#writing later? probably? yeah

[timeconqueror]

You know when you got nothing going on so you just stay indoors for the whole weekend and you feel ever so slightly disassociative but not in a bad way just in a 'huh. this day is just passing' kind of way?

Yeah

[cfffrk]

[coddda]

Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

[front-facing-pokemon]

[rillils]

🌸 post-catws stucky + lovers’ kiss

one.

The thing about grief is, it has a habit of dropping by every once in a while, unannounced and insisting like a nosy suburban neighbor.

It’s a contrary little creature. Some days it strikes hard, and crushes Steve’s chest with the brutal force of a frothing waterfall. Sometimes, though, it comes in droplets; little pills that get stuck in his throat for a minute, until he can swallow them down.

Steve doesn’t mind those too much: sure, the aftertaste is bitter – but there’s always a spoonful of honey at hand to help wash it down.

two.

There’s a morning ritual Steve is particularly fond of.

When the coffee has been made, and the first sip taken, he nudges their mugs to the side, and crowds Bucky back against the kitchen counter, arms braced on either side of him to box him in. Bucky watches him come with a knowing grin, a gleam in his eyes that says, well, all right, he’ll let Steve believe that he’s leading this little dance here, just this once.

But it’s Bucky who pulls him in the rest of the way; Bucky who sets his hands low around Steve’s waist, and brings their bodies flush together from hip to knee, delight written in the pretty curve of his lips.

“Hey there, sailor,” he teases. His morning voice is a dark, rich thing, rough around the edges but soft at its core, sweet with that old Brooklyn drawl that brings Steve right back home.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he chuckles against Bucky’s smiling lips, their breaths warm between them. “Fancy meetin’ ya here.”

It’s a ritual. Aren’t all kisses a ritual? Well-learned steps and a worshipful heart, the motions so ingrained they come naturally to your limbs.

Their mouths brush together, easy. Unrushed, like time will slow down for them if they’ll just deign to ask.

Bucky’s head tilts just so in Steve’s hands, and the kiss opens up, spilling its molten heat on Steve’s tongue, stroking inside to taste him, easy, easy.

It’s a long-practiced dance. If Bucky pushes, Steve will give; if Steve strays to flutter kisses all over Bucky’s bristly cheek, Bucky will grin and chase after him, and steer Steve back towards his lips.

It’s lazy. Uncomplicated. It’s their first conversation of the day, and Steve can just make out the words in the whisper of Bucky’s hair running through the gaps between his fingers; in the hushed rustle of his own t-shirt, when Bucky’s hand slips under the hem and slides warmly up the dip of Steve’s spine, leaving a trail of pebbled skin in its wake.

You’re here, Bucky’s touch says, awed and reverent.

Always, Steve says back, and kisses that vow to Bucky’s lips for Bucky to find later, when he’ll brush his fingertips against it, and the well-loved flush of his mouth, red and sweetly sore, will remind him of this. Of always.

Parting from him is agony, but breathing is an unfortunate necessity in life – so Steve pulls back, though only just enough to drink Bucky in, his arms wrapped snugly around Bucky’s waist to hold him close.

He’s a sight to behold, all soft and loved up and ruffled from Steve’s own hands, his smile like a ripe fruit framed by the fullness of his beard. His eyes crinkle with it, each little crease a testament to his happiness – and Steve knows he’s gonna have to take his time kissing each and every one of those later, or he’ll simply be driven to madness.

He should get to have a whole lifetime of this, Steve thinks – a lifetime to dedicate just to this little pleasure. Seventy years at least, to make up for the seventy years gone by that could have seen them grow old and gray together, but were stolen from them instead – and then seventy years more, ninety, a hundred, as many as his old withering body will stand and breathe for.

This will be his only job: the worship of Bucky’s laugh lines, of the curling wisps of his bedhead, of his eyelashes fanning darkly against the pad of Steve’s thumb. Cherishing this treasure he holds in his hands – the one he once thought gone forever.

There it is now: a little pill lodged in his throat. The cold hand of grief squeezing around his heart again, just for a moment.

Bucky’s palms cup his cheeks, drawing Steve’s gaze up to meet his.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gentler than before, his thumb stroking soothingly over Steve’s cheekbone. “You’ve got your thinking face on. What’s wrong?”

Steve covers Bucky’s hand with his own, turning his mouth to it to kiss the warm, unyielding metal of Bucky’s palm.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he promises, leaning in to nudge to tip of his nose against Bucky’s, like a puppy. “Just busy coming up with an excuse to kiss you some more.”

Bucky’s breath puffs warmly against his lips. “Yeah? Had any luck yet?”

Steve hums pleasantly, “Mm-mmm”, locking his fingers together just above the small of Bucky’s back, and gently sways the two of them from side to side. Bucky snorts, amused, but he allows it; dropping his hands to rest on Steve’s shoulders as Steve rocks them slowly, left to right, right to left.

“Here’s what I think,” Steve rumbles. “I think I ought to give you one kiss for each day we were apart since 1945.”

Bucky stares back at him, his lips parted slightly in surprise. He takes Steve in, wordlessly, studying him from the arch of his eyebrows, to the half-crooked slope of his nose, to the hopeful smile Steve knows he must be sporting right now. There is much left unsaid, Steve can feel its weight hanging in the air between them, recognizes it by taste and sound.

But Bucky’s gray eyes shimmer, nearly crystal-clear, and they fill with the kind of big, heart-twisting emotion that cannot fit under a single label; one that is equal parts ache and tenderness, and Steve understands – his chest feels too-tight around that same ache, too.

“That’s a lot of kisses,” Bucky rasps softly, and his hand skates up Steve’s shoulder to curl over the nape of his neck, herding him one inch closer into Bucky’s space.

“Yes,” Steve whispers, leaning in the rest of the way to mash their foreheads together. He can feel his own heart beat inside his chest, a quick and steady rhythm, and a rushing sense of victory bubbles straight up to his lips, sweet and light as air. “Exactly.”

Bucky laughs, a little wetly, and laughs ever harder when Steve tries to kiss him and gets all teeth and half a nostril instead – his head thrown back and his whole body shaking joyfully, while Steve ducks in to kiss what bristly portion of Bucky’s neck he can reach.

A treasure, Steve thinks.

A treasure in his hands, and forever to hold on to it.

three.

He sits himself down at the table with a sheet of paper, a pen and a calculator, a bunch of dates marked down and circled over and over in the topmost corner.

Bucky watches him from across the room, amused and – Steve believes – a little bit impressed.

“You’re really gonna do this?”

Steve smiles up at him, throwing in one teasing wiggle of his eyebrows for good measure.

“I’m a man of my word.”

It takes nearly a whole hour of focused scribbling before he looks up again, a wide grin lit up like Christmas on his face and a torn piece of paper held up in triumph. “I have the number.”

25109.

Seventy years’ worth of daily kisses.

It’s quite the commitment. It requires dedication. But good things are always worth putting in the work, Bucky tells him, eyes dancing with laughter; and when he settles in Steve’s lap, heavy and warm in Steve’s arms, and brushes their mouths together to claim the first of what he was promised, Steve can’t help but agree.

four.

25109 kisses Steve owes him, and he initiates quite a few; but mostly, he lets Bucky ask for them, when and where the mood strikes him to do so.

When he’s right on the verge of sleep, his face half-swallowed up by his pillow, and he can’t even peel his eyes open long enough to receive his kiss – he just tips his chin up and waits for Steve to scoot closer and find his mouth, drowsily humming in satisfaction.

When he lets Steve slip into the shower with him, and slides his hands up Steve’s chest, sweet and proprietary, and their breaths mingle with the hot steam.

When he’s got his head in Steve’s lap while Steve reads, and Steve’s fingers carding through his hair at leisure; and Steve catches Bucky watching him from under his eyelashes, and trying to hide that private little grin of his, because apparently Steve was silently mouthing the words again without realizing it.

“Kiss me special, Stevie,” he’ll croon, and Steve will know.

And he’ll be all too happy to comply.

five.

Steve is supposed to keep score. He does, too. For the most part.

Once every couple of weeks or so, though, he’ll just so happen to conveniently lose count.

He’ll roll out of bed with singular purpose, and break the tragic news to Bucky over their morning coffee, barefoot and forlorn. Bucky never buys his little sob story, but that never stops Steve from batting his eyelashes at him all prettily, either.

He’ll guide Bucky’s arms to loop around his neck, luring him in, soft and stealthy like a thief, and he’ll mumble real close to Bucky’s lips, “Let’s start over again.”

And Bucky, sweet, merciful, long-suffering Bucky, will accept his fate and be kissed breathless once more, right in front of their placidly steaming mugs.

“There,” Steve will murmur, again, and again, and again. “One down, 25108 to go.”

Oh, one life won’t be enough to see the end of this, no.

