#this was a long one

[zer0pm]

Imagine Luis trying to help you finish your work but you end up getting distracted by him instead.

Warning: suggestive themes and mild sexual content 😘 look away, minors.

.

.

The dull clunk of ceramic on a hard surface placed beside you nearly makes you jump from your seat. It was a hot drink, steam rises from within its liquid contents and a delicious aroma fills your senses invitingly. You look up to see the amused look of Luis Serra grinning knowingly at your mild surprise.

“Another late one, eh?” He had his own mug in his hand, taking short sips as he leaned against your table casually. His white lab coat was open, revealing a partially unbuttoned white collar shirt and dark blue jeans. The open coat flowed down the length of his form, accentuating his tall frame. His grey eyes ran down your hunched posture before rising to meet your exhausted gaze.

It was just the two of you in the lab, everyone else had already gone home for the day. You were both in the same research department and were leading your own projects. When it came to biochemical and pharmaceutical research, Luis was a genius in the field, same as you. It was actually how you two grew close. Your line of work makes you both linger in the lab long after the sun has already set until it was only the two of you left. These frequent, private moments in the shared space would then be filled with meaningful conversations and playful banter. You learned quickly then that Luis was a serial flirt, but he possessed a gentlemanly charisma that did not deter you from engaging him further. In fact, you welcomed his attentions.

One day, he asked you out and you two have been officially dating since. The both of you were mindful to keep your personal lives out of the workplace, wanting to maintain a sense of professionalism between you in front of your peers. Thankfully, none of your fellow coworkers caught on to your affairs so you were able to carry on with your respective works as normal.

You reply to him with a groan, burying your tired face in the palm of your hand. “Have to file another report for Wesker, apparently there’s some big meeting tomorrow morning-” you turn your wrist to glance at your watch, completely crestfallen at the lateness of the hour. “This is going to take forever.”

The Spaniard frowns, a flash of genuine pity in his eyes before they alight with an idea. “How far are you along?”

“About three more pages to go.” It didn’t sound like a lot, but the amount of information that you needed to provide is not only lengthy in detail, but also time consuming as you must include multiple references from other reports as well. And since you were the last person in your team still in the building, it fell on you to make sure that it was concise and perfect. The pressure from that thought alone made your grimace deepen.

“Perhaps, I can offer my assistance,” Luis says, pulling you from your downtrodden thoughts.

You glance at him, visibly touched by his considerate intent but dubious, “Thanks, but you weren’t working on this project, Luis. You don’t have the necessary information to provide meaningful insight for my report.”

He nods, “Correcto. But that wasn’t what I was offering.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? Then how exactly are you planning on helping me?”

“Dos palabras,” he lifts his hand and extends one finger in the air after another. “Positive. Reinforcement.”

Your intrigue only amplified at his words and still you couldn’t make heads or tails of what he actually means. “So basically a reward system,” you say slowly.

“¡Sí!” The man chimes with infectious enthusiasm. “Right now, you have no motivation to finish your work, yes? If there was, say, something to look forward to, then you would be more inclined to finish. And, ideally, at a faster rate. ¿Comprende?”

“I get you, but.. what would that even entail? What are you giving me?”

The Spaniard shrugs, his characteristic smirk gracing his handsome features. “Guess you’ll have to finish this current page to find out. Chop chop, my dear.”

With a swift clap on your back, Luis retreats from your side to return to his own desk on the other end of the laboratory. Your eyes followed his stride and lingered on his form long after he sat down with his back towards you. You wondered what sort of “positive reinforcement” he had in mind for you.

You shake your head, choosing not to linger on that tempting thought. You had a report blaring at you through your computer screen that needed your undeniable attention and you were only halfway done through the current page. With a determined roll of your stiff shoulders, you went back to work.

After nearly half an hour, you finally finished the hellish portion of the report. Much sooner than you had anticipated. “One down!” you said aloud with a triumphant smile.

Luis perks up at your declaration and rises from his work desk to return to your side. His eyes scan over the document. “Hey, this isn’t bad. Muy bien.”

“Thanks, Luis.” Your mood lifts ever so slightly at his warm praise. “Just two more to go. I can do this.”

The man beside you hums in agreement. “You most definitely can. And your efforts so far deserve a reward.”

You blink at him incredulously, “You were serious about that?”

“Why would I not be? Am I not a man of my word?” Before you can answer him, Luis turns your seated form to face him, your chair swiveling under his strength. He extends his hand to you with a warm smile, “Give me your hand, por favor.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, reaching for his hand and clasping it. He felt warm to the touch, a welcome contrast to the chilly air flowing in the laboratory. He squeezes your hand affectionately, “Now close your eyes.”

You tilt your head at his request, amused curiosity curving subtly upon your lips. He throws you a telling glance to follow his lead and you do as he says without any further resistance. For a moment, there was nothing and you wondered what he was doing until you felt the fan of his warm breath against your ear followed by a tender kiss upon your cheek.

It was only until you felt his breath leave you did you open your eyes, a look upon your face as if you were just waking from a trance. His face hovered by yours but was far enough where you can see him fully. His body hunched slightly over your seated form, his hand at the backrest of your chair, supporting his weight so that he doesn’t fall over you. The temperature of your body rises at his closeness.

He looks down at you through thick lashes. “A blessing of sorts,” he winks, explaining himself before you had the chance to inquire him on what he just did. “To lift your spirits and motivate you to keep going. Is it working?”

Now that he mentions it, the weariness that hung over you like a thick blanket felt lighter on your shoulders. There was no denying that his charismatic presence and comforting attention has put you at ease. The kiss certainly helps as well but you dare not admit that out loud. The man’s ego was big enough already, no need for you to stroke it. You had to mentally slap yourself from letting that line of thought drift to naughty waters.

Still in a distracted state from his tender affection, you merely nod in response. Your lover’s easygoing smile widens and he plants another chaste kiss. This time upon your lips. You felt you were in a daze before, now your mind went completely blank.

“Let me know when you’ve finished the next page,” you catch Luis say before he leaves you with your mouth slightly agape.

To say you were confounded was an understatement. The two of you have kissed plenty of times before in the past but never at work. You were not opposed to it, per se, and truthfully it stirred within you temptations begging to be explored. But you did not think that Luis would create openings for such temptations so casually. You wanted to confront him about it but can hear him typing away loudly at his own desk. Taking this as a sign to return to your own task, you go back to work as well.

This next part of your report should have been done faster. It was not as detail intensive as the last, yet there was no doubt that you lagged in completing it. You knew why too. You were completely and utterly distracted. Luis’ innocent gesture kept running to the forefront of your mind like a song on repeat. It was such a short instance too, you can hardly call it a meaningful interaction. But the memory of how his lips felt against yours lingered and it took a bit of extra mental effort to power through the next portion of your project. Eventually you succeeded.

With a huff, you lean back into your seat and announced your small success once more. “Alright! Another one down.”

“That’s great, mi corazon. Well done.”

Luis’ voice nearly makes you fall off your chair. When you look up, he was already leaning over your shoulder, glancing through your new entries with genuine intellectual interest. When did he walk back over to you? How long was he standing there?

“This is excellent stuff. I’m certain Wesker and the higher ups will be pleased with your research,” he smiles down at you in praise. “I believe another reward is in order.”

Without giving you a chance to recover let alone register his words, Luis grasps your chin between his fingers and turns your head towards him. Your dark-haired lover then adjusts his position to better angle himself as he leans down to capture your lips once more. This kiss started off gently before deepening gradually into something fiercer. His devilish tongue swipes along your bottom lip for invitation and snakes inside your responsive mouth to engage your wanting tongue in a slow, sensual dance.

Desire bubbled feverishly in the pit of your stomach and you nearly moan into his mouth, but the sound turns into a longing whimper when he pulls away from you. Again, much more quickly than you would have liked. His hypnotic grey eyes beholds your lustful expression appreciatively.

“Eres mi tesoro,” he says with a husky voice so low, the sound flows into your ears and soothes your senses into a tender lull. “Haces que yo quiera ser una mejor persona.”

You’ve heard Luis speak in his native tongue many times before. For him to use it to sing your praises with genuine adoration sent shivers across your body without fail, stimulating you from your exhausted state and sharpening your awareness until your only center of focus was him.

His hand shifts from your chin to your cheek, cradling your face lovingly, a warm gesture that reaches his eyes. “Last one. You got this.”

With that, he removes himself from your side a third time, returning to his own chair without a second glance. There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the end of his mouth that you had managed to catch before he turned from you completely. The loss of him making you pout longingly. Luis was right, though. You were almost at the finish line with your work. The sooner you complete this report, the sooner you can call it a day and see what the Spaniard had in store for you as the last installment of this reward system he erected for you. Just the thought of kissing him again filled you with eager determination. With a crack of your knuckles, you hover back to your keyboard once more.

You were screwed. Absolutely ruined. Ever since Luis left you wanting with that last mind-blowing kiss, you were unable to concentrate on your report at all. In fact, you haven’t typed a single new word. The last page has been completely blank for what seemed like an eternity, blaringly white in your screen. The blinking of the line waiting for your input taunts you along with the ticking of the overhead clock.

“Luis,” you call out to him in frustration.

“¿Sí, mi amor? What’s wrong?” You hear his voice echo back, noting your tone with mindful intrigue.

“I can’t do it,” you admit, a defeated groan escaping you. “I can’t finish this stupid report.”

His approaching footsteps pick up so rapidly that he’s next to you again in a matter of seconds, evident concern on his face.

“What happened?” Luis asked. “Did you discover contradictions in your variables?”

You shake your head, burying your face in both of your hands to hide the burning, shameful blush on your cheeks. Luis didn’t catch it right away, kneeling beside your hunched form and rubbing the tension from your back with a soothing hand.

“It’s all your fault,” you pout, glaring daggers at him. “Because of your and your damn positive reinforcement, I can’t focus!”

His look of worry quickly turned to confusion before realization sets in and his lips curve into a lecherous grin. “Oh, really?” he prods, looking so infuriatingly proud.

“Don’t you dare give me that look! Was this your intention all along?”

“To be perfectly honest, no. I really thought I came up with a good motivational tool to help you along,” he shrugs, his playful tone absent as he spoke, accentuating his genuity. “It appears, however, that my idea backfired.”

You shoot him a pointed look that practically shouted at him for his astonishing observation of the obvious. “Luis, I really do have to finish this report. But how can I do that when all I can think about is you.”

Luis wears an exaggerated expression of awe, his hand placed over his heart as if you just gave him a moving declaration of love. “¡Oh Dios mío! That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” You nearly slapped him then and there but the Spaniard catches your wrist with a cheeky chuckle. “Sorry. Truly. Allow me to make it up to you.”

Still riding your mild frustration, you take his bait. “And how are you going to do that, huh?”

A playful glint in his eyes flash at your inquiry. “The way I see it, mi amor, I am the source of your distraction. There are two ways this can be resolved.”

Luis lifts one finger, “One. I can leave for the day and leave you to your own devices. Pero, I don’t think that will really help, in my humble opinion.” He lifts another. “Two. We get me out of your system.”

Already you knew where he was heading with that one but wanted clarification anyways. “You’re going to make me ask how you’re going to-”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He doesn’t wait for you to ask. Instead, he drags you from your chair to stand up before him and pulls you into his tight embrace before ensnaring you into another passionate kiss. Your body shudders from his talented mouth working wonders upon your senses, frustration dashed away for sensual need to take root. You are once again consumed with fervent desire, plunged into a pool of warmth. Luis had you under his mercy, but when he guided you both onto one of the medical chairs used for pharmaceutical testing, he was the one under you.

He holds you firmly against him, using his long legs to spread yours so that they hung loosely around his hips and dangled off the chair, effectively caging you around him. The entire time, not once have your lips separated and when they did, it was only to take in much needed air before diving back into one another. You loved kissing Luis, being with him like this set off sparks on you that you couldn’t compare to anything else. He teases you like it is a game of push and pull, but holds you like you are the only thing in the world to him. It was mix of sensations that fills you both with excitement and contentment, leaving you guessing of what he’ll do next but giving you comfort in knowing that everything he does is with your satisfaction in mind. And right now, he sought that for you both.

The evidence of his desire for you presses enthusiastically against your inner thigh. You can feel his arousal throbbing beneath the layers of fabric that separated you two. Luis groans sinfully against your mouth when you reflexively ground your hips on his sensitive organ. In turn, he squeezes the flesh of your ass daringly, pulling you closer into him while purposefully thrusting upwards, creating delicious friction. The pace he sets is slow and full of promise, rubbing along your sensitive area like a match burning at your core but not vigorously enough to set your carnal needs aflame, torturously teasing you from your release. You wanted more of him, you needed more of him.

But you remember where you are. And even though every part of your body screamed for you to succumb to your baser desires and engage in uninhibited pleasure with your Spanish lover- this wasn’t the place or the time for it.

“Luis-” you began. The man cuts you off with a kiss once more and your voice slips into another traitorous moan.

“Lo sé, mi amor, lo sé.” Luis whispers before pulling away, already knowing what you were going to say, peppering your jaw and neck with loving nips. “I am perfectly content with just this. Having you in my arms.”

A comfortable air settles between you two, allowing yourselves to calm down from your sexual high. With a heavy sigh, he rests his head upon your shoulder, not meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry, mi corazon. I really did want to help.” Although his voice was hoarse with desire still, guilt riddled on the surface. You kissed the top of his head then, already forgiven him.

