#this dichotomy is exactly what it’s all about

[panopticum]

Kate Bush on Peter Gabriel, MOJO magazine

#this dichotomy is exactly what it’s all about #potato quality screenshot sorry lol #peter gabriel #kate bush #pg

[silverwhittlingknife]

I noticed something in a lot of your Dick and Tim fics. It's probably so obvious, but you always write that Tim is watching Dick. In your newest one, Tim's watching Dick, in The Return Tim's watching Dick, and you even write that Tim is always watching him. Is Tim trying to read Dick? Trying to understand? Or does he understand him by watching? What is he trying to figure out by watching Dick? What does that say about Tim? I really hope this is intentional lmao because I would be embarrassed. Maybe this is just something so obvious that I'm just getting now.

YES IT’S ON PURPOSE <333 Anon. Anon. I'm so sorry this answer took forever, but listen, this was a really delightful ask <333 I think about this a lot.  I really love origin stories—I like stories that resonate through a character’s history. 

And for me, a whole lot of what interests me about Dick and Tim is that theme of watching and being watched. Seeing and being seen.

"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act...'specially for you." | "Timmy, don't look." | "I turned away... I couldn't watch. Then I heard you crying and I turned back... I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this." Dick's watching me. Gauging my reactions. (Tim watching Dick watching Tim!) | "I'm taking off the blindfold." "No!" | "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." | I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. (But Tim spots him anyway.)

Spotlights and lighthouses and cameras and photographs. Blindness and vision and masks and detective work and trust.

I'm going to try to be coherent about this but it's gonna be incoherent sdfsf BUT I'M GOING TO TRY so. Below the cut, a really long grab-bag of my rambling on vision and watchers and watching.

Tim + watching / Dick + being watched / different dynamics

Tim's origin story

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

Incomplete list of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

Tim + watching

The first time we see Tim's face in LPoD: a close-up on his eyes looking for Dick, a close-up on his eyes at the moment that he sees Dick, a pullback to his face at the moment of recognition, a pullback to his face + his camera (you could maybe even argue that Tim comes into existence at the moment that he sees Dick, like, conceptually. the act of seeing is his defining characteristic. it is the thing that makes his character happen. he is the kid who's watching.)

Tim's a very vision-centric character: he's first introduced as a camera, then as a pair of binoculars, then as a pair of eyes. His whole backstory is about watching: watching Dick's parents die, watching Dick on TV, watching Batman and Robin. I've grabbed a few panels above with Tim watching Dick but there are so many more. His major deductions are all vision-based: he sees Dick-the-acrobat and later recognizes Dick-as-Robin; he sees Bruce-in-the-past and recognizes him as Bruce-of-our-time; the climactic moment in Red Robin is about going into a dark cave with a torch so he can see what's there.

And he's a detective. He pries into secrets. He analyzes people. He's a worrywart and a fusser who always wants to understand what's going on with other people. In a lot of those panels where Tim's watching Dick, his inner monologue is busy deducing Dick's emotions and trying to psychoanalyze him. Tim's caring and watchful and intuitive... but all those qualities also make him very very intrusive.

Dick + being watched

Dick performing acrobatics for Bruce, Donna, and Tim in Detective Comics 38 (his first appearance), New Teen Titans 16, Batman 441, and Nightwing 88 (where he reflects he's glad to be back in the hot glare of the spotlight)

Dick's a detective too, of course - Tim deliberately mirrors Dick, both in-universe and out-of-universe. But also Dick's a performer who loves being watched and also wants to control how he's seen. He gets a kick out of showing off, making puns, kicking ass, taking names, and he gets a kick out of having an appreciative audience. And he's got a kind of yearning for recognition - it hurts, when Bruce won't look at him, and in fights with Bruce, Babs, Roy, he'll often bring up the past, trying to get them to acknowledge a shared history.

At the same time, he's a very private person who withdraws and hides and pushes people away when he's upset. Right before Tim shows up, Dick's just ghosted the Titans because he's having emotional turmoil and doesn't want to have it in front of them, and they're trying to respect his wishes... but that solitude doesn't last long, because then Tim tracks him down. Tim will do this again when Dick's having an emotional crisis and trying to avoid everybody in Nightwing 110.

Possible dynamics

Tim watches Dick in Robin 11, while silently analyzing Dick's anxieties about Two-Face

"The watcher and the person being watched" is a dynamic that really interests me, partly because it can be so complicated?

You can see in Dick and Tim their very first roles: enthusiastic performer and the enthusiastic audience member. Dick likes to perform and show off and entertain; Tim likes to watch; those are roles they both easily slide into and they have a lot of fun together! But also you can look at the harsher side: the crime victim and the voyeur, the amateur photographer and the guy who hates being photographed. Dick's intensely private about his vulnerabilities; Tim's intrusive and watchful and constantly trying to figure out how other people tick. Sometimes Tim's the caring friend who watches Dick closely, reads him well, understands him; sometimes he's the nosy mini-detective who pries into Dick's secrets. And that's just two different ways of describing the same thing!

One of the things that kinda fascinates me about Dick and Tim's relationship is that in a lot of ways it's built on a bunch of low-key boundary violations. A lot of their early relationship is driven by Tim's desire to know more about Dick vs. Dick's reluctance to get close to anyone from Gotham; Tim's often out-of-line, but without his pushiness, it's hard to see how they would've developed a relationship at all. Later on, their friendlier relationship is marked by Dick teasing and low-key bullying Tim; it's pretty obvious that Tim isn't actually bothered by this, but it does involve Dick ignoring whatever Tim's claiming he doesn't like ("Quit it!" "Shh").

And one of the aspects of those boundary-violations is that Tim has a habit of witnessing things that Dick would prefer that nobody see. Tim's a witness to Dick's first and most miserable tragedy; he sees the aftermath of some of Dick's fights with Bruce; he's there when Donna dies. And he's sharp and observant and analytical, and I like to imagine this as being something Dick's not entirely comfortable with.

When Dick first meets Tim, it's before he's learned to wear a mask. And Tim spends a lot of time trying to see through Dick's masks, and he's pretty good at it, and a lot of that prying comes from love and care, because one of the ways that Tim shows love and respect and admiration is by trying to absorb absolutely everything about you, like a little sponge. But there's also something unsparing and even threatening about the search for the truth of someone else. It can be comforting or threatening, to know someone's watching you.

And I love how all that complexity is wrapped up in Tim's origin story? Both the giddy childish "Watch me on the trapeze" and then the awful grim reality of what Tim actually sees as a result and then the difficult connection when Dick and Alfred finally get Tim to explain how he knows their secret identities.

Tim's origin story

Tim (recounting his origin story in LPoD): My parents held me back as the thing moved to you. I cried out to warn you. (Two panels where we see just Tim's eyes, as he watches a crying Dick. He sees Batman approach and start trying to comfort Dick.)

I think fiction sometimes presents "being understood / seen / known" as an uncomplicatedly good thing, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I like complications, and I like the way Tim's origin story frames that moment of witnessing as difficult and fraught. Tim doesn't want to tell Dick how he knows their secret identities because he thinks it'll hurt Dick to know it: I don't want to hurt you, Dick, and I'm really afraid I might. And he's not wrong. It is painful; it does hurt; it's not something Dick's happy to know.

Dick's a very private person, and there's a painful intimacy to Tim's origin story - it's not Tim's fault he was there, but at the same time, it's not like Dick chose to have the most traumatic moment of his life on stage in front of an audience of strangers, you know? It's kind of a violation. In NTT/NT/Nightwing, Dick's pretty violently hostile to photographers, and he's intensely private about trauma in general, and I like to imagine this as partly a reaction to that foundational trauma of losing the most important people in his life and also doing it publicly.

And Tim's part of that audience. And he sees the worst part, the part that Dick can't talk about. He sees the bodies and the blood. He has nightmares about it for years. He hears Dick crying and sees him holding onto his parents' bodies. Not at all the kind of first impression Dick would want to make. Not at all the kind of person he wants to be seen as. And that understanding can be painful, because it's so close to the bone, and when Tim's just a stranger, it's upsetting, because Tim knows things that Dick would never have chosen for him to know. Their few conversations about it are awkward partly because Tim's thirteen and awkward... but at the same time, it's not Tim's fault so much as the situation! There's no way for Tim to talk about what he saw that wouldn't be uncomfortable for Dick.

... And yet, and yet. Tim's also one of the last people to see the Graysons alive. He sees Dick and his parents together; he even takes a picture with them. He remembers the whole thing so vividly he'll recognize Dick's somersault years later. He sees the grief. And so I think of that connection as kind of a metaphor for witnessing. Tim sees these things and they become real; Dick can't hide from them; in the act of being seen he's caught, he's in a spotlight, all the grief made real. You can't hide, that way. And Tim's got this unforgiving memory; he won't ever forget; he won't ever stop knowing.

But then, too: Dick's seen, he's known. Even at the very beginning, when Tim doesn't know enough to understand what he knows, he knows the important things.

So that shared memory is a barrier and a bond between them. It can be a source of discomfort or a source of comfort. And that's how I think about Tim watching Dick in general - it's complicated, and sometimes Dick's glad of it, and sometimes he resents it, and also it just is, it's a fact of Tim, that Tim watches. It's notable when he's not watching, when he's turned away.

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

So I'm going to talk about the fraught feeling of being watched more in a little bit, but first: I think it's fascinating that Dick likes screwing around with games where Tim can't see!

Here's Nightwing 25 - Dick's come up with the idea of trainsurfing while blindfolded:

Tim: Are you sure this is such a good idea? Dick: Shh! Listen. Tune into the changing sounds and - Tim: I'm not so - Dick: JUMP!

Here's Robin 49 - clambering through a tunnel into No Man's Land:

Dick: Hard not to think about the river. All the water above us. And bugs. This tunnels' probably full of 'em. And rats. Big ones. Big blind rats with teeth as long as -

Here's Gotham Knights 9 - ambushing Tim in a sorta game of hide-and-seek:

Dick: Gotcha! Tim: Augh!

I feel like mmm I don't want to emphasize power dynamics too much because it's easy to overplay it BUT when I think about headcanons it's interesting to me to think about how maybe when Tim can't see, Dick's more in charge / in control, and so he feels more comfortable and less vulnerable, and that's often when he's most relaxed and playing around the most?

Whereas the moments when Tim's looking at him are often a bit more fraught, as here in Lonely Place of Dying:

Tim: I'm sorry, Dick. I really am. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this. Dick... Dick: It's all right, Tim. No matter how old you are, there are some things you never forget. Or get over. (Silent panel: Tim's watching Dick as Dick turns away and stares into the window.)

Or here in Nightwing 6, when Tim wakes him up from a nightmare:

Dick (internally, imagining a kid falling): He shouts to me. He always shouts to me. I never hear what he says. Tim: Nightwing! Wake up!

Or here in Gotham Knights 26, when Bruce is accused of murder:

(Silent panel where Tim's watching Dick.) Tim: I'm sorry. This must be hard for you. Dick: Me? Why? Tim: Well, I mean, it'd be one thing if we really knew he was innocent, but as it is - Dick: Wait, what? Stop right there. What are you saying, Tim?

Here's Tim spotting him before he can get away in Nightwing 110:

Dick (watching Tim from a distance, internally): Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops. Kept any civilians from getting shot. God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. Tim: Hey! (appearing on the roof above him, fake-cheerful) You weren't gonna leave without saying hi, were you? Dick (looking away, very quietly): Hey, Timmy. Tim: Look at you, man! Back on both feet! Think you're done stopping bullets with your body for a while? Dick: Hope springs eternal. (Silent panel with Tim watching Dick, who's turned away.) Tim: You okay, Dick? Dick: I'm fine. Tim: Well, where're you staying these days? Dick: With some people.

Of course, sometimes Tim's watchfulness is frustrating but also a comfort, as in Detective Comics 874:

Tim (watching Dick, who's looking away): Are you listening to me, Batman? I'm saying the gas the Dealer used on you was powerful stuff. Dick: I'm fine, Red Robin. Besides...you're here now. Tim: You're not fine. And with or without me, you shouldn't be out on patrol ye - Dick: Sshhh. Here they come.

(Later in the comic, Dick mentally concedes that Tim's right that he hasn't really recovered from the gas, and Tim saves him from drowning when he's hallucinating. So Dick feels kind of exposed by the scrutiny, but also... he invited Tim along, so there's trust there, too - Tim's perceptiveness can be a good thing, too, when things are serious.)

