#Retirement Sendoff

[dilfkuza]

i feel sick :)

[pianokantzart]

I’ve been seeing some people think that Charles Martinet got replaced because Mario and Wario in their new games sound different. Thoughts?

Honestly? I didn't even notice any difference until you pointed it out.

But I don't think Nintendo would recast Charles Martinet without announcing it. He's too iconic. It's important to keep in mind the guy's pushing 70. After voicing Mario for 30 years maybe his voice is going through some changes? Who knows.

[jontheredrc]

Well, it's about that time again...and I found just enough time to make myself a major blunder. My laptop is 10 years old at this point, and it's seen me through a great many websites and memories. And it still works now, it's just, well...the screen doesn't. Its problems started a long time ago--the hinges wouldn't actually move within the lid as it opened and closed--but now an exposed wire has snapped and the screen has gone totally dark. The laptop is hooked up to my TV via HDMI and it still works this way. But, like, for how long? I do need a fairly robust computer if I'm going to redouble my efforts to make video games. And I do hope to, if my new work schedule affords me that sort of energy...it's been a lifelong goal of mine to make a game, after all. I do have an external hard drive...and I do have a backup computer, but it's even more of a potato than this one. I'll still be able to chat and write books without this laptop, but for anything more serious, the backup computer won't cut it. Maybe this is my sign to get a new computer...but I gotta get going to work, I can't dwell on it now.

Have a great day, everyone! Love you! I have the weekend off...well, I'm gonna have the weekend off every weekend, by the looks of it. Point being, let's hang out! 👋💕

[savanir]

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too” 

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know” 

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal. 

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

No

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far” 

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

“but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him. 

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

 “... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!” 

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time” 

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

[bluespring864]

well i am going to sleep

i should have been asleep at least an hour ago which is why i did not turn on the tennis. however i am now watching the scoreticker of the spain vs netherlands doubles tick by anyway bc i am stupid

[leonsliga]

2024 Recap: Neuller Edition

↳ 24.01: everyone’s favorite idiots in love seeing Raphaël Guerreiro’s goal and immediately doing the most sensible thing they could think of: leaping into each other’s arms and holding on for dear life

↳ 02.02: Manu waxing poetic about his special bond with his decade partner in an interview with Bild

↳ 03.02: Thomas reaches his milestone 500th win with Bayern and Manu makes damn sure the entire team celebrates it (including Thomas who’s trying to be all modest about it)

↳ 24.02: alllll the post-match snuggles after a win against Leipzig

↳ 05.03: because no Bayern win is complete without a celebratory cuddle

↳ 18.05: Manu & Thomas hold hands after their match vs. TSG Hoffenheim

↳ 15.06: the decade partners attend the Adidas Three Stripes Festival together, as German law intended

↳ 17.06: Manu discusses his close relationship with Thomas during a Euros press conference

↳ 06.07: comforting each other after Germany is knocked out of their Heim-EM

↳ 15.07-21.08: Germany’s dads proving they’re the ultimate package deal by retiring from international duty within a month of each other

↳ 29.07: dare I say the reunion of the decade?!

↳ 29.08: gentle parenting tf out of Jamal

↳ 01.09: Thomas scores during his 710th competitive match for FC Bayern and Manu runs the length of the pitch to celebrate with him 🥰 complete with an almost-kiss because it wouldn’t be Neuller if there wasn’t one. And of course we can’t forget Manu’s post-match presser where all he did was talk about Thomas:

or how Thomas thanked him for celebrating the milestone with him

↳ 02.09: the ultimate neuller canon event: Thomas ✨confirms✨ he’s been married to Manu for 15 years and Manu pens a 4-paragraph love letter to him on the same day. But wait! There’s more! Manu also gives Thomas a “surprise” gift (and no, it’s not his questionable acting skills) to commemorate his 710th match for Bayern

↳ 14.10: Manu and Thomas’ DFB sendoff Rudi Völler officiates the Neuller wedding vow renewal ceremony (those who get it GET it)

↳ 26.11: a little spooning after a match against PSG

↳ 15.12: Manu discusses his hopes for a Thomas Müller contract extension during his annual fan club visit

[zingaplanet]

This retirement was, dare I say it--...a bit too humble? Nothing to blame from Rafa's side, he is as he always is, very generous and dedicated to tennis and the Spanish team, he feels lucky just being able to retire on court with his teammates and as he mentioned many times in the presser, he wants the focus to be on the spanish team and not on him.

This is such an amazing display of selflessness, as usual, but it might've undermined his last chance to enjoy time on court. Perhaps it was his wish not to have any mega farewell at all, but he insisted on focusing on the team so much that he might not have been able to fully claim his retirement night as his, the way so many athletes who retire on singles might, and even the way Federer did, by doing it in an exhibition and allowing everyone to zoom in on him without anything major at stake.

