach to swat at him playfully, and something inside him snaps. 

Joel is sick of coming up with excuses to see you. He’s sick of holding you at arms length. He’s sick of not taking what he wants to. He’s sick of pretending he hasn’t thought about you every single day since he first saw you, standing in this very kitchen, leaning over the island and chatting with Sarah. He wants to walk in your front door and know that he can have you however he likes, that he’s allowed to. He realizes if he doesn’t act, he’ll never find out. It’ll eat him alive.

So before you can make contact, he wraps his hand around your wrist, draws you in closer. It catches you off guard, sure, but your eyes are locked, and he sees that you’re not shaken in the slightest.

“You know,” he says. “You’re nicer than you think.” 

The energy in the room has shifted. But it doesn’t seem to phase you, and when he’s this close, he can study every freckle on your face, the color of your eyes – can remind himself, again, though he hardly has to – just how beautiful you are. You lower your arm, and at first – he panics, thinks that you might be pulling away. He’s read it wrong, all wrong. But all your doing is giving yourself a better angle to grip his wrist in kind, hand clasping over his broken watch.

“Keep it to yourself, Joel.” you whisper. And it's supposed to be a joke, but you can't seem to tear your gaze off his lips. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I will.” 

Joel kisses you. Hard. It’s like a dam breaking, every time he’s held himself back from you comes barreling forward, and it’s all right there. Everywhere. Overwhelming. But he can't stop. He moves with purpose, cupping your chin. He winds his other arm around your waist, crushing you against him. You taste sweeter than he’d imagined, cherry-flavored syrup lingering on your lips. You groan against him, your head tilting back as he moves in closer, jaw relaxing, lips parting.

It’s just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth, to continue to explore, to claim. The things he’s going to do to you…It could be the weed, but every nerve in his body is on high alert – his skin scorches in the wake of your hands raking up his biceps, tangling in his unruly waves. It could be the weed, or it could just be that good.

More, he wants more, and he’s crowding you back towards the counter next to the fridge. Somewhere, distantly, he hears the freezer door fall closed – and probably not all the way – the ice cream long since forgotten. The moment your back hits the granite, you pull away with a ragged inhale, only enough to look him in the eyes.

“Took you long enough,” One of your hands rises to his face.

Joel presses his cheek into the warmth of your palm. “I thought it might be better to keep you waiting.”

You only shake your head, pulling him back into the kiss. He shifts his weight to hook his hands behind your knees and lift you onto the counter. It’s a bit overzealous, and your head bumps the cabinet behind you, but you don’t seem to notice. Both your legs hook around his hips, drawing him in further. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on just from kissing someone – not even for that long – but it’s just so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot. 

But, he’s capable of one rational thought. This can’t be how it happens. You’re worth more than an animalistic fuck on a kitchen countertop. There’s so much more he wants to do that can’t be done here, like this. And…it’s you. You deserve better, although the frustrated noise you let out when he draws back indicates you think the opposite. Another time.

“I’m sor-I-we can’t,” Joel manages. 

Your face drops, you look….almost angry at him. The second he sees it, he realizes what he said was all wrong. “No, I mean we can, we can, just not….not now.”

The anger dissipates, you shift back, but reach out, pushing a piece of stray hair off his forehead and running your thumb along his sharp jawline. “Why not?”

“I just…I didn’t-” he shakes his head and looks down. “I’ve wanted this for awhile now, but….this isn’t…I wasn’t expecting-” Fucking spit it out, you dipshit. “Can I take you out or something first?” 

You don’t answer, just shift forward, your forehead bumping into his chest. Joel he brings his arms around your shoulders despite himself. And then your lips are on his neck, teeth scraping, teasing, working up to his ear, where you whisper. “You don’t have to.”

He fucking has you. He could. So easily. “I want to.”

You pull back, and there’s a split second where he swears you look a little ashamed, and then it vanishes. “You are a romantic.”

“Not entirely…” Joel says. “I just…would rather do things right. For someone I like.”

“Someone you like?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Okay, yeah,” you murmur softly. “I would like that.” 

“Next weekend?” 

“That long?” 