“You know,” you began to say, “this is an egregious misuse of this medical chair.”

He arches his thick brow at you, spirits lifting at your playful tone. “We were at it for awhile. You choose now to have a guilty conscience?”

His endearing smile returns to his handsome face when he sees you laughing at his words. One of his hands squeezes at your thigh to call back your attention. “Suppose we should move, eh? You still have that report to finish.”

You look down thoughtfully, pondering his suggestion before relaxing your body atop his, head resting on his shoulder. “I’m okay with staying like this for a little longer if you are.”

Luis chest rumbles in light-hearted humor at your decision but evidently had no complaints as he adjusted you both on the chair to make himself more comfortable. His arms wrap around you, drawing soothing patterns on your lower back as he rests his cheek against your head. You can feel his lips tug into a content smile.

“I like having you on top of me, anyways.” Immediately you snort unattractively and his voices pitches in curiosity. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, sorry.” you apologize, failing beautifully in choking your laughter down. “Forget you heard that.”

“C’mon. Tell me. I want to know.”

You lift yourself slightly to look him straight in the eyes, a tinge of red on your cheeks in growing embarrassment. “Promise not to take it the wrong way?”

He observes your expression with unrestrained curiosity. “Lo prometo. Now, what is it?”

“I just…” you trail off for a moment, biting your lip. “The way you said how you liked our current position, it sounded like you admitted to being the submissive type.”

You watched his amused curiosity fall down to that of pure, unadulterated shock. For a moment, you thought you’ve gone too far with your honesty. However, as if driven by masculine pride, Luis lifts you both up from the chair with a strength that astonishes you and places you to take his spot against the now warmed cushion.

You were not sure if what came after was meant to be a sort of punishment or more positive reinforcement. But you did not have any complaints and were so blissfully exhausted the following morning, it was a miracle you ever managed to finish your report on time. Upon submitting it, Luis used his charm to ensure you time off so that you can enjoy some much deserved rest. To your surprise, he took the rest of the day off too and went home with you with some more rewards in mind.

.

.

A/N: This is a request for @luis-serras-little-slut. Hope you liked the twist ;) Thank you very much for the sweet ask.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #resident evil 4 #luis serra x reader #luis serra imagine #re4 luis #re4 remake #resident evil imagines #gender neutral reader #my writing #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 remake #request #lightly proofread will fix as I go #this was a long one #hope y’all enjoy #if you bite my arm do so affectionately #you know who you are #zer0pm imagine #ugh now I can’t get the idea #of Luis smut on a chair #out of my head #help me

[stiltonbasket]

For the wen!wwx au, how does lwj find out that wwx is a spy for the resistance?

(chapter list here)

On the night Wei Ying's daughter is born, the Wei-fu does not sleep until well past sunrise.

After Wen Qing was summoned to tend to Li Shuai, Wei Ying and Yu Zhenhong began keeping vigil in the rear court's central garden, accompanied by Wen Sizhui. From what little Lan Wangji hears from Wei Ying's private courtyard as the evening draws on, both mother and child seem to be faring well; but as hai shi passes, and then midnight, he takes his wheeled chair to the training field and rolls slowly around the perimeter until Xiao Liuzi comes to bring him a tray of snacks and tea.

"I saw the light in the Jade Courtyard," Xiao Liuzi explains. "Supper was hours ago, Hanguang-jun, so Cook asked me to bring you a tea-tray."

"I have no appetite," Lan Wangji says brusquely, "though I am grateful for your kindness. Tell me, how is Lady Li?"

"Ah, that..."

Lan Wangji's blood runs cold. "Is she—her child, are they—?"

"No, Hanguang-jun! There hasn't been any news at all. This is Lady Li's first child, so it might be early evening before the baby comes."

"And what about Wei Ying? Has he eaten?"

"He and Master Yu are still in the garden," Xiao Liuzi tells him. "My lord managed to eat a little, but he says he won't sleep until everything is over."

He hesitates for a moment, and then:

"He said there was no need for you to wait up for him, Hanguang-jun. You could damage your meridians again, and your legs..."

"One night without sleep can hardly make them worse," Lan Wangji says. "Return to the garden outside Lady Li's courtyard and report back to me the moment you hear anything."

"Yes, Hanguang-jun!"

"And get something to eat."

"Yes, Hanguang-jun! If you don't want the cakes, Cook is making—"

"I meant for yourself."

At that, Xiao Liuzi turns pink and takes to his heels, leaving his plate of cakes behind him; and Lan Wangji comes to a halt under the great oak in the south corner of the field and remains there until Xiao Liuzi comes crashing back through the gates with Wen Sizhui at his heels.

"She's here, Hanguang-jun!" Sizhui cries, grasping Lan Wangji's hands. "I'm a xiongzhang! I have a sister!"

"Lady Li is well, too," Xiao Liuzi jumps in. "Tired, of course, but she had enough appetite to drink a bowl of soup and eat some of the rice left over from supper."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes.

"The general must be delighted," he says thickly.

He could not quite tell what he was feeling, just then. Certainly Lan Wangji is relieved on behalf of Lady Li and her baby daughter—Wei Ying's daughter—but some part of his heart aches as if some small animal had begun to gnaw on it, blind to the fact that even its weak teeth were sturdy enough to do harm. It aches as it had ached on the nights that Wei Ying slept in Yu Zhenhong's courtyard, or spoke of how Li Shuai's beauty had enchanted him at first sight; and though Lan Wangji is dimly aware of the fact merely laying eyes on Wei Ying would be a comfort to him at that moment, he cannot bring himself to go looking for him.

"He is," Xiao Liuzi beams, not noticing the strange look in Lan Wangji's eyes. "Junshang will surely be disappointed, for he was hoping for a new young master, but my lord is overjoyed. Shall I help you to bed now, Hanguang-jun?"

It strikes Lan Wangji then that Wei Ying might not return to his own quarters that day. Perhaps he would sleep on the long sofa in Li Shuai's sitting room, unable to part from his lady and her child. Or perhaps he would go to Yu Zhenhong instead, for he had been too busy preparing for the child's arrival to grant any favor to his most-beloved concubine since the turning of the last month.

He will be a nuisance to Wen Qing and the other physicians if he sleeps in Li Shuai's room, Lan Wangji thinks wretchedly. And if he sleeps in Yu Zhenhong's quarters, then...

But Yu Zhenhong stood vigil with him; he too had not slept, so if Wei Ying could bring himself to leave Li Shuai—and it would be to his credit if he could not, for she had risked her very life to bring Wei Ying's daughter into the world—might he not choose to rest in his own courtyard, rather than troubling Yu Zhenhong?

"Yes, you may," he hears himself say to Xiao Liuzi. "And afterwards, draw a hot bath for your lord and lay out fresh sleeping robes on the bed."

In the end, Lan Wangji breaks his fast alone. Wei Ying does not appear for another three hours; and when he finally returns, heavy-eyed and pale from the night's worry, he has a tiny bundle of blankets clutched close to his chest.

Lan Wangji's heart seizes. "Is that—?"

Wei Ying falls to his knees at Lan Wangji's side.

"Oh, look at her," he whispers, spellbound. "I never dreamed that I would have a daughter, Lan Zhan! Isn't she perfect?"

He draws back the blanket and lets the baby grasp his little finger. "This is your Zhan-shushu!" he murmurs, kissing her downy black head. "His face might be fierce, but his heart is as soft as tofu, really, so A-Mei mustn't be afraid of him."

"A-Mei?"

"It's only her baby name," Wei Ying says, blushing. "A-Shuai always wanted to have a little girl named after the roses that grew in her mother's old garden—but Mei doesn't sound quite right with my name, so we'll have to choose something else for her formal name."

Lan Wangji frowns and opens his mouth, for Wei Mei is a perfectly serviceable name: but then he stops and stares at the crease of pink skin between the child's left thumb and forefinger.

There is a blood-red mole there, shaped like a tiny crescent moon. Lan Wangji ought to have thought nothing of it, for he saw three Lan children born with moles the color of spilt wine on their faces when he was a boy.

But he has also seen a grown man with a mole identical to small Wei Mei's—within the very walls of the Wei-fu, at that—and that man was not Wei Ying.

He reaches out to touch the baby's hand, meeting no resistance from his besotted husband. He places his own finger in the child's left palm, and then in the right; and just as he suspected, the baby's right hand is weaker than the left.

There are no left-handed men in the High General's manor, other than Yu Zhenhong.

Lan Wangji releases the baby's arm and straightens his posture, his heart racing. The more he studies Wei Mei's features, the more he finds of Yu Zhenhong and Li Shuai; but Wei Ying, overwhelmed with happiness at having gained a second child after sixteen years spent wishing for a brother or sister for Sizhui, seems to have noticed nothing at all.

What would he do, if he were to learn that Li Shuai's baby had been fathered by another man? Would he cast her out? Kill Yu Zhenhong? Lan Wangji would keep silent to the end of his days to prevent such a thing from happening, for a wiling affair, while cruel to the utmost, did not merit death as a punishment.

But he knows Wei Ying; and if not for the obedience sigils carved into his back, his husband would have taken up his dao and cut his own throat before spilling even a drop of innocent blood.

"Wei Ying," he says at last. "Return Xiao Mei to her mother. There is something I must ask you."

So Wei Ying goes, ferrying his precious burden back to Li Shuai's courtyard with breathless care, and then he returns to the bedroom he shares with Lan Wangji and brings out the red-jade tea service in the cupboard.

Lan Wangji watches him move about the room, gathering tea leaves and preparing hot water, and decides that the most advantageous way forward is to catch Wei Ying off his guard.

"I know that Yu Zhenhong and Li Shuai are only your concubines in name," he says slowly, for Wei Ying's kindness is not of the sort that might dull a man's wits; and now that Lan Wangji thinks on it, he would certainly have noticed if his concubines were carrying on together in his absence. "But given that you have no interest in either of them, I cannot understand why you took them into the Wei-fu in the first place."

The blood drains from Wei Ying's face—out of fear, not wrath—and in that moment, Lan Wangji realizes that he has stumbled upon something of far greater significance than a love affair between two concubines, though he knows now that Wei Ying had never belonged to either of them.

"Belong to them?" Wei Ying says with a strangled laugh. "I'll never belong to anyone, other than Wen Ruohan."

Lan Wangji is silent for a moment.

"That is not true," he replies. "There is something more behind all this, I know it. Tell me."

So Wei Ying bows his head, and tells him everything; and when they finally begin preparing for bed, Lan Wangji fetches a sandalwood comb from the nightstand and asks Wei Ying to kneel so that he can brush out his hair.

"You will not always belong to Wen Ruohan," he whispers between strokes, his eyes lingering on the back of Wei Ying's fair neck. "You do not belong to him now. A thief may lay his hands on whatever he pleases; it does not follow that he owns it."

"But he can do whatever he pleases with his stolen goods, can't he?"

"You speak as if you have not already betrayed the thief in question a hundred times over, Wei-jiangjun."

"...En, that's so."

Lan Wangji lays down the comb and weaves Wei Ying's hair into a long, thick braid.

"Now that I know," he says quietly, "I beg of you not to keep such secrets from me again! I will follow your commands from this day forth, whatever they may be; and until your work is over, I will not leave your side."

#wrh raises wwx au #wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #my fic #this was a long one

[arrowmaker15]

(Red Robin and Spoiler on a roof in Crime Alley taking a break)

Red Robin: I see why Hood likes this place. It has so much spirit.

Spoilers: I know, right!? They only willingly talk to him! This is the Red Hoods community, and everyone knows it.

Red Robin: Yeah.

Random Bypasser: Spoiler! How ya doing!?

Spoilers: Good!

Random Bypasser: Great! Have a good night!

Spoiler: You too!

Red Robin: Seems like your community too.

Spoiler: I dunno about that.

Red Robin:

Spoiler:

Red Robin: Ask Hood out.

Spoiler: What!? No! He's not even into me like that!

Red Robin: Are you into him like that?

Spoiler:

Spoiler: No comment.

#incorrect quotes #dc comics #stephanie brown #tim drake #incorrect dc quotes #spoiler #red robin #batfam incorrect quotes #jaysteph #crime alley #is Red Hoods 100% #Steph finally realized it #hooray! #this was a long one #sorry

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi! So this isn’t exactly a request, more or less me just sharing thoughts/rambling. So it’s common knowledge that humans pack bond with damn near anything that they find cute, right? It’s human nature, to just look at a cute delivery robot and go “yeah, this is family now”. And I think this is a double edged sword because that’s what causes things attachment issues and the like.

How do you think team prime would react to something like this happening with the trouble trio? Like the kids eventually (inevitably) look at them and decide that these giant robots are their family and they will NOT let them go. Would the bots be confused? Or would they accept it and move on with minimal questioning. Personally I think that at first it would be awkward until the bots learn of how humans work, and then they realize that this is just how people work, and they accept it with time.

I think it has some really good potential for both fluff and angst.

Anyways I really love the blog! I’ve been reading a lot of your posts and all of them are very nice to go through and think about! :D -🦌 anon

OOooh! I really really like this thought. The human kiddos getting attached and the bots having to figure out how to manage that makes me happy. And thank you anon for your kind words! I am glad you like my posts!