Maybe nobody anticipated Spain to lose in the first round? It could also be that ITF is not in on the usual mega retirement party thing ATP is keen on. My guess is some players might not even have had the chance to arrive yet (Novak explicitly said he'd come) because even Andy had bigger farewells on his SECOND retirement ceremony in wimbledon and Fed and Novak tried so hard to be there. Players are generally not involved at all in their own retirement celebrations - so it's a bit of a shame that the organiser took Rafa's humbleness too literally and not churn out a better ending for one of the best athletes of the sport.

This whole retirement saga has been quite chaotic and disatisfying. I guess it does make sense, Rafa is a person who embraces practicality and doesn't believe in perfect/ideal things. Federer, as much as he wants to deny it, did plan his sendoff perfectly. It's the ongoing contrast between the two, but even at the end of their career they stayed true to themselves.

The plus side tho is he did get to retire in Spain, with his Spanish teammates, speaking Spanish, which is a very fitting ending for someone who loves his country wholeheartedly and has always felt proudest playing for spain.

[blackdagger456]

Let's Talk About: MHA 430, How This Fandom Can't Read, How Leaks Ruin Chapters And While Imperfect This Finale Was A Good Sendoff

So, here we are.

Ten years. Ten years and 430 chapters we've been with My Hero Academia. Ten long years of excitement, fandom interactions and so many fics I won't bother to count saved, subscribed and bookmarked.

It's strange really. To be apart of this fandom for so long...and find out that so many still can't read.

Like holy cheeseburgers Batman, so many of my fellow MHA readers/fans can't read it's astonishing.

So, for what'll be the last time for this series, let's go over the latest chapter of MHA and allow me to inform you of what it means. Or at least, that was the plan before the leaks came out. Just with the added addition of going over how people have reacted to chapter 430 before it was even officially out, and we're going to start with the first stone that began toppling Dominos.

[Official Spoilers Below]

This. Oh god, this sentence has been nothing but a headache for me and so many others. Because of the leaks ,and subsequent mistranslations, being taken as fact the reaction to the finale started out as shit. This entire week leading up to today has been frustrating for me and many others as we tried to explain what should be obvious.

Firstly, none of this is coming from any official translation. What people were seeing before today were things fans and unlicensed translators are spreading around as if it's fact. This does NOT mean that they are correct and therefore these translations shouldn't be treated as such.

Secondly, in no way shape or form does Izuku imply or state that his friends abandoned him after he lost his powers. All he said, was that it was a bit more difficult to meet up regularly. Something that makes sense not only because they were working in different fields but also because work in general is like that.

It can be hard to meet up with the boys n girls for hang outs but that doesn't mean you don't talk. That doesn't mean you don’t call or text or keep in touch. Something which is easier to do when you've fought and lived through an entire war together!

His friends didn't abandon him. They didn't stop caring about him because he became powerless. Hell, the ending of the chapter proves this wrong if nothing else!

Now, is it a shame the ships didn't get officially confirmed? Yes. But I think the implications are more than enough to satisfy. Even if they aren't, there's no reason not have fun with things being open ended. It opens the door to so many fun possibilities OUTSIDE of this whole NTR trend people are trying to start. [Thankfully that's a small part of the fandom]

But moving on, lets go into what he's been doing since becoming OFA.

In what way shape or form does him becoming a teacher make him 'fall off'/make the Mc Donald’s meme become a reality?

 First off why are we hating on the man for enjoying his life without conflict after saving the world? We doing my boy like Gohan now? If he wants to retire to a teaching role, one he very clearly enjoys, let him. What do people think they can take him? Ya'll forgetting exactly what he had to do BEFORE he was able to get OFA in the first place. Izuku is still physically stronger than most normal people both in MHA and in reality.

But, I'm getting off topic. The point is Izuku has and continues to be an inspiration to those that will follow after him. Even to the point of mirroring his starting point with All Might when he inspires yet another young kid to become a hero.

Is he a bit sad he isn't an official hero? Yes. Is he frustrated or unhappy with where he is in life? No. Not at all. He's content. His goal was never to be the No.1 Hero it was to be like ALL MIGHT. To inspire and protect people like his mentor had.

He's done just that and for it---for it he's rewarded.

His kindness, his determination and his faith in those around him comes back to him in the best way for it was those people he spread said traits too that spent those eight years putting together the thing that would bring his dream back to him.

That would bring HIM back to standing by their side on the field of battle. For Izuku Midoriya never truly stopped standing by his friends. For they too had become their own inspirations to Japan and the world. But now, finally, their friend...their inspiration...their Deku could lead them on the frontlines once more.