And that’s exactly Steve’s plan.

***

little sidenote nobody asked for lol: obviously the number of days/kisses varies depending on when you think the boys were reunited; my wishful thinking headcanon for this specific fic is: post-helicarrier, they find each other again sometime in the fall, 2014. the ficlet is set sometime in late spring 2016, and ignores everything that comes after catws.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 15

PREVIOUS

The thing is… FF is aware that he should probably be medicated. You might be saying well isn’t he taking his ulcer medication? The answer is yes he is and when he is getting close to missing a dose Nicky’s usually the one that texts him with six frowny face emojis asking if he took his meds (they have a system, he takes his meds and then he texts Nicky)

No, he knows that he should probably get on something for his anxiety. Betsy has offered to get started on getting him on the right cocktail, his grandma thinks it’s a good idea, and Nicky has offered to get him as much weed as he needs to chill out, he knows a guy. Andrew is probably only going to stab him and threaten him not actually hunt him for sport, in his moments of clarity he can accept and understand that.

But there is nothing in this world that he wants less than to get back on anxiety medication. The world had been grey, it muted everything in the world for him, he faded completely into the background of his own life, and he couldn’t even grieve-

He was almost thankful for his step-dad’s sudden arrival in his life and how quickly his mom forgot about him to spend every waking moment she could on him and his children and then their children. It was two years of nothing and then his mom stopped picking up and refilling his prescription because it was too much of a hassle to keep picking up every month.

“He’s not anxious, see he’s fine. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

The withdrawal and the emotions that came afterwards had been hellish. He’d collapsed into his Grandma’s arms and begged her not to call his mom. He spent an entire month of summer vacation feeling like he was going to die and when he got back he found that no one had even missed him.

He swallowed the hurt, all of his emotions felt so much stronger now that he’d lost them for two years. If he has reactions like he’d had before he knows his mom will put him back on the medication.

The town is small and everyone talks. He knows about the dog walker’s poop flinging scandal, he knows about how the butcher’s left pinky got put back on wrong when he’d cut it off, he knows that the kid down the street paid $40 for a bag of oregano that he thought was weed, he knows that lil susie is in counseling because a girl should probably not be establishing cult rituals around her barbies.

He can’t react, can’t let people know he’s dying from anxiety because his math teacher sighs when he hands over his test. Can’t let anyone know that he has to put his head between his legs and take deep breaths before he can go into the cafeteria. His only solace is that all of the foreign language teachers love him, it’s easier to accept a compliment or comment in a language his family doesn’t use.

His step family treat him like the guards outside of Buckingham. Anything for a reaction y’know? He tells himself he does not care and for the most part he doesn’t.

He signs up for Exy in middle school because he just wanted something to do and it was the sport that had the same meeting days as his grandma’s bowling league. She picks him up from practice and they get ice cream together afterwards, she’s the only thing he has since Great Gran passed not too long after he got free of the medication.

He still feels her fingers checking behind his ears on occasion, a joke now that he’s off his meds referencing when he was too zoned out to care about hygiene. He still remembers her looking at him and feeling like she was seeing more than just him, “You’re a Smith. The last one when me and my daughter go. We’ll all be with you whenever you need us.” She promises.

He thinks it’s just respectful to get her favorite scent when he needs her help. He was raised to be respectful.  Lavender still makes him think of her and he hopes his grandma left some on her grave recently.

He knew he’d have to wait to go to college. His mom is putting on the pressure now that he’s 18 saying he will have to pay rent even though Greg is older and definitely isn’t. He plays Exy and thinks about how he’ll handle his life between 18 and 25, he puts all his anxiety into the game and maybe the coach notices something.

He must have noticed something.

The Foxes don’t offer positions to kids who don’t have something going wrong for them.

Coach Wymack and Dan Wilds wouldn’t be there in his little bum fuck nowhere town in Washington if his coach hadn’t sent a tape and an explanation.

He could admit that he knew about the Foxes. He looked up to the vice captain a fair bit not just for his game but also…well the Butcher was national news. Vice Captain Neil’s story was all over the news and maybe he was just a little bit in awe of someone who could stand his ground after all of that. Watching Vice Captain Neil Josten give shit to every last reporter who gave him any shit? Inspiring.

He just didn’t think it’d be a good fit for him.

He’s not like the rest of the Foxes. Dan talks about them all in broad terms, how they’re all fighting to become something and grow beyond the unfairness that was out of their control. FF is tough to convince but he’s a pretty good defensive dealer, Dan and Coach Wymack both want him.

Dan eventually has to go because she has an interview for a coaching position out this way but Coach Wymack just hands over the rental car keys and Coach Wymack stays.

Coach Wymack stays and they keep talking. FF talks about everything and Wymack eventually just says “Well, you’re still here despite all of that aren’t you? Sounds like a fighter to me. I think you’ve got what it takes to carry that weight with some help and I can promise that you won’t have to deal with those jerks past your high school graduation. You’re not going to be the first Fox who I help out from under some asshole parents and you won’t be the last.”

So he signs a contract, he’s 18 he can do that AND buy cigarettes now (he won’t. That’s how Gran lost gramps when dad was still young but he COULD. Much like he COULD go into the town’s only sex toy shop but that would be back to his grandma faster than the cigarette purchase to be honest and he isn’t THAT interested in what’s in there.)

He finishes up school but the assistant coach is a friend of his step dad and mentions that he’s signed to the Foxes. It’s just one week between his graduation and when Coach Wymack is coming to grab him

Suddenly he exists in his house for the first time since they all moved into it after the wedding and it’s the WORST. The want things, they want promises, they want assurances, they want to pretend and act like he’s always been there.

He flees to his Grandma’s house and texts Coach Wymack asking if there’s ANY chance he can get picked up early because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk if he calls the man.

Coach Wymack comes for him and shoulders him past his ‘family’ to the rental car but the panic attack he sees in the car ride to the airport when his family’s car follows them all the way to the rental drop off means that he HAS to see Betsy.

Betsy is nice. Betsy teaches him how to breathe through stuff. Betsy teaches him how to ground himself in reality. Betsy tells him that the Starbucks girl probably doesn’t hate him. Betsy suggests he get on some medication.

He said No.

He’s scared out of his MIND in Palmetto but it’s better than-

He prefers to feel things.

Betsy tells him that it shouldn’t have been like that. His mother should have taken him back and gotten his prescription adjusted until it wasn’t like that.

He still declines.

Andrew gets suspicious about him knowing Russian after that game of Never Have I Ever and Nicky keeps almost letting it spill right by him. His stomach hurts the CVS girl keeps pepto for him behind the counter.

He still declines.

He prefers to feel things.

You can’t enjoy the thrill of a 100% on a Kanji Basics midterms without the anxiety of the Oral presentation. You can’t feel the true satisfaction of getting a blender for 25% off + 50 dollars of in-store credit without the flop-sweat of the searching eyes of a woman wearing PINK branded lounge wear. You can’t keep friends if you have no ability to empathize with them even if you’re worried you’re annoying them or ‘humble bragging’.

Fear is better.

Betsy tells him if he’s ever ready then she will help him. His Gran tells him she loves him. Nicky says “Look there’s a strain called White Russian. That’d be funny right?!”and FF agrees but declines to sample it.

Right now, as Nicky smudges eyeliner under his eyes and tugs at his shirt for the 80th time, he thinks it might actually be better to feel nothing.

He’d woken up from his…nap? He might have fainted actually? But he did it on a bed and it lasted for like 4 hours? So does that count as a nap? He wants to ask but also doesn’t want to worry anyone, maybe he could ask Aaron that if a Friend faints and doesn’t wake up for four hours is that a nap or a medical emergency? Just curious.

When he had emerged from Nicky’s room Captain Neil and Andrew had herded them all into the Maserati and they’d gone out and gotten McDonald’s for a late lunch. The only comment he had gotten when he’d asked for a happy meal (his stomach could not handle anything more) was whether or not he wanted the toy.

“Yes.” He answered panicked at the sudden question.

He got his Megamind toy, accidentally shone it into Aaron’s eyes when he pushed a button. “Shit that’s bright” before he apologized and shoved it in his jacket pocket.

They hung out at the house for the rest of the day.

They watched movies, played Mario Kart (how is Captain Neil this bad when his reflexes on the court are so good?) and did some homework. Andrew seemed to actually like the brownies which is why FF probably woke up from his... still haven’t asked Aaron if it’s a nap or a medical emergency.

He has a square and even at room temperature they taste great.

When it started to get dark they all went to go get ready. FF had gone to get whatever clothes Nicky had prepared on but had found himself sat on the man’s bed (so much glitter, seriously how can one bed have so much of it?) and Nicky holding a pencil to his eye and telling HIM not to flinch.