Incomplete summary of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

I think I already mentioned a lot of these but here is my LIST

almost the first thing that Dick says to Tim is "watch me on the trapeze, Tim" and then Tim does and he basically never stops watching;

Tim watches Dick's parents die and watches Dick sobbing on-stage and watches him on TV and recognizes him by seeing a particular trick because he's dreamed about Dick doing the trick in his recurring nightmares about that night;

in New Titans 65 which is their very first team-up comic after Tim's origin, Dick's training pre-Robin Tim and gives him a test about watching for details and later Tim's takeaway is "I saw how [the Titans] listened to you";

there's a moment in Showcase '93 12 which is just Tim watching Dick and analyzing what's going on with him and there's another moment in Prodigal which is the same thing;

in Nightwing 6 Tim sneaks into Dick's apartment and hides in the dark and Dick spots him and tackles him; one of their most important bonding comics is Nightwing 25, where Dick insists on blindfolding him to get him to rely less on vision; when they sneak into No Man's Land they're in the dark and Tim can't see again and Dick's teasing him;

there are multiple moments when Tim can't see Dick for a bit and panics about his safety, in Nightwing 25, in No Man's Land, in Transference, in Bruce Wayne: Murderer;

Tim's there watching when Dick's wedding to Kory falls apart and he's there watching when Bruce and Dick fight and he's there watching when Donna dies and he's watching when Dick and Bruce swing together on the night before Infinite Crisis, and when Dick goes down and almost dies in Infinite Crisis we cut to Tim watching and seeing it happen and screaming;

there are multiple moments which are just silent panels of them staring at each other trying to figure out what's going on with each other or having a stand-off - in Bruce Wayne: Murderer, in Resurrection, in Red Robin;

in the aftermath of Donna's death there's a panel where Dick's watching Tim from a distance and not approaching;

in the aftermath of Blockbuster Dick spends half the comic just staring at Tim from a distance and hiding himself because "I love that kid - too much to let him see me like this," but Tim sees him anyway and chases him down and then they lie to each other and *ranting* LISTEN TO ME the whole comic is about Dick trying to AVOID being SEEN both literally but also METAPHORICALLY AND --!!!

(the only thing i'm even as halfway obsessive about for them is the heights thing because also there are a bunch of moments involving falling or Tim being anxious about heights and worried that he'll fall or Dick will fall)

In conclusion

Consider the progression in all these moments where Tim's watching an upset Dick and worrying about him!! From reaching out instinctively-but-pointlessly when he's too far away in the LPoD flashback, to almost reaching out in LPoD but hesitating, to putting a hand on Dick's back to walk him back to the Cave in Gotham Knights 10, to physically dragging him clear of the water in Batman: Black Mirror!

In conclusion I don't have a conclusion but basically YES, "watching Dick" is a core Tim characteristic as far as I'm concerned, and Tim watches Dick a lot and that can mean all kinds of things from admiration to nosy intrusiveness to worry to care to gratitude to trying-to-figure-out-what's-going-on-with-him, and sometimes Dick's resentful and sometimes he's relieved and sometimes he's playful and sometimes it's a mix of all those feelings.

And at first it's always Tim watching Dick, but later you've got Dick watching Tim too, and there's that moment where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him in Nightwing 110 and there's a silent panel where Dick's watching him in Resurrection and at the very end of Robin there's a scene where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him and in the very last issue of Red Robin Dick's watching the end of the confrontation with Boomerang and in Prodigal Dick's the one who notices his face is bruised and aaaaaaah

Anyway I think they're neat <3

#ask tag #hi anon this is SO old i'm so sorry sdfsfs #if you're still here hi!! <333 #this was such a validating ask to get because as you can probably tell i think about the vision thing constantly #also this is SO long oh man. sorry i just started typing and it went on and on sdfdsf #dick grayson #tim drake #dick & tim #it's like. it's just endlessly fascinating to me because the paparazzi/photography stuff is one of dick's biggest triggers #and tim's introduced as a surreptitious amateur photographer #so there's no WAY they will ever get along #but then there's the Meaningful Photo from before the show #that low-key shows that tim's freaky obsessiveness comes from a place of genuine caring & this moment of real connection #so you have early days!dick kinda vibrating back and forth between 'I DON'T WANT HIM MAKE HIM GO AWAY' #vs. those moments when he IS getting attached to tim kinda against his will sdfsdf #and just. the dichotomy between paying attention as a form of love vs. being watched as a kind of violation and exposure #and that both are kinda the same thing?? and dick deeply craves the first and deeply hates the second #tim shows up being all I REMEMBER and what he remembers is exactly what dick was demanding bruce remember in b416 #but /also/ he remembers /everything/ 'i remember it all' he remembers the graysons dying in incredibly painful detail #and like. kid!tim is very tactless & has only two switches of 'TELL HIM NOTHING' and 'if forced to speak then overshare' #but the tactlessness is a fixable problem and the remembering is /not/ #it's not like it's any better for tim to keep his mouth shut & dick to just be painfully /aware/ that he's thinking abt the graysons dying #bc ofc /tim/ remembering forces /dick/ to remember #but!! but also. you know. maybe that remembering /isn't/ entirely a bad thing #and dick's feelings about it can change over time #anyway tim's not the only person that dick has this kind of conflict with - wally & roy sometimes chase him down when he's withdrawing too #and he often doesn't really appreciate it from them either #and dick's not the only person who gets subjected to tim's particular brand of intrusive caring #conner's not thrilled about the dna thing & ives would be within his rights to resent the stalking even though he doesn't #but i am obviously personally most fond of the ways this plays out with dick & tim

[pochapal]

even more battler/kinzo comparisons being made. all the time this is happening

#umineko liveblog #ep1 reread #thinking about genji choosing to say this and what this means to genji #how exactly does genji feel towards kinzo. what position does kinzo occupy in his mind #is this comparison a compliment or an insult #also now thinking about battler/kinzo as an extended self dichotomy except where the self is split across two different people #and if that would mean that there's something battler-like inside kinzo that was washed out by all that turned kinzo into what he is today #likewise is there an indication that battler could under the right circumstances follow a similar path #idk i feel like we'd need to see more of kinzo in a charitable light and more of battler's flaws to draw any concrete conclusions

[raspberryjellybrains]

I've been thinking a lot lately about Delirium and the way she speaks. She talks around a concept, never hitting it head on but glancing off through a series of metaphors and related concepts that explain things far better than wording them straight might. It's very relatable, and I think that's why I like her; that's how I think.

To me, the world isn't composed of precisely defined concepts but a series of interconnected existences which can all, ultimately, be related to each other. I also experience things in the incredibly specific manner Delirium seems to. I have sensitivities largely untethered from aversions, meaning that while I don't often find things deeply unpleasant or intolerable, I still experience them with an unusual specificity which often defies concise explanation. The best way I can convey certain feelings or experiences is through other feelings, experiences, and concepts to weave together a series of approximations that through their similar and dissimilar traits narrow down to what I'm trying to describe. Delirium does this too, and it's treated as a part of her that's no better or worse than any other. There are those that don't understand and those that do, and those that at least try to are awarded for their efforts because finally and most importantly, she genuinely has something to say. Her speech patterns are deceptively rambling because she takes a long time to say what she means to say, while simultaneously saying exactly it.

Delirium is neurodivergent coded in such a cathartic way because of this. I feel her frustration and joy because I know what it's like to be the person trying to explain something that has no words to assign, asking all of the time if there's a word for what she's feeling as a rhetorical and genuine question so that she can explain something without explaining it and call into question why we feel everything must be precisely laid in the place of as few words as possible. She is incredibly intelligent, but loses track of all of what's happening in a far more obvious way than most because there's just so much to keep track of, which is also very relatable as a neurodivergent person. Without putting labels on the experience, she perfectly captures it. I just... I like Delirium quite a lot, and think she'd be very good at post-modern literature.

#i hope to god this comprehensible #im trying so hard to get this shit in a line exactly becaude of why i like her #theres jusy SO MUCH to say its very hard to keep it straight and many more things to focus on beyond it #i love that delirium is treated by the narrative as an intelligent and wise being that just conveys that in an unconventional way #shes like my mirror metaphor. no mirror can light upon the minutae without shattering and no shattered mirror can see the bigger picture. #shes shattered but knows from when she was whole what the full picture looks like but she gets lost in all of the fragments #which gives her an incredibly unique and valuable perspective #at a surface level it seems as if she's an offensive depiction of mental illness but once you go deeper you realize shes not for the very- #reason she at first seemed to be. she embodies what is looked down upon but its told through side comments and events that theres more to- #her than the seeming irrationality. #she picks up and puts things down as she remembers them but that doesnt mean any one thing is any less valuable than any other #the ephemeral quality of her attentions dont diminish their value. #i have a lot of thoughts about her i just. am very fond. #and the way she and dream truly demonstrate the dichotomy of mental illness and neurodivergence makes me froth at the mouth. #he knows what shes saying most of the time and knows where shes at whether he admits it to himself or not because shes just externalizing- #what exists solely internally for him. hes better at masking and that is their difference which makes Such a statement oh my god when you- #think about how each are treated and understood. #it took me like. two weeks to organize these thoughts btw. they float in little brain clouds <3 #i need to watch everything everywhere all at once #anyway #delirium of the endless #the sandman meta #the sandman #raspberry rambles

[borrowmyshovel]

So. A transmasc child is dead. Assaulted by their classmates, left to die by school staff, misgendered and deadnamed by the press. And it's about fucking time we have a serious talk about the way we discuss transmasc victimisation - or rather, the way we don't.

The dynamic is especially evident in the way we talk about terfs, and exemplified by the dichotomy: "terfs recruit trans men, but they want trans women dead". This does three separate things:

It minimises the harm terfs do to the transmascs they recruit. Terfs don't just want transmascs to join them; they want transmascs to live as women. Coerced detransition kills. Suicide rates are extremely high among transmascs, and lack of support raises them further. To want trans men to detransition is to want them dead.

It positions trans men as a threat to trans women. As, essentially, terfs waiting to reveal themselves. What should be seen as a common enemy instead becomes a new vector for division. This fear is such that a common retort against transmascs who are seen as misbehaving is "you're gonna become a terf". Trans men are scrutinised for signs of this inevitable transformation, inundated with prophecies of their induction into the cult that wants to drag them back into the worst period of their lives.

It boosts the narrative terfs want to spread about themselves. Terfs love to say they are a safe space for transmascs. It helps them sound less hateful, and it helps them recruit. In reality, terfs are extremely hateful against transmascs they see as too far gone to be targets for recruitment. They see rape and hate crimes as just desserts, they wish death on transmascs who disagree with them, they talk about trans men on hrt as roided up monsters. And yet all of that has seemingly gone under the radar, because we're just not willing to acknowledge it happens.

More broadly, transmasc victimisation is seen as a joke. There was a hilarious post going around a while back about transmascs in abusive relationships with cis men who won't let them transition - the joke being on the transmasc in that situation. Multiple posts about specifically nonbinary transmascs, characterising their fears of transphobic violence as the oppression fantasies of privileged women, their experiences of dysphoria as laughably immaterial. No negative experience is serious enough once it's stacked up against murder, and trasnmascs who have been murdered aren't exactly in position to use that fact as a gotcha, are they?

There is a broad resistance to understanding transmascs as the victims of any situation. Part of it is a sort of trans-inclusive sexism: we don't think of cis men as victims, so we can't think of trans men as victims either. But they are.

Another is plain transphobia: dismissing trans people's experiences as not that bad, irrelevant to their trans status, or entirely fabricated is old hat at this point.

A third is a kind of... weaponised transfem advocacy? Any discussion of transmasc experience can be derailed by claiming transfems are somehow being harmed by it, and any harm that befalls a transmasc person can be dismissed by conjuring a hypothetical transfem who would have had it worse. And it sure seems like great allyship at the moment, despite the fact that it doesn't actually help transfems at all.

We often urge transmascs to be the protectors of transfems. Trans solidarity is crucial. But unless we are able to also conceptualise transmascs as needing protection, our solidarity will remain incomplete. And transmascs will continue to die, and be buried twice, both outside the trans community and inside it.