Cybertronian Views on Relationships

Cybertronians are functionally immortal, they do not die from any sort of frame deterioration except in rare cases, and their sparks blaze on until forcefully extinguished. As such their views on some concepts are rather skewed to match up with their long lifespans. Time is one of those things, they simply do not see it the same way as humans. Days are fleeting moments, weeks are little more than a flash to them, years are but months in their view, and vorns are the closest they have to an actual measurement of time that matters. They see everything in a far longer view, planning for centuries into the future more often than not.

Despite the war forcing their views on time to match those of humans more closely, their ideas regarding friendship, family, and other bonds have not changed. Bonds are a sacred thing, they are not made in a day nor do they break easily. It takes years for a sparkling to bond to their Caretaker despite the Caretaker in question doing everything to love and care for them. While other species may find it strange, for Cybertronians it is completely normal since the sparkling does not have any actual relation to them prior to a bond forming. Not only that, but if the sparkling and Caretaker do not match it would be terrible for them to be stuck together when it clearly does not suit either party. They have eternity ahead of them, having a good family is more important than any benefits an immediate bond may bring. Unlike species who reproduce on their own and have an instinctual bond with their offspring for survival reasons, Cybertronians, while still feeling affection for their young counterparts, still need to put in effort to bond with their sparklings.

Friendships take even longer to form, anywhere from vorns to centuries. Cybertronians naturally tend to group together, its part of their code, a way to ensure they survive. And so they can easily be amicable with one another, but a proper friendship does not form until two bots can safely determine that the other is a good match for them. This can happen rather quickly if both save each other or prove through action that they are a suitable partner in a survival situation, forming a bond of necessity. This was common during the war and allowed the Autobots and Decepticons to form bonds fast enough to actually have a sense of comradery. But when not forced due to stress or other factors, friendships form through shared ideals, functions, or simply a harmonization of sparks. Take Ratchet and Optimus's relationship for example. Both were from wildly different castes and functions, neither having particularly close ideals outside of their wish for freedom for all, but with time they formed their bond.

Romantic relationships are not really a concept that Cybertronians are familiar with, at least not in the sense that organics are used to. They have no sexual drive since they do not reproduce through intercourse or other methods involving the union of two individuals. The closest thing Cybertronians have to a romantic relationship is an evolution of an Amica bond (the bond that forms between close friends), that being Conjunx Endura. Even then it isn't really a marriage, more like a shared habitation where both bots trust the other with their lives and to make decisions in their stead. They may be more affectionate with their Conjunx than with their Amica or other friends, but ultimately the bond is like the highest form of companionship instead of a marriage. Simply put, Cybertronians just have a different view on relationships as a whole.

As such when the children walked into their lives, it was rather awkward for a while due to the differing views of the bots when it comes to bonds. Especially with PDA and such not really being something Cybertronians do for various reasons.

The Children's Attachment

When the children became the Autobot's charges, they expected very little to change beyond the chaos that was guaranteed to come from human sparklings running about. At most they were prepared to have stress induced friendship bonds form between themselves and the children. Even though Optimus was near desperate to coddle the human sparklings he kept himself controlled as always and life went on as normal. That was until the children began getting all touchy feely, behaving in a manner around the bots that was reserved for Amica bonded or Caretakers and their sparklings on Cybertron.

It started with Miko. Her family life was less than stellar and so she quickly took a liking to Bulkhead who came to be an older brother/fatherly figure for her. She started hanging around him more than any of the other bots, and that was fine, in fact it was a normal starting point for any set of bots looking to possibly develop a friendship. Bulkhead didn't mind and the team didn't bat an optic, it made sense for Miko to begin attempting to bond with her guardian if only to make their time together more tolerable. But then she started getting all affectionate with Bulkhead, dragging him out to do things with her, giving him gifts, and even giving him the odd kiss on the cheek. And that baffled the entire team, not just Bulkhead who could only stand around in confusion and embarrassment from the mixed signals he was getting. Did Miko want an Amica bond? Was she trying to tell Bulkhead she wanted him as her Caretaker? Or was there some strange human nuances he was missing?

It was odd, but the team tried to chalk it up to Miko being Miko, that was until Rafael got in on it. He started purposefully checking in on Bumblebee, becoming a bit of a mother hen while also spending nearly all of his free time with the scout. This was once again seen as pretty normal for Cybertronians looking to bond, after all, it made sense for Rafael to want to spend time with Bee to see if he was a good match. But just like with Miko, he started getting more intimate, joking and playing around with Bee in a manner reserved for close friends or even Amica bonded. He carefully made stickers for Bumblebee to wear on his armor and went out of his way to try and find a way to fix Bumblebee's voice when nothing else was on the agenda. It was odd behavior and once again, sent very mixed signals. It certainly didn't help when Rafael began mimicking Ratchet and following him around, much like a sparkling would with a potential Caretaker.

Eventually even Jack started becoming far more affectionate than what the bots were used to and expecting. He worried for Arcee, fixing up her paint for her and playfully teasing her in fun banter. He gave her small gifts and took the time to teach her things about human society. This only served to drive home to the bots just how odd the human children were and made them begin to panic slightly due to the incredibly mixed signals. Arcee couldn't figure out what the heck Jack was trying to do with his interactions. Did he see her as a potential Caretaker? If so, why was he teaching her things? Did he want an Amica bond? But if that was the case, why was he allowing her to take care of him as she would a youngling? Not even Optimus was exempt from the children's confusing affection. All three of the children also made sure to offer him some love too, giving him little gifts in the form of small trinkets and constantly pestering him to play/assist them in something. It warmed his spark, but also left him just as confused as the rest of the team.

Of course it never occurred to the team to just ask what the children wanted outright because why would they? They were millennia old, they were pretty sure they understood what the children were asking of them with their actions. Hence began the team's very dysfunctional attempt to try and match whatever they believed the children wanted of them. It was awkward and felt rushed to most of the team, but they did try their best. And upon doing some additional research they came to understand somewhat the driving force behind the children's behavior. Apparently humans are pack type species and rapidly form and break bonds as a means to survive with their short lifespans. Hence their (not so sudden) sudden affection in the optics of the bots. So despite their own reservations and the blatant disregard for the normal order of things on the children's part, the team did their best to bond in whatever capacity the children seemed to want.

Bulkhead did his best to try and respond to Miko's affection with a more fatherly approach. He tested the waters carefully, doing his best to not pressure or overstep while still attempting to take on a parental role in her life. When he found no objection from Miko in response to his minor worrying and slightly more authoritative tone with her, he pushed things up a notch, feeling pretty confident in his choice to try and become her secondary Caretaker since her parents weren't available. When Wheeljack arrived and was met with similar levels of affection from Miko, he took one look at Bulkhead and followed his lead. In the end Miko did not realize it, but she gained two very very overprotective fathers. With Bulkhead being the more reasonable one, constantly checking on her to make sure she does her work and fuels properly and Wheeljack adding a little bit of chaos while also being the one to dole out punishments when needed. It has never been anything worse than having to stand in the corner or sit up in the rafters with no way down without help, but still Bulkhead frets.

Bumblebee took Rafael's concern and more understanding approach to mean that he was working toward trying to gain an Amica bond with him. It was surprising, and since he had never been presented with such a situation before, Bumblebee went to Optimus for advice on the subject. And so soon after Bumblebee took to doing what a good potential Amica should do according to Optimus, that being trying to understand and connect to his possible best friend. He took the time to listen, learn, and discover everything he could about Rafael without being a creep and digging through his files (that would break the rules, a good Amica doesn't do that). He spent as much time as possible with Rafael, having discussions and trying to bring them closer. And in the end, Rafael, much like Miko, had no idea when he gained himself a similarly very very overprotective brother and friend. No one touched Rafael without Bee being there to drive them into the ground before they could so much as lift a finger. Rafael was his friend, his potential Amica, no one was allowed to harm him so long as Bumblebee lived.

Ratchet saw Rafael's mimicry and overall interest in him as an obvious cry for a Caretaker, and so believing himself incapable of being incorrect on that front, did not even hesitate to begin the bonding process. When Rafael wasn't with Bumblebee, Ratchet took him and carried him around in one of his servos or on his shoulder, taking the time to answer all of his questions. Ratchet would check Rafael regularly and sing on a pitch too low for human ears but most certainly meant to calm a sparkling. He would also carefully listen to everything Rafael said to him, taking note of anything that could be bothering his little one. Anything at all that upset Rafael was tended to by Ratchet. A wound? Ratchet would tenderly put a band-aid on it and give Rafael a little treat he had June buy for him. Trouble at home? Ratchet was always there to listen and quietly coo at his small human sparkling, reminding him that he is loved. In the end Rafael got himself a highly devoted Caretaker, willing to do just about anything for him even if the medic in question refuses to acknowledge it.

Arcee took a lot longer than the rest of the team to figure out what the pit Jack wanted from her. He treated her like an equal, bantering and playing but still looked to her for care. And that confused her to the point of leading her to also go to Optimus for consultation. His advice was to try taking on a more motherly role and see how Jack felt about it. And so trusting her Prime, she did as advised, and surprise surprise, Jack didn't seem at all concerned if a little irritated at times. Seeing this Arcee rapidly took on the role of a secondary Caretaker for Jack. While he had his mother, he did not have a father, someone to protect him. So Arcee stepped up, becoming a more masculine parental figure for him, teaching him the things a father normally would have to the best of her ability. She even went so far as to look up things like how to tie a tie and how to change a car tire just for Jack since no one else was going to teach him any time soon. Of course she still mostly kept to a more feminine role when it came to Jack's care, but when required she took up the mantle his father left behind. And just like Miko and Rafael, he had no clue when he ultimately gained himself a doting parent ready to murder and hide the bodies of his enemies for him.

As for Optimus? He was perfectly content to take on the role his position as Prime offered him. On Cybertron, while sparkling had primary and secondary Caretakers to handle a majority of their needs and education, there was always a more communal effort involved. In small select groups like Optimus's team on earth, there was always a head to the clan that formed. There was always a protector and elder guide for all the young bots under their care. And in the team's case, that was Optimus, that with him being the Prime and old as dirt, being bested only by Ratchet in age. And so in light of this and his own desire to care for sparklings, human as they might be, Optimus took on the role of the clan guardian. He taught the children whenever there was time, teaching them important life lessons through simple tales and stories. He regurally sat them on his shoulders and sang to them songs of Cybertron and the history of all that his people held dear. He told them the history of the Cybertronian people, taking care to ensure the children learned well and grew up strong as a Prime should. And on top of that, he often made the children small gifts in return for their own, ranging from talismans to interesting objects he found on patrol.

In the end, the team bonded to the children, their attachment being far greater than anything the human children could have even conceived with the sacred status associated with bonds. As such, any and all attempts to touch the children by MECH, the Decepticons, or anyone else was met with immediate and sharp retribution, even being detrimental at times.

Bonds

Bonds are sacred, they mean everything to Cybertronians. When they form, they are often for life, never to be broken save for the most brutal of betrayals. The children did not understand this in large part due to the culture difference. As such when the bots began growing more aggressive and less content with things going on in the children's lives, they could not comprehend why.

Every single time Jack's bully turned up to harass him, Arcee had to struggle to keep herself from pommeling the brat. Jack was her boy, he was so kind and loving, he did not deserve to hear the slag coming out of the mouths of his peers. Bumblebee often found himself growing paranoid whenever Rafael was away from base for more than a day or two, wondering if something had happened to his potential Amica. He paced, concerned beyond words that something had happened, or worse yet, that Rafael had found him unsuitable for an Amica bond. And any time some kid tried to bother Rafael while Bumblebee was there waiting very nearly ended in bloodshed if not for the constant fear of discovery looming over his helm. Bulkhead and Wheeljack had many many profane words in store for Miko's foster and biological parents. How dare they leave the lovely girl alone! How dare they never give her any affection! Miko's quiet cries in the dead of night where she called out for her parents always tore Bulkhead and Wheeljack's sparks to shreds. They wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but instead all they could do was shower her in affection later as they knew interacting with her in that state would do no good.

Ratchet regularly contemplated just straight up kidnapping Rafael after he took a closer look at his home life and saw just how little his parents cared for him. Did they not know that sparklings were a rare and wonderful gift? Downright disgusting in his book. And when it came to a Con touching Rafael, Ratchet's normally calm demeanor went flying out the window, nearly leading him to kill a few Vehicons in rage. No one touched his sparkling. Optimus was not any better. If any of his little ones were touched, grown (Bumblebee) or otherwise (the children), he would not hesitate to destroy the perpetrator, primely duties be slagged. And much like Ratchet he tended to consider the possibility of up and adopting (stealing) the children, perhaps even finding a way to get them proper Cybertronian frames. His little ones needed to live long lives after all, Optimus would not stand for anything else.

Knowing all this, MECH really shouldn't have expected anything aside from an outright slaughter when they took the children. Even Autobots have breaking points..

#maccadam #transformers prime #transformers #optimus prime #ratchet #arcee #bulkhead #bumblebee #rafael esquivel #jack darby #miko nakadai #cute family feels #cybertronian culture #this was a long one #but goodness I cannot get the idea of the bots just losing it out of my head #touch their little ones and say your prayers cuz you about to meet your deity

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (4)

Technically a SUPER late promtober prompt (Puzzle)

Thank you to everyone who's been asking about INSTAЯ! As a lil treat I thought I'd post this before coming off of my writing hiatus.

Also HUGE thank you to @imber-rose for their AMAZING FANART of Bram and Honey???? I am SO FLATTERED???💕

I give you - charades, anxiety, and the magical art of tidying up.