“Gonna have all the….” Nicky pauses and adopts a look on his face that means that he’s thinking incredibly hard about something. “Wait how have we been friends for MONTHS and I have no idea how you swing?” FF is caught off guard for a few moments because it’s the first time that Nicky has verbally confirmed that they are, in fact, friends and…

Wow.

That’s so nice.

He thought it was just Nicky’s innate inability to leave something to suffer needlessly that had the upperclassmen helping him. (FF has watched Nicky go out of his way to give cats food, turn turtles back onto their stomachs, and walk into traffic to stop cars so that a duck family could make it to a pond. He just sort of figured he was the same level of pathetic)

Wait.

What.

“Wait, what?”

“How do you swing?” Nicky repeats.

FF knows what he means but doesn’t want to. “With my left hand.” He responds and hopes Nicky drops it because the long and short answer is: he doesn’t know. He has no idea.

“Ohh dirty!” Nicky makes a jacking off motion with his left hand and FF feels embarrassed sweat cover his body, “NO! Don’t ruin my work!” Nicky yells fanning him with his hands so the eyeliner doesn’t run. “You know what I mean Smithy. Swing for girls, boys, both, neither? What am I working with here?” He asks wiping at FF’s cheek.

“I don’t…know.” He admits because deflecting is OBVIOUSLY not his strong suit. Twice in a row it’s brought up weird sex stuff.

“C’mon don’t be embarrassed. Even if you’re straight you’re obviously an Ally.” Nicky smiles.

“No it’s not…” he flushes okay he is embarrassed but that’s because he REALLY doesn’t know. Like how the hell did he get to college and have ZERO idea about what he’s attracted to or if he’s just not attracted to anyone? He’d been focused on not screaming for the last decade and that hadn’t really left a lot of room to consider how anyone looked. He’s getting used to having friends and three whole group chats (he’s bad at responding to them, overwhelmed by the idea that whatever he says can be revisited and picked apart forever but still, THREE!)

“I really have no idea.” He repeats.

Nicky blinks at him. “Okay well, college can be all about figuring that out then! No worries my sweet boy, we will figure this out.” Nicky pats his cheek.

He feels a little better.

“Alright, let’s go to Eden’s!”

Oh fuck that’s right.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per your requests:

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The requests to be added to the tag list got spread out across a few different mediums on this one so if I missed you then just ask in the replies!

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you  didn’t  get a notification there might be something switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[becauseplot]

Hi hello yes more thoughts about this hgduo pre-canon, hunger games/wars au(??) because my brain is rotating them at incredible speeds. (Obligatory cannibalism tw because yeah the lore do be like that.)

Bad originally finds Cellbit while the kid is trying to use a dagger to carve up a body to eat---key word trying. Bad stands back and watches him struggle for about thirty seconds before speaking up: "You're holding that wrong." (The kid jumps about two feet in the air. "WhhUH---") "Also you're not supposed to carve with a dagger, silly. You should really be using a knife. Here." And Bad passes him one of his hunting knives.

Bad mentally dubs Cellbit "Dagger-Kid" because he doesn't know Cellbit's name. When Cellbit later admits he doesn't know his name either, Bad officially dubs him "Dagger-Kid" or "Dagger" for short. ((For the rest of this I'll be calling Cellbit "Dagger")) ((Also I'm not 100% on this name yet but we'll see.))

I should note that I also think it would be funny that every time Dagger does something notable or reveals a new quality about himself, Bad tries to give him a new name. Like, they scavenge a piece of chocolate off one of their victims and Dagger loves it, so Bad tries to suggest, "Oh oh! What if we called you 'Sweets'! Or 'Chocolate'? 'Coco,' maybe?" all of which Dagger (playfully) rolls his eyes at. Bad rotates through nicknames regularly, but Dagger personally sticks with the first name Bad gave him.

Dagger was on his own for two months before he met Bad. He is injured and half-starved and utterly exhausted. The first time they make camp together, Dagger promises he'll take the first watch, but he nods off before even Bad can fall asleep. It's the first time Dagger has felt safe enough to truly relax, so his body just crashes. He sleeps for twelve hours.

This one's honestly more of a general qsmp headcanon I have but it goes here too: Bad teaches Dagger how to throw knives (for combat) and how to do knife tricks (for fun). Current-day Cellbit still remembers how to do the tricks, and he'll often use them as a way of fidgeting when he's thinking---with a pen or pencil instead, though.

One of Dagger's natural talents is stealth. He's not as quiet as Bad, but he's definitely good at it; his cat-hybrid traits definitely lend him a hand here, too. It's the main way Dagger survived before meeting Bad, stealing supplies out of camps while people were sleeping.

Bad, being a demon, doesn't need to eat, drink, or sleep as much as mortals do, and certainly not as much as a teenage boy. To him, it only seems practical that he gives himself smaller portions of their rations, or takes longer nightwatch shifts. But Dagger (who can scarcely imagine ever being not hungry or not tired, much less at the same time) is still grateful and feels somewhat indebted to Bad, even after Bad explains.

Dagger (a cat hybrid and a little more than a bit messed up) bites to show affection. Usually Bad's arm. Any normal guy would be injured by the force of Dagger's bite---Dagger doesn't really seem to understand that not-biting-hard is an option---but Bad doesn't really mind it.

(The truth is that deep down Dagger really wants to hug Bad, but he knows Bad isn't a very cuddly person, and yeah Bad might give him a hug if he asked but he's too afraid to ask so all that affection stays bottled up until it rises rises rises and he just doesn't know what to do with it anymore and it needs OUT---)

Bad thwacks Dagger upside the head with his tail whenever Dagger is being a "little rapscallion" and eventually Dagger starts retaliating. His tail isn't as long or flexible as Bad's but he definitely does try.

Bad has a lot of stories to tell. Some true, some made up on the fly. He's always liked telling stories, and Dagger is a captive audience. He learns Dagger loves mysteries, and suddenly, all of his campfire stories are about spies, and detectives, and red-string cork boards and espionage.

The thing Dagger fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and Bad won't be there because Bad decided Dagger slowed him down and thus abandoned him. He thinks about this near-constantly. (The thing Bad fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and look at Dagger and start caring like he used to a long, long time ago. He does not think about this at all.)

[caycanteven]

Some concept art of Mafia!Lex

[obey-me-headquarters]

So, I haven't gotten too far into Nightbringer to write any specific smut for it. (Literally only just started lesson 6). But I do have some ideas!!

A lot of my ideas revolve around being the demon's "first" in something. Like, you know your demons inside and out at this point. You know all their kinks, fantasies, and where to touch them to make them squirm. So you can introduce them to all sorts of things that make them scream in the future but they have no experience with now.

For example, showing Lucifer how much of a masochist he is. I don't think Lucifer is a complete virgin in Nightbringer as I think he fooled around as an angel at least a few times. I mean, he's still a few thousand years old, he was bound to get curious and try getting frisky with a few angels. But him trying out BDSM? I seriously doubt it.

So once you and him finally fall into bed together, you show him all the ways he didn't know he loved to be touched. Having such an inexperienced Lucifer is a bit of a novelty and a bit of an annoyance. Present day Lucifer knew what he wanted and he wasn't ashamed of asking for it. The Lucifer you're currently bedding? Doesn't know what he wants.

It's actually really cute how shy Lucifer is. How he tries so hard to stifle his moans when you heard much louder, much needier ones from your present Lucifer.

And you don't want to push him. It's entirely possible that past Lucifer has no interest in BDSM. That his particular taste for masochism and being owned evolved after many centuries.

But you still want to try, to possibly open his eyes to a new world of domination and submission.

So one evening, one careful evening you've been planning for. One evening in which you make sure that his brothers haven't wreaked havoc, one evening where Diavolo doesn't up to distract Lucifer cause him stress. One perfect, relaxing evening, you spring the question onto him.

"Lucifer, have you heard about BDSM?" You ask in your most light, most casual tone to not raise any alarm bells and spook the demon.

Lucifer pauses his undressing, his hands suspended in the air as his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He turns to you in slow motion, looking so bewildered and confused that it makes you want to laugh. Surely your demon couldn't be that pure right? You know he's only been a demon for a little more than a year now, but, come on.

"I'm sorry, have I heard about what?"

"BDSM! Like, Bondage, Domination, Submissive, Masochism. Have you heard of people doing that sort of thing in bed?"

Lucifer's face turns a bright scarlet and he turns away from you. Like, actually physically turning his full back to you, turning away from you. You can see his ears still burning though, and elect not to tease him about it in worry that if you do, Lucifer might become so embarrassed he'll stop being the Avatar of Pride.

"It's fine if you haven't. If you would rather I never bring it up again say the word and I wouldn't." You tell him, concern starting to creep in.

"No. No, it's fine. I just. Why did you choose to bring that topic up?" He asks stiffly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. A classical Lucifer "I'm nervous about this topic because it inflicts Feelings in me" move.