He chuckles. “It’ll be worth the wait.” But you don’t seem convinced. “I promise.”

For a split second his eyes flick over your shoulder to the microwave, and he sees what time it is. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. It’s late. Sarah’s gonna be home any minute and if I’m not home-” he pauses, gestures between you. “We shouldn’t uh…we shouldn’t mention this to her. Not for now, at least.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” you shake your head in agreement. 

Joel leans in to kiss you again. This time, he keeps it slow, tender, lingering. Even though he knows he’ll get to see you again, he still finds it hard to tear himself away.

----

part v

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester

[chasingcomets222]

I got bored and decided to decipher Rodrick Heffley's music taste to close this years-long debate once and for all.

This post will be on the lengthier side, but a TLDR is attached at the end of the post if you want the basic cliff-notes.

Disclaimer: this is a dissection of the film adaptation of Rodrick rather than his source material counterpart. Comparisons to the books are welcome but irrelevant to this analysis.

Soundtrack

During the roller-rink scene in the opening of Rodrick Rules, Rodrick and Bill take over the DJ table to sabotage Greg's moves on Holly. The song they play is "Cut Throat" by the all-female heavy metal band, Kittie. Aside from Löded Diper's music, this is the only song in the series explicitly used to establish Rodrick's music taste.

However, there's many songs off of the Rodrick Rules soundtrack alone that can be reasonably assumed to fit his music profile as well — for example, those used during the party sequence.

I wouldn't doubt if one or two tracks were intended solely as crowd pleasers, but let's not rule out the entire playlist.

In order of appearance, Rodrick's party mix includes: "Heart Heart Heartbreak" by Boys Like Girls, "Electric (feat. Miss Amani)" by The DNC, "Wait Up (Boots of Danger)" by Tokyo Police Club, "Shake" by Bikini Machine, "Move Like This" by Hammerwax, and "Jump In The Line" by Karl Zéro & The Wailers.

There's additionally three other, albeit more subtle, uses of background music to nod toward Rodrick's preferences.

The first instance is during the scene in Rodrick Rules in which Greg confides in Rodrick about his embarrassment from his failed "100 Years Ago" assignment. It's so quiet that it's easy to miss without a keen ear, but "Light Love" by Free Energy plays in the background, mixed to fit in with the ambience of Rodrick's bedroom.

The second is directly before the Löded Diper band rehearsal scene (somebody farted btw), in which Frank pulls into the Heffleys' driveway. "Rock and Roll Slob" by The Boneless Ones can be heard from the garage, once again mixed as part of the ambience.

The third again utilizes The Boneless Ones' discography, and is inserted during the opening sequence of Dog Days at the municipal pool. Rodrick explains it's "time to sell some CDs" for Löded Diper, and turns on his boombox (more on this later), blaring "Miss Fresno."

With the last two points in mind, one can assume the film universe is some twisted version where Löded Diper originally wrote and performed The Boneless Ones' discography (or something closely resembling it).

Band Tees

Rodrick mostly wears seemingly thrifted or upcycled shirts and graphic tees with witty/edgy prints, but there are outliers at times. For example, there's not one, not two, but potentially so much as five moments in Dog Days that he's seen wearing merch from Dead Kennedys, The Who, and Ramones.

While most of his band tees simply include the band's logo or iconography, the latter design takes it a step further by being specific to a particular song title: "Rock 'n' Roll High School" by Ramones.

There's another moment which this may be the case, but it's purely speculative on my end. The Ramones also have a song named "I Don't Care," which is a phrase featured on one of Rodrick's shirts. It's not an explicit reference, but likely a reference nonetheless.

Room Posters

Guns N' Roses, Brutal Truth (Evolution Through Revolution), Stars (The Five Ghosts), Buried Inside (Spoils of Failure), and Decibel are the most notable.

I assume Decibel is in relation to the 70's/80's Italian punk rock band, although I can't find any association between them and this particular artwork. If not connected to them, there's a possibility it may be to the metal magazine of the same name, but I have my doubts.