#transandrophobia

[antsypoindexter]

the septum piercings' enemy of the day: hunter schafer

#have many problems with the post for sure but i also think it tries (and fails) to touch on some overlooked topics #like the focus on validity rather than something tangible (actual medical support for those that need it) #and centering that. which just smacks of liberal respectability politics or a product of it more like #there's a grander conversation to be had here that i think people are missing out on because of the inflammatory nature of the story post #(which i feel was written as a rant in response to smth so clearly wouldn't be a structured argument) when what the actual focus should be #is the caption elaborating on the points brought up. again. still big issue with tokenizing twoc to back up their argument #but writing this conversation off completely isn't gonna get us anywhere and i feel like we're going to continue to see more talk about thin #gs like this in the near future. NOT nb vs. binary because -- if you read the caption -- not **exactly** what the post was about #but discussing the interactions between transitioning and non-transitioning members of our community and where we all go from here #which needs to happen imo. #***reading again i shouldn't say nb v. binary isn't what the post was about because it does essentially say that again and again. #what i should say is that that's not the dichotomy they were actually referring to -- it's very clearly about medical transitioners #and those that don't plan on medically transitioning

[fairuzfan]

Hey, I've read your post reply on the ask about the Standing together movement, and there you mentioned that it's incorrect to separate Palestinians and Jews and create a false dichotomy when speaking about liberating Palestine and anti-occupation movement. Could you please elaborate on that? It's a very interesting take that I haven't heard before yet.

So I generally don't understand why we are separating "Palestinian" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap between the two. By separating them, this implies, fundamentally, that there can be no Jewish Palestinians which... is not true. Just even historically, Jewish Palestinians exist and continue to exist.

Why are they mutually exclusive terms within their mission statement when they wish to "stand together"? And I'm not saying this in a condescending manner, I'm saying this because I know there are Palestinians who live in Israel who insist on being referred to as Palestinian. They won't let their Palestinian identity be erased under any circumstances. But they're the only group at risk of having that happen to them. Jewish people are not at risk of having their Jewishness erased for being Palestinian. So how can it be "standing together" when you acknowledge that there is a divide, societally, between perceptions of identity where one is at risk of total destruction by another and you, yourself, do not risk anything?

Where do Jewish Palestinians fall in this dichotomy, exactly? Does that mean no Palestinian will be able to convert to Judiasm without giving up their Palestinian identity? Are Jewish people just innately separated from Palestinians as a whole? If so, what is the thing that categorizes "Palestinian" in their eyes? Is it their religion? Well it can't be, because Palestinians have a diverse array of religions and like I said, people who identity as Palestinian and Jewish exist and are at risk of having their "Palestinian" erased in favor of their "Jewish" one.

Is it their ethnicity? Also can't be, because there is a vast array of ethnicities within Palestinian society. Unless they mean Palestinian=Arab, which is erasure. It erases Armenian Palestinians who play an integral part in Palestinian culture, for example.

So like what is the separation exactly? How are these mutually exclusive categories and how are we defining them? Unless, which is the reason that underlies all this, you mean to say that there is a difference between people who are Palestinians and people are Jewish innately in some unidentifiable manner?

Now, many Palestinians who have Israeli citizenship are not really subject to equal rights lol. And those rights are taken away *because* they are Palestinian. You have to acknowledge that. So when we say "Jewish and Palestinian" in a mission statement where you intend to """solve""" inequality, you're already setting that distinction in your mind that there is an actual difference between these people. So it's problematic in that vein.

But also, the group doesn't address the systematic abuses Palestinians face for YEARS, even before the Likud government. You can't erase that and attribute it to Netanyahu only. You have to address that the very system of Israel was founded on the mass expulsion and erasure of Palestinians, that includes Palestinian Jews.

But again, we have this dichotomy of "Jewish" and "Palestinian," setting into motion that "Palestinian" is somehow an identity that is separate from "Jewish." And through what definitions are we imposing that difference? Through... race science? Through cultural differences? Well, again, what about people who have cultural overlaps. Like if a nonJewish Palestinian marries a Jewish person who is not Palestinian and their child is growing up with both cultures? What does that mean for them? What does that mean for the two people who got married? And even Jewish Palestinians, are they having to give up their Palestinian side for marrying someone Jewish? Won't that cause further inequality within our groups? Isn't this separation just a nicer worded version of segregation in that way?

We have to acknowledge that it is within the state of Israel's interests, at their core, to separate these two identities. So by playing into this narrative, we're continuing the very colonization of history as they try to rewrite the past, implying that Jewish Palestinians especially were not considered a part of Palestinian culture and werent allowed to partake in it.

And it's just, to me, very racist to assume that there can't be overlap between these two types of people. It's happened in Palestine for centuries. But when Balfour comes in and is like "here you go, Jewish people of European cultural heritage, here is your homeland, nevermind the other people who have customs and traditions here, just do whatever you want and get out of Europe," everyone just nods their head like yeah that's reasonable. They didn't even try to learn Palestinian culture and life they just kicked us out. I'd argue that Palestinians would have welcomed Jewish immigrants who sought a safe homeland, so long as they didn't kick us out and enact nearly a century of violence. Palestine is the holy land for a reason! This land is the convergence of faiths and ideas and culture in such a unique way. Labeling it "Palestine" emphasizes that Palestinians are diverse and allow for an overlap of identities!

Essentially, when you try to separate groups of people like this, particularly when the separation of "Palestinians" (or more commonly referred to as "arabs" in Israeli society. Even our identities are erased to homogenize us) and "Jews," it makes it seem like Palestinians are fundamentally anti-jewish and antisemitic. And historically, just doesn't even make any sense.

#palestine

[hp-hcs]

Reader (male preferably) x T.N and M.R

Where reader gets into fights a lot. Like a lot. Almost double the amount that Theo and Matt get in combined in just a week. The only reason Dumbledore lets him stay at Hogwarts is because he’s top of every class. What bugs a lot of his peers is the fact that he doesn’t try. He doesn’t study, he just gets it straight up, he barely shows up to class, he fights everyone and anything that speaks bad about the slytherin house, and he’s got the face every guys jealous of. Reader is just made to make people mad, is how he’d be described. But he’s not aggressive. He doesn’t lose his temper easy, it’s just when his house or Theo and Matt are mentioned that he loses it. It’s like a trigger going off in his brain, to protect what’s his. And Merlin does that turn them on.

NSFW (optional)

Reader loves to mark them as his. To have everyone be able to see the dark hickeys or slowly healing bite marks. To display a type of claim over the two. They’re his. And he knows exactly how to make them feel good. Make them writhe for him. Degrading Mattheo while edging Theodore, wrapping his bloodied hands around their throats while he pushes them up against the wall. Fuck and when he’s all beaten up after a fight? They can’t fucking resist him.

• smut • bloody knuckles — poly! sub! sweetie pie! theodore nott x poly! sub! brat! mattheo riddle x gn! poly! dom! reader

❕no pronouns or gender/assigned sex markers of any kind!❕

warnings: SMUT MDNI, BLOOD KINK JFC IS THERE A GODDAMN BLOOD KINK IN HERE, same with degradation holy fuck, pain(?) kink, violence, mild descriptions of gore/wounds, usage of the word ‘blood’ or ‘bloody’ approximately 12000000 times, THE BOYS ARE ROMANTICALLY & SEXUALLY INVOLVED WITH EACH OTHER, some pretty aggressive dom/sub roles for ya silly little deviants

i don’t know why i gave the boys pure opposite personalities. the dichotomy of man, i guess.

this is quite easily the filthiest fucking thing i’ve ever written, and i was too embarrassed to let my allosexual boyfie edit/help with this one so it’s real bad 😬 enjoy your asexual-written smut? ig? i did my best, anon, i’m so sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seamus Finnegan was not expecting to start off his Monday morning with a broken nose.

To be fair though, it was kind of his fault. I mean, six years of school together and the boy still decided to run his mouth without a single care in the world.

“Heard Riddle’s a slut. That true?”

Your head snapped up and a furious look crossed your face. “What?”

“Hot though,” Seamus shrugged. “‘s why y’keep ‘im ‘round, yeah?”

Your hands clenched into fists down by your sides.

“He a good fuck, at least?” Seamus asked carelessly, seemingly unaware of your brewing anger. “I bet ‘e is. Think ‘e’d put out?”

Before anyone could even blink, you had Finnegan down on the ground. His face quickly became the victim of your furious fists.

He tried to shove you off, but you just smacked his hands away and got a solid hit to the center of his face, punctuated by the sound of snapping cartilage.

Blood rushed in your ears and the crowds fell away as you focused solely on Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

You were abruptly brought out of your bloodthirsty rage by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso and yanking you off of Seamus.