This chapter deals with the unforseen messes left in the wake of sci-fi mishaps (both literal and mental) so please take a peak at the content warnings.

Taglist: @imber-rose

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

Word count: 4230

CW: Gore (descriptions of viscera and butchering), mild body horror, mild panic/anxiety, vague dehumanization, Adult language.

Almost as quickly as the panic had come- it was gone. He’d gone silent in my grasp, having slumped to the floor, leaning with his back against the palm of my hand- still draped loosely around him. He never once looked toward me- instead he stared blankly forward, mind clearly elsewhere as his …mouthparts and antennae twitched with some sort of agitation. 

Without warning, his tiny frame jerks upright, shoving himself out from the tangle of my hands and making long strides towards the notepad, chittering to himself as he paced. His gaze flicks to me briefly, before all too quickly turning away. Hefting up the pen, he leans it against his shoulder- both sets of arms working to stabilize the awkward writing utensil in his grip. 

H…I…D…E

My stomach drops- the hastily scrawled word sending a chill through my spine. Before I can question the message, he clicks, drawing my attention back to him. He points to the word, then to himself, before clasping his hands together, as if… praying? No- begging. 

“Hide you…” My voice is almost a whisper, “From what? Where? I- I don’t- What’s going on?” I can feel my voice raising as I flood him with questions, as if some mental dam had burst. Though, much to my frustration, he holds up a hand, a sharp series of distinctly aggravated clicks interrupting me. Shushing me. He shakes his head- dismissing my questions. Instead, he points to the pile of the discarded exoskeleton in the kitchen, then toward the direction of the living room. Before I’m able to ask for clarification, he resumes writing. 

B...U…R…N

A dryness fills my mouth. I swallow. A single word forms in my mouth,

“W-why?”

Each letter feels as though it takes an eternity to take shape as he struggles with the pen. Dan? Dang?? My face falls, realization hitting me. 

D… A…N…G…E…R

As he finishes the last letter, he turns, pointing the pen towards me. 

“M-me?” I stare at him, stunned- unsure of what to say, “N-no, I - I’m not-”

He huffs- handing off the pen to his lower set of arms as he dramatically gestures with his primary pair. Arms outstretched towards me he makes a loose fist with one hand, and with the other he shoves his fingers into the first in an almost crude gesture. He does the gesture again, this time even more exaggerated, fingers making an arching path towards his fist. 

“Inside?” He shakes his head, chittering with annoyance. He teeters a hand back and forth making a so-so gesture before pointing to me, replicating the unknown sign and then pointing back to danger.

“I.. I’m… in-” All at once it clicks- my heart stopping in my chest with the realization, “I’m in danger.”

He nods vigorously. I swallow the quickly building feeling of unease in attempt to squeeze out simple yet poignant question;

“From… you…?”

He hesitates for an uncomfortable moment before bobbing his head side to side, repeating the so-so gesture. A knot tightens in my stomach, a feeling of unease twisting and snaking in my gut as if my insides had been turned to eels desperate to escape the confines of my body.

“From that??” My heart races as I point to the remnants of his shed exoskeleton. Was it toxic? I touched it- Honey had chewed on it - 

He shakes his head.

He points to me, and as if on cue I echo the verbal component to the sign.

“I…”

He points to his head. 

“Head?... Brain? Think-”  He abruptly holds up his hands, halting me from continuing guessing.

“I think…” Nodding, he then points to himself, then to danger.

“I think you danger?” My brows knit together in confusion at the stunted sentence. He repeats the gestures, this time adding a long pause before pointing to danger. 

“I think you; Danger?” Even though he nods, I feel lost. Was I supposed to follow? He repeats the sign for think, followed by slowly pinching his finger and thumb together, then giving me a thumbs up. 

“Think small.. Good” I say almost to myself, before attempting to somewhat correct the sentence, “Think little; good.”

I think you; danger. Think little… good??

What the Hell was that supposed to mean? 

I mull over the words, trying to make sense of them. 

I think about you, danger- think less is good… dangerous to think? Dangerous to know..? 

I freeze- the garbled sentence suddenly seeming to click. A much clearer phrase reinterpreting and replacing the stunted translation of his signs.

“It's dangerous to know too much. The less I know the better?”

He claps his hands together, giving me a ridiculous four thumbs up. He drops his hands, looking away for a moment before seemingly reconsidering. He holds up a single closed first, slowly raising his fingers one at a time until he reaches four, before pointing to his wrist as if asking for the time. 

I smile, a weird sense of pride bubbling up as I feel myself starting to get the hang of this strange guessing game.

“For now.”  He nods, and I continue, “Can I at least know your name?”

He looks startled at the question- his tail swishing back and forth as he considers. With the unwieldy pen in hands, one at a time he points to a handful of letters he’s already drawn out;

B… R… A… M

“I can’t say it’s been nice to meet you, Bram.” I say with an awkward chuckle. My chuckle turns to a genuine laugh as one of Bram’s many hands flips me off, the casual human-ness of the gesture looking almost comical when juxtaposed with his less than human physique. Carefully, I pinch the obscene gesture between my thumb and forefinger, suppressing a cringe at the all too insect-like feel of his appendage. The texture somehow both hard and thin- something between an eggshell and dried leaves.

“Dawn Delacroix” I say, giving his hand a gentle shake, “How can I lend a hand?”

Bram pulls his hand away to immediately begin gesturing again. His gestures are sharp and insistent as he points to the word hide, then himself, before repeating his signs for four and now. 

As soon as I nod, he continues, gesturing to shush, pointing to burn, and once again signing now.

“Burn it now and keep quiet about this - right?” 

Bram chirps, nodding. I nod along. I comprehend the message, yet internally my mind is whirling.

What the fuck was I getting myself into… Hide him?? From what? Why was I burning the…- was I burning evidence??

With a deep inhale, I force the questions to the back of my mind. Just get him out of sight for now. One thing at a time.

I eye the strange little man up and down, shifting my weight from foot to foot.  

“When you say 'hide’ you don’t just mean keeping you in the house, eh?” I note, my brow furrowing, “Like, you want me to hide you like ‘my house is going to get searched’ hide you?”

Slowly, he nods. 

Despite suspecting the answer, I feel the blood drain from my face all the same. Instinctively, I go to chew on my thumb, stopping myself with a grimace before actually biting down.

“Fuck. Okay. Right. This is- It’s fine.” I lie. My mind is a freeway of thoughts rushing past me- and I’m stuck feeling like some poor animal dodging transport trucks.  

Why was he .. like this?

What happened to him?

Why were people after him?

Had he escaped something? Hurt someone?

I had somehow come to have tasked myself with protecting him from some unknown entity without knowing a single thing about the situation. What kind of people pleaser bullshit was this? I was in way over my head. This was dangerous- yet here I was diving in head first.

As I tried to shake the questions from my thoughts, one seemed to stay stuck- as if it had somehow become a permanent fixture in the forefront of my mind;

Should I really be doing this? 

Despite all that I want to tell myself, I know I don’t have an answer. 

Restless, my hand drags along my face and I aggressively rub at my brow as if forcing my face to relax would somehow force me to relax as well. Unsurprisingly, the action is utterly useless. Fuck. What am I doing? What if I’m in trouble? What if I make things worse? How am I supposed- 

There's the sudden sensation of contact- an involuntary shiver shoots down the length of my spine. 

As if pulled back to reality from his touch, my eyes fall onto Bram- one of his tiny hands laid on top of my own. He stood, looking up at me with what I could only assume was concern in the inky black of those far too many eyes. A shudder creeps its way across my neck- feeling all too similar to the sensation of an insect crawling on my skin. His touch made my skin crawl- it was uncanny in far too many ways. So human, yet so …. Not. He himself was too hard, yet his touch too light. It lacked warmth, not in intent, but physically lacked the warmth of human touch. His clawed fingers felt as though a pin was being dragged on my skin, not painful… but catching. 

As if some primordial instinct takes hold I yank my hand back, fingers curling into a fist as if to hide themselves from the unexpected and unsettling contact.

Bram’s antennae fold down, his hand still hanging limply in the air where mine had been not a second ago. The sight of him sends a wave of guilt crashing over me. With a forced smile, I let my hand relax in front of him, awkwardly pretending as if I hadn’t just cringed away from his touch. 

For some reason unbeknownst to me, my mind wanders back to his horrified reaction to his… current state. The way he’d cried into my hand- the feeling of helplessness that washed over me... Being able to do nothing but offer what little comfort I could. My stomach twists as I think of him trying to do the same for me. This had to be horrifying for him… For all my feelings of helplessness, I couldn’t imagine a fraction of the helplessness that he must be going through. 

I exhale. The act seeming to catch him off guard- his antennae shooting up as he regards me.  

Now was not the time to chew on these heavy questions. He needed help, I would figure the rest out later. 

Man, I need a drink- 

As soon as the thought enters my mind it's as if it sets a cascade of dominoes in motion. I’m met with teenage memories of Clyde and his buddies sneaking whatever alcohol they could scavenge into some ridiculous hiding spot he'd jimmy rigged straight into the drywall behind his bed. 

I smile.

That could work…

"Let's get you hidden, Big Man." His eyes narrow at the impromptu nickname, but he keeps his chirps to himself. I move my hand towards him before we both simultaneously pause, likely sharing one very awkward thought;

How was this going to work?

In something weirdly akin to two people trying to walk past one another but unsure of which direction to pick, we both continued in an awkward stop-start motion. 

"Here- uh, just let me-" I slid my hand behind him, scooping him at his knees. Rather than calmly remaining seated, a shrill chirp was all the warning I had before he began scrambling in my grip, his weird insectoid claws gripping into my skin in a way that, while not physically painful, was mentally disturbing. 

"Woah, woah- Bram!" My free hand shoots up to block the edge, as if he were some frightened animal about to jump to "safety." Instead, all four arms latched onto my finger, squeezing with a significant amount of force for his size. My brow furrows as I regard him,

"You good?" 

His head swivels, looking over his shoulder and back at me with a palpable anger in those tiny eyes. He let out a string of strained chirps, and despite not understanding a word he was saying, it didn't take much to understand it was littered with profanity. 

"Not a fan of heights, I'm assuming?" If looks could kill I'd be dead last week. In a gesture that needed no translation, Bram flipped me off.

As he tugged against my finger, I took the hint and curled my grip around him- wincing at the uncanny sensation of him in my grasp. It felt like holding a particularly large and eerily human-shaped beetle. Though, despite my own discomfort, Bram seemed at least somewhat more at ease in the security of a closed fist. 

I took a step. 

Immediately his primary set of arms were once again gripped onto my finger, claws digging into the meat- not enough to break the skin, though I assumed that courtesy was unintentional. At my movement, I heard the telltale jingle of Honey's collar as she padded to my side- clearly excited at the notion of some sort of activity other than gnawing on discarded exoskeleton.

Bram chittered nervously at her approach. I pull him close to me, making sure to hold him out of reach as Honey circles us, tail wagging with excited curiosity.

"Don't worry," I say, trying to put his nerves at ease, "She's a good girl, I promise- just a little excited after… everything." 

Though even as I say that, thoughts of Honey snapping at June bugs fill my mind- the nasty crunch they would make when she eventually caught them seemed to ring in my ears. I swallow dryly. 

Maybe it was best not to leave her unattended with him.

In the least obvious way I can manage, I shoo her away, nudging her with my foot as she circles around me. Honey somewhat acquiesces to my unspoken command, opting instead to trail behind me, still noisy but thankfully not nearly as pushy.

Good enough. The thought feels like the mental equivalent of a sigh. 

As I walk, I can’t help but notice how he flinches with every step, his whole body bracing as though I’d suddenly forget how to carry something. His tail flicks with what little room he has under my snug grasp, yet he remains quiet, eyes glued straight ahead as I make my way to Clyde's old room.

He all but dives off my hand as I move to set him down on the floor beside me, quickly moving himself out of the way as I join him on the floor. A flock of dust bunnies scatter as I reach under the bed, groping around for a solid spot to grip the small section of discreetly altered baseboard.

A smile crosses my face as the "door" swings open- immediately vanishing as my eyes fall on the interior of the wall. My smile is replaced with horror at the sight of empties littering the length of the inner wall- empties undoubtedly left from Clyde's long since passed teenage years. 

"Well look at that! Your room even comes with its own bar." I catch a whiff of the sour smell and grimace. Bram’s inky black eyes glare back at me, and even with his lack of visible sclera, I had no doubt he had rolled his eyes at the remark. 

"I'm sorry-” I chuckle awkwardly, mortified at the sight, “Brothers aren't really known for being the cleanest of creatures." Unable to add anything of note without the aid of the pen and paper, Bram shrugs, offering a half hearted thumbs up in response. His talon-like claws click softly on the wood floor as he moves to investigate his potential temporary residence. 

"You know," I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips, a small half laugh slipping out at the strange turn of events, "When I first found you this morning I was terrified at the thought of you escaping into my walls."

His antennae perk up, oddly reminiscent of eyebrows raising in shock- or, more likely, offense.  That distinction was made much more clear as he proceeded to flip me off while buzzing angrily, the sound somewhere between a phone vibration and a particularly offended bee. 

His casual demonstration of profanity for some reason or other, put me at ease. I chuckle, the tension leaving my body, if only for a moment.

“I'll be back soon.”