In this image giving an alternate perspective to Rodrick's room, just off-screen is a Metallica poster, based on the stylization of the ending A. Beside it is a Hanson Brothers poster, which was later replaced in Rodrick Rules with a duplicate of the Stars poster for some reason.

Among his collage of Löded Diper flyers, there's Danny Echo posters as well as Denounce and Billy Talent stickers receiving the Hidden Mickey treatment (also a cameo from the iconic cheeseburger phone on the table).

Of course, there are many other pieces of memorabilia scattered across Rodrick's room, but several of them are blurry from the camera's depth of field or are seen at angles which make them difficult to read or for reverse image sites to identify. So for now, this is the best possible analysis of Rodrick's room in regards to music.

Miscellaneous

An easy-to-miss detail lies in the infamous Löded Diper van. Within the final few moments of Rodrick Rules as Rodrick drops Greg off at school (01:31:52), there's a semi-clear shot of the van's dashboard. On it are a set of stickers, including one referencing Huevos Rancheros, an instrumental rock-and-roll group from Canada.

In Dog Days, Rodrick brings a personal boombox with him to the municipal pool. Along the top is a large sticker for Street Machine, a Czech hardcore/metal band.

Cut Content

In the second studio draft of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, on page 23, scene 43, more of Rodrick's favorite artists are revealed.

The nature of this may be written off as not canon, as it was added into the script while it was still a work in progress and the posters themselves didn't make it into the final product.

What sells it to me as remaining "silent" canon though is that TOOL and Slipknot are often lumped together with Kittie (previously mentioned) as they share an overlapping fanbase. This was more prevalent during the early 2000's within the mall goth subculture, but it's remained fairly consistent for other variants of metalheads over the years too.

TLDR

To recap, the various genres across all of the bands Rodrick is canonically into include indie rock, pop rock, punk rock, hardcore punk, hard rock, industrial, thrash metal, heavy metal, nu metal, death metal, sludge metal, and grindcore.

His musical preferences are punk, rock, and metal-centric but quite broad and inclusive of countries of origin and lesser-known underground artists (some don't break even 100 monthly listeners on Spotify). This leaves the door open for endless possibilities in terms of headcanons.

He's not emo despite popular fan belief, but I still think there's a chance some of his musical leanings could cross over with bands considered emo adjacent for their presence in the community. August Burns Red and The Devil Wears Prada come to mind with his music taste accounted for, but that's just my headcanon.

EDIT: 9/9/24

I've since made two Spotify playlists from my findings: one being what I imagine would be Rodrick's regular rotation, and the other being an extension of his party mix. I feel I've channeled him well, since a lot of his music taste is basically mine circa 2008/2009.

If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience, and I appreciate any and all interactions left on this post. Happy listening!! <333

[piosplayhouse]

Ayo thank you for your contribution to society and world culture through the SVSSS iceberg, now if you don’t mind can you please explain it? I’ve been in the fandom a while but I swear I’ve never heard of some of these

Sure! Explanations will be sorted under the cut:

SHEN YUAN TIER:

- all items in this tier are either surface level details from the source material or

- daily bingpup is a popular fandom meme (used in the metal gear sense lmfao) started by @ kamkamquats on Twitter that's pretty self explanatory: kam draws and posts a bingpup picture every day! The archive is available here.

I probably should have made this point just bingpup, as I believe his origins precede kam's art, but she certainly boosted his popularity significantly, and now her art and bingpup are canonized with the publishing of the 4th volume English translation of the novel, so I thought it was a fun point!

LUO BINGHE TIER:

- Feynite's au collection: an extremely popular collection of alternate universe fics written by legendary Scum Villain fic author Feynite.

- Scum Villain is a tragedy: an interpretation of the books that poses that from every other perspective besides Shen Yuan's, Scum Villain is an incredibly depressing tragedy.

- Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert: "Don't asky why Luo Binghe wasn't the embodiment of [Airplane's] ideal man; Luo Binghe's use had primarily been to fulfill his desire to be a badass and get revenge, as well as his desire for wanton [this section has been censored]" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 163).

- Shen Yuan died on his birthday: Shen Yuan's death date is never given in the original novels, but in the first scene of the donghua when he dies while at his computer, you can catch a glimpse at the date reading September 21st (both his birthday and the day svsss was published!)