You spun around in anger, the question of who the fuck-? dying on your lips when you saw the concerned face of Theodore Nott, and the bright red face of Mattheo Riddle.

~~~

“Darling-”

“Shut up, it’s my love language,” you pouted.

Theo rolled his eyes fondly, leading you by your shoulders into their dorm’s bathroom. “You know we can handle ourselves, love. You’ve met both of our fathers; we’ve had much worse than some Irish pipsqueak theorizing about our sex lives.”

“Well, I thought it was hot.” Mattheo interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Our badass lover who’s willing to throw down with a Gryffindor to protect our honor? Proof that chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Well, I just don’t want other people talking about you like that,” you scowled.

“We know, love,” Theo grinned, crouching down to dig the first aid kit out from under the sink, patting your thigh in a patronizingly reassuring gesture. “Now, lemme see how bad it is.”

You huffed in faux annoyance, holding out your bloody hands in front of you and lifting your chin so he could see the state of your face.

Theo sighed and began his millionth lecture of the day as he started dabbing antiseptic ointment on the few small scrapes scattered across your face.

Mattheo was unusually quiet, adding nothing to the playful bickering between you and Theo.

You glanced over at him, only to find that he was practically enraptured, staring at your hands. His eyes followed a single bead of blood’s meandering path down your knuckles and fingers, watching as it dripped off the tip of your index finger and splattered onto the tile floor.

You could’ve sworn you saw him lick his lips.

You traded a knowing look with Theo before speaking. “Whatcha looking at, Matty?”

His cheeks flushed red and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes. “Nothing!”

You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“Oh, really?”

He gulped.

You reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him up against the wall. “A blood kink, huh? Shit, you really are a slut, love.”

Mattheo looked down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

You gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at you. His eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of your grasp.

You pressed two blood-streaked fingers against his lips, groaning at the sight of his tongue instinctively darting out to kitten-lick them.

“Shit, Matty,” Theo whispered from behind you.

You trailed your fingers down his jaw and the side of his neck before loosely wrapping your hand around his throat.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Y-Y/n-”

“You like this? Hm?” You crooned as the blood on your hand smeared onto the skin of his neck.

Mattheo nodded frantically—as much as he could with the limited range of motion.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Riddle. What a filthy fucking boy.”

(He whimpered. He fucking loved it when you called him by his last name.)

You let go of his neck, stepping back and leaving him with a pleading whine caught in his throat as you turned to your other boyfriend.

“And Theodore, my pretty little angel,” you cooed softly, running your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek. “How’s my little lovebug doing?”

He watched you with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips. “Y-Y/n…”

You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Answer my question, pretty boy.”

“I-I’m doing good, love,” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as you trailed your thumb down the side of his neck and swept it across his collarbone.

You abruptly pulled your hand away, spinning on your heel and leaving the en-suite without another word.

Your boys followed you into the dorm room like lost puppies, trailing after you with confused and needy expressions.

You sat down on one of the beds, lying back against the pillows with a relaxed and unbothered expression on your face. “Teddy, over here. Matty, go sit in the chair.” You waved your hand towards the desk chair, lazily motioning for Theodore to take off his shirt and join you on the bed.

Mattheo pouted and whined. “What? But- darlin’, I’ve been-”

“A greedy bitch,” you scoff as you yanked off Theo’s trousers and boxers in one swift motion, rolling him over onto his back. “Now sit down and wait your damn turn. Don’t you dare touch yourself. You’d better keep your hands where I can fucking see them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned back to your other lover. You ignored Mattheo’s protesting whines in favor of wrapping your fingers around Theo’s dick, appreciating the way Theo’s hips jerked up with a startled moan and his hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as you did so.

“Riddle. I changed my mind. Get the fuck over here.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at the boy wiggling uncomfortably in his seat. “Hold Teddy’s hand.”

He jumped into action, quickly clambering onto the bed next to the pair of you and scooping up one of Theo’s hands in his.

You nodded, pleased at his cooperation, and slowly started jerking Theo off.

“Pretty, isn’t he, Matty?”

You expected him to say something in agreement, or tease Theo lightly, but your question was met with silence.

You glanced over, curious as to what caught his attention. Mattheo’s eyes were laser focused on Theo’s lower half. You followed his line of sight, confused as to what he was looking at, when you realized.

The blood from your busted knuckles had smeared itself all over Theo’s cock.

“Suck Teddy off.” The demand left your lips before you could even fully think it through.

Neither boy seemed disinterested in your proposition, if the way Mattheo all but scrambled down the bed as he leapt onto your boyfriend was any indication.

Mattheo kneeled between Theo’s thighs and pinned down his hips, practically drooling at the perverse sight in front of him.

Theo moaned brokenly as he felt Mattheo’s tongue lick a long stripe up his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. You hummed appreciatively at the gorgeous view in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hand along Theo’s hip and thigh.

The dorm was quickly filled with the sweet sounds of Theodore’s little moans and sighs, and the filthy wet sounds of Mattheo’s mouth.

He drew Theo closer and closer to his release. But right as your sweetest lover’s body began to shake, you caught sight of one of your brat’s hands subtly sneaking between his legs. You growled, tightening your grip in his hair to warn him to pull off.

As soon as Mattheo pulled off of Theo’s cock, panting for air, you harshly grabbed his jaw and yanked his head up to face you.

“Greedy fucking whore,” you sneered, “I told you not to touch yourself. Apologize to Theo for being such a self-centered brat.”

“S-sorry! So-sorry! I-I’m sorry, T-Theo!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, petting his hair and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. “Good, love. Continue.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the whiplash of your sudden gentleness as he leaned back down to continue his earlier ministrations.

He quickly realized why you’d been so suddenly sweet when he felt your hand start roughly palming him through his trousers. He whined around Theo’s cock, which in turn made Theodore gasp and moan loudly.

You grinned at your boys’ reactions as you leaned down to murmur in Mattheo’s ear, “You can cum if you get Teddy off, alright sweetheart?”

Sparked with renewed interest at the incentive, Mattheo resumed sucking off Theo with vigor. Theo’s thighs shook as he babbled incoherently, a mix of “Fuck!”s, “Merlin-”s, and “Y/n!”s.

“Good boys, that’s it,” you cooed sweetly, brushing sweaty curls off of Theo’s forehead. “You’re just so close, aren’t you, my love?”

Theo sobbed pitifully and nodded. “Pl-please- Y/n- please!”

“Go ahead,” you whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

With your permission, Theo fell apart with a loud moan, his entire body shaking and spasming. You continued palming Mattheo, intent on keeping good on your promise.

“Come whenever you’re ready, Riddle,” you murmured. He had pulled off of Theo by now, and stared up at you with wide, glazed-over eyes. You wiped a smear of cum from the corner of his lips with your thumb, grinning teasingly at the pair of them as you promptly stuck it in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the digit.

With one final moan, Mattheo’s body stiffened up and broke down into shudders as he was wracked with the force of his orgasm. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the bed, tucking his face into the hollow where Theo’s thigh met his pelvis.

You gave both of your boys a minute to collect themselves, murmuring gentle praise as you littered their faces with soft kisses. “Both so good for me, my best boys. So perfect.”

You sat in a contented quiet for a few more minutes, just caressing them gently. But once their breathings had steadied out, they startled you by sharing a look and abruptly tugging you down and rolling over on top of you.

“Your turn now, love.”

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #hp x gn reader #theo nott #x reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x male reader #hp smut #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

[saphronethaleph]

Literary Illusions

“It’s ironic,” Palpatine said, shaking his head. “He could save others from death, but not himself.”

Anakin frowned.

“And this is something the Jedi wouldn’t have told me?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Palpatine replied. “Is it a story you’ve heard?”

“Well, yes,” Anakin said. “Just now, from you. But not before then… and that surprises me, Chancellor.”

Palpatine shrugged. “I think you’ll find, Anakin, that the Jedi have not been telling you everything.”

“Maybe not, but… honestly, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing they’d tell me,” Anakin said.

Palpatine frowned.

“...what?” he asked.

“You know,” Anakin said. “Some Sith Lord works out how to bring people back to life from the dead, but his apprentice kills him and doesn’t bring him back to life because the Sith are inherently self destructive. If the two of them had worked together and been able to trust one another, they’d have been immortal.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good illustration of the inherently self destructive nature of the Dark Side, and it’s the dichotomy of how the Dark Side leads you to seek power in order to achieve goals that you then discard as irrelevant, because they’re not directly related to gaining power… hold on a second.”

Palpatine was a little distracted by trying to avoid mentally kicking himself, so it took him somewhat more than a second to notice what Anakin was doing.

“...Anakin?” he said. “Are you getting your comlink out?”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied. “Going to text Obi-Wan, ask him what he thinks of the story. Maybe there’s some kind of detail I missed which makes it less of a good illustration of the different worldviews and mindsets of the Jedi and the Sith.”

The Knight shrugged, his thumbs tapping away at his comlink. “He probably knows it, he knows all of the old stories.”

Palpatine blinked several times.

“...don’t,” he said, then very discreetly scrambled for a reason why. “It’s the middle of a performance. We don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s on silent,” Anakin replied, with a shrug. “Or vibrate. Did I put it on vibrate… hang on, Chancellor, I’ll make sure it’s on silent…”

He turned the comlink over, then a loud bwing sounded.

“Oh, right, I forgot to set it to do not disturb mode,” Anakin said. “Hang on… uh… yeah, there we go, I forgot I added all these custom modes. I’ve been missing a lot of sleep lately.”

“Perhaps-” Palpatine began, but Anakin spoke over him.

“Huh,” he said. “He says he’s never heard of it either. Wants to know where I heard about it, it looks like he’s really interested… or maybe he’s trying to tell me about a death stick vendor, he’s terrible with multiglyphs and he thinks he’s good at them.”

Anakin glanced at the Chancellor, hoping for some solidarity, then visibly noticed that the Chancellor was several decades older than him and abandoned that.

“Is there a book I can get the whole story from?” he asked, instead. “Obi-Wan is better at nuances, like I say.”

“That is not the point,” Palpatine said, trying not to get visibly angry. “The point is that there is a way to save your loved ones!”

“Maybe there used to be, but not any more,” Anakin shrugged. “Like you said, this was a Sith thing and the Sith are all dead. Well, unless General Grievous is a Sith who knows how to heal people, but I doubt it given how much he got hurt, and I’m not sure Dooku knew it either… hey, if this story needs to be publicized more then maybe we could have them do a play of that instead?”

Palpatine blinked several times, as he tried to keep up with a Jedi with possible undiagnosed ADHD and found himself discovering a lack of talent for podracing.

“What?” he asked.

“You know, a play,” Anakin explained. “Dramatic betrayals, lost loved ones, it would probably do numbers. It’d be better than this, anyway.”

He waved his hand at the ongoing performance of Squid Lake.

“...what is wrong with Squid Lake?” Palpatine said, before reflecting that that had really been a stupid question for him to ask and that he should have asked a much better one.

“Well, uh,” Anakin began, looking a bit abashed. “Actually now I say it out loud this might be really culturally insensitive of me, but to me this play might as well be eighty minutes of people boasting about having enough water to swim in.”

“It’s a ballet,” Palpatine told him, now completely having lost control of the conversation.

“It’s just a less scary version of Sarlacc Pit,” Anakin went on. “Someone tried to drown me in a lake once, because they thought I couldn’t swim, but floating on sand is much harder, you barely have to do anything to escape a lake. You just float.”

Very belatedly, Anakin caught sight of Palpatine’s look of total befuddlement, and shrugged.

“Watto was a lot of things,” he said. “But he had culture.”

Palpatine’s hands twitched, as he very seriously considered the idea of abandoning literal centuries of Sith planning and decades of personal political advancement in favour of stabbing Anakin somewhere it would hurt.

It was extraordinarily tempting.

“...hold on,” Anakin said, slowly. “I guess… the thing I’d like most at the moment is for… and that means… this is literally one of those times when I could fall to the Dark Side because of it, like Darth Plagueis.”

He bestowed a grateful smile on Palpatine. “Thanks, Chancellor! I need to make a call, I guess the ballet won’t mind.”

Palpatine was so thrown by the swerve that he couldn’t think of a way to stop Anakin in the few seconds he had.

“Love?” Anakin said, into his commlink. “I… think we need to come clean, because otherwise I’ll fall to the Dark Side.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

#star wars #palpatine #anakin skywalker #Is sleep deprived #Too dumb to trick #revenge of the sith

[transmutationisms]

Is mbti pseudoscience ? Also what makes a term pseudoscience ? Is it the people involved? Lack of empirical evidence? Inability to replicate the results?

this is called the demarcation problem and philosophers of science have not settled it. i find this debate trite because it's generally framed around ahistorical, apolitical, asocial notions of 'science' as a set of disembodied ideas rather than as a family of knowledge practices occurring and evaluated in specific social contexts. for example, if we call phrenology a 'pseudoscience' we end up making nonsense of the historical observation that phrenological ideas were part of scientific discourses, practices, and experimentation throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. people measuring skulls and trying to map out localised brain functions were engaging in scientific activities; scientific inquiry is capable of producing ideas that are wrong, racist, internally contradictory, &c. one of the main ideological functions of the label 'pseudoscience' has been & continues to be providing a foil for its counterpart, the ideal of 'science' as an inherently noble and truth-producing activity.

it's dangerous to reify the sort of dichotomy that doesn't permit for the existence of scientific error, bias, or ideological taint; it also obscures the internal logic of previous modes of thinking and epistemological frameworks (bloodletting was not just something doctors did because they were stupid; astrology historically depended on particular cosmologies and philosophical axioms) and makes it extremely difficult to say anything worthwhile about practices and ideas that have been designated 'scientific' or 'pseudoscientific', 'orthodox' or 'heterodox', in different historical moments and places. it's easy to see the designation 'pseudoscience' as a neutral or even politically astute denigration of bullshittery or charlatanism, but consider also that powerful institutions, individuals, professional guilds, and states are just as capable of slinging accusations of 'pseudoscientificity' at those they wish to marginalise for various political and ideological reasons. one recent example of this is the fairly contentious argument over the basic and unfortunately true assertion that many respiratory illnesses, particularly covid, are airborne. the process of deciding whose ideas are bunk, and whose are proper science, occurs in social context just as much as the formation and dissemination of the ideas themselves does.

anyway if what you mean is "are the mbti categories real / fixed / universal human 'types'" then the answer is no, definitely not, it was always a philosophically unjustified taxonomy-forward attempt to bring jungian psychology to the masses that caught on with hiring departments and corporate consultants, and that more than a few people have compared to a kind of 'updated' astrological discourse on the 'personality' expressed in today's scientifically fashionable language rather than yesteryear's. now see if every psy-scientific discourse to which a similar critique applies were to be described as 'pseudoscience' then we would have an awfully hard time explaining what exactly are the professional activities their exponents are engaging in all day, and meanwhile we would have very handily preserved the fiction that there is some other, nobler, properly scientific discipline of psychology magically free of all such inconvenient history and conceptual baggage.

#hps

[prokopetz]

I suppose what annoys me about tabletop RPGs whose primary pitch is “puts the story first!” is that it fundamentally misunderstands the relationship between the rules and the narrative. The defining feature of tabletop RPGs is that interpreting the outcomes of the rules produces a story, and in this sense, all tabletop RPGs “put the story first” – the idea that some tabletop RPGs are About Stories and some tabletop RPGs are Not About Stories is a false dichotomy.

The trouble is that game rules are opinionated about the kinds of story they want to produce, and folks end up conflating “this game’s rules want to produce a different kind of story from the one that I want to tell” with “this game’s rules don’t produce stories at all”, which is not a constructive way to frame things; keep up with that line of thinking and you’re on a short road to becoming one of those dogmatic weirdos who thinks there’s exactly one correct way to pretend to be an elf.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #grumping

[bowtiepastabitch]

Deeply Transgender and Vividly Pornographic: a deep dive into what makes a fic queer

This is a response to the wonderful @ineffabildaddy making this post, which it was originally going to just be a reblog to but once I started approaching a thousand words it was a bit unwieldy so we're just going all the way. If second base is reading their fics and third base is actually talking to your mutuals, I have no clue what this is.

Here's the prompt text that started it all:

Alright, well I am nothing if not a scientist (narrator voice: they were, in fact, a humanities major), so I spent several hours of my weekend putting this together because I'm a burnt out academic and this is the enrichment in my enclosure. Readers, this is going to contain experpts of some very spicy stuff, so stop here if you're not interested. Me bringing porn? To your tumblr dash? It's more likely than you think.

All fics and such referenced will be linked at the bottom of the page.