They, and he, couldn't ask for anything less.

[revelisms]

Throwing down possibly the tenderest, goofiest, and most feral smut I've written to date...and of course it's with these two. Features: The mortifying ordeal of being Known, gratuitous banter, laughing during sex, Terzo being filthy, and all-around spicy sweetness ;-)

a taste of honey

WC: 4k | Rating: E, 🔞 | Terzo x Alessio (Sibling of Sin OC) | CWs: Established relationship, self-esteem issues, oral sex, switching, dirty talk Also on AO3

The heavens decided to piss a storm the day the European tour was due to start.

It was a putrid sign, according to Nihil. During the 1970 tour, torrential rains had stranded them outside Vienne, tarnished a quarter of their equipment, and left them to scavenge for spare cables hours before their first show.

Terzo, a stack of entry permits pinned between his teeth, had been too late to care. The bus had already given him a honk of warning. His ghouls, always dutiful, had been more than on time.

Huddled in the shelter of the Ministry's front steps stood his impatient-footed sendoff: the All-Father, slippered and spluttering; the retired Monsignor Emeritus, half-smiled; the recently retired Archbishop Emeritus, perpetually-scowled; Cardinal Copia, relegated to packing the final cases of clothes into the bus's undercarriage, standing now like a drowned rat beside them; and the lead financial advisor to the church, who had intentionally placed themself a few paces from the bickering cavalry.

"They've been waiting on you," Ale hushed, throwing Terzo a look.

"I know, I know—Sa'nts."

He'd cycled through his goodbyes like a stack of swiped signatures. Ale's own had been too quick for them to savor. He'd squeezed them into his neck, a black-nailed hand warm at their shoulder. There'd been frankincense and citrus on his clothes, and a trace of cigarette smoke on his hair.

"See you, little bird," he'd mumbled into their cheek.  

Ale kissed his own. "Break a leg."

"You say that to a clumsy man? Lucifer forbid, you will jinx it, darling—they'll wheel me back in a cast!"

"You know what I mean."

A grin glittered in his eyes. His hand clapped softly over their nape. "I know, I know."

Then, like a spirit, he was gone.

It'd been the last they'd seen of him in two months—and the color and chaos had been stripped away, with him.

No chainsawed bantering over popped corks of wine. No wet footprints all over the floor, from him sauntering half-dried from his bath. No sweltering limbs crowding into their dormitory bed, no half-finished songs hummed over chipped piano keys and black-glossed guitars, no chocolate foils twisted into bizarre sculptures on their desk.

The noise was a given; the mess, a creative byproduct. In the face of their own manicured routines, it may as well have come from a separate dimension. Countless summers with their grandfather had given them an appreciation for a quiet home, and turned them tidy as a soldier: qualities no living soul could seem to train into him.

They'd given up the battle, eventually, opting for daily walks far, far away from pit he called a living space. For their own sanity, they'd learned not to question the last time he'd had his cushions steam-cleaned.

But now, in some cruel twist of irony, they find themself nosing into his rooms more nights than not, scavenging for any crumbs of normalcy they can find.

His papal suite is a cavern of deep reds and violets. Dark walls, dark floors, dark velvet on every surface—if one can find the surfaces, at all, given the dimness of his lamps. Opening his windows helps, on the days he allows it, but then one sees the wreckage: clothes slopped over the backs of chairs and doors, like shedded snakeskins; villages of espresso cups and dessert plates cluttering his tables; trashbins piled high with discarded sheets of music; strange little trinkets littered across his shelves, sporting a healthy layer of dust.

Through all of it, though, he'd be there.

His crooked smiles and crinkling eyes, wrapped in shades of black. His musings about art and poetry and literature. His spitballed song titles between half-finished lyrics, and stories about Barcelona, and Berlin—

"—and Brussels." A set of wine glasses clink across the room. "Only had two days to admire the damned place, of course—but the architecture? Satan, it was gorgeous. And don't get me started on the gardens—would put the old bat to shame, those things. The roses."

He's a week earlier than they'd expected him. In the mad rush to tidy everything, it'd left them numb as a plank in his arms.

He'd reeked of engine exhaust and stale cigarettes, their cheek smushed against the satchel slung over his shoulder: devoured by the heat of his body, his breath, his lips on their hair. Not a single text or call could come close to it.

The greeting hadn't lasted long, though. He'd beelined to his ensuite, desperate to wash the stink of the bus off him.

In retrospect, they should have followed him into that damned bath—but they'd slumped back into a world of lines and numbers, instead, trying fruitlessly to maintain appearances.

Still—

Gardens, roses. 

"Sounds beautiful," Ale says.

They can hear the smile in his purr. "The stars could hardly compare, darling."