"I was just wondering. I have been in dom/sub relationships in the, um, past, and was wondering if that was something you'll be into," you say gently, so extremely gently. "It's fine if that's not something you're into." You add.

"You have?" He asks in surprise, and because you know him so well, with a hint of excitement. "What... what role did you fall into?"

Relief crashes into you like a tidal wave. He's into it. He's really into it from what you can tell. He hasn't had any experience with subbing, you know because your Lucifer didn't when you meet him, but he was so desperate to finally try he practically threw himself at your feet.

Not this Lucifer though. This Lucifer most likely knows of the idea, maybe he picked up some porn featuring a dom/sub relationship and knows on some level that he's interested in subbing, but hasn't had the time to stew in that knowledge like your Lucifer did.

"Dominate." You say with confidence, a grin painting your face. "I like control in the bedroom."

And judging by the shiver that shoots up Lucifer's spine at your words, so does he.

Grinning, you stand and begin stalking towards your prey.

"I like taking control of my partner. Make them beg for relief. And if they misbehave, I like to punish them."

"Do. Do you?" Lucifer asks breathlessly.

You're standing behind him and you know he knows you're there. His demon sense picking up on it, and by the way he almost leans backward as if to meet your touch, you know he wants you.

"I do." You state confidently, mere inches away from Lucifer.

"But," your hand grasps Lucifer's shoulder and he flinches. "If my partner didn't want that...." You give him a light pull and he complies, turning to face you.

And oh, what a sight that is.

You missed your subby little Luci. You missed his cute moans, his tears as you edged him, and his screams when you overstimulated him. And you missed his flushed face when you lowered him into subspace.

And this? This perfectly mimics that face.

"Oh, baby." You breathe out, fighting the urge to pepper his face in kisses and pull him into your chest.

"And what if I do? Would you do those things to me?" Lucifer asks, and you're so, so proud of him for asking.

"Darling, I would do all that and more." You say as you kiss him.

Like your Lucifer did in the past, like he will do in the future, he lets you take control.

[thetopichot]

•° The Middle Ground °•

☆ Chapter IV ☆

I did say I would make it quicker & longer.

Word Count: 2.8k

"So, you're finally selling your cakes now?" Finn nodded as the car lights set off, letting them know it was open. You both hopped in Finn's car, & he began to start driving to their destination. "See, I told you it was about time you sell your cakes! They're literally so goddamn good. Maybe you can gimmie some of your cake-"

"DARLING." He raised his voice. Finn's face was so red that he needed to focus on driving.

"Okay! Okayyy. " You raised your hands in defense. "I'm just playing with you." Finn sighed as he refocused on driving. "Either way, I'm happy for you. I'm glad you got a nice gig selling something that you're really talented at." You turned around to look in the back seat, seeing practically a whole kitchen in the back. A tea pot, containers filled with different spices alongside tea leaves, a lot of baked goodies, & sweetness galore. You turned back around & properly sat in your seat, & then you caught a glimpse of the outside.

It was gorgeous. With the falling white snowflakes hitting the ground, they quickly covered the ground. The forecast said it wasn't going to be too harsh, but enough snow to hear the sound of snow crinkling beneath your boots. You absolutely missed this feeling of the cold yet cozy vibes. Especially when your boyfriend is here with you to feel that same moment with you. "So, Finn, where are we heading to sell these? I thought you said you were having trouble finding where to sell them? "

You questioned him. "Oh, to an office party, actually," he quickly answered.

"An office party? " You turned yourself away from the window & raised a brow towards Finn. "How did you get invited to sell things at an office?"

"Well, technically speaking, it's a talent agency. Second, a good friend of mine actually offered it to me! " Finn explained.

"When?" Finn paused as he thought about how to answer that question. He didn't really want to lie to your face, but he didn't really want to start another confrontation during a time that should be joyful & peaceful for everyone. Ehhh. . It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth. Just. . a little bit.

"Yes. . . terdaay??"

"Finn. I know you're lying. "

"I know. " He sounded so defeated. "It was during the outing with Auron of last month. " You were about to interrupt with a protest until Finn cut you off. "But! Auron wasn't the one who offered me it. It was one of his employees who asked because he was looking for some baked goods for the party. " Finn sneaked in an even smaller lie to see if you were able to catch on.

"Huh, well, alright. " You both relaxed; however, you weren't too pleased to meet with Auron again. You hoped the argument between you & him was the first and last.

Unfortunately for you, you weren't too blessed since Finn & Auron do have some form of friendship. But as much as you dislike Auron, you still sucked it up. If Finn sees something good in him, that's fine with you, & either way, you barely know Auron besides that one interaction. However, that doesn't mean you're not allowed to have a bad feeling about him. Maybe once you get there, you can possibly confirm that feeling. "So where exactly is this 'talent agency'?"

"Within the center of the city. Since we live on the outskirts of it, it may take a little while. "

"& by a little while you mean. . ? "

"I've been driving for what I think.. 10 minutes? To get there takes about 30 minutes in total, if you include the traffic of course. " You huffed as you began looking out the window again like a kid watching a raindrop race, then Finn rubbed your back in reassurance, "We'll be there as soon as possible, love. Then we can just enjoy the party." You smile at Finn's softness for you.

There wasn't really much you could do besides close your eyes & fall asleep in the car to the sound of the silent snowflakes. The warm air conditioner fills the car, which makes you feel even more cozy. To finalize your sleep, the car stops at the stop light, & Finn quickly puts his coat on you as a blanket. In the final moments of your being awake, you could hear a faint and meaningful sentence.

"I love you, my darling. "

Sooner than you realize, you hear the sound of knocking at the car window door. You mumbled & grumbled as you shuffled to the other side. You gained peace for at least 3 seconds until the knocking got louder. You grumbled even more until the loud knocking got to your nerves, and you quickly got up with a harsh.

"WHAT?!"

You heard faint laughter from someone outside the car window door. It wasn't your boyfriend or the damn redhead, but a completely new person. From what you can tell by your sleepy eyes, he was a man. A little slim, with creamy bronze skin & slight hints of vitiligo, pink feather bangs with some dark red in the back, a pink tie, & a heart lanyard.

To top off his appearance, he had a grin and relaxed brown eyes. The only thing you can think about this man is: Why does he look dressed up for Valentine's Day? You pushed the button for the window to pull down, and your face became scrunched up as soon as it was hit by the coldness of the outside.

The man put his face closer to the car. "About time you woke up. The boss ain't paying you to be sleeping on the job," he joked.

"Who are you? " Your face furrowed.

"Ah, yeah, my bad. My name is Valentino, the law firm's new hire. " He reaches his hand out for you to shake it. "But call me, Val." You looked at his hand & then shook it. "Now, let's get you out of that car. Your boyfriend & boss are waiting for you."

Valentino opened the car door & helped you out of the car. He readjusted your coat & led you to the entrance of the talent agency. It was a tall building, sleek to the touch. As you continued to look up, it felt almost endless. Damn, Auron works in a goddamn tower. Valentino goes up to the door & grabs his lanyard with his card ID on it.

He puts it up against the card scan, & the door beeps to let him know that it was opened. "After you! " Valentino held the door as he bowed. You walked into the building to see that everything looked pretty dark, but the lights from outside shone on the dark room to make it more visible. The only thing within the building that was illuminating was the elevator across the room. It felt almost ominous from how quiet the room was that you began to shiver.

Valentino stood right next to you. "Jesus, I forget how scary it can be in here when everyone is partying upstairs. "

"Wait, where's Finn? " Valentino looked at you.

"Ah, your boytoy? He's giving out the goods at the party upstairs. He's been waiting for you for, like, an hour? " He led you to the elevator & pressed to call it down. "He told me he didn't want to bother you since you were knocked out cold. The boss told me to come n' get you since Finn was busy baking the goods fresh n' selling them like hotcakes. " The elevator opened, and you both walked inside. Huh.

You were kind of surprised by that. You would've expected Auron to just leave you alone in the car & carry on from there. Although he did send someone down to get you, I guess he has some courtesy. 'Ding!' You heard the elevator stop. 'Level 5', you heard the elevator say as it opened.

You both stepped out, & it shut behind you. You could hear faint disco music all the way down the hall & could faintly see a small, bright, colorful light that lit up the door. It almost looked like a portal to another world, but in this case, it somewhat did. I don't think you've ever been to a place like this. Sure, you've been to some fancy places, but this was more futuristic. Has Finn ever been to places like this?

It would make sense if he did, considering he knows Auron. This was all just. . . new to you. "So, uh, new to the city?" Valentino interrupted the silence as you both walked to what felt like an endless hallway. You held onto your coat.

"Uh, yeah," you said awkwardly & ignored contact with Valentino. Valentino sensed the tension in you & softened it a bit.