Without further charades, I close the door, sealing Bram inside the wall. Part of me feels a pang of guilt for not thinking to grab some sort of light, but beggars, as well as potential fugitives, can’t be choosers. As I push myself back to a stand- physically feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on me. A nagging urge to stop and critically think about what on Earth had transpired itches at the edge of my mind- yet I refused to scratch. There was a sort of mental momentum I had built up, a series of tasks to complete one after the other, and the knowledge that the moment I stopped to pick apart the situation in its entirety said momentum would send me crashing into reality. 

We can panic about this later. One thing at a time.

One foot in front of the other, I tear myself from the room- away from the strange little man who probably had all the answers, yet none of the words, or willingness, to share them. Honey reluctantly follows, letting out a soft whine in protest the same way she would if I were to take away a toy or an old bone. I grimace at the comparison. 

Yeah, let's not leave her alone with him.

________

I surveyed the sci-fi nightmare my home had become. Kitchen to livingroom, various degrees of carnage were scattered, and worse yet, splattered, around across the floor. With no small effort, I resist the urge to gag. My once beautiful hardwood was littered with discarded… parts of what had apparently once been Bram. The cracked bits of his outer shell, while undeniably gross when I thought too much about it, were not that bad. 

It was the flesh that made my skin crawl. 

I was no stranger to flesh. Hunting had long since suppressed my gag reflex when it came to viscera… and yet that was precisely what made it worse. I knew what it should be. I knew how it should feel… and that knowledge left me deeply aware of just how wrong everything was.

It was the colours that I noticed first.

Some flesh seemed almost normal, save for something uncanny with the degree of saturation, but the more I cleaned, the more oddities I found. Pieces of flesh so deeply red they neared the point of being back. The pieces far too tough, almost solid to the touch. 

Everything was coated in a strange slick opalescent mucous. Everything had this odd iridescent sheen. Though the fluids weren’t limited to the unnatural looking mucus. For a lack of better terminology, there was a general… ooze.  A sickly blend of various fluids; an opaque pale yellow transitioning into some sickly greyish green… and red… so much red the floor looked black until disturbed by my frantic wiping. 

What… what was all this?

What parts of him?

My stomach churned. The shed remains weren’t all just one consistency. There were… shapes in the flesh, lumps in the ooze. Whatever the inconsistencies in the gorey sludge had once been was impossible to tell, the lumps having lost much of their shape as if degraded by something.

My eyes flashed to my gloves- thankfully, still intact. 

I sigh, wincing as I inhale the strange stale smell that had undoubtedly bled into the flooring. It wasn’t particularly foul, in fact, it was almost familiar, which in itself made it far worse-  the smell of raw meat. 

My throat clenches at the thought, and I struggle to suppress the involuntary response to start dry heaving. 

Don’t think. Just clean. 

No different from gutting a deer. 

No difference at all. 

My hands move idly, picking up piece after horrific piece. The pile dwindles, replaced by a collection of dangerously heavy garbage bags in the center of the room, leaving nothing but the slowly congealing ooze to tackle. Armed with a worryingly complex array of disinfectants, I begin working away at the fluids.

My stomach churns as I try desperately to force my brain to think about anything else aside from the liquid carnage I’m sopping up with a month's worth of paper towel. Anything at all. 

Though the ‘anything’ that seems to permeate my mind, while less disgusting, is no less worrisome. 

Just what was happening? My teeth dug into the flesh of my lip as I scrubbed harder, as if the answer lay somewhere under the layers of- 

Was Bram really human? He seemed human... Maybe? His mannerisms were normal enough, save the extra appendages. But if he was human…

Why was he hiding? A distinct anxiety began to swell in my chest, and with it, a much more worrisome question came rising into my throat

Just who was he hiding from? 

…and how long until they got here?

_______

For all my monumental efforts in cleaning, it seemed as though Honey lived to do the opposite. Her fur, once a light golden color, was a horrible mishmash of the various fluids that had been splattered across my floor. Snout to tail she was caked in a thick mucosal slime that had rapidly begun to crust over as it dried, becoming flaky and, ugh, crunchy. 

From behind the filth, Honey stares up at me, her warm brown eyes filled with an innocent pleading as I stare down the nozzle at her- my finger hovering on the trigger. 

She whines softly.

I don't hesitate. 

Without a second thought, I spray her down- holding tight to her collar as she squirms in my grip, the cool spray from the hose apparently far less appealing than the rapidly decaying innards of some sci-fi mishap. I empty a container of dawn dish soap over her as she whines in protest, all the while desperately hoping that if Dawn worked for ducks in oil spills it’d work for dogs in biohazards as well. 

From I could tell, it seemingly had done the trick.

As I finished rinsing her off, Honey finally managed to wriggle free, zipping off to dart around the yard to run off her offense at, God forbid, being clean. 

My eyes hesitantly left her, moving to scan the lengthy driveway. I was almost expecting to see some unmarked government vehicle driving down to come and interrogate me.

How much time did I have before someone showed up? What was I even supposed to say? Hell- what were they going to say? ‘Hey Ma’am, have you seen a strange bug-person-thing in the area?’

A shaky breath blew past my lips as I forced out any hypothetical thoughts. 

We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. 

My eyes flick towards the stack of pallets and scrap wood leaning up against the garage. 

But first we have more important things to burn. 

__________

The warmth of the fire pricks at my skin, or maybe it was the lingering bits of Bram sludge and it's undetermined acidity slowly burning through my skin-

With an exhale, I banish the thought before it can fully form. 

Everything’s fine. Kind of. Not really. I was harboring what was more and more in hindsight seeming like some fugitive alien or awol government experiment within the walls of my home. There was no way this wasn’t some type of felony, right? I was tampering with… evidence? A crime scene? 

What even was this?

I massage the bridge of my nose, my eyes immediately watering at the remaining smell of gasoline on my hands- no other reason. 

The fire continues to blaze on, the occasional pop and hiss emanating from the rapidly shrinking pile of charred remains. Around me, birds sang. I could hear the trill of chickadees and vireos as they hopped along the edge of the treeline. A soft breeze whispers through the foliage, rustling the leaves scattered on the ground. The early morning fog seemed to ease and give way to the everwarming rays of sunshine… 

I took a deep breath. 

Aside from the pungent odor of gasoline, there was a freshness in the air, as there so often was in fall. A crispness to the chill entering my lungs, with the sharp scent of evergreen dancing on each breath. I held out my hands, letting the heat from the fire soak into them.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day- clear skies, with the sun passively warming the October air. The atmosphere seemed to set a precedent. A subtle nod that everything would be okay.

I exhaled. 

Maybe everything really would be fine.

A soft vibration at my side pulls my attention to my phone. 

In my chest, my heart turns to ice- a sinking feeling of dread washing over me as I read the notification. 

Trail Cam Alert: Movement detected by NW BOUNDARY CAM at 8:06 am

#THIS WAS A LONG ONE #SAJGDJKAGL #Officially have a name for both of them ! #Bram having 4 hands to try to convey a message and just resorting to flipping her off is hilarious to me #I need to post some sound clips of what Bram sounds like for context #Honey just being an absolute menace is my favorite #Intelligent dogs that just aren't that obedient are my favorite #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t prompts #g/t writing #entowrites #g/t angst #size difference #gentle giant #monster man #CW gore #INSTAЯ #DawnOC #BramOC #HoneyOC

[jocelynhealy]

Takeda walking up to Cassie and placing a to go coffee in front of her. She takes one look at it and then looks at him.

Cassie: What did you do?

Takeda: Can’t I just get you coffee?

Cassie: You can, but this is a caramel soy latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon and two shots of guilt. This is an apology coffee. You did something. What did you do?

Takeda: Nothing… Yet. I need you to do me a favor.

Cassie: So it’s a bribery?

Takeda: Absolutely. Will you help me?

Cassie, sipping the coffee: Depends. What are you having me do?

Takeda: Me and Jacqui have a date night planned for tonight but I just got off the phone and something’s come up that I can’t have her know about so I need you to come up with an emergency that will keep her on base tonight.

Cassie: You do secretive shit all the time. Why not just tell her you have ninja stuff and have to cancel?

Takeda: Because that’s not it and she’ll know I’m lying. Please?

Cassie, looking him up and down: Fine. But I also get to cash in any favor of my choosing at any point in the future. That is the price for my silence.

Takeda: Deal. Thank you so much.

Cassie: Don’t thank me yet, Pancake. I want pics of the ring as soon as you’re done picking it up.

Takeda: … How did you…?

Cassie: Jacqui’s not the only one that can read you like a book.

#this was a long one #mortal kombat #kombat kids #mk10 #mkx #mk11 #takeda takahashi #cassie cage #jacqui briggs #jakeda

[astral-from-afar]

I want to preface this by saying I’ve never felt grief from a loved one before. This may have a hand in the way I interpreted this chapter and I’m happy to have a conversation about this

So this arc in blue period is about grief right. The centre of this arc is Sanada’s death and how it affected those around her, whether they were friends, family or even those who worked with her. Yatora and Yotasuke, like us, are outsiders to this case and we have to watch their thoughts alongside Momo’s, Hachiro’s and Yakumo’s feelings.

At this current point of the manga (chapter 64). We know the tragic fate of Sanada. Her death was heartbreaking and it shaped the characters like Yakumo to become the person he is in the present.We see that grief manifests in different ways. The two major examples is Sanada’s mother and Yakumo.

Yakumo holds on to every possession that reminds him over her. One of them being her brush. We see it battered and tape holding it together. I like to think that it represents his mental state. He’s constantly happy and covers the cracks with his jokes just like the tape on the handle, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he is grieving the loss of a friend and who he considered a role model.

On the other hand, we have Sanada’s mother who initially did not want to have her daughter’s works to be sold changed her mind as Sanada’s popularity grew. She wanted people to see her works as she saw them which is fine. It is opposite to what Yakumo does despite them both suffering from the same person’s death.

Yakumo saying that Momo’s dad didn’t understand him was not out of malice but Yakumo was grieving in a way unlike what Sanada’s family were doing.

My favourite part is the bit where Yotasuke asks why Yakumo isn’t allow to continue grieving. Yes maybe some people have moved on from her passing. We see one of Sanada’s old classmates who do not share the same sentiment as some of the other characters.But allowing Yakumo the freedom to grieve on his terms is a truly beautiful scene. Grief is different for every individual and Yamaguchi doesn’t aim to put down anyone. She instead gives a more human approach as grief is a complex feeling that should be approached as such.

#blue period #blp chapter 64 #this was a long one #but I felt passionate about it #this also feels all over the place #my batter is less than 20 #battery* #I want to ask this as well #how do you interpret Momo’s and Hachiro’s grief #I’m sure we’ll get a hachiro arc next #but I wanna hear other opinions

[ilayas11]

How to Make Armor Stats Work for YOU in Lightfall

If you are a new, returning or just really confused player this guide is for you!  Destiny has made a lot of changes to the armor/stat systems and my previous guide (which a number of you are still faving) is horrifically out of date.  What hasn't changed is Bungie doing a poor job explaining things to new players. So let this tumblr guide (yes tumblr your number one source of video game theory crafting) help you better understand this system.

Sats, what do they do and how do they work?

Destiny has 6 armor stats that can be divided into 2 categories lets call them class stats and ability stats.

Before we get into what you should be prioritizing there are some important things we need to go over.

First Important Thing The game only cares about increases of 10. For example there will be no improvement from increasing a stat from 30 to 38 but there is for raising it to 40.  Any stats over 100 are ignored and offer no additional benefit.

Second Important Thing Class stats do not have diminishing returns and actually see an improvement at higher levels. Ability stats start getting diminishing returns after 70.

Third Important Thing The first armor mod slot is for stat mods. Here's a screen shot I put text over because this guide didn’t have enough pictures.

___________________________________________________________

PVE Stats

As of the writing of this guide the number one stat that everyone should be prioritizing regardless of class, subclass, and build is Resilience. You wanna know how that rank whatever absolute Chad of a guardian is blowing through your strike/battle ground and not dying while you are getting shredded? They have 100 resilience. With 100 resilience YOU could be that guardian.

OK what about all the other stats? The advice I give here is going VERY generalized and not build specific so keep that in mind.

Hunters Hunters are in a weird spot. The class is designed around using your dodge and would indicate you want to stack mobility. But mobility, as it stands, has less utility outside of the doge cool down than recovery and resilience. So ultimately it comes down to a matter of play style. If you are a hunter that uses your dodge a lot get at lest 80 mobility. If you are a hunter that does not play around their dodge then aim for 80 recovery.  

Warlocks If you can get 100 recovery to go with your 100 resilience great!  This is something worth aspiring to but for those of you just starting out aim for 80 Recovery.  Rift is powerful, you want it as often as possible and the increased health re-gen is useful even when you aren't using your rift. The only time I care about mobility on a warlock is for jumping puzzles. Particularly the ones that require you to jump high. Cus.. sigh... warlock jump is a cruel mistress some times (personal experience but 50 mobility is all you need to get past most puzzles). You can use mods to temporary boost your mobility so ideally your armor should have as little mobility on it as possible.

Titans Resilience is your class stat congrats!  High fives all around! (Or fist punches I don't know what you guys do I'm a warlock main.)   Recovery is a great stat that works both in pve and pvp. If you want to get the most out recovery get at lest 80.  100 recovery is great but don't stress if you can't make it work.  Mobility actively makes some Titian abilities/exotics worst. Avoid this stat unless you having issues with a jumping puzzle.