~~~

Heteronormativity and cisnormativity, while unfortunately the dominant norm for mainstream pornography, make little appearance within the fandom writing spaces I myself spend time in. That's not to say I haven't read my fair shair of painfully straight smut in my lifetime, but simply that I have taste and am lucky to be neck deep in a fandom with very little of it. Nonetheless, as a card-carrying queer and writer myself, I consider myself quite familiar with the distinctive traits and patterns of queer and cishet pornographic writing. Beyond merely a focus on non-male pleasure or the subtle presence of queer or trans characters, the characterization of queer fanfiction is distinct and has entirely different mannerisms in dealing with conceptions of the body and pleasure. I'll primarily be citing Ineffabildaddy's work, for the sake of a focused analysis, who I will henceforth be referring to as Sam for the sake of pseudo-academic flow.

There are certain linguistic patterns that tend to distinguish heterosexual and heteronormative depictions of sex from queer ones. For instance, "cunt" is utilized sparingly within heteronormative contexts for its vulgarity and added obscenity, whilst queer writers use it pretty universally and without the same subtext. Throughout his writing, Sam works with this queer-coded vocabulary pretty consistently. In "Strawberry Scripture" (F/M), he describes how "Crowley's cunt... was damn-near swollen" and how Aziraphale has to resist "Bury[ing] his face in it immediately." No cis-het man has ever thought about eating pussy that way, and if you find one I'll eat my fucking hat. Likewise, vocabulary for the phallic tends to veer in the direction of "cock" over anything else. Interestingly, this creates a set of contrasting pairings. Heteronormative slang, from my obvervation, is more likely to use 'dick' and 'pussy', and, especially in conjunction, it creates a very distinctive mouthfeel that separates the two and poses them as opposites. 'Pussy', in particular, has a much more feminized feel when juxtaposed against 'dick', favoring much softer consonants and the english diminutive 'y' ending. 'Cock' and 'cunt', in comparison, have a very similar sound and feeling to them, distancing itself from hetero-cis-normative gender dualism of the language. There is, of course, plenty of nuance to this and the use of a variety of language in subverting cisnormative ideas about the sexed body as well, with phrases like 'boypussy' and 'girldick' being rather essential to the way many trans people describe their own bodies. "Fandom's Pornagraphic Subset," (yes I'm stealing sources from my research paper on monsterfucking, suck my dick) an article published in 2021 by Silja Kukka, describes how the "fleshy, hyperbolic descriptions of sex" that characterize this kind of writing are essential to what she dubs the "[creation of] a new genderqueer place outside of the gender dichotomy"(57). If you read enough smut, you know exactly what this is talking about. For example, in "Despite Knowing Better,"(F/M) we get vivid imagery to describe the way "streaks of her spit oozed from her mouth even as Aziraphale fucked it"(Ch5) and of "her walls quivering and clenching around him."(Ch3) This level of graphic sexual depiction goes beyond what would be considered 'tasteful' or 'sexy' in a heteronormative concept of pornography.

In terms of tropes, let's do a deep dive into "Strawberry Scripture"(F/M) to find what makes it queer beyond it's apparently straight pairing. To preface, this fic involves both foodplay and monsterfucking, but we're only gonna analyze one. The inherent queerness of monsterfucking is actually something I've written an entire academic paper on, so I suppose I'll start there. There's something very queer and often very trans about subverting the standard playbook of sexual acts, and while kink itself can easily be heterosexual, most monsterfucking falls far outside that category no matter what genital configuration those involved have. Monsterfucking tends to reject the phallocentrism of heteronormativity and mainstream kink by subverting the concept of the human body itself, giving inhuman and monstrous qualities to characters usually for sex appeal or general kinky shenanigans. While there's an argument to be made for heteronormativity still being able to creep into certain spaces, that certainly isn't true for this fic. There's something intrinsically transgressive about creating an erogenous zone out of a feature that would largely be considered horror or 'gross' in any other form of media, which is exactly what Sam does here as he describes the "cool, satiny sensation that the plates of her scales against his tip engendered." The scales are not merely called apon for their invocation of the unusual but to give them an eroticism in and of themselves, with Crowley reaching orgasm through their stimulation. We also slide gently into Monsterfucker territory in "Close (well you couldn't get much closer)" (M/M), where an argument could be made that the most trans-coded element isn't even Crowley's T-dick but instead the presence of a magic angel dildo. (sentences I never thought I'd fucking say but here we are.) There's something deeply transgender about the deconstruction of genital purpose in sex that recontextualizes the gendered body's role in pleasure. It falls into the same semiotic revolution and reclaiming of the body as the changes in language used by trans folks to rename and reidentify the literal physicality of the body by ones own standards (ie T-dick).

Another major trademark in departing from heteronormatized porn is the shift in narrative focus away from penetrative sex. That is, even in paragraphs where the main sex event is penetration, it rarely takes up even half the prose. The majority of narration is focused on surrounding or tangential actions: "the flowing movement of ... hips was sedate and wanton and lusciously provocative,"(1) "watching the muscles which resided there tense and relax alternately with pleasure,"(2) "his tongue stole past his teeth and slid over them,"(3) and "he whispered, his voice aching and curling and stretching for her"(4); all excerpts pulled from moments in which penetration is taking place, yet the concentration is anywhere but. Likewise, the act of penetration itself only takes up a small portion of physical sex acts in the grander scheme of Sam's writing. Instead, we as readers are presented with a vast spread of cock-sucking, pussy-eating, fingering, teasing, frottage, kissing, and more. Contrast this with the cis-hetero norm, where penetrative sex is the endgoal, and any other action is shucked aside to play second fiddle as mere foreplay. It's the reason virginity as a concept is directly tied to the mystical hymen and one's experience with penetration; a straight girl can suck dick a thousand times and still consider herself a virgin. As such, in a piece of pornographic writing where I have significant trouble finding lines to pull specifically and exclusively describing penetration (seriously, try it out yourself), the heterosexual influence is negligible. And yes, I'm talking about all of them. I had to restructure an entire argument that focused on comparing lines from different works because it was so difficult to find them.

So, in conclusion, Sam, love, there is not an ounce of heteronormativity in even the "straightest" of your writing. Congratulations.

Links, in order of reference:

Strawberry Scripture (3)

Fandom's Pornographic Subset, article by Silja Kukka and a great read

Despite Knowing Better... (4)

Close (you couldn't be much closer)

Many Different Ways to Eat an Oyster (1)

I'm Beginning to See the Light (2)

Author's notes, and then I promise I'll leave y'all alone: Hi! This started as a short analysis but quickly became a three(?)(maybe more?) hour labor of love analyzing the things I love most about both Sam's writing and the writing in this community as a whole. Please please please ask me questions, I'm an autistic little bitch and I like knowing things. My ask box? Open. Comments? Open. Reblogs? Open. If you've read this far, I fucking love you and I am kissing you on the mouth right now. Don't worry, my gender is just queer so it's gay no matter what. <3<3<3

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom #nerd shit #why do any of you follow me #gomens

[aeithalian]

Hermes: the ultimate middle child

And now for the other promised meta!

There was a great discussion on the TOA discord earlier that I got the chance to read once it was over that was basically exactly what I wanted to talk about - Hermes as a character and how he is very subtly contrasted with Apollo in multiple ways.

First, for a curiosity I've had ever since I finished TON. We learn several very interesting things about Hermes in the scene when Apollo returns to the Council:

He initiated the bets on Apollo's success (and then has the nerve to say he was worried about Apollo)

He bet against Apollo (and it was enough money to make him look visibly upset by the loss)

He was not among the gods who looked happy at Zeus' proclamation of Apollo's success (Artemis makes sense for being happy, Dionysus makes sense for not, but Hermes is supposedly a close brother figure in the myths, so what gives?)

He immediately suggested that Apollo cause outright harm to some mortals with his renewed power, despite displaying no such malice in his previous appearances

There is an interesting play of contrast here when you look at Hermes' other notable scene in the Riordanverse - his conversation with Percy at the end of TLO.

Hermes is generally portrayed as much more serious right here. He's grieving Luke's death at this point, but Hermes knew that was coming, and this demeanor is consistent with his other appearances up until this point: put-together, down-to-business, pragmatic, and so on.

This doesn't seem like the same person we see at the end of TON: making jokes, placing bets, and the like. And THEN you go back to the myths and the Hermes there seems much more similar to the one we meet in TON.

My point being, there is a very obvious disconnect here between who Hermes used to be, who he is now, and who he is pretending to be.

And it has a lot to do with Zeus, and as a result, Apollo.

I think there's a twofold reason for this dichotomy: one, Hermes and Apollo have fundamentally contradictory views on both fate and change which have larger implications for Hermes' overall morality; and two, Hermes resents Apollo for being Zeus' favorite when Apollo probably doesn't deserve it (or Hermes believes he deserves it more).

Part I: Fate and Change

I'd like to go back to that conversation between Percy and Hermes at the end of The Last Olympian. The entire conversation is so strange to me: here's a sixteen-year-old who has never had a positive father figure in his life (save Paul, who is still a recent addition to his family at this point) trying to comfort a 4,000-year-old god that he's not a bad father:

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

The main point of that conversation comes from Hermes' response to Percy's statement. To paraphrase, Hermes says 'I couldn't have saved Luke, it's against the laws and I can't defy the fates. I loved him, yes, but I couldn't save him. Those laws aren't going to change anytime soon, and neither are the gods.'

What we get from this conversation is this: Hermes was resigned to being unable to help Luke because he views the future as inevitable and the Fates as all-powerful (as does Zeus). He also doesn't believe that gods can change in the ways Percy wants them to; he scoffs at the idea that Percy's proposed changes will be permanent:

"No one can tamper with fate, Percy. Not even a god."

and then:

He laughed. "After three thousand years, you think gods can change their nature?"

To Hermes? Fate is inevitable and the gods can't change.

On the other hand, to Apollo? The future is behind any number of unlocked doors, and the only thing stopping the gods from changing are themselves:

[Regarding Frank burning his stick in TTT] "Frank went into that tunnel knowing he might die. He willingly sacrificed himself for a noble cause. In doing so, he broke free of his own fate. By burning his own tinder, he kind of... I don't know, started a new fire with it. He's in charge of his own destiny now."

Frank broke free of his fate, and the way Apollo talks about it indicates that he believes that such things are certainly possible.

And this:

[After regaining his godhood in TON] I could only try to be different from [Zeus]. Better. More... human.

Apollo intends to change the way he acts now that he is returned to Olympus, and has the support of everyone else who noted that he has already grown as a person: Jason, Sally, Will, Reyna, and so many more.

I feel like Hermes has always felt that he has the excuse of being a god when Percy asks him to do better for the sake of Luke's memory: "We gods have never been very good at keeping oaths." and "Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do." and generally lots of other sentiments that give the impression that he believes that failure to do right by mortals is inevitable for gods. He's been so used to thinking that Luke was resigned to his fate from the very beginning, and that Hermes was never capable of changing it. Hermes didn't fail because he didn't try to succeed.

But Apollo ruins that for him when he returns - Apollo has not and will not let that same excuse stop him, and now Hermes is losing the only reason he had for not helping Luke. If Hermes is right, that gods can never help their mortal children and Luke was born to die at Kronos' hand, it was excusable for Hermes to turn his back on his own son. But if Apollo is right that gods can change and you can shape your own destiny, then it was Hermes and his inaction that killed Luke, not Kronos.

And we know that Apollo is right. Apollo did defy his fate. Apollo did change. And Hermes saw it all from the safety of his throne on Olympus.

Which means that Hermes was always wrong, and he knows it now. Hermes says that not helping Luke was the hardest thing he's ever done, because it would have amounted to nothing. Hermes thought he was completely incapable of helping Luke, but Apollo is living proof that he could have.

So now, Apollo is a daily reminder that Hermes failed Luke. Every day.

That would be enough to drive a wedge between any two people, much less two gods. And I don't think Apollo would ever truly realize that this is the case, so one day, Hermes is going to break, and Apollo will be left blindsided.