"Well, you know what? That's alright, because I am too," he confessed. You looked at him. "In fact, I never really liked the city. Too much bustling n' hustling, ya know? But I only got a bachelor's degree in law, not any other bullshit. So I kind of acted like you. I never like being far away from home. From my little sister, especially, even though she can be a handful. However, I knew it was just for the best; she's not a little kid anymore. " You finally softened.

The city, from what you heard from Finn, isn't easy. It's crime-ridden, greed-drivin', & just filled with mucks running about. However, there's always a reason why people like it so much.

It's never about money, fame, or the entertainment made by companies like this. It was about just leaving. Getting away to fulfill a better life for yourself. Obviously, you're not some hillbilly living in a barn, & you're not dumb. However, you could absolutely feel where Valentino was coming from when you first moved to the downtown area.

Although you first met Finn, the statement you've created inside your mind has changed. He felt like home—a warm, safe home that you can always come back to after being gone. You wish you could do the same with your folks, but. . . it's complicated.

"So what made you stay? " You were very curious about his answer.

"Trish! Oh, & the boss, too! " You were a bit dumbfounded by Auron being the reason. Trish?You barely know her, but Auron?

"Wait, Auron made you stay? "

"Oh, you've met the boss? I thought you were new to the city? " Valentino squinted at you.

"No, I'm new to the city."

"But, how do you know the boss? He almost never leaves the area. " Valentino was skeptical of you, but you did have an answer, & you hope it was believable enough.

"He came to our shop for flowers? He asked for roses?" Despite your honest answer, you sounded like you were doubting yourself. You didn't know about him not leaving the city often, & with the fact that Valentino knows more than you do, you could only pray that it's believable.

"Roses? He went to Finn's shop for roses. You know you're not good at lying. " But you weren't.

"But I am telling the truth."

"So you're telling me that boss would haul his ass & drive 30 minutes to downtown for some damn roses? He would order it himself if he wanted to. " Valentino looked so upset for some reason over Auron going all the way to the shop for some roses. You could only imagine how upset he would be if he figured out that you almost kicked his ass. But whatever it was, the same vibe was given back to Valentino. Tense & upset.

"Listen, I don't care if you believe me or not, but I am telling the truth. I'm sorry if I pissed you off, but never in my life will I be called a liar. " Then the silence resumes. You both finally reach the door, & despite Valentino being upset at you for some unknown reason, he still remained polite.

"After you."

You walked into the room, & it was quite the party. You didn't really expect an office like this to be so vibrant. You could finally hear the loud music's lyrics. It was about a Russian who was a friend of the imperial family of Russia. You learned about this when you were in high school, so you don't remember much, but you do remember the song that they played at homecoming.

'There lived a certain man in Russia long ago. ' Valentino left to join the rest of his co-workers while you looked around the room to your boyfriend, Finn.

'He was big and strong, with in his eyes a flaming glow. ' As you were looking around the party, you saw a crowd surrounding something. The sound of their chatter wasn't able to overpower the sound of the loud music, but you were, however, able to hear what they were conversing about.

"Hey, can I get two cakes, please? "

"One hot chocolate to go! "

Thank god, you were able to find the table that he was selling at.

You politely pushed aside the crowd of people while you were shouting his name. "Finn! Finn! " Finn was too focused on making drinks & enjoying the music. You didn't want to be rude, but you were supposed to help him earlier, so you tried your best to be polite & not start something that people wouldn't finish or get you & Finn kicked out for being a disturbance. So maybe you could catch his attention by ordering something.

"Can I get two hot chocolates to go, please! "

you shouted. Finn turned around to see who else needed his assistance, then paused as he saw you. "Dearest, there you are! I was worried about you. " Finn gestured for you to join him on the other side of the table. "Quickly! Join me on the other side of the table! " You did what you were asked of Finn. "Now, can you help me serve this food out? I'm happy that everyone loves them, but I'm kind of struggling with sending them out. "

"Yep, no problem!"

So you both spent awhile sending out the baked goods & drinks until the crowds became less. When the crowd of people finally relaxed & a group of people became a group of one, you both sighed in relief, & you finally got to watch the party go on in peace. Finn started up the small portable stove to warm up some milk & added some cocoa powder to it. He stirred it & put some jumbo-sized marshmallows in it to add that sugary sweetness. He handed the cup to you. He knew exactly how you liked them, and it made you smile.

It was kind of a rough night for you. You didn't want to be here, but Finn made it all worth it since his happiness was enough for you to stay. Speaking of staying, there was another reason why you were here. Auron. He's been talked about all night. From the mouth of Valentino to Finn himself.

You wanted to confirm your beliefs about him and what Finn sees in him. From what you can tell from Valentino, he was pissed thinking about you allegedly lying about him even though you weren't. I guess Auron means a lot to him, but it's not about Valentino. You have to find him before the party ends. "Hey, Finn? " You looked at Finn, who was sipping some tea.

He quickly stops to answer you. "Yes, dear? "

"Do you know where Auron is? "

"Not necessarily, but I know he's here! In fact, we were actually talking not that long ago. " You sighed in annoyance. "I can tell you this though! I did see him slipping by the crowd & then outside of the party. Maybe you could check there? " you noted.

"Thanks, babe! " You got up from drinking your hot chocolate & then finally began your search for Auron.

"Oh, darling! " You turned around to look at Finn. "Please, don't try to fight him. Again. " You nodded, & Finn waved goodbye to you. You hurried to the door once you came, & then left to find Auron.

You've spent a bit now searching for Auron. There were card scans everywhere, so you couldn't check much. What made it even harder for you was that the elevator was also locked, so you couldn't quickly check the floors. As you were checking around, you bumped into someone. "Ah, shit! Sorry!"

You apologized. Hopefully, you didn't bump into anyone you weren't supposed to. You didn't want to get into trouble for what was sneaking into other people's businesses. You weren't after anything in the building, but you were looking for someone. "It was about time you said that. " You knew that snarky tone.

The familiar figure turned around, & it was once again that damn redhead. "You were looking for me? " You gave him a familiar stare. A hostile 'I'm going to beat your ass' stare.

"Yes, I was. "

"Hmph. Took you long enough. "

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - This chapter was originally gonna be longer but I was too scared of this chapter being too long. 😭 I'm not really used to writing very long shit but this sure was quite a workout. So consider this as a part 1 & Chapter 5 is gonna part 2. But yeah my brain was absolutely locked in for this chapter, so I hope you lovelies enjoy this. Ya’ll have a good day now.

[roxannepolice]

Yk, hands down my biggest problem interacting with any fandom, but especially DW, is that I literally can't even begin to understand approaching a character independently of the writing. Like, the statement "This is a great character, just poorly written" is straight up an oxymoron to me. I sometimes get the impression there's this weird belief in a platonic ideal-like "true history" version of a character that got denigrated by hostile chroniclers and [insert hegemony-adjacent adjective] Hollywood directors or something. Belief based mainly on the fact the actor did what they do for a living. Which is just. Again, something I can't even begin to process.

[fluffypotatey]

Hcs about shadowpeach reconnecting?

i like to think of it being very slow. to me, shadowpeach is the slowest of all slow burns both when they’re developing a relationship and trying to reconnect.

while i am a sucker for shadowpeach fluff and them being all clingy and cuddley, i still don’t think the two would even get that close for some time (and i mean some time).

lemme see if i can do a little rundown (i fucking lied) of my idea of a shadowpeach reconnection post-s4:

after the scroll and after their battle with the Brotherhood, both are in an agreement of a truce. as in, both acknowledged that neither of them wish to really fight or stay upset with the other because both understand that they never really could

so there’s a truce, a renewed exchange of peaches, that informs the other that while nothing will ever be like before….maybe that’s for the best, maybe they deserve something different and new between them

it doesn’t immediately take away from all their hurt feelings and pettiness. Wukong’s teasing will never hit the same and Macky’s guard is still at full defense

MK will still find them arguing up to the sky about something as trivial as which path leads to which waterfall and “shut up and just follow me, you idiot, this mountain has been my home for over a millennia”

but there are baby steps in the right direction (Pigsy would call it the “babiest of steps” but nobody asked him)

it takes them a year to come to terms that their petty arguing is just petty to be petty (tho they hold out a little longer because neither want to admit that to each other because it could meaning losing the game. what game? neither are exactly sure of what)

but it’s after both take the time to really refrain from that itch to bitch that both actually have a chance to talk with some substance (there may have been an external force that led to this conversation; a curse trapping them in a void space, being separated from the group so it’s just them two, the works)

but then that arguing loses its teeth and resembles something like banter. Wukong and Macky never truly did banter much in the past. not like this. it’s a little freeing. to be able to push and pull against each other without any reserve or need to

and this was their relationship for quite some time after. no physical hugs or touches like Wukong was privy to before or that Macky used to indulge in. you had the occasional glance here and there but not enough for the other to notice (everyone else, of course, noticed)

ironically, it’s Macky who initiates their first hug in ages.