So about those Ability stats........ As this is a generalized guide an not a super specific build guide I'm going to recommend prioritizing Discipline over Strength and Intelligence. Grenades are just too good right now. Aim for at lest 70. After that it’s kind of up to you and your play style as to if you want to stack intelligence or strength.

___________________________________________________________

PvP Stats

Full disclosure, I'm a pve main and I suck at pvp. I am however friends with a few rather good pvp players so much of this information comes from them.

If you are terrible at pvp (like me) then this is your stat priority:

100 Resilience

80 Class Stat/Recovery  

80 Discipline.

This allows your good pvp friends to use you as “bait” without getting one shot.

If you are good at pvp specifically if you have good enough positioning that you avoid getting hit often resilience becomes less useful. Titans still should go for 100 resilience as it is their class stat, non titans are good at 30 and instead should stack both recovery and discipline/their class stat.  

Intelligence is far more useful in pvp than pve. It really shines in game modes like Trials of Osiris as passive re-gen is going to be how you get the majority of your super charge making it more useful than strength. ___________________________________________________________

How Stat Distribution Works

This is an entry level guide and I don't want to have to break out spreadsheets so I'm going to tell you some things that are not entirely true to keep it simple. Class and ability stats have separate stat pools and to get double 100's in class stats you will need to use armor mods and stat boosting subclass fragments.

Please enjoy this Actinium War Rig I own which is one several exotics that breaks the rules and shits over damn near everything I just said.

___________________________________________________________

How to Get the Good Armor

This where I tell you how to farm up your high stat perfectly allocated armor. And when I figure out how to do that I'll let you know. Until then you can go to your ghost shell and slot a stat mod in the 3rd slot. This will guarantee that whatever armor that drops with random rolls will have at lest 10 of that stat.  Do note that this will be canceled out by any other effects influencing armor stats if they are in the same stat pool (unless stated otherwise). So if you are doing an activity that rewards high Strength armor and you have a Resilience mod in your ghost you are fine. But if you had a Discipline mod in they would cancel each other out.

All right you've got your ghost modded in and you are ready to start farming them high stat armor pieces. What you want to look for is activities that have Tier 2 or above powerful and pinnacles as rewards.  Dungeons, Raids, Iron Banner and Trials also reward high stat gear. In addition to those look for any engram focusing that specifically says it rewards high stat armor.  It's important to take a moment to note that Bungie considers anything  55+ to be “high stat” (which is bullshit) the community (and myself) consider 60+ to be “high stat”. So keep your expectations measured.   

___________________________________________________________

What to Masterwork and What to Delete

I like itemized lists so get ready for some bullet points:

Master working armor not only opens up all the energy slots but also gives you +2 for each stat (even class items).

The first thing you should master work is a class item.

Ability stats are in a different stat pool than class stats so you should ideally be able to reach your desired target using little to no mods. This frees you up to use those mods for class stats.

Some sub class fragments can raise and lower your stats.

Just because something has a lot of stats doesn't mean it has the stats you want.  

While more stats does not always equal better stats do not bother master working any armor below 60 stats. Trust me when I say you will get something better.

When deciding what to masterwork I find it's best to plan around an exotic armor piece and subclass you want to use. Exotic armor is kind of a pain to farm for so it's best to build around it. Now you can absolutely sit down sort through your vault and do the basic math necessary to determine what you want to masterwork.... OR you could let D2Armorpicker.com do all that for you.

Just link your Destiny account (don't worry this is secure) and enter in the stats you want, what exotic armor you are using and your subclass. It will search your inventory and give you all the possible armor combinations that achieve that. For best results scroll down to advance settings and check assume all legendary exotic and class items are masterworked.  If you see any pieces of armor that come up frequently when look at different builds those are the ones you probably want to focus on masterworking first. Depending on what the stats look like on the exotics you are using there is a good chance you will need several master worked items in each armor slot to consistently hit your desired stat targets.

___________________________________________________________

What About that Artifice Armor I've Been Hearing so Much About?

Artifice armor has an extra mod slot which can be used to increase any stat of your choosing for +3 at no additional energy cost. Which is insanely useful. Now before you get excited know that at the time of this guide Artifice armor ONLY drops from master dungeons. This is not an entry level activity nor is it solo friendly. Before you decide to attempt a master dungeon have a solid set of armor ready to go and clear the dungeon on normal mode at least once.

Hey look another bullet point list!

There are currently 3 dungeons that have a master version in the game: Grasp of Avarice, Duality and Spire of the Watcher

Shattered Throne, Prophecy and Pit of Heresy do not have master versions.

There will be a new dungeon added in season 21 (Season of the Deep) and another one added in season 23. They will have master versions.

The last boss in a master dungeon has a chance to drop high stat armor in every slot.

The newest dungeon can be farmed (you can run it multiple times and still get drops)

Older dungeons will only drop gear once per character per week. UNLESS it is the featured dungeon. Featured dungeons can be farmed and change weekly on a set rotation.

___________________________________________________________

Closing Thoughts

I made this guide because I enjoy playing Destiny 2 and I want others to enjoy it as well.  Being frustrated because you don't understand game systems is not enjoyable. Hopefully this guide helps you murder hobo your way through the enemies of humanity a bit better than before.  

That all said I really want to stress, particularly to new players, that you don’t need a perfect set of armor (artifice or otherwise) to play this game. Getting that perfect set (or as the case may be multiple sets) of armor is something worth aspiring to not something worth stressing out about.

I use glaives because they are fun, the meta be damned!

If you have any questions or corrections feel free to ask! There was a mountain of additional info that I wanted to include but this guide was already too damn long.

-Ilayas

#destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny 2 guide #This was a long one #Thanks for reading! #I hope this helps people #Seriously though if you have any questions just ask #Oh btw I made it to rank 10! #Soloing spire is going to be really hard but damn it I'm gonna try for rank 11

[its-a-branwen-thing]

Just the Way You Are

This volume of RWBY isn't one that I've felt like writing a ton about. It's existed as a bit of background noise to my weekends, a must watch but in passing. It was a wonderful journey, but not as impactful as I thought it should be to me. It hit all the right marks. Well-written, well-animated, great music. It wasn't until the finale, where I was reminded, again, of why I loved this show in the first place.

I've been seeing an outpouring of love for V9 that seemed to spur a re-examination of it as a series, in both what RWBY means to fans and what Ruby means to the audience. This whole volume she's been a proxy facing the show's vocally decried imperfections: for what the could have beens and should have beens keep saying. In Ruby's own personal doubt, we see the seeds of the show's very own history of grappling with fan expectations, critical analysis, commercial success, and the complicated legacy of the tragic passing of the show's creator.

But CRWBY's love for this volume is so evident it seemed to drown out any bad faith arguments: this is RWBY as it was always meant to be.

In finishing this volume, I see once more that fiction can help us suture the parts of us that seep. That its creators are people we may never know but whose ideas we stitch into the membranes of our core. RWBY doesn't have to be a masterpiece emerging fully formed from the minds of its writers and animators. It is a vision expanded upon, a messy beginning built up, a work of surfeit love, flawed and lovely in the mess.

As a perfectionist I tend to chase that critical clout, to draw from external sources the meaning of my own art, to wonder if the interpretations are good enough, if the writing and characters are done with enough mastery that I can succeed in other's eyes. But RWBY will never be a success to some, and in that we see that even the most collectively beloved things are criticized by their detractors. We will never create a bulletproof thing.

Life is exposure. Love is vulnerability and art in service to that love - of self, of others, of vision - exacts the same toll of knowing. Even against the diatribes on Youtube that have stated otherwise, RWBY's heart is worn on its sleeve. It is a show fully sure of its sincerity. This volume seems meant to present that to us and to Ruby, as a character. She has always been the heart of the show. Pursuant of hope in the face of insurmountable odds, always picking up the pieces of others, always with the weight of the world on her shoulders. But, at her core, she has always been a simple, more honest soul.

RWBY and Ruby have faced failure after perceived failure. Ruby always tried hard but never quite got it and now, in the sea of her doubt and the under the current of others' expectations, she sees herself as less than. As incapable of serving the people she loves most. Ruby's fear of failure does not come from her need to be beloved, it doesn't come from a selfish interest in public opinion, but rather from a stalwart need to do what she believes in.

RWBY has long been the scruffy underdog of the animation world, an easy little show to poke fun at. This isn't to say that critiquing is inherently bad faith, or that there's no place for it. There is, and there always will be things that irk or bother us to some degree with every piece of media we consume. But, much like the people we love in our lives, those imperfections are part of them, and we can either take them as is and have faith enough that they'll grow just as we do, that their center is good and worth it, or we can simply let them go.

Choose for yourself one who can leave your burdens behind, or chose one who can be enough to bare them.

There's something to be said about the moral simplicity of a show like RWBY, in which things don't always work out, but in which the characters have enough faith in themselves, and the world, to still seek to save it. This is a fairytale, but it is one that hopes to impart on reality a little bit of that kindness.

It is wholly intentional that RWBY is thus stylized as a children's fairytale. It lacks the tonal shift of grit and anger that adulthood seems to impart on innocence, and posits that: no, you don't need to be anything else, even if others decry that self as naive or emotional or exposed. There is a beauty to RWBY's vulnerability and it's always been there, baked into the show itself.

V9 feels like a love letter to RWBY as a whole. It has always been a show set on positivity, on pursing that goodness at all costs. RWBY does not partake in the labor of being something else more gritty or mature or indifferent. It is what it's always been.

A simple, more honest show.

#rwby #this was a long one #im old and clutching my cane but i love this show with a lot of me #ruby to little/somewhat voice: im so glad we got to meet you #rwby v9 #ruby rose #is V10 greenlit yet?

[snitchesnsneeds]

Bethany's Bizarre Miraculous Reviews Episode 3-22: Chat Blanc

Fun fact: One nickname I often have for Chat Noir is Cattablack (also my hypothetical name if I had the Black Cat Miraculous,) from "Cat Black," which is the English translation of "Chat Noir." However, the etymology for English black has the same origins as French White (also the word blank!), so in a sense, Cattablack is both Chat Noir and Chat Blanc! On with the show.

Straight to Emile's corpse. Also I have to wonder, where are those enormous windows with light shining through in the Agreste Manor? They have to be someplace open to daylight at least.

Awawawawa! The girlsquad! Also they do picnics, sleepovers, and the movies. Noted.

That "No." cut was great, though. Good on Marinette for not giving up, however. Good for Marinette on not quitting, the girlsquad for encouraging her, and Rose for having enough of this shit! Losing her favorite unicorn plushie probably helped.

But don't break into his house! He's not there, you weirdo! As much as I want this mahogany to end and for Adrien to friendzone her, stalking is NOT the way! On the other hand, if she did break and enter, it could out Marinette as a creep...

SHE'S SNIFFING THE PILLOW!?

Oh god now that he's connected the dots he's in love with Marinette. Plagg's trying his hardest but it's too late.

Oh right. This is the episode where Chat Noir gets akumatized and causes the End of Evangelion. Not what I normally think of when I think of Marinette and Adrien's relationship having catastrophic consequences, but still.

Also again with the time travel plots not making sense. Is the future set in stone or not!? Why are only things only disappearing when they change in Bunnix's rewind vision? It's Bill and Ted 3 all over again.

On the plus side, Marinette with her hair down.

Alix looking so uninterested while cheering and the animation errors lmao

Hadouken Cataclysm lmao

You know, Marinette's parents could've called CPS on Gabriel's controlling attitude, or Marinette could've explained truthfully why she broke up with Adrien.

So that's his response to discovering his father is Hawkmoth. Good to know.

That was a good mental breakdown. 10/10 there.

Bunnix, why are you getting a teenaged Ladybug to fix this? Can't you do it? Can't the adult Ladybug do it?

The end of the world!? That looks more like the end of at least two galaxies! Holy hell!

You could've just said the gift was from Marinette, Ladybug. Whatever.

So was that sunset scene in the normal or Chat Blanc timeline? I'm confused.

Well that was an interesting episode. Here's how Marinette and Adrien's relationship can ruin everything without Hawkmoth or any evil butterfly holder!

As we know, Marinette is obsessed with Adrien, to stalkerish levels, as shown by this very episode with her sniffing Adrien's pillow when she's all alone in his room.

She also shows controlling tendencies with her schedule of Adrien allowing her to know where he is for most of the time and her stealing his phone to delete an embarrassing message she sent him.

She's also prone to being vengeful, such as when Chloe, Lila, or Kagami get closer to Adrien then her.

Let's keep these traits in mind as we imagine there being no evil Butterfly or Peacock Miraculous users, maybe even no evil at all. Most likely those Miraculouses are in the good hands of the guardian, or Marinette. Also imagine that Marinette and Adrien know eachothers' identities and are older and dating, if not married.

On one day, Adrien arrives home a little later than usual for Marinette. Maybe he didn't keep track of time while spending time with his friends. Maybe he had to walk home and his phone was out of power.

Marinette starts to get worried. She tries to call him. He doesn't respond, either due to how noisy the social gathering is or because is phone is out.

When Adrien finally gets back, Marinette starts to fuss over him. She was so worried! She's so glad he's back. Where was he? He shouldn't do that again. Adrien doesn't think it's that big of a deal, but Marinette disagrees. The gap has formed.