- Shen Qingqiu's canon fursona: binghe compares sqq to a crane multiple times in the story but is depicted as a cat in fandom much more frequently, leading people to joke about how the fandom disregards his "canon" fursona in the same way bingpup is much more prevalent than sheep binghe.

- Shen Qingqiu can knit: there's official crossover Christmas merchandise that shows all of the mxtx couples participating in different holiday activities: wangxian are decorating a tree, hualian are baking cookies, and shen qingqiu is knitting a scarf for luo binghe.

- Luo Binghe's birthday: Luo Binghe is actually the only main mxtx character that doesn't have a canon birthday. He's noted in the books as being born on "the coldest days of the year", but it's debatable whether this is late December or early January, and there's no specific date from this that we can confirm is his birthday.

- sv manhua's indefinite hiatus: much to the excitement of starved fans, a Scum Villain manhua began publishing in 2019. It ran for a grand total of 3 wonderful weeks before being unceremoniously put on indefinite hiatus because of drama within the fanbase stemming from rumors that the artist/company drawing it actually hated scum villain. It has yet to return.

SHEN JIU TIER:

- Moshang's horrible first time: MXTX stated in a Q&A interview that neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua enjoyed their first time having sex together.

- Shen Qingqiu invented maxi pads: the "scum villain pad commercial" is a commercial from the first season of the donghua depicting an exchange where Ning Yingying is self conscious about going out on her period because her sanitary supplies aren't cute, so Shen Qingqiu magics her up some maxi pads.

- Shen Yuan read mpreg yaoi: "#18 Peerless Cucumber [Expert]: Upthread, keep cool. This forum has a lot of Green JJ sisters 😎" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 145). / "''Great Master' Liu! Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write a green Jinjiang mpreg novel!'" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 295).

- Shen Jiu transmigrated into Shen Yuan: A somewhat popular theory in the fandom that when Shen Jiu died, he transmigrated into modern day Shen Yuan the same way Shen Yuan did to him.

- Cursed monkey island: Cursed monkey island is/was a private discord server made up of very og sv fans that was known for outputting somewhat dark/off-color/weird fics for each other, often with funny porn spoof names and niche concepts. The first fics from there were published in 2018, while the last fic in the collection seems to have been published in 2022, so they might still be active, but I'm not sure.

- Moshang has a 20 year age difference: Shang Qinghua died at at least age 20 (probably older) and since he transmigrated into a baby, he has 20 extra years of consciousness from his first life on the PIDW native characters, who he meets when they're both teenagers in the Airplane extras. Though physically the same age group, he would've been mentally somewhere around 30-40 years old at this point getting bullied by teenagers.

- The microwave: some of the first previews released for the donghua were static turnaround videos of the 3D models set to elevator music -- after these dropped, it was radio silence on the show's status for a long, long time. Fans called these previews "the microwave" because of the static rotation of the models and referred to the time it took for the donghua to come out as "defrosting it in the microwave". There's a fair amount of art/memes from this time period featuring the characters literally inside microwaves, even to the point where people made microwave-themed SV merch. When the donghua finally came out bingqiu were declared "free from the microwave" and a wave of fanart of them destroying microwave prisons emerged.

TIANLANG JUN TIER:

- Wangxian have read resentment of chunshan: in the mdzs audio drama extra episode "Accompanying you to sleep - Lan Wangji", Lan Wangji takes care of a drunk Wei Wuxian by getting him ready for bed. Towards the end of the episode, Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to read him a bedtime story. Lan Wangji says he isn't good at telling stories and Wei Wuxian suggest he reads him The Resentment of Chunshan (bingqiu fanfiction). Unfortunately, Lan Wangji had never heard of it before and thereby could not ASMR it.

- Six Balls x Zhuzhi Lang: a rarepair (also called bamboo balls) written by the lovely Alex here.

- Shen Qingqiu has the protagonist halo: a theory/headcanon suggesting that when Shen Yuan transmigrated, the role of protagonist and subsequent protagonist halo left Luo Binghe and transferred onto him. Often used in angst canon divergences wherein due to the lack of a protagonist halo, Binghe dies from an event he otherwise would have survived because of his story invulnerability.

- Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body: an angst headcanon centering around the idea that Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body rotting in his apartment after he died- very good art made about this here!! (Gore/blood cw)

- Who is zhuzhi lang's dad: we all know zhuzhi-lang's dad was a big snake but what kind of big snake? How big? Why did his mom fuck him? all important questions heavily debated about in this fandom.

MOBEI JUN TIER:

- Every ship is cumplane: we already know Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert, and Mobei-Jun's cold demeanor is somewhat reminiscent of Peerless Cucumber's tsundere wife-isms, making bingqiu and moshang arguable proto-cumplanes. However, we can go further and argue because Airplane created the entire world of PIDW, all of it in a way reflects him and his feelings, therefore meaning that because it loves Shen Qingqiu and Shen Qingqiu loves it back, every possible PIDW asset x sqq is cumplane in its basest form.

- Original donghua designs: the first pv for the donghua actually featured slightly different designs for bingqiu, which were then changed later in production! You can see the original ones here.

- PIDW is real: someone actually posted PIDW on jjwxc so you can get the real Shen Yuan experience.

SHANG QINGHUA TIER:

- Shen Yuan penetrated into the body of the scum villain: there is a listing for the svsss donghua on Amazon prime video (though no episodes are actually available) which features this banger summary:

 An ordinary youth, Shen Yuan, after reading the novel "Arrogant Gods and Demons' Journey", triggers the mysterious system so that he crosses into the book world and penetrates into the body of villain--Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu's disciple, Luo Binghe, is the main character of the novel.

- Airplane's foot fetish:

[trianglesimpfordpines]

I do wonder sometimes, especially after some similar discourse happened around Across the Spider-Verse, if part of why some characters get such a weird reception is because some people cannot suspend their disbelief about the fantastical elements of a fantasy or sci-fi story.

A lot of Ford's trauma is explicitly fantastical in nature. Abusive relationships are real, but Ford was in an abusive relationship with a literal demon and a lot of the abuse involved him being demonically possessed against his will. People go missing or get stranded away from home in real life, but Ford got stranded in another universe.

And the speculative-fiction parts of Ford's backstory can't really be ignored or interpreted as purely a metaphor for some other more mundane trauma; the franchise canon draws specific attention to them at face value. Ford in J3 talks about dealing with aliens and missing breathable air. He got a metal plate surgically installed in his head to keep his abusive ex from literally reading his mind and taking over his body.

Even outside of the context of trauma alone, a lot of Ford's character has to do with the supernatural elements of the show. His literal job before he disappeared was studying the supernatural. His presence in the show before he comes back is conveyed through a journal that's basically a compilation of notes about wacky cryptids and ghosts and monsters and whatnot.

Stan has a lot of trauma as well, but his trauma is almost entirely mundane in nature. Abusive and neglectful parents, bullying in school, poverty and homelessness, having a family member who went missing. Sure, the family member in question went missing in another universe, but from Stan's perspective, the effect would be about the same if Ford had just gone into the woods and never come back or disappeared at sea.

Every awful thing Stan has been through is something a lot of people in real life can not just relate to on an emotional level, but on a literal level. A lot of people have experienced the exact same traumas as Stan. But nobody in real life has experienced the exact same traumas as Ford, because Ford's story relies on the parts of the setting that don't exist in real life. You can't remove all the supernatural stuff from Ford's backstory.

And I wonder if this ties into why some people are so adamant in refusing to accept that Ford even has any real trauma, or that he's been a victim of abuse. Because the kinds of horrible things he's been through simply do not have a real-world equivalent. People don't get possessed by demons or thrown into another dimension in real life. And some people just...don't seem to be capable of accepting that in-universe, in the context of the setting, these things do happen and can be pretty traumatizing for the characters.

Basically what I'm saying is that if you want to be able to understand and meaningfully engage with a story with fantasy and/or sci-fi elements, you need to be able to accept those elements at face value and treat them as real and important parts of the story. Gravity Falls isn't real, it doesn't take place in the real world, and it doesn't adhere to the laws of reality. You need to be able to engage with the characters in the context of the world they were created to exist in.