It only makes sense that Hermes might have some very heavy clown makeup on when we see him at the end of TON. I can't speak for him when we talk about the gambling, but I bet it's because Hermes, like he did with Luke, thought that Apollo would be resigned to his death the very moment Delphi-Python said that "Apollo will fall". And the fact that Apollo survived against all the odds (and seemingly against the Fates themselves) is just another smack to the face. I believe his behavior and comments in this scene are him lashing out in anger and frustration at the solid fact of the matter; that Hermes failed his own family, which is something he values to no end.

That's got to suck.

But now I think we have to closely examine why Hermes believes those things. Hermes has been brainwashed in a sense to believe that he can't defy fate and can't change. By who, then?

Do I really need to answer that? You have a brain. It's obvious, isn't it?

Part II: The fight to be the golden child

Let's rewind a bit, shall we?

The entire discussion had over on discord was started with talking about the potentials of Apollo's relationships with Ares and the rest of his siblings, then someone (I believe it was @fearlessinger, along with some very valid points made by uke) said this:

...but Ares, who was always the least favored of Zeus's children, the family's scapegoat, and who gave up on trying to get on Zeus's good side basically as soon as he was born and deemed a failure… he of all ppl would actually have no reason to resent Apollo for his success, nor for throwing away that success

To which I replied:

so i wonder then who has the reason to resent Apollo the most?... it’s probably a son, because they’re the ones who have to fight the most for Zeus’ approval ... maybe Hermes? because he’s never really done anything wrong and still doesn’t receive the title he deserves ...

To summarize: Apollo was the golden child, and used to be Zeus' favorite. We are certain he faces a lot of resentment for this fact (he admits to it himself), and Hermes definitely fits the bill.

Think about it.

Besides Luke, what has Hermes ever done that would put him out of the running for golden child? He's useful, talented, powerful enough to be on the Council, and despite being a god of liars and thieves, is work-driven enough that his father still trusts him. Even in the myths, he's clever in a very Zeus-y way.

Apollo, on the other hand, acts like a complete and utter fool pre-trials. He's vain, self-centered, and shallow. He's a chronic attention-seeker, and, in the myths tried to overthrow Zeus, and had angered him to the point of turning him mortal, not once, but twice. So what gives? Why is Apollo the favorite son, and not Hermes?

Honestly, I couldn't say, besides vague suggestions that it's because Zeus likes the idea of having the powerful and popular son as a favorite, rather than the less noticeable behind-the-scenes son. But who knows how Zeus and his favoritism work. Apollo doesn't, and I don't think Hermes does either.

I rather think Hermes is, as I said in the title, the ultimate middle child. Overlooked by his father in favor of his siblings, whether they be rebellious (Apollo), perfect in every way (Athena or Artemis) or just plain failures (Ares or Dionysus). In comparison, Hermes is invisible, having never done anything to make him stand out in the eyes of his father, nor having done anything that deserves a strict punishment. Nothing worthy of attention.

I've seen people wonder why Hermes never suffered the same consequences for Luke's actions in the way Apollo did for Octavian. But that's because Hermes never broke Zeus' fundamental law: do not interact with your mortal children.

The problems Octavian caused were supposedly because Apollo defied Zeus and created a forbidden connection with his legacy.

On the other hand, the problems Luke caused were because Hermes obeyed Zeus to the letter.

Why would Zeus punish Hermes for being obedient? And why wouldn't Zeus punish Apollo for breaking the 'ancient laws'?

Arguably, Hermes is Zeus' best behaved child (which is ironic, considering a few notable domains of his). Hermes is one of a trend that we see a lot with toxic parents who don't give attention and approval freely - Hermes and Apollo are on opposite sides of this spectrum. Apollo in the past has acted out in order to gain attention, whereas Hermes has glued himself to Zeus' side in an attempt to be perfect.

And this perfection includes indoctrinating into Zeus' belief systems and fears. Zeus fears the inevitability of fate. So does Hermes. Zeus refuses to let the gods change. So Hermes believes change impossible. Zeus says that you may not have contact with your mortal children. And although to Hermes this is the hardest of all, he turns his back on Luke.

And yet, 'golden child' is still not his title to claim. That rests with Apollo, still, who has not met Zeus' standards, openly rejects Zeus' belief systems, and yet continues to rise above the rest.

That is the formula for a deteriorating relationship between brothers: Apollo's mere existence being an everyday reminder to Hermes that he is a failure both to his son and to his father.

Everyone say hello to our old friend resentment.

Now, I'm not necessarily saying that Hermes and Apollo's relationship is inherently negative. But there's a lot of reason for there to be some contention coming from Hermes (and I didn't even touch on May Castellan - basically, I think Apollo refused to oversee her attempt to become the next Oracle because he knew it wouldn't work, which is why he wasn't present for May's attempt, but was for Rachel's; later on, Hermes could start seeing Apollo's domain and subsequent absence as the thing that drove her mad).

We don't have a lot of hints for whether or not he plans to act on those feelings of resentment. But they're there. And in a new, post-trials Olympus, they're going to come to light sooner or later.

Because Percy was right.

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

That's exactly what happened. And because of Apollo, Hermes now knows it.

(a list of my other metas if you'd like to read)

And a very special shoutout to @firealder2005 for writing this absolutely gut-wrenching and angsty but super cool fic based around this very idea that i am absolutely in love with and everyone should go read it ❤️

#toa #riordanverse #trials of apollo #apollogists #pjo #lester papadopoulos #hermes #greek mythology #pjo hermes #toa hermes #toa apollo #pjo apollo #the last olympian #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa

[dragons1re]

Trigun is a very autism media to me. The twins themselves are full of amazing metaphors for autism!!

The plants wings are a physical metaphor for autism! To me Rem’s and other humans fear of seeing Vash’s overtly autistic traits is shown in their reactions to his wings. We see Knives isn’t afraid of showing off his plant powers ever. The twins have a very cool dichotomy about masking-Vash was favored because he masked, while Knives never cared to.

When Vash and Knives see Tesla Rem goes to comfort Vash first. This seems to be slightly on favoritism, but also because she’s shocked that Vash is having a large emotional reaction. I think the fandom sees Vash as hyper-emotinal and Knives as hypo-emotional, but to me it’s switched.

Knives does not hide his emotions. And absolutely does not hide his outbursts! He has meltdowns all the time and is not ashamed of his autistic traits(Edit* this comment is in reference to Knives using his plant powers with no restraint, compared to Vash who almost never used his powers. I agree that Knives isn’t exactly a bastion of positivity about his autism, and hates his lack of control, that being said he isn’t ashamed of the traits themselves, just his lack of control over himself). He doesn’t care about being unsettling or being accepted by humans/neurotypical society. (Even more interesting to consider that all of the Gung-Ho Guns are disabled/neurodiverse in some way). Knives allows his emotions to control him, where Vash is guided by his obligations. He does what he wants, based on his wants. And what he wants is to be with the only other autistic person he knows-his brother. He also desperately wants his brother to be free from his internalized ableism and the pain of masking.

Vash on the otherhand spends all his time masking and denying his autistic traits so he can fit in with “normal“ humans. He also again, in contrast to Knives, acts based on how his mother told him to behave. He hates acting out/standing out. He still operates on Rem’s instructions to be “normal“ and unnoticeable. He does occasionally show strong emotions but they’re not his positive emotions. To be these are less examples of Vash being over emotional, but instead are examples of outbursts. The overflow of negative emotions reminds me of my meltdowns! As well most of the emotions we do see Vash show are also parts of his masking. They are deeply constructed displays of emotion. All set to Vash‘s derived sense of what’s normal. It’s what he thinks positive emotions look like. His mask is baked into everything he does. And only one person sees through it-Wolfwood!!

Wolfwood is also set apart by the narrative. He has been modified. In my view this is the story portraying that Wolfwood is also neurodivergent in some way. He is capable of seeing through Vash‘s mask, and from Vash‘s reaction is the first one to call him out on it. He also goes from being afraid of Vash‘s autistic traits-his wings-to supporting him. His last words are him encouraging Vash to express his emotions genuinely(to not worry about his “unsettling“ autism smile).

Trigun as a media deals to deeply with disability and autism(if someone remind me I’ll make another little essay thing about Meryl and Milly‘s autism). I hope this is coherent!!

Anyways! Happy Autism Month!!

#trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #millions knives #vash autism #autism #autism acceptence month #happy April!!! #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #sire’sramblings #shout out to bobosbillionsknives #for influencing a lot of my headcannons and interpretations of Knives #millions knives autism

[bettsfic]

Writing q: do you/did you ever feel like there's a dichotomy between writing something fun and light and tropey & writing something good/that you're proud of? I'm trying to write a romcom-esque multichap fic that ends happily but I keep running into this mental block that it's not Serious Work so it can't be what i would consider good (which is hilarious because a) its all fanfiction none of it is serious?? and b) i know that's not true!) lmao. Was jw if you have any thots on this

i've got an analogy for you.

before i started writing, i was really into baking. back then i was not only a perfectionist but an extremist. i believed that REAL baking meant using the rawest possible ingredients. the idea of store-bought puff pastry or pie crusts was appalling to me.

and every year i baked a pumpkin pie for thanksgiving. to bake the pumpkin pie, i had to go out at early o'clock in the morning on a saturday to my local farmer's market and pick out the most perfect pumpkins. and i don't know if you've ever baked pumpkin pie with real pumpkins but it takes a long damn time. and it's hard. and so i baked the pumpkins for hours and scraped out the innards and made a puree, and i roasted the seeds for a snack. and amid all that, i made the crust from scratch too.

the pie always turned out! so i kept making it that way. until one year i just wasn't up to the task, and instead swallowed my pride and bought canned pumpkin and a premade crust.

and it tasted exactly the same as the pie that took me an entire day to make. it was also much cheaper, because in our era of industry, the processed stuff has become more affordable than the raw stuff unless you grow it yourself. (and believe me, i wanted to.)

the only difference i could discern was in the texture, because canned pumpkin is pureed more than i could puree real pumpkin. canned pumpkin also has other kinds of gourds in it, but that doesn't really affect the taste. i also felt bad for not supporting my local farmers. but it was worth it to be able to bake a pie from start to finish in 90 minutes.

for so many years i had it in my head that if a process is harder, the result is better. it was that mentality that kept me in a job i hated for a long time. it's hard and i don't like it, therefore it's more serious and respectable. it was unconscionable to me to think that something fun and easy could result in something good.

when you're writing fanfiction or anything where you're relying on the audience's knowledge of something else (like tropes), you can get it in your head that it's inherently easier and therefore worse. and because it's a skill, in order to become better at it, you have to challenge yourself. to challenge yourself, you have to make it harder.

but you're making something. you're putting words on a page in formations that have never existed before. that's hard, period. you don't have to make it harder. your readers will value it regardless of the challenge you give yourself. every thanksgiving, my family just appreciated that i had baked a pie. they didn't care how i'd baked it or what ingredients i used. yes, the longer and more difficult process created a product i was more proud of than the shorter, easier process. but you can't taste pride.

this is something i have to remind myself of all the time, because my instinct is to make everything more difficult than it has to be. you're always going to be your own worst critic, in part because you're the only one who knows your own process and the blood, sweat, and tears you put into it. but ultimately, nobody cares about the pumpkins. all they want is the pie.

#writing advice #process

[archie-sunshine]

Peacetime(Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)(TF: CYBERVERSE)

SYNOPSIS: Hot Rod is bored during the relative peace that the wall has brought. He comms Soundwave for some fun. Soundwave says Hot Rod can't handle more than a quickie with him. Hot Rod makes an ill advised bet about it. (aka Hot Rod Gets Slammed Down Bigstyle)

Word Count: 4,764

TAGS: Soundwave/Hot Rod, overstimulation, humiliation, degradation, frenemies with benefits, rivals with benefits, face fucking, dirty talk, valveplug, denial, teasing

Author's Notes: spiritual successor to the soundrod art I drew earlier this week. please enjoy!

It wasn’t as if peacetime wasn’t needed and loved and wanted on Cybertron. Not at all, really! Who could complain about a world without fighting, who could complain about a world where for the first time in millions of years Hot Rod didn’t really have to watch his back? 

Well… Hot Rod could. Things had slowed down, people were worrying about stuff like infrastructure and public services and reconstruction. Things were going back to normal but it was a hard sell, especially considering the entire populous was comprised of antsy trigger happy veterans who’s ‘normal’ was waiting for the call to arms. The wall certainly didn’t help either. Tensions were cooled between them, especially since the Quinteson incident, but there were still plenty of Autobots who scowled at the concept of just letting the Decepticons be after millions of years of intergalactic war. 