Adrien at least tries to be more punctual, but that doesn't always work. Marinette starts to get more and more worried. What if he's cheating on her with someone else? She's had similar worries in the show, after all.

These conflicts begin to escalate. Marinette's concern for Adrien begins to turn to concern that he's doing something behind her back. An argument breaks out. Adrien notes that Marinette's acting like his father. This makes things worse.

Tension begins to build up until Marinette, someone who as Ladybug had to save so many of her loved ones by fighting them, does something she shouldn't have and immediately regrets. Maybe Adrien was in another verbal fight with her. Maybe he was going out somewhere, possibly to come back late or early.

Adrien Agreste is now in critical condition. It's unknown when he'll wake up, if ever. Marinette has to right this wrong and make sure this never happened, no matter what it takes.

If Tikki and Plagg didn't escape with their Miraculouses as they watched this relationship go to hell, all of reality shall be annihilated and recreated.

If one or both of them did manage to escape, then hey, she has or can easily take the Butterfly miraculous! All she needs to do is turn someone into a super and help them out with their problems in exchange for the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses, wherever they are!

This isn't ensured to happen, but you have to admit Marinette has a lot of similarities to Gabriel Agreste, especially in regards to how she views Adrien. Not to mention that nowhere in the show is she ever really punished for those above negative traits. At points they're even excused.

Edit: Almost forgot to mention that Natalie seems to show remorse upon discovering Adrien is Chat Noir. More points for her!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette #adrien agreste #miraculous adrien #chat noir #ml chat noir #ml ladybug #hawkmoth #marinette salt #marinette x consequences #ml salt #wow #this was a long one #chat blanc

[shunohoney626]

all of the love.

#dosr #degrees of separation: reloaded #this was a long one #but it was necessary #now #we wait #cause i gotta rebuild another house #sighs #i think i keep saying that #i will keep saying that til its done #or i may share old dos posts that wont be used anymore #yeahhhhh #nevertheless im excited about where we're headed #its kinda uncertain #but kinda not' #ill stop talking now #byeeeeeeeeeee #dosr: its getting real

[inkedroplets]

fanfic writer questions

Thanks so much for the tag @sideguitars

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

Twenty. A good mix of one-shots and longer fics that I will finish someday...

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

534,441

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Supergirl but I've dabbled with Legends of Tomorrow and have a few unpublished fics for different fandoms that I might share

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Rich Girl With Issues (I swear I'm almost done with the last chapter. The flu kicked my ass but I'm finishing up. My weird Lena becomes a vigilante fic. I still am amazed that people like it as much as they do)

Maybe I'm Too Afraid to Admit It (Kind of cute Kara realizes she has feelings for Lena. I really don't know why this one resonated with so many people)

Somewhere You Can't Follow (My weird (and poorly written) Legends and Supergirl crossover. I would love to go back and actually rewrite large bits of this but the dialogue is on point, at least. Oh and Lena gets to see her mom again so that's a plus)

Denial is Not Just a River in Egypt (I have no memory of this place fic)

Nothing Gold Can Stay (My one and only kidfic but I love it to pieces)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do and I don't. I'm a lot more offline than I was when I first started writing and if too much time passes, I feel weird about responding since I feel like I'm bothering people but I am trying to be better about it. Because I really do cherish each one

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably nothing I've posted yet would count but I do have one that I plan to post soon-ish that's so angsty I took a year to decide whether or not to share it.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think all of my one-shots have pretty standard happy endings. I think I'll say that either Rich Girl or Nothing Gold Can Stay will have the happiest endings (in my opinion) Wait (a little longer) and see

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I'll get the occasional weird comment. Nothing out of the ordinary. I did get a really rude bookmark once that kind of made me laugh. They hated the story yet still chose to bookmark it which is a choice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I dabble in it. There's a snippet floating around somewhere on tumblr that I'm too lazy to find. I'll share it once I finish the first chapter. It's a bit out of my wheelhouse but its fun? Very different kind of writing than what I'm used to.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I write a lot of crossovers. I think when I write fic, I want to see something a little strange and unique that I can't find elsewhere. I'm working on a fic now where Kara meets Matt Murdock, that's not an interaction I ever envisioned myself writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so? To be fair, I haven't ever cared enough to check. I don't think I'm popular enough to get a fic stolen xD

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Someone translated one of my fics into Russian. I was incredibly flattered that they liked it enough to do so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I think it's mostly because I'm quite a selfish writer? I know what and how I want to write so collaboration is quite difficult. Maybe I still have some leftover trauma from all the group projects of my past.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Supercorp, if that wasn't very, very obvious.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'll finish them all!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I really don't know and that's not just me being modest. I don't really think I do anything particularly well?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Being succinct. Every ficlet wants to be a multi-chaptered story and every multi-chaptered story wants to be a novel

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think if implemented well it can be a great addition. If it's merely tacked on, however... I feel it not only doesn't add anything to the story but it makes the reader aware that they're reading a story. A bit of the magic is lost in the clunky execution.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

On AO3 Supercorp but I've dabbled in fandom for years and years. There's ancient Xena fic somewhere in my mother's basement

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Probably has to be Rich Girl but I really am fond of Swear Not by the Moon, as well. I've really enjoyed expanding the scope of Supergirl's world a bit and watching the characters slowly grow over the course of the story

No-pressure tags, of course: I never know who to tag in these until I finish these but if you like @rustingcat @vox-ex @sazernac

#ask game #this was a long one

[the-baby-storyteller]

They’re oc’s now

Part 3

Tw: slavery, minor whump, disordered eating

-

Arlo was, quite literally, flabbergasted.

When his cousin said he was getting a maid during his stay, he hadn’t expected to care. Heck, he hadn’t expected it to even affect him. It was admittedly a little weird when he glanced up and the maid looked so young and her smile looked a little too pinched at the cheeks to be fully convincing, but it didn’t matter that much to him. He was only staying at Jadis’ for a little while anyway.

He’d had no idea of what to think of the maid when she first got there, mainly because he had no thoughts about her. The horror he felt when the maid, Ezlynn, he guessed, told him she was afraid of him still gnawed like a sick venom in his mind. She was on the floor, begging him, tears threatening to stream down her face.

Arlo shuddered. Over bumping into him? He- he wasn’t-

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

He was just a teenage boy. The same age as her! And yet, she was so much more terrified than he even thought about her when she first arrived. Now, though, his mind was definitely on her. Worried. Highly worried.

He sighed again. He needed to go to sleep.

Hopefully he’d wake up in the morning and have some range of clearer thoughts.

Walking back to his room, he saw the vanishing figure of Ezlynn scurrying out of the kitchen.

Haaah, he breathed out, This situation was so weird.

- -

The next morning came softly. Sleeping cleared Arlo’s head more than he’d expected, and upon opening his eyes, he felt like he could actually think straight again.

After staring at the ceiling for way too long, Arlo finally found the strength to push himself up to sit on his bed. He started musing idly.

Hmm..what what am I doing today…

He’d reverted back to his natural state of staring mindlessly at walls when suddenly his door opened soft footsteps entered the room.

He jumped slightly, and then quickly gathered himself, turning to face them. Ezlynn stood right past the doorway, broom in hand, and they made eye contact.

Er- well- eye contact wasn’t the right word. Her eyes were downcast, (as they seemed to always be), and she was quietly sweeping, almost not acknowledging his presence.

Or maybe trying to hide hers.

Arlo wanted to speak to her, though. She’d come into his room to clean without him asking, which was…nice. He guessed. Maybe a little weird but there were probably maid duties or something Jadis had told her to do.

He cleared his throat. “Ezlynn.”

Ezlynn halted. She faced him. “Yes, Master?” Her eyes, large and dutiful, raised slightly.

Arlo held back a wince. Master was such an…uncomfortable name. Was that normal? Did live-in maids usually call employers that? Was this some weird new thing Jadis had made her do?

“I didn’t see you after you left last night,” he pushed on past his discomfort, “Did you eat anything?”

Her face darkened. “No, Master.” was her short reply, head once again downcast.

His eyebrows wrinkled. “Why? Are you not hungry?”

“You, Master,” she spoke shortly, “and the other master did not say I could eat.”

Arlo blinked. He stared at her, taking in her submissive form and deferential posture. She was waiting for his…permission?

“If you’re hungry,” he muttered, vaguely depressed, “you can eat…”

She blinked at him for a second as if calibrating , and then quickly revitalized.

“N-No, Master!” she squeaked, “I should work. S-Should I continue cleaning your room?”

Arlo deflated. “No it’s fine.” He said holding back a sigh.

Ezlynn looked uncomfortable. “M-May I leave then?”

“…Yea…”

She quickly bowed.

“Yes, Master.” She turned and quickly scurried out of the room.

Arlo blew air out of his mouth, flopping back onto his bed. He pulled his hands down is face, trying to get himself together. Breakfast, he needed to go down for breakfast.

Breakfast.. he mulled.

- -

Ezlynn was cold.

It wasn’t a particularly surprising occurrence down in the basement but this time she really didn’t feel well.

Nausea assaulted her and it was all she could do to rest against the freezing wall of the basement while waiting for another order.

She must have been off her game. Usually she could take things like this. Usually she was better at dealing with stresses and pains and panic but somehow right now she just felt sick.

And that wouldn’t do because she had work to do.

A creaking sound suddenly jolted her and she jumped up hurriedly. She rose just in time to see the older Master entering the room, something in hand.

“M-Master!” She exclaimed, dangerously close to a squeak. He had come down to the basement?

“Do you require something of me?” She tried to sound demure.

“No.” He said monotonously.

But he was approaching her and Ezlynn tensed up in fear and nervous anticipation-

“My cousin wanted me to give this to you.”

Master knelt down and placed a bowl of fresh food on the table.

Huh? For- For me?

“You can eat it before you clean the dishes.”

Ezlynn blinked, uncomprehending.

“…Thank you, Master,” she said robotically.

He didn’t answer, didn’t even spare her another glance, and left wordlessly.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the food and walked over as soon as Master left, kneeling down by it.

The young master gave this to me?

An image of him, his terrifying but also weirdly benevolent gaze, popped in her head. She quickly shook her head, shooing it out.

She knew she had things she wasn’t supposed to do without permission. Eating, speaking, sleeping even. But for him to bring this for her? To call Master to take it to her? It made no sense.

I haven’t eaten in..

Ezlynn reminded herself that it wasn’t her job to decide what made sense. The masters did that. She just had to do as she was told. Cautiously she took a taste of the food.

Waah! It’s yummy!

Her cheeks flushed and she brightened involuntarily. It tasted good! She hadn’t been allowed to have anything even near that good in ages.

Hastily she scarfed down more, savoring each bite. It felt heavenly. Warm, solid food filling her stomach, especially in the bitter chill of the basement, was a luxury she knew she didn’t deserve. But then..

She hadn’t expected it to be so much. And not halfway through the meal, when it suddenly became substantially harder for her to swallow, it dawned upon her that she didn’t think she could eat it all.

Master will strike me if I waste.

The thought came to her like a painful blow to the head. She’d been so happy to finally have food, but now it felt more like a nemesis, challenge, a test to her. Eyeing it again, her stomach flipped at how much was left.

She steeled herself:

Come on Ezlynn, force yourself to eat it.

Painstakingly, Ezlynn shoved the food into her mouth.

Hrrk!

Her hand flew to her mouth, holding back a gag. She heaved breaths, trying desperatelyto calmed herself back down.

It’s okay..it’s okay.

Settling, she fought the turning of her stomach and pushed forward, forcing down the food her body was so heavily resisting, wincing through the pain.

Slower than she wanted, the food was finally finished and Ezlynn breathed a sigh of relief that, even though her head was pounding, she felt weak as a fly, and her stomach reamed at her, she wouldn’t be punished for disobedience. She was fine. It was time to go clean.

- -

Upstairs, she wordlessly made eye contact with the Young Master while bowing to the Master as he exited the kitchen.

Ezlynn found she’d been having more interactions with the Young Master as of late and…didn’t know how to feel about it. Personal interactions. She mulled discreetly while clearing the dishes from the table he sat at, eyeing her. A slight shiver ran down her spine. He was an enigma. No master had ever given her food out of…kindness? Ezlynn didn’t know what it was. And that scared her.

She turned, walking over to the sink and dropping the plates in when-

“Ezlynn.”

Ezlynn nearly jumped, eyes popping out of their sockets in surprise. Quickly, she schooled herself.

She turned around and bowed. “Yes, Master?”

The Yound Master had stood up from the table to face her. She averted her eyes.

“The food I gave you,” he spoke, “did you eat it?”

Her eyes drifted. “Yes Master,” she replied obediently, “I finished it.”

“Good.” Something in her loosened at the praise. “You can continue then. I’ll be in my room.”

That was…unexpected.

She shook her head and went back to work. Young Master was..off, but she couldn’t let it deter her. She had to stay on track and do what she was supposed to do.

Things always, always, got worse when she lost her composure.