[collapsedsquid]

On my recent trip to Kyiv, I was informed by Ukrainian government officials that they had information indicating that Prigozhin had accumulated more than $4 billion worth of gold alone from these endeavors. But Putin decided after Wagner’s rebellion that it was time for Prigozhin to give up these mercenary protection rackets—and time for his Russian military intelligence agency, the GRU, and other regime-affiliated private military companies such as Redut, to take them over. More reliable members of the security state would be rewarded while Prigozhin was punished. As the Wall Street Journal reported recently, Putin had personally told the president of Central African Republic that it was time to end his relationship with Prigozhin, and the Russian Ministry of Defense had sent delegations to African strongmen to tell them that from now on they were to deal directly with the Russian government. But Prigozhin apparently refused to take the hint. Instead, in his last days, he was crisscrossing Africa—going from Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Everywhere he went, he insisted—in private meetings and  a video that he later released on his Telegram social media channel—that Wagner would continue to increase its presence and support to these African leaders. To his allied commanders in Sudan, who had brought him gold from Darfur’s Songo mine, the Journal  reported that he said, “I need more gold.” These defiant actions must have infuriated Putin. In the TV broadcast eulogy after Prigozhin’s death, Putin referred to him as a “talented businessman” who had made “serious mistakes in life,” but he also went into a strange and seemingly out-of-place level of detail on Prigozhin’s business dealings in Africa—the only specific reference to the oligarch’s vast business empire—and his engagement “in oil, gas, precious metals, and stones there.” From Putin’s perspective, Prigozhin, rather than taking a chance at clemency and disappearing into oblivion, had the arrogance to continue to oppose Putin’s wishes. There could not and would not be a second forgiveness. Once again, Prigozhin arrogantly miscalculated a business dispute with Putin and other Russian elites, and it led to his demise.

[kingmaxstatic]

In Defense Of Lanolin, A Post About Perspective, Flaws and Development. (Part 2: Lanolin's Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice.)

Read Part 1 Here!

Like I said, the OG post was so long with JUST me bringing up the specific events I had to, eventually, make a part two. In this part I'm gonna be discussing Lanolin as a character! Moreso why she's probably the way she is currently! I'll also be discussing her role as a character.

Posting this here as well! I'm not saying that people disliking lanolin is bad but I do think the hate is over done!

Lanolin was introduced to us in issue 2 (WOW she was early in) She didn't really have much of a role at the time. She was a background for a while before being being re-introduced with a whole new look and personality during the Urban Warfare arc!

However she does go through more than that! In multiple arcs you can see her in the background. Most note worthy being her outfit change becoming more battle ready more time you see in the metal virus arc!

Her sense in style goes from something you'd wear during the summer time for a nice day out to something you'd wear for battle. I think that says a lot about what she went through. She goes from the jittery little thing to someone more strong.

So let's get this out of the way, Lanolin is traumatized by the badnik raids and probably even more so by the Zombot virus (and EVERYTHING ELSE she was caught up in)

"I never wanted to feel so helpless and unprepared again."

I feel a lot of Lanolin's "bossy" and "brashess" comes this. She acts the way she does because she doesn't want herself feel that way ever again. Trauma changes people, speaking from experience.

Whisper is also an example of this being shown in IDW sonic. She seems much bubblier in the past but now she's quiet and reserved because of the death of her team mates. I also want to add something ELSE to this (not to pull these events out again).

"I didn't want ANYONE to feel that way."

cut to me in a therapist chair. I believe a lot of the causes of Lanolin's biggest blunders does come from a place of not wanting anyone to feel helpless in the way SHE did. It's why she goes to protect the "new scared guy" (and manipulator with years of experience). It's why she reacts with such fear when the track breaks. It's all done out of this desire.

It's her moral code.

Also I think whenever she fails this it sends her into a pit of self loathing and I have the panels to prove this check this out. Take a look at this.