Wukong, over the years, has slowly been building up to it with shoulder bumps, a light punch in the shoulder, and sometimes a bump to the hip.

when asked, Wukong would explain that he’s a physically affectionate guy but knows Mac has his limits and does his best to respect that as much as he can

on his own tho, Wukong personally feels like those touches are the most he will ever be granted to give. that is, until after a fierce battle, skirmish, whatever new daring thing that almost costs the Monkie Kid team, Macky actually pulls Wukong in for a hug

it’s nothing big or grand. well, nothing big for anymore normal since it’s a very short side hug, but it was something big for the both of them.

suffice to say, that was enough permission for Wukong to initiate more physical affection towards Macky

neither of them are really ready to put anything that they’re doing to name. makes it more definite and breakable

hell, they don’t even acknowledge that they’re past the point of tolerable acquaintances until a couple years later

but yeah, a shadowpeach reconnection, in my eyes, will takes years (centuries even) to truly rekindle their relationship. like i said, it’s a slow burn and one both want to tread carefully even if it’s agonizing to watch from the outside (see MK and friends)

[malewife-overlord]

Six Cycles Later -- Part IV Puncture

hi i promised an update soon and here it is. everyone meet the woman the myth the legend the awful bully who will absolutely rip your head off and eat it, Puncture! fun little fact, Puncture was my first TF OC :) anyways, she's here at long last! which is, frankly, awful news for everyone else. this is another "transition" chapter, but dw, we're getting right back into it in the next one >:)

and once again thank you to @callsign-relic for starburst :)

previous chapter can be found here, start can be found here

word count: 4409

chapter below the cut!

triggers for this chapter: robogore. puncture's a bruiser and she doesn't take prisoners, rip.

She needed to get up, but she couldn’t even fragging move. Face down in the filthy water, Helmbreaker fought against her own systems for control, cursing both them and the Seeker who’d done this to her as pain wracked her circuits and wires. Error messages for every system she had stacked upon one another, fighting for the endless dominance of alerting her to just how fragged up she was.

Just one blast from the Seeker had done this. The damn mech had bite, she had to admit. The prior shock in her stasis pod had barely felt like a tickle–at the time, she’d been too enraged to even think about why she’d felt anything, locked within it. Now? She possibly owed the damnable thing a small apology, at least for keeping her from initially frying. 

For 2.3 million years trapped in a half stasis, though, she thought it more than deserved the painful death she’d given it. 

The little Autobot who’d inspired her current predicament was lying on his back in the water nearby, wings and servos twitching. She could see his mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. Just as her voxbox was currently glitching, proudly displaying its panic in the form of a bright red textbox, his was as well –which meant he couldn’t ask for help.

Good. It gave her time to permanently silence him. Given their prior interaction she knew he’d phoned for reinforcements, but as with all SOS calls, said reinforcements likely weren’t arriving for at least fifteen kliks. Which meant she had about five to get up, one to completely snuff his spark out, and nine to figure out whether she was in proper form to slaughter them all. 

Oh, and she needed to do something about the Seeker. That needed addressing, too.

‘Come…on…’ she thought to herself, twitching her claws. They sent ripples through the water as feeling began creeping back in. Her frame felt cold despite the heat around her, like she was being defrosted after an expedition on a dead planet. 

What in the Pit did that Seeker do? She found its ability interesting–something that completely disabled other technological forms, including other Cybertronians. Judging from how it had made her malfunction, it seemed to be rooted in causing glitches; none of the error messages she was observing were critical, notably. It was as if her systems had all been forced to grind to a halt, and the resulting build-up of inputs with nowhere to go was what actually caused her to become stuck.

Very, very interesting. Such an ability would make sense on a ‘con who specialized in weaponry, she’d think, like a tank or perhaps a drone. Why a Seeker? Seekers were by nature weak, lightweight soldiers designed to be flung at the enemy in droves so that the real hitters like herself could come in and clean up. They were expendable. Why put something so devastating on one?

They’re all dead. The words played in her processor again. She’d been in the dark for 2.3 million years about the status of the Autobot/Decepticon conflict, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe those lies. The Autobot lying nearby was proof enough that the conflict still raged. And the Seeker lying nearby, with such a devastating ability…

She wondered if, perhaps, the thing was in some way related to them all being ‘dead’. 

Which was what she would be if she didn’t pry herself off the ground. 

“GET…UP…” She ordered herself, arms shaking as they struggled to lift her heavy body out of the water. Her voxbox displayed one more warning, then blinked back online. Still, static distorted her words as they were spoken. “You’re…better…than…this…!”

If she had been down for as long as she was now in The Pit, she’d be dead. Period. Once one hit the dirt they had all of four seconds to recover, usually less. The higher level matches she’d participated in, the ones which had given her a name, were the ones where only one mech walked out functioning. And she was not about to be taken away in a body bag. 

“Hey…’Con…can ya pipe down?” The little Autobot squeaked out, his arm raising slightly as he spoke. “I’m…a’ready…tired…of ya voice.”

Oh, joy. He was back online too. 

She cast him a glare more venomous than the concoctions swirling beneath her mask. “How’s about I rip your audials out? Then you don’t have to listen anymore.” 

“If it means…never hearin’ you again…” And he chuckled, which sent a flare through her system so powerful her legs finally responded properly. 

The errors in her HUD swirled as Helmbreaker rose to shaky pedes. Her claws flexed over and over, forcing feeling back into them. She cracked her neck both ways, rolling it a few times before pushing her chassis out and parting her shell. 

Shell. Ugh. She didn’t even want to think about how horrible she looked right now. Did she even still resemble Helmbreaker? The claws were a drastic downgrade to her fists, and the shell on her back could never make up for the two halves of the battering ram she’d previously sported. Even if she couldn’t see her helmet, she knew it was missing her characteristic horns. And the mask she now wore, with its undesirable probosces? 

In all truths she understood why the Seeker purged on her when they’d touched it, but that hadn’t made the fact that it purged on her any better. 

The little Autobot was surprisingly unafraid as she took a step forward, then another one. It was hard going–her systems continued flashing errors, though they were gradually dissipating as time ticked on. When she loomed over the tiny Autobot like the Necrobot itself, he smirked despite his situation, wings flitting with agitation. 

“Well lookit…you! Comin’ ta…kick me…while I’m down? Typical ‘Con…can’t beat me…when I’m up…could ya?”

Her optics narrowed. “You misunderstand me, Autobot. I’m not going to kick you.” Looming over him, she raised a pede. “I’m going to crush your helm and hang your body from the trees.” 

And that’s when the reality of the situation finally seemed to hit him. The little Autobot’s wings suddenly stopped, his entire body stiffening. Beneath his visor she could see how his optics went wide. 

Primus, she loved that. The fear in their optics when they realized they were going to die was just as thrilling as the portent of a strong opponent. She grinned beneath her mask, probosces twitching excitedly without her even thinking of them. 

“Any last words?” She said. “Beg.” 

And beg he did. 

“My buds–my buds are coming!” He yelled. “If-If ya don’t hurt me, they’ll–they’ll be nice with ya! I can put in a good–a good word! I’m, hey, I’m just a little guy, ya know? A little guy! What was I gonna do to you and the seeky?”

Seeky. Oh, she was absolutely using that against the next one she found, considering the other one was probably dead. Probably.

“I recall you saying you would put in a ‘good word’ if I surrendered. You seem to be offering me the same thing if I spare you.” She tapped a claw against her mask. “Seems like you don’t have much to offer beyond that, hm?” She lowered her pede, letting the claws on it grip the edges of his helm, but applying no pressure beyond that. “Your allies, they’re on their way now, right?”

“Ye-yeup! And they’re more’n capable of takin’ you down, so you better keep me ‘round, so they won’t–”

“How many of them?”

“Wha? Uh…at least seven!”

Seven Autobots. She looked her claws over, opening and closing them. They were no fist, and with the last of her errors closing in her HUD, she decided some practice wouldn’t hurt. Seven was plenty. 

“Then it seems you’ve nothing substantial to offer me, Autobot.” She spoke it without even looking at him. “Bye.” 

He screamed out a “WAIT–” right as she began to apply pressure. The impact forced him below the water, pink bubbles rising as he screamed in pain. She smiled sadistically at the sound of his helm cracking, splitting open to reveal his delicate inner circuitry and processor. That was her favorite part. Pink rose up in streams. Applying a bit more pressure, she counted on her claws. Three, two, o–

An energon bolt shot into her chassis, the impact knocking her back. Planting her pedes, her gaze shot in the direction the bolt had come from as her body hunched, probosces flexing as an enraged buzz roared out from within her. Was that seriously her battle cry now? 