Hot Rod probably should have counted himself in that number, but he had it on good authority that the Decepticons weren’t all the same sharp, frightening cookie cutter shape that some bots painted them as. It still fragged with Hot Rod’s processor that he could be the type to stand up for the honor of a Decepticon, but… not all of his fellow Autobots had the experience that he did. 

All that complex dichotomy aside, the fact was that Hot Rod had gotten a bit fond of some cons. Particularly the inscrutable, obnoxious Soundwave. He didn’t exactly have a name for what he and Soundwave had, but it was fun. It was thrilling.

It was a series of ill advised hookups that technically broke the laws surrounding the ceasefire wall deal, but Hot Rod liked that kind of danger. It was the same reason he kept getting in bed with a bot that could have- and probably should have- killed him a thousand times over: Hot Rod was a thrill seeker. 

And so, as Hot Rod entered his hab unit and the lights flickered on, he was already in the process of comming the other mech. 

HR: Heyyyyyyy

Hot Rod took a seat on his sofa, flicking on his holovid projector and beginning to flick through the channels. He had to have something to keep him occupied while he waited for Soundwave to respond after all.

SW: What do you want.

Curt, annoyed, and curious were all good things for Soundwave to be in Hot Rod’s opinion. They were a good look on him, even over text. 

HR: You free tonite? ;P

He briefly paused his channel surfing on some old rerun of a- now ancient- cybertronian soap opera. 

SW: Maybe. Why?

Hot Rod raised a brow ridge to himself. Maybe? He pondered the best way to continue for a klik. 

HR: Maybe?

SW: I have work to get done.

HR: Sounds boring. You should come visit. 

SW: You gonna make it worth my time?

Hot Rod grinned, reclining into the sofa and kicking his pedes up on the table. Bingo. He fished around for his handheld transponder, fiddling around to get to a camera function. He let his legs fall apart and brushed a tantilizing servo up the edge of his panels as he snapped a picture and sent it off.

HR: I always do ;0

There was a long pause, maybe a few minutes even. Hot Rod kept opening and reopening their comms chat in his processor, willing a new message to appear.

Finally, after what felt like an hour(but was actually 5 kliks), Soundwave responded. 

SW: I’ll be there. 

It was fun to mess around with a partner like Soundwave, usually mechs and femmes alike were falling all over themselves for a piece of his hot speedster frame, but Soundwave played hard to get. It was- again- thrilling. He didn’t get why he was so into it, but he wasn’t about to examine it either. 

*

Hot Rod stared at the door to his unit, attempting to lounge gracefully(and sexily) as he waited for Soundwave to enter. He’d poured two cubes of engex for them to share, the kind that soundwave liked, the really light blue stuff.

The door to the hab slid open. 

“Glad you could make it, how was traffic?” Hot Rod crooned, attempting to look effortlessly relaxed

“You know I always go through the backstreets.” Soundwave said, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. He strolled up to the couch Hot Rod was reclining on and shoved his legs out of his way before sitting down. Hot Rod looked at him indignantly, wrinkling his nose at him. 

Soundwave ignored the look, picking up his cube and turning his faceplate away from Hot Rod to drink. 

“Things all good on your side of the wall, Wavey?” Hot Rod asked, sitting up and trying to recover with a different sexy pose. 

“Don’t act like you care, drink your engex.” He retorted flatly, gesturing at the cube. 

Hot Rod rolled his optics and picked up his own cube. “You’re no fun.”

“That can’t be true, considering you’re the one who keeps bothering me for a quickie.” Soundwave raised a brow ridge at the speedster. 

“Welllllll it doesn’t have to be a quickie, does it?” Hot Rod flirted, starting to sip his engex. “You could have me the whole night.”

Soundwave snorted. “Please. With your stamina? You couldn’t handle more than 2 hours, let alone the whole night.” 

“I could too!” Hot Rod snapped. He took an indignant swig of engex and folded his arms. “I bet I could run circles around you.” 

Soundwave finished his cube, slamming it on the table and finally turning to face Hot Rod. “Bet you can’t.” 

“Well why don’t we find out?” Hot rod sneered, all flirtation melting away in favour of competition. “We’ll make it a real bet. 50 shanix says I can take whatever you throw at me, 4 hours of whatever you can dish out.”

“Whatever I throw at you? You’re playing with fire, Hot Rod.” Soundwave’s voice had lowered a bit, clearly showing his interest. 

“Well thats fine then, I can take the heat.” Hot Rod boasted.

“I don’t want your shanix.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t want shanix.” Soundwave repeated, shifting a bit closer, looming over the other’s frame. “When I prove you wrong, the next 3 times you need a hookup, you’ll drag your sorry aft over the border to my hab unit and beg me to spike you down in person.” 

Hot Rod’s engine flared, heat coming up to his faceplate. “W-Well alright-! And when I run circles around you, uh- um-” Hot Rod wracked his processor for a good enough punishment. “I get to put it in your port next time we do it.” He stuck his servo out with a malicious grin. 

Soundwave shook it, not letting go when Hot Rod tried to pull away. “You’re gonna regret this, Hot Rod.” 

*

Some had called Hot Rod a bit of a nymphomaniac. It was a bit of a harsh word, and not at all true, he thought about and did plenty of things other than interface. Others called him shareware, which was rude, but… not an unfitting title. Everyone knew he got around, which to some more uptight bots would be considered a mark on his character.

Hot Rod just considered it practice. 

He leaned into Soundwave’s servo as it slid down the top of his crest to the back of his helm. Soundwave’s spike was heavy and thick in Hot Rod’s intake, sleek white and smooth on the bottom with blue ridges around the top. He could feel his cheeks distending from the stretch as he bobbed his helm in the larger mech’s lap. His fans had kicked on a few kliks ago, shuddering to life as his frame fought against overheating. He let the tip of his spike rub against the back of his throat, laving his glossa luxuriously against the underside of Soundwave’s shaft. 

He allowed himself a pleased little hip wiggle when the larger bot stifled a moan from the stimulation, which earned him a tighter grip on the helm and an exasperated scoff. “You’re ridiculous.” Soundwave grunted, rocking his pelvis up into Hot Rod’s mouth and making him choke. He just slid his dermas tighter around Soundwave’s spike and pushed himself down harder. He forced back a gag as it passed into his throat, nearly hitting his vocalizer as he began to nestle his nose against the top edge of Soundwave’s lifted modesty panel. He swallowed around him, flicking his optics up to the other mech’s and winking. 

HR: still think you’re gonna win? 

SW: Want me to stop going easy on you?

Their gaze stayed locked on each other, a spark of competitiveness glinting in Hot Rod’s optics. 

HR: Do your worst, big guy.

The comm had barely appeared in their channel before Soundwave shifted his position, rolling Hot Rod over onto his back with his spike still in his mouth and beginning to thrust deep into the autobot’s waiting throat. Hot Rod let out a choked gurgle. His servos flew up to claw at Soundwave’s thighs. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I know you can take it like a good bot.” He growled out, steadying himself on the arm of the sofa. The rhythmic clank of Soundwave’s hips hitting Hot Rod’s face filled the room. 

Hot Rod’s optics flickered and thinned out as his fans roared. He could feel his frame shuddering. He was so desperately wet and strained behind his panels he thought he might die. He could feel the pings in his processor demanding him to relieve the pressure, demanding he open his panels and let his array breathe. 

Soundwave slammed in particularly hard, hitting the back of his throat. Hot Rod let out a muffled whine,  his thighs quivering as he fought to keep his throat from spasming. He began to open his panels, hoping to give himself just the barest amount of relief.

A servo jammed down between the gaps between Hot Rod’s panel and abdominal plating, holding his modesty panel shut. Hot Rod’s back arched. A gurgling wail escaped his vocalizer, drowned in intake lubricant. “Ah- Don’t think so~...” Soundwave chuckled, keeping his spike hilted in the speedster’s throat. “You wanna last, don’t you?” 

“Mm-Mghhf!” Hot Rod growled, squirming under the bigger bot. He went to bite down, finding Soundwave’s other servo coming down to jam a thumb between his jaws to keep him open. 

“If I knew you were gonna be this much of a mess,  I’d have asked for more from you.” He taunted, beginning to grind his hips into his throat again. “Keep those panels shut, got it?” 

“Mhhn…!” Hot Rod whimpered, offlining his optics as he willed his modesty panel shut. 

“Good bot… see thats the nice thing about you autobots.” Soundwave grunted, once again beginning to jackhammer into Hot Rod’s throat. “You always do what you’re told.” 

Hot Rod growled indignantly, hoping to sound intimidating and angry. It came out more like a gurgle, spittle bubbling around the edges of his intake. 

“You can’t help it, can you? It’s in your programing, any big bad mech could walk up to you and if he told you to jump you’d ask how high.” He laughed raspily, pulling out almost all the way. 

He watched Hot Rod’s chassis heave and quiver for a moment, trying to get his frame under control. He watched the speedster take a long, heavy in vent, waited until it was about to leave him, then jammed his spike back home. 

Soundwave savoured the desperate choking noise that eked out of Hot Rod’s throat. 

Hot Rod wheezed. His frame felt taught and overheated, processor fuzzy with pings warning him of the stress on his throat and jaw, the strain of his fans, and again, begging, PLEADING for him to open his panels. His digits weakly gripped at Soundwave’s plating one last time before limply petting at the metal there. His frame went pliant and limp underneath him. 

Soundwave laughed to himself breathily, slowing to a halt and carefully drawing his spike out of Hot Rod’s intake. A gush of prefluid and saliva splattered across Hot Rod’s chest. The autobot coughed weakly, glaring ineffectually up at Soundwave. 

“Want me to go back to being easy on you, Roddy?” He taunted, bringing a servo down to stroke slowly at his own spike. 

“N-No chance…” Hot Rod growled hoarsely, sitting up and wiping at his face with the back of his servo. 

“Good bot. Let’s get you to the berth then.” Hot Rod couldn’t get a word in edgewise before he was being lifted bodily off the sofa and flung over Soundwave’s shoulder. 

Hot Rod cycled his vocalizer, coughing again and continuing to wipe his dermas. Embarrassment nibbled at the back of his mind at his messiness. He wanted to flip the positions, try pistoning into Soundwave’s- well if he had an intake he’d frag it silly, see how he liked it. Hot Rod was broken out of his stewing anger by the sound of Soundwave snickering to himself. 

“What-!” Hot Rod snapped, the question cut off as Soundwave drew a digit up the edge of his panels. Oh no. 

“You’re leaking, Hot Rod.” Soundwave sing-songed. He gathered the prefluid up between his digits and rubbed them together absently as he unceremoniously dumped Hot Rod onto his berth. 

The speedster quickly squeezed his legs together around his panels, trying to hide his eagerness. He winced at the feeling, rivulets of slick prefluid smearing against his plating. Soundwave looked down at him, amusement clear across his borderline unreadable faceplate. 

“Shut up…” Hot Rod muttered. 

“You shouldn’t have made the bet.” He chuckled, reaching forwards and effortlessly knocking Hot Rod’s legs apart. He stood between his knees, slowly smoothing his servos over Hot Rod’s armour. “Nice paint job, you buff it before I got here?”

“Pfft… no, you’re not worth the trouble..” Hot Rod rolled his optics. For the record he had shined his armour a bit before Soundwave got there, but that wasn’t even for him! It was… y’know, for someone else.

“Oh I’m not worth the trouble?” Soundwave arced a brow ridge. “So who were you thinking about that made this happen, huh?” Hot Rod hissed as Soundwave knocked two of his knuckles on his panels, optics fizzing and fritzing as his processor produced yet another urgent pressure warning for his array. It was starting to hurt, he could feel his array hot with energon, mashed against the back of the panel. 

“H-hhn- S-soundwave-” He gritted out, clenching his fists. 

Soundwave leaned down to whisper in his audial. “I dunno, Hot Rod, I think this was all me right here…” Hot Rod’s invent punched out of him in a surprised moan when Soundwave ground the heel of his palm against his panels. He dimly felt his processor ping another warning. His engine revved loudly as he arched his back, helm clanging against the berth. 

“But if you’re so sure it wasn’t we can call off this bet right now, call it a draw, let you get your valve pounded out by some other mech, huh?” Soundwave crooned. Steam poured out of Hot Rod’s dermas. 