Over the rims of their readers, they take him in again—their second attempt to confirm that he's here, flesh and blood, and not just some jabbering figment of their imagination.

His footsteps are weaving unhurriedly through the arm chairs and cocktail tables and haphazard book piles that make up his main room. His hair is still damp, slicked back into a sea of untamed waves. There's nothing but a dressing gown on him. In his hands: two glasses of Casavecchia. 

Weariness mangles with the smirk he tosses them, hangs off his bones like a corpse. This tour is moving at breakneck speed—partly by Sister's doing, and partly by his own—and any urgings to take a sabbatical has seemed to fall on deaf ears.

But he's here.

Their thumb skims over their sheet of expenses, creases it. "You're back," they say eloquently.

His dimples are quick to deepen. A chuckle hisses through his teeth. "I am," he murls, and leans down: trades their glass for a kiss. Bath salt and amber ebbs off him, baked into his skin like ambrosia. His voice melts like satin against their mouth. "Hi."

A smile pricks at the corners of their mouth, and blooms. "Hi."

"Missed me, eh?"

They'd elbow him, if the sight of him wet and half-dressed wasn't enough to have them nearly dragging him off his feet. They settle for nuzzling rather self-indulgently into his chest hair. "Just a little."

He scoffs. "Just a little! You wound me, sweetness."

"Sit down."

"I am in the process of it, no?" He clicks his tongue. "Although...it seems I have a little cuddle spider here blocking my way."

They glare through their glasses, crooked now on their face. It's one of the pet names he favors, knowing they despise arachnids more than anything alive. "Will you sit."

A playful growl sings by their cheek. "Oh, no no no. Now, I have you right here, mh?"

"Terzo." 

His mouth skims over their start of their neck. "Right where I want you."

"Sit. Down."

He plants a kiss on their jaw and snickers. "My grumpy little cuddle spider," he chuffs, slumping beside them, "who is still working." Without warning, their readers are plucked from their nose, finding a home upon the end-table. "And who has cleaned for me," he mumbles on, sinking back into the cushions. "You did not have to do all this for me, sweetheart."

Ale folds up their receipts, slides them back into their notebook. "I wanted to."

His tone skews from playful to petulant. "But you did not have to."

There's a strange thing under his smile. A marker of his tiredness, perhaps—or his inclination to squirm at any tenderness he receives.

He's used to being desired. Not to being cared for.

Some nights, denial still rears its head.

Their stare turns silent; his own, twitchy. "I know," he says quietly, before they can beat him to it. His thumb fidgets over his nails, picking at varnish already chipped. "It's just..."

The words struggle to form, swallowed down, as they often are. So Ale waits for his discomfort to soften. His thumb skims the underside of their palm.

"I love you, you know," they remind him.

His tips them a half-smile, sly and lovely. It almost reaches his eyes. "First, they bandage my weak heart—now they try to woo me, eh?"

Ale lifts their brows. "It's almost like...I like doing things for you," they tease.

His ears perk, in an instant. "Oh—do you, now?" 

"Sometimes."

The grin turns impish. "I see," he hushes, nosing into their cheek. "Well." His voice sinks, then: smooth as butter and burning as a flame, a cavernous thing that never fails to leave them shivering. "Is...now one of those times?"

Ale hums. Their fingers wander, trace a slow pilgrimage down the veins in his arm. "Maybe." Beneath their hand, his blood beats, beats— "Can I...do anything for you?"

He's gone for another drink, but the glass stills. 

Sometimes, Lilith willing, he knows when to shut up. To let their heartbeat begin to rattle in their ears. Their eyes linger, loiter, ache.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, ticks it. His fingertips clink at his glass. "Looking for an invitation?"

Ale swallows. "Maybe," they say again.

He tries and fails not to grin. "Che—maybe, maybe, always maybes, with you—"

They kiss him.

It's fast, and starved, and sloppy—and he melts within it. A sea of warmth, beaded bathwater on his jaw, on that dark freckle on his neck: his chest puffed against theirs, and his head rolling to the side.

Their hands are dragging through his hair to pull him closer. His nose nuzzling beneath their ear, nipping a growl into their skin.

When they got lost in his robe, they don't know, don't care.

"Seems like someone is, ah—on a mission, huh—?"

Their knees stretch, slump to the floor. Their fingers follow the dark hem of his neckline like a tether in a storm.

He watches them go down with eyes bloomed with black.

"You've been gone," Ale finds themself saying, as though that's answer enough. Their hands slide farther, find the silken knot at his waist. "I need to taste you." Slowly, slowly pull it free: a dozy hiss. Their breath jitters. His own stills. "If you—"

He presses his knee into their shoulder. It wrenches their eyes up, and their mouth closed.

For a suffocating moment, there's