“Back off, ‘Con!” Through the trees, an Autobot only about half her size emerged–he looked like some kind of water vehicle. She raised an optical ridged and quickly scanned the area, where was his–

Another bolt zapped into her helm, this one from the left. The surprise left her staggering back, almost losing her stance as she struggled to adopt a wider one to face them both. Her HUD flashed red for just a moment before the damage scan automatically began, confidently informing her that her armor was at 85%. 

The blow had been more of a surprise than anything else. 

The second Autobot swooped down, doing a flip to transform back into his robot mode. A kind of aircraft, though nothing like the Seeker jets that her fellow ‘Cons utilized. Even the aerial forms of Autobots were inferior to them, just like their fighting styles. 

Two of them. She could take them. But where were the other five? 

“Starburst!” With the aerial one defending him, the terrestrial Autobot quickly moved to Starburst’s side, pulling him away from her. She scoffed at the motion, staring down the barrel of the rifle aimed for her helm. 

“That’s it? This is all you Autobots thought to send!?” She scoffed, splaying her claws. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“Back down,” the aerial one warned, servo snuggly fit on the trigger of his rifle. “There’s no need for anymore fighting.”

“Damage is bad–he needs urgent repairs,” the terrestrial one said, hoisting Starburst out of the water. Oh, yes. Her handiwork was on full display with his shattered visor and bent faceplate. His helmet was crinkled like pathetic aluminum, and Energon was leaking from dozens of cracks. “Can you handle him?”

“I’ve got this,” the other assured, not once taking his eyes off Helmbreaker, who was now rather annoyed. 

“I’m a femme, you inconsiderate slag,” she snapped. “And if you had even half the broken processor he does–” she gestured at Starburst, “--you’d both be running for your sparks by now.”

“You wish, ‘Con. Radio for help and get him back, I’ll–”

And before he could even finish his sentence, she lunged. The aerial one discharged his weapon immediately, a painful bolt firing clean into the right side of her chassis. Her armor smoked, an irritating heat building just beneath it, but held. She was on him before he could even comprehend the lack of damage, claws swiping straight for his helm. 

It didn’t knock it off, like her proper fists would have. Instead, she claws pierced clean through the metal, ripping it open like paper. She felt cables snap and heard metal shriek as the impact knocked him to the ground, rifle abandoned to grip at his face. Energon splattered into the water and painted her claws in a thick layer. 

She flicked the stuff away and she turned her gaze on the terrestrial one. His optics were wide with terror, caught between defending himself or trying to make a break for it with his injured ally. She took immediate advantage, charging for him. 

He dropped his ally just in time for her to tackle him to the ground, crushing him with her full  weight. Judging from just the creaking of metal alone, he’d need a trip to the mechanic after the action. She’d change that to the morgue. 

Rearing up, she clicked her claws together into their scythe mode and punctured clean through his helm, ripping it free from its cables with a twist. Pink rained out of the wires that hung from her trophy, which she raised overhead as if displaying to an invisible audience. Rivulets of the stuff ran down her helm and chassis, leaving trails over her new black paint. 

A burning pain suddenly lit up in the center of her back, the impact causing her to stumble forward ever so slightly. Glaring over her shoulder, she spotted the aerial one on one knee, pointing his rifle at her again. Several gouges had completely torn his faceplate and helm, displaying his delicate inner workings to the world. One optic was threatening to fall from its socket. He didn’t care.

Bolt after bolt shot into her as she turned, tossing the helm of her trophy aside, and calmly walked to finish off her prey. As death closed in on him, manifesting as a wickedly sharp sickle, she didn’t once see fear in his optics. 

SLUTCH

And his limp frame hit the ground, now devoid of its vital helm. She met its gaze on her scythe as his lights went out, ensuring that the last thing he saw was her victorious expression. He was a fighter, that one. How unfortunate he picked the wrong side. Then, like she’d done so many times before, she raised his helm over her head and roared. 

There was no audience besides the organics, but they would suffice. And hey, perhaps there were a few Autobots in waiting, hiding after what they’d seen her do to their friends. 

“REMEMBER MY NAME!” She screamed. “KNOW WHOM YOU FACE! I AM–”

A ripple in the water caught her attention and drew her gaze to her own reflection. There, looking back at her from the murky depths, was a black Insecticon. Long hooked claws made up her servos. A shell in the shape of wings hung on her back. Segmented plating covered up her chassis and bent antennae twitched on her helm. 

She was Helmbreaker. But the mech looking back at her was not. She’d felt it when she first woke up, all those millions of years ago, this sense of wrongness, that all of a sudden, the plating she had been forged into had changed, and it wasn’t hers anymore. And the thing in the water, the thing she was currently inhabiting, was not named Helmbreaker. 

She was not Helmbreaker, if she was this. Then who was she? 

The sound of water splashing broke her out of her thoughts. She looked to the sound only to see Starburst back on his feet despite his injuries. Their optics met for only a second. 

And he immediately transformed, blasting off into the sky before she could swipe at him. 

A dozen thoughts ran through her processor. He’d bring back reinforcements. He’d announce her presence to everyone. With his escape this planet’s hostility towards her was sealed. The entirety of the Autobot army could very well come for her now–her and the Seeker. The clock was ticking on them both–the very last of the Decepticons. 

And she laughed.

“TELL THEM! TELL ALL OF THEM WHAT HAPPENED HERE!” She roared after him. “AND REMEMBER MY NAME!”

She had about one second to pick a name, and decided to follow the tradition of her finishing move. 

“I AM PUNCTURE!”

—---------

The organics were weak, but they did their job well enough. Puncture pulled the vines taut and wrapped them around the roots of the trees, suspending the Autobot’s heads just below where the branches sprouted. Beneath the trees she’d dragged both the bodies, slumping them against the trunks. Stepping back, she admired her work only for a moment–it was a pitiful display of her capabilities, but it would serve well enough as a warning to any who wanted to approach this place. 

She’d have to bet on it intimidating her future opponents in some way. Autobots attacked in swarms. There were few lone fighters who knew the true glory of combat and who dedicated themselves, body and mind, to the thrill of taking down an equally skilled opponent in a rapturous death match. No, the majority tended to pair up and gun down whoever they saw running across the field. And they called it victory. 

She spat, additional pink Energon mingling with the stained water. Then she headed back for the Insecticon ship. 

The Seeker was slumped against a chair on the bridge, optics dark. It had entered stasis before she’d even found it, and no amount of banging its helm with her claws had woken the damn thing up. This was inconvenient to her for a multitude of reasons, with the least being that she didn’t have someone she could boss around, and the most being that her connection to the rest of the Decepticon force, be they alive or dead, was now cut off. 

She perhaps had herself to blame for it a little, but she was too proud to admit such a thing, and instead blamed it on the faulty wiring of mass producer shlock. It wasn’t like Seekers were particularly useful on the best of the days. The Elite Trine earned their name (and place) from the fact that, unlike the rest of their ill-fated brethren, they’d had the fortune to be blessed with abilities that made them slightly more than sitting cyberducks on a pond. 

Didn’t mean any of them were particularly good at combat, though, and didn’t mean that the Seeker she had, despite boasting such an ability, was any good. 

She stepped into the ship and did her best to at least partially pull its stuck door closed. She’d done a number on it while enraged, and the metal cried with an agony often reserved for gamblers regretting their life choices. Leaving it, she gave the damn thing a powerful kick that left it dented, just as she’d done for all those gamblers who’d been thrown into The Pit. The door, unlike them, survived. 

Her best bet was the stasis pods, she thought, or perhaps reactivating the bridge in some way. All ships had self-repair mechanisms, and all of them had at least some way of repairing their crew. It had been millions of years, and she didn’t doubt that her Insecticon brethren had possibly ruined their ship beyond repair, but she had to have some hope. 

Because if she didn’t, and what the Seeker had said was true…

But it wasn’t, because Seekers were weak and lied to get what they wanted. Ask Starscream. 

She snickered and ducked into the stasis pods room, her danger sensor already going off. She tried to mute the damn thing as she approached the last of the pods, still as dark as the day she’d stepped into her own. It was fully intact and completely unused; surely, it had to be functional. 

She tacked her claw onto the screen and encountered her first problem: it wasn’t picked up by the sensor. Puncture tacked it a few more times, tried pressing all of her claws against it, and even bopped it a few times with her palm. Nothing.

Without proper servos, she was dead in the water. Well, nothing the Autobots couldn’t fix. One torn off servo later, she was back with a proper appendage. The screen responded this time, lighting up with a cheerful blue…and immediately corrupting.