“N-No-!” He whined out too quickly, his face suddenly even hotter with shame. He went to dismiss his needy beg,“I- hhahhh-” The words fell apart in his vocalizer. His jaw dropped open and his optics went lidded. He ground his hips up, his array burning as Soundwave pressed his modesty panel down against the soft protoform with two digits, slowly moving the panel in little circles. “Ggghh- P-please- Primus- frag- j-ju-just lemme open- S-Soundwave-!” He babbled, gripping at the bigger mech’s sides desperately. 

“Aw… Hot Rod, are you saying… you can’t… take it…” Soundwave drew his words out slowly, venting steam into Hot Rod’s audial. 

“N-no- I can- ah- I’m- Hhuaahh- I’m f-fine- I haven’t evennNnnNn gotten ss-st-started!” He tried to boast, even through the embarrassing moans that he was letting out. Finally Soundwave let up, and Hot Rod went limp against the berth, fans stuttering to vent off excess heat. 

Soundwave leaned back and folded his arms, looking down at the autobot as he shuddered and whined. Hot Rod tried to look aloof and fine, even with the coolant already beading on his brow and the way his frame was quivering like a leaf. 

“S-...See? I’m just fine… completely normal.” Hot Rod panted out, giving Soundwave a shaky smirk. 

“Alright. Open up.” Soundwave ordered, flicking his panels one last time as Hot Rod jolted and glared at him. Hot Rod offlined his optics, body shuddering as he finally opened his panels. He felt embarrassment, hot and thick, gathering in his tanks. His spike shot out of it’s casing like a rocket, already pulsing and drenched in prefluid. His valve was no different, puffy and needy, his anterior node peeking between the plush lips. He was completely soaked, so much so that a puddle of the stuff splattered out onto his berth as his panels tucked away. 

Hot Rod bit his glossa to keep from howling as Soundwave drew a digit up through his lips, over his node, and up the underside of his twitching spike. “Primus you’re easy. Can’t believe you got off this much on me fragging your throat. Maybe I should do it more.” 

“Not on your life- n-not after I win-” Hot Rod taunted feebly. “You won’t be able to walk right for a week when I get done with you-O-OUH-” 

“You’re cuter when you stop talking so much.” Soundwave sighed, rocking his fingers up to rub at the front two calipers of Hot Rod’s valve. He drew his fingers apart, mapping the edges of his yielding hole as he brought them down and together along the edges. 

He pulled his servo back, lifting them to Hot Rod’s waiting intake and jamming the two slick digits in. Hot Rod wined, saliva dripping from his dermas as Soundwave mashed the flavour of his own prefluid into his glossa.

“That’s enough foreplay, don’t you think?” Soundwave teased, cocking his head playfully. 

*

Hot Rod could feel his legs quaking. He felt like he was going to break his dentas from how hard he was gritting them. His fans felt like they were on the verge of melting under their own heat. 

Soundwave stroked his servo up Hot Rod’s spike again, squeezing just enough to milk out another dribble of prefluid. He could feel every burst of steam that escaped the bigger mech’s vents, condensation gathering against the side of the speedster’s helm. He could feel how stretched he was around the decepticon’s spike, but Soundwave refused to move, leaving him impaled on it to suffer as he gritted back his moans. 

“You know, I’m not on this side of the wall often, but don’t worry, I know all about the kind of reputation you have… I hear you pick up so many mechs you might as well be a taxi service..” Soundwave murmured in his audial, spreading his digits over the head of Hot Rod’s spike and teasing the edges. “How many of them treat you like this, huh?” 

“Nnn-N…None-!” Hot Rod gritted out, offlining his optics to focus on venting the heat and not immediately crumbling to a pleading mess. “T-they’re all act-tually NICE to mm-mme!” His voice stuttered as Soundwave drew his digits up again, teasing his slit and massaging the shaft lightly. 

“Thats funny, I didn’t think anyone had the time to be nice to a nasty little piece of shareware like you…” Soundwave growled, slowly grinding his hips up to push against Hot Rod’s soft protoform. Hot Rod bit his derma tightly, clenching his digits around Soundwave’s thighs. That taunt made his processor spin. “They usually use their pretty little valves and toss them aside. Only difference between you and some street walking whore is that you're persistent.” 

Hot Rod let out a moan, finally opening his mouth with a burst of steam. He grit his dentas back together, rolling his hips into Soundwave’s palm as he began to stroke his shaft again. 

“I thought you’d move on after our little hookup but you're obsessed… they say not to humour animals like you so they don’t follow you home.” Soundwave growled, bringing his free hand up to grip possessively at his chassis. Hot Rod keened weakly at the insult, his faceplate flushed bright pink and hot with energon. “But you can’t help it can you? You love it, you love this spike, don’t you?” 

Hot Rod mewled as Soundwave pinched at the base of his spike, rubbing his thumb across his anterior node. “S.. suh- Soundwave-” He gasped, optics sparking. 

“Go on, say it…” Soundwave prompted, stroking his hand up his chassis and taking hold of Hot Rod’s chin. “Tell me how you love it, Roddy…” 

“I- hhhnm..” He moaned. His optics flickered. He was just being unfair now, rubbing at his node like that while he began to gently thrust up into his valve. “I- l–love it-” He huffed out under his breath.

“What was that? Come on, you can do better than that…” Soundwave teased, rubbing his middle two digits against his anterior node while his thumb came around to stroke the base of his spike. He drew his own spike back, slamming it back into Hot Rod’s valve. 

It was like he’d broken something. “I-I LOVE IT!! F-frag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” He wailed out, spittle flying from his dermas and across Soundwave’s hand. “I love it- I-I love it ff-fraaaag, primus- please- I- Ohhh s-slaaaggg…!!” His voice bounced pathetically as Soundwave began to thrust up into him. He could feel his spike bobbing in Soundwave’s grip, now squeezed tight at the base. “I’m aa-aallyours, nnhh- nomore- ah- no more s-shareware- f-frag- I’m all yours-!” Hot Rod babbled deliriously. 

Soundwave chuckled in his audial, before speeding up his servo, his spike suddenly beginning to vibrate. To say Hot Rod screamed was an understatement. It sounded like his vocalizer was being shredded, glitching and fritzing and leaping in tone as overload washed through his frame. He thought he might die, his body shaking as he rode out the sensations that refused to let up. Every bit of his wiring tingled with lightning, every ounce of his frame wracked with pleasure. He felt another burst of steam flush over his audial.

“Loser.” Soundwave whispered.

And that was it. Hot rod arched his back, clanking his helm hard against Soundwave’s shoulder as his transfluid splattered across the floor and Soundwave’s hand. His valve cycled down tightly around Soundwave’s spike, pulsing and throbbing. He was distantly aware he was making some pretty unflattering noises, but more than that he couldn’t even see past the cloud of white that overtook his optics. He jerked and crackled, steaming with spent charge as he finished and went limp against the larger mech’s chassis. 

He was ebbing into an early recharge when he felt Soundwave’s servos close around his hips. He snapped back to full consciousness as he felt him swing his frame around until Hot Rod was face down on the berth. 

“Bwuh-?” Hot Rod moaned intelligently. 

“Oh, I thought you could take a full four hours, Roddy!” Soundwave feigned surprise, pulling his spike back until he was teasing the oversensitive node with his tip. “And besides, you still owe me at least one overload.” 

Hot Rod keened as Soundwave slid back in and began hammering into his valve. “Nnnhh-! Oooohhhh Primussss…” He whined, vocalizer shot and hoarse. “I- ah- s-Soundwave I caaan’t!”

“Oh you can’t?” He felt a servo slide from his hips up to his spoiler. Soundwave gripped the delicate bit of metal tightly, using it as leverage to slam Hot Rod’s hips against his. “I thought you said-” there was a quiet fizzle before Hot Rod’s own voice repeated back from Soundwave’s speaker. “I could run circles around you- Didn’t you say that Roddy?” 

Hot Rod let his jaw hang open, processor filled with warnings and popups as overstimulation forced his spike to stiffen. “Nn- Nuh uhh..” He moaned. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell? How about this one?” Soundwave adjusted his grip, hooking an arm under Hot Rod’s chin and pulling him up into a headlock. All the while his hips jackhammered away. He could already feel the blue paint transfers forming on his aft. “-ag! I love your s-spike Soundwave!!” Hot Rod keened in humiliation at his own voice. “That sounds more like you, doesn’t it, shareware?”

“S-soundwaaave- PLEASE-!” Hot Rod wailed. “I C-CAN’T!” 

“I need one last thing from you, Roddy…” Soundwave crooned. Hot Rod could feel his spike twitching inside him, nearing overload. 

“U-uhuhh??” Hot Rod whimpered, clawing weakly at Soundwave’s arms. 

“Admit you’re a big stupid loser.” Soundwave snickered, snapping his hips forwards and making Hot Rod’s optics fizzle. 

A lance of heat shot through Hot Rod’s already overheated form, his body suddenly tense, strung tight with need. Why was all of this doing this to him? He was being… so cruel… “Nn-gguhh-! C-Come onn-!” He whined out. 

“Say it, tell me what a big stupid loser you are!” Soundwave cackled, reaching a servo down to begin jerking Hot Rod’s spent spike. 

“Oh-OH-OH PRIMUS-” Hot Rod wailed. “I’M A BIG S-STUPID LOSER!! FRAGG-F-FRAG- I’M AN IDIOT FOR T-TUH-TAKING THAT BETTT!!” 

Soundwave growled in his audial, pounding his spike in one last time before Hot Rod could feel a gush of transfluid hit his ceiling node. 

He felt his vision white out again as his frame rocked through a second, more painful overload. He felt his processor short and then empty, his optics forcibly offlined again. 

His frame jerked and spasmed weakly until finally Soundwave mercifully pulled out. To say the gush of transfluid that coated Hot Rod’s thighs was embarrassing was an understatement. It was like a fragging waterfall. 

And to make it worse, Soundwave just unceremoniously dropped him on the berth, only adjusting him long enough to make sure he didn’t fall off before beginning to pace around the room. He was making haughty flexing gestures, playing his own personal victory music as he gloated. 

“C-c’mon I didn’t do that bad-!” Hot rod panted, lifting his quivering legs up onto the recharge slab. Without even looking at him, Soundwave flexed over his shoulder, conveniently pointing at the clock on Hot Rod’s berthroom wall. 

Hot Rod paled. “N-no, that can’t be right.”

“Not even an hour and a half, barely an hour and fifteen.” Soundwave confirmed. He did a nasty little turn, waggling his shoulders as he remixed Hot Rod’s words back at him. “C-c-c-c-could run circles arou-ou-OHH PRIMUS!”

“QUIT IT!” Hot Rod shouted, faceplate flaring with embarrassment. 

“-BIG STUPID L-L-L-LOSER!” Soundwave parroted at him, continuing his victory dance. Hot Rod buried his face in his servos, shouting in agony at the embarrassment. 

He felt Soundwave eventually sit on the edge of the berth, shoving him a bit out of his way as he climbed up to relax. He let his victory music die down as he folded his servos behind his helm. 

There was a long klik of quiet between them.

“... you don’t really think of me like that, yeah?” Hot Rod asked meekly. Soundwave raised a brow ridge. Hot Rod Cycled his vocalizer. “Like an annoying animal that followed you home.” He clarified. 

Soundwave glanced away. “... No. You’re not like that.” He muttered. 

“So what am I like?” Hot Rod probed. 

“Tight, wet, and easy.” Soundwave said matter of factly. Hot Rod punched his arm, scoffing and rolling his optics. 

“You’re the worst.” Hot rod grumbled. “I don’t even know why I invite you over.”

“Invite is putting a bit of a slant on it.” Soundwave mused. “I didn’t know begging for spike was an invitation.”

“Ha Ha.” Hot Rod said flatly, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Now shut up I’m trying to recharge.” 

“Oh yeah? I’ll join you then.” Soundwave said. 

“What- No you’ve gotta go-” Hot Rod started, before Soundwave reached over with one harm and pulled him up tight against his frame. He rolled over and squeezed, holding him like a teddy bear. Hot Rod went pink, optics wide and blinking in confusion. 

“Night Roddy.” Soundwave said nonchalantly. 

“Yeah.. uh… Night Wavey.” Hot Rod mumbled. 

Hot Rod offlined his optics, trying to sink into recharge without thinking about how tightly he was pressed against the ‘con. If he wanted he could easily kill him right now, he was already pinned. 

Hot Rod let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning into Soundwave’s embrace. 

Primus, he was glad it was peacetime. 

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