#whump #caretaker #slave whump #dehumanisation #conditioned whumpee #whumpblr #whump writing #whumpee pushing themself #minor whumpee #minor whump #this was a long one #traumatized whumpee #the baby storyteller

[denis-local]

a few asks... again... grahahah

1. can pilby fly

2. on a cat chomnk scale (that one meme) what level is gnarpy

3. what games does kasper play now that he's 💖yassified💖

4. what items DOES enphoso sell for the 💖yassified💖

5. instead of stealing coins, would cashier chuck lipstick at stealers/thieves in the store

6. how devastated was drretro when poob got 💖yassified💖

7. does fleshcousin speak differently now that they're 💖yassified💖

8. how in the lords name did william get 💖yassified💖

9. in this au is poptart alive I NEED TO KNOW (bonus to this question, what happened to them how did they go missing)

10. is fafa 💖yassified💖

11. does (un)pleasant try to interact with kasper or nah

IM SO SORRY FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS BUT IM JUST SO CURIOUS

Mmm I love questions so dw haha

(Cut off for people who don't wanna scroll eee)

1. Yes it took them a while before they could learn though haha

2. I'd say after the infection, xe would be a hefty chonk but it'd all mostly be fur haha

3. Same games, but he'd probably revisit GirlGoGames.com (iykyk)

4. A LOT of new stuff, but mostly still trinkets and stuff like small packets of makeup, probably a pink version of that one item that screams and turns you yellow, and a LOT of Fizz Up. For some reason the infected LOVE drinking Fizz Up so he's ready to supply.

5. No that'd be a waste of merchandise! But he is always tempted to do so.

6. I'm guessing you're referring to the hc that DrRETRO is Poob's mom ans I'm not sure if I wanna add it to the AU, but if I were to she'd be extremely devastated let's just say that.

7. It probably speaks the same, but since it mimics things they hear from other people it does say a lot of new words haha

8. Nobody knows, but he seems to really be enjoying himself!

9. Got eaten by Unpleasant, but since I love cats too much I think it probably spit Poptart back up and they just ran away. Probably on a different floor, they didn't mean to actually go that far they just somehow ended up in the elevator.

10. Yes. A different version at least which Enphoso sells in the fruit section. If you bite it, you immediately get yassified.

11. I like to imagine they did before the infection and now it does try to interact a lot more (much to Kasper's dismay)

Mmm yummy questions hehe

#regretevator au #yass infection au #ask post #this was a long one #but I lauv questions about ny stuff sooo muwah

[centaurianthropology]

What ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Did for this Older Queer Fan

I’ve been trying to articulate what feels special about ‘Our Flag Means Death’ to me for a while.  I’ve been active in fandoms since the ‘90s, back when webrings were your best bet for good fan content.  I have seen a lot of shows come and go.  And I got very used to my fandom experience going something like this: find a new show or movie or book or other thing, write a lot of meta about character motivation and plot structure and costume choices, and often find a pairing I found appealing.  The chemistry was usually good, with variations on antagonistic, friendly, or other chemistry.  And if I was lucky, the show would drop a few hints that there was something there.  You learned very quickly to be grateful for scraps, and to never expect too much.  There was never, NEVER an expectation that a queer pairing would be ‘endgame’, or would ever be manifested in anything more than a few lingering glances and the actors and maybe a writer or two being all for the relationship EXCEPT. 

Except the producers, the studios, the audience.  It would never be accepted.  So it was confined to glances.  And that I understood.  I could appreciate that.  I knew that, if they could, those writers and those actors would have gone there, but gay marriage being legalized seemed like an impossibility, queer cinema was treated as niche or arthouse, and the only queer characters allowed on network shows had to be sidekicks who never had sex.

After that came the era of the queerbait.  Showrunners were more aware of fandom in the mid-2000s, and really wanted that sweet sweet audience retention.  So some shows started to lean into the possibilities of queer relationships.  They played up that things might happen between characters on screen.  It was no longer “we want to, but the network/producer won’t let us”; it was “maybe there is something there! *wink* *wink*”, only to turn around and inevitably claim that the audience misinterpreted, that there was nothing there and never had been.  It was somehow less than what we had in the ‘90s, because then at least we knew we were never getting anything, we knew that the writers had pushed something as hard as they could and they felt as shitty as we did that it wasn’t going to happen.  This was, well, bait.

And yet I don’t really think I understood that feeling of being baited, because I never got the canon queer ship on screen.  Whenever I saw the bait, as a fan who had been around and seen the talks in the ‘90s about queer rep on network TV, I knew that it was bait.  I knew that they would never follow through because everyone was convinced that two men kissing would end their television show.  So no matter how much they teased the audience, I knew it was lies, and I didn’t feel like it hit me as hard.  I told myself it didn’t hurt.

Now we’re in a new era where queer relationships are directly confirmed by creators, but there’s always still this halting before the final hurdle.  “These two men are in love,” they’ll say, but then turn around and say, “but it’s so elevated and pure and perfect that they would never sully it by smashing their faces together.  So they’re definitely in love guys!  Just don’t expect them ever to show that physically.”  Because gay love is now in vogue, but gay kissing and God forbid gay sex are still that bridge too far.  Even shows with great queer rep that aren’t explicitly billed as queer romances will stop before the kiss.  

And this doesn’t feel like asexual rep or an embracing of queerplatonic relationships, because it definitely doesn’t feel like they deliberately set out to write that.  No, it always feels like they wanted to have their cake and eat it.  They want the queer fans that will come to see a queer relationship, but they don’t want to lose those fans that they are still convinced will stop watching when two mens’ lips touch (it’s different for women, because straight men love lesbians, and so they get a pass for ogling reasons, which ...  is a whole different story, and a whole different long post, frankly).  

And then comes David fucking Jenkins, who seems like an impossibility.  He is an apparently straight white cis man in his forties.  He is the exact sort of demographic that you would never expect to deliver a meaningful queer story, or a story with explicitly anti-racist or anti-colonialist beats.  On first glance, he’s every other showrunner who’s tried to pull a fast one on queer audiences before.

But as this article shows, there was something different ticking away in his head.  He watched Star Wars and came away with the impression that Finn and Poe were the couple with chemistry.  He saw how fans treated Kelly Marie Tran and John Boyega and wanted to do better.  He’s almost blissfully unaware of the long history of queer fans getting ignored, then baited, then told that gay sex or kissing would ‘lessen’ such a wonderful relationship.

So he set out to write a queer sitcom about pirates.  And since it was a romcom, of course the two leads were going to kiss, because that was the point of a romcom.  That’s what the audience signed up for, and to turn around and give some bullshit line about how their mouths touching would lessen what they had was inherently ridiculous.  A romcom has specific beats, sure.  They were inevitably going to be separated by misunderstanding, but there was also an agreement with the audience that it wouldn’t be forever.  

And the kiss sealed that deal.  It showed that he had none of those weird hang-ups or beliefs that if he showed two men kissing, his show would be over.  And you know what?  He was more right than he could have ever imagined.  What he was doing was, in his head, simply following through with the agreement established by all romcoms.  It wasn’t remarkable or revolutionary.  It wasn’t until he was surprised that more people weren’t believing it was a romcom by the moonlit scene in episode 5 that he started to understand something was happening that he hadn’t been privy to before.  I think it was only after that that David Jenkins did a deep dive on queerbaiting, and realized how pervasive it was, how even the queer audiences weren’t willing to believe what was obvious on screen.  That, in the words of Lucius: “This is happening.”

And they didn’t believe it until the kiss, because that’s always the line that shows aren’t willing to cross.  When he stepped over that boundary he didn’t even know existed, he had an audience ready to go to war for him.  Because he had delivered.  There was no waffling, no bullshit.  He just delivered.  And after that, well ...

The audience flocked to him.  They campaigned, made cakes and Twitter storms and were unrelenting.  They were a groundswell for a show that had gotten no advertising, no buzz, no press before its airing.  It’s clear that HBO Max had the same old attitude that he had crossed the line with that kiss, and that the show would flop.  But it was the opposite, and instead of tanking his show, it got him a renewal.  

And I myself felt such a lightness in my heart after seeing that.  Even with the darker end the season had, I knew that this was a romcom, that our lovers would be reunited, get over their miscommunications, and would be together in a meaningful way.  David Jenkins had the idea, and then he filled his writers room with people to bring that idea to life, to push back and buy in.  Queer people, people of color, people of different cultures.  This is the move of a man who has a dream to write a diverse, queer story, and knows that he has a good idea for it, but also knows that he needs people who have lived those lives to help him avoid stumbling blocks that he never could have seen.

Seeing this leads to the extraordinary result of writing that is well aware of how queer characters and characters of color have been treated by the media, and how queer fans and fans of color have been treated too.  It also led to him going on his own journey of discovering, realizing why people reacted the way they did, why they were hesitant to believe he would deliver, and why they would fight so hard for his show when they did.  It was effervescent, like drinking champagne, to finally just ... have this.  For it to happen both with the writers knowing it was something special, and the showrunner not understanding why it wasn’t always so easy just to deliver these stories.  Just to see the chemistry and go for it.  Just to treat characters with respect and still let them be silly and ridiculous.  To have an entire world that feels queer friendly, beyond the queerness of the lead characters.

It only really hit me recently, when I heard that tired old excuse of “they love one another, but kissing or sex would cheapen that relationship, so they’re in love, but not in a sexual way”, and I was finally sick of it.  Because David Jenkins and his silly gay pirate show showed that it’s bullshit.  He showed that your audience booms when you finally set aside the fear of two men kissing, and just pay off the relationship.  When you embrace queerness not just in words, but in deeds.  It took OFMD to finally rip those tolerant blinders off me and for me to think, “Oh, just say that you don’t want to show two men kissing because you think whatever audience you have will think it’s gross.”  Just say it.  Just be honest instead of trying to parade this as a better form of queer representation.  I wouldn’t like you any more, but I would respect the honesty.

Finally getting what I always secretly wanted from a show--but would never admit that I wanted because I knew I would always be disappointed--has taken away my ability to tolerate whatever excuse showrunners trot out for not taking that final step.  OFMD opened my eyes.  It woke me up to realizing that I had spent twenty years pretending I wasn’t hurt when a show teased a relationship they never intended to pay off.  I haven’t felt so giddy about a show in years, and I have *never* felt so giddy about a queer genre show (because I’ve never seen one before that delivered so well on both being queer and on being genre)!  This was not a show billed as a romance, but a show about pirates, but it delivered such a lovely romance and such a lot of silly pirates!    

So thank you, David Jenkins.  As you went on your journey of discovery about queerbaiting and how it made you feel, I have been on a similar journey.  And you helped me get there.  You and your silly gay pirate show.

#Our Flag Means Death #David Jenkins #whoof #this was a long one #and maybe not as coherent as some of my meta #but I wanted to try to put my thoughts in order regarding what this show means to me as an older queer fan #and what it did for me in regards to my own relationships with how television has historically treated queer pairings an queer fans #anyway #thank you David Jenkins #you will likely never read this #but you helped me a lot with your show

[earththings]

I'm an artist and graphic designer, so I completely get people's outrage and frustration (especially on Tumblr, where outrage is already amplified and cranked up to 11), but at the same time, they're letting the outrage blind them to reality. AI is here. It's not going away. People can do their absolute best to foil it and discourage its use -- and that's completely fair -- but, to a certain degree, all you're doing is effectively training the AI to be better at working around those measures. Developers are not going to be like, "*sigh*, well, guys, they're just throwing too many roadblocks as us, let's pack it in." It's here. At a certain point people need to suck it up or get off Tumblr and look into supporting legislation that better controls it. But ultimately, I think there's a level of futility to all of it. If you can't stop it, learn how to use it to your advantage. My company has signed up for OpenAI so that we can do just that. I use it to generate stock images that don't exist, and that I don't have time to manually create on my own. I use it to create reference photos or images (that don't already exist) for myself that are hard for me to mentally conceptualize, so that I can create my own art. People LOVE to be angry. It's been more than 10 years since it's become an online hobby for most people. The whole point of your Tumblr, and the reason that I enjoy it so much, is because it is a complete departure from that constant, seething outrage that does no one any good, and has no positive returns. I've already voted in the poll, but -- do what you love. Block the haters. It's the best you can do to maintain this nice, sweet, cozy corner you've created for yourself and those who enjoy it.

This was really well put. At the end of the day no matter if I continue to post ai content it will still exist. I’m not the mastermind behind ai, I can barely remember how to mod my sims game properly.

Also like you said artist themselves use ai to help with their art. Not every ai picture is taken from stole art. Sometimes it’s for like you said, stock photos, or just to properly visualize what you’d like to do.

While I also understand people’s frustration I never meant to offend anybody. You are right though. The whole point of me making this tumblr was because I was in a very bad stop mentally. I did want to eat, I had nightmares when I slept. I didn’t see any beauty in the world and I didn’t want to be apart of it anymore. This was very hard to deal with and I was withering away.

I thought to myself “maybe just make a blog, about the world and its beauty, about food and how it can be good, about sleep and how it can be healing. Maybe if I only look at beautiful things, things will start to feel beautiful again”

I didn’t create this blog to fight with tumblr about ai. I created it for me and people like me who need an escape from the harshness and cruelty of reality. The idea was always to post about earth and her beauty, no matter if it was human made or earth made, to remind me how much more there is to life and that not all humans harm and destroy, some give and create.

I really appreciate you giving your opinion on this matter. And I really appreciate you being here. I hope my blog continues to bring you joy and peace throughout any stressful or calm times in your life. 🫶🏻

#thank you for the asks #this was a long one #but a good one #stay hydrated 🫶🏻 #stay kind #stay safe #cozy aesthetic #naturecore #earthlings #earthcore #natural aesthetic #light aesthetic #fairy cottage #cottagecore aesthetic #springcore #ai art #March