She growled and gave the pod a kick, which made a dozen error messages pop up. When she tried to close them, more took their places. Her danger sensor was beeping wildly in her HUD, filling her processor with reminders of being trapped in a small, circular space, crammed in on herself, plating melting and reshaping, code being pushed straight into her mind and replacing everything she was, rewriting her from gladiator to Insecticon–

She yelled and punched, not even thinking about what she hit. Despite claws having replaced her fists, they still broke through the glass from force alone. The entire upper half of the pod shattered and fell away, clacking onto the floor in a glittering mess. 

She screamed in frustration and threw the severed servo away, turning and unleashing her frustration on the pod. Metal tore and sparks flew. Wires poked forth and were promptly chopped. Throughout it all she screamed, over and over, as if berating the mindless thing would somehow make its death all the more humiliating. 

When it was done she gave the mess of mangled metal one final kick before returning to the bridge. The damn thing was probably fried from the stupid Seeker anyways. That meant she only had the bridge to work with. 

She approached the computer that had once powered their small shuttle and tapped on its keyboard, commanding it to wake up. When the screen failed to respond to the buttons, she yelled at it, demanding it function. That didn’t work either. 

Exasperated, she ran her claws over the keyboard, scattering keys everywhere. They made quiet ploosh sounds as they disappeared into the water submerging half the ship. That irritated her even more, and she considered turning her rage on the walls before her optics landed back on the Seeker. 

Perhaps she could just pick its processor instead. It ran the risk of killing it, but hey, can’t make a clock without breaking a few gears. Stepping forward, she grabbed the Seeker’s helmet and attempted to wrench it from the Con’s head. 

Cables and wiring strained as she pulled. It seemed Seeker helmets were directly attached to their heads, which made the entire process more difficult for her. Scowling, Puncture let go and considered just what parts she could rip off nonlethally. Audials, optics, finials…

But the more she thought it over, the more it seemed that she wouldn’t be able to access the Seeker’s processor without ripping half of its helm open and killing it. Huffing, she backhanded the thing and crossed her arms, glaring down at its unconscious form. Part of its faceplate was now ruined, stricken with three marks. 

“You sure left me in one hell of a situation,” she muttered, tapping a claw on her arm as she began to pace. “Where the hell even am I?”

Earth, she knew that. But where on Earth? How close was she to the nearest Autobot and Decepticon outposts? What was the approximate amount of soldiers each side had? 

How hadn’t her side won yet?

She needed answers. Before taking on any great opponent, it was important to study them–their habits, their flaws, their strengths, and most importantly of all, their morals. How depraved her foe could become when desperate was key to preventing herself from being caught off guard. 

They always grew desperate when they realized they were going to die. She’d seen it happen thousands of times before, whether it was her hand causing it or one of her brethren’s–her real brethren. The mechs she’d been forged alongside in the Pit.

They were dead now. They’d been stupid. Strength was the most important trait to have in the Decepticon ranks, but intelligence could not be understated–and that was what she’d had over them. Even if her fighting spirit had also once demanded to take on Megatron, despite seeing what he’d done to Strutsnapper and Sparkripper. 

Strength wasn’t cutting it here. She’d killed the two Autobots with ease, but what of when fifty of them came raining down? A glorious death in the field was her fate, but so early? And as this…thing? Her claw tapped faster. No. There had to be something else more she could do. 

Passing by the open door, Puncture looked at the display she’d made. The two Autobots had been weak, and all they were now was evidence of such. They were weak, and their brethren would come to take them home and bury them in coffins, as opposed to leaving their bodies out in the middle of the field…

Her gaze drifted back to the Seeker. Trapped in stasis and on the brink of death, if she left its body outside by the Autobots, then they would certainly find it, and being soft-hearted, take it in. Repair it. Claim it was to be “brought to justice”.

And wherever they went, she could follow. Wait till they were finished, then take her freshly repaired ally back. 

It would be a lot of fighting though…and she had no way of repairing herself. She looked at her newfound claws and frowned. They were nowhere near as effective at instant incapacitation as her fists had been. Her body had been drastically changed from its original state as a tank, surely it had to have come with some kind of benefit to make up for such a loss of power. 

She supposed, then, it wasn’t an awful time for a self-examination. Even if it was something she had been putting off. Acknowledging how much she had truly changed made it harder to convince herself that reverting completely was possible. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to live in a world where this was what she was stuck as forever. 

Running a self scan and checking her joints and features over, Puncture learned a few things about her frame she already knew–and didn’t. 

What she already knew? Her new frame was modeled after an Earth organism. This modification came with new features such as claws, a shell to defend her back, antennae to detect changes in the air, and venom in her proboscis to incapacitate prey. 

What she didn’t know? It was something called an “ambush bug”. Ambush bugs were, true to their names, ambush predators. They used their scythe-like claws to grip onto their prey, and jammed their proboscis in to paralyze it. From there, all the prey could do was watch, trapped in its own frame, as its innards were liquified and consumed. 

As a predatory creature whose primary food source was Energon, her prey choice was apparent. The probosces on her faceplate were designed for piercing plating, and the venom boiling behind her mask was more than sufficient for melting it. And as an ambush predator…

Well, it wasn’t her style. But it would do fine enough for infiltrating an Autobot base. They’d come back for their dead. They always did. They’d find the Seeker and take it in. She’d follow right behind. 

And if what else she read on her scan was true…they wouldn’t once see her coming. 

[front-facing-pokemon]

[tennessoui]

omg the counseling au!!!! i loved how anakin was making banthashit arguments about 'how inevitable it is for him to constantly worry for his master (as if he was his spouse) and padme not understanding it even though she was also constantly worrying for her husband (which he actually is)'. as much as I love how unhinged the boys are for each other, I'm still so sad for padme because she's so... kind and nice and loving. I hope she will be able to find her own happiness after her slightly-idiotic-husabnd-who-did-not-even-realize-he's-been-in-insane-love-with-his-master-since-he-was-like-13 finally gets his head together. wonderful update as always!

i think for the couples counseling au and the anidala in the fic, i'm really trying to balance the line of having this relationship fall apart in some pretty spectacular/dramatic ways, but without having either of them come off as bad. i don't necessarily feel bad for padmé in any of my recent fics that deal with anidala crumbling post (mostly couples counseling au and a more perfect union) cause she's wholly in and crazy about anakin and she must understand on some level that he is alos wholly in and crazy about his master first and foremost.

there's a line in a more perfect union that i really like where padmé admits that she knew anakin was in love with obi-wan but thought that as long as he never realized, she could marry him and be in love with him and that it would be enough and i feel like there are aspects of that in the couples counseling au - not that she knows that anakin is in love with obi-wan, but she certainly understands that obi-wan is Anakin's Most Important Person and she's just starting to realize what that means for her and for their relationship because she keeps coming in second, even for something as simple as where anakin spends the night

like in general i think in these fics and also in canon padmé knowingly married a ticking bomb of a man and we're just watching the relationship itself explode - it doesn't make her a bad person or anything, it just makes her sort of willfully blind. i don't think either of them are bad people, but they're just not like. good together or meant to be together and anakin's chapters in couples counseling definitely detail the falling apart of that relationship because they're just not right for each other anymore

[solarpunkani]

All that NOT TO EVEN MENTION that idk what THEY saw but when I go look in the Solarpunk tag the first thing I see is a post going ‘uguuuu the solarpunk tag isnt solarpunk enough for meeeeeee’ and then immediately afterwards the next few posts are

- people talking about community building

- people talking about how to make patches

- people talking about actions they’re taking, like making their own clothes or planning a garden

- people talking about actions other people are doing, like reusing items to make new functional items, and more

- people talking about actions that we all should be doing more often, like growing and sharing food, or advocating for things like image IDs on posts (which like for real we should all start adding image IDs on our posts)

- maybe a handful of aesthetic posts

- people making posts talking about how the movement started off as an aesthetic in response to all the people who keep going into the tag and deriding it for not being ‘punk enough’

This goes for both ‘top posts’ view AND ‘latest’ view btw, different ones, some with fewer notes than others, and different posts in different views obviously but like.

Even the aesthetic posts that DO show up are for the most part either A: art that visualizes a green future for us to strive towards B: ‘here’s my garden! How can you do something similar? Lets talk about it!’ C: literally stuff people are already doing to strive for a better future but with really good image quality so it looks pretty or D: concept art for like. Clean energy solutions or community centers or other solutions that would help build a better future. Maybe thats just A rephrased but screw it.

IDK. Maybe our punk looks different than what people are expecting???? A lot greener and more environmental than what my parents sure think of when they hear ‘punk’ thats for sure. But I don’t think that should make it less-than.

Either that or I simply follow so many solarpunk people who are talking about action and politics and resistance and such that I don’t see as many aesthetic posts as someone new to The Club may see. Cause I genuinely usually have to search for the aesthetic stuff. But even if that is the case, all that means is that you can’t give something a cursory 2.7 second glance and then go ‘why am I not seeing the punk stuff!!!’