THAT right there is Lanolin's guilt. Can we talk about Lanolin's Guilt? PLEASE sonicblr I've been dying to talk about Lanolin's guilt with you ALL DAY okay?/ref

Lanolin openly acknowledging that she's afraid of failing others (in the sense of making people unsafe) in Urban Warfare (I feel at least) is a small but important key to understanding Lanolin's mindset. Lanolin feels GUILT every time she's done something to hurt others. It's why her eyes go so ghost wide when the track breaks.

Because she's put people in danger.

NOW I think Lanolin's biggest flaw is that she's not only blunt but I think she forgets that she can ALSO put people in danger (on accident, of course). When she realizes it I think it mentally comes crashing down for her. Girl DOES NOT handle failure well.

(screenshot added because it's cool, her powers are cool)

Lanolin's role in the comic is pretty clear as day, at least to me. She's the straight man! (Well probably not straight and not a man) Basically a straight man in media is someone who takes things seriously. It's their job to point out the utter bonkers stuff going around them and go "what?????"

Which is one of the first things we see her do in the first scenes she's in! I personally love how much her personality clashes with the others, adds some nice chemistry to the mix!

Characters that are typically characterized as "serious" will ALWAYS clash with the goof balls. It's the charm of the dynamic.

I don't know why people hate her so much, genuinely. She shares a lot of character traits with some fan favorites! I do think there might be a uh... bigger reason as to why people hate her.

"Max. What the hell are you talking about?"

Haha. Well. There's two characters I want to discuss for this that do share traits with her and are fan favorites. Other than characteristics.. there is one key difference I want to discuss between Lanolin and these two characters. And this is the hard part where despite the meme I talk about more difficult subject matter.

"What's the main difference between lanolin and these fan favorites?"

ah! Well uh.

Their Genders.

(and well alliance for Starline shurgs very loudly)

Yeah this is unfortunately discuss fandom sexism. It's not lost on me that people absolutely ADORE Shadow and Starline. Characters that are often ones to resort to whatever tactics they deem necessary to achieve their end goals. These tactics can include violence. Hell we know Starline is down right PETRIFIED of failure (issue 50). Shadow is also known for taking charge on things and boldy assuming stuff (SA2). Hell he even assumes himself to be an android at one point.

These are both characters that share a LOT character wise with Lanolin. I know for a FACT if Shadow was the one who kicked Silver out of team dark he'd still be loved. If Starline was in Lanolin's place you'd have people going "Oh guys hear me out owo,,". You know it's bad when I've seen more genuine hate and vile spread about the traumatized teenager than the grown man who canonically helped caused a zombie outbreak (and so much more!!!). I'm saying this and Starline is my favorite Idw character! Keep that in mind while reading all of this!

People would've adored Lanolin if she was a guy. I'm betting it RIGHT now. She wouldn't be "bitchy" she'd be "determined and strong". She wouldn't of "gotten what she deserved" there would've been posts about how it "wasn't his fault <:[[[[".

Why do I say this? Because I've seen this happen in fandom.

Again

And Again

And AGAIN.

HELL Even to the extent that people have called Mabel Pines, A 12 YEAR OLD. A Manipulator. Princess Bubble gum wasn't being nice to Finn she was "leading him on". Rose Quartz wasn't a morally gray figure she was "a reckless person".

Lanolin isn't "just doing her job and making a mistake" she's "being a bitch and getting what she deserved".

I'm gonna keep it real with you guys, I was considering deleting this last part of the post but I genuinely think it needs to be said, Lanolin's hate feels SO deeply rooted in sexism. Espically with all the talk of her "getting what she deserved". I'm so stuck on that because it feels so... gross. Saying you want her cooked. Saying you want her dead. Feels so gross. She's a teenager, most likely. Even then she openly acknowledges she's inexperienced.

She's learning, let her learn. Like everyone is letting Surge learn.

Am I saying everyone who hates Lanolin is a sexist? No. Am I saying that Lanolin would've been given more slack if she was a man? Abso-fucking-lutely.

WHOA that got super serious real quick haha! Well!!!! That's the post! Sorry guys I tried to keep this one light hearted but I genuinely felt like I had to get that last part off of my chest. I really hope the next "character deep dive" I make is more light hearted. Thank you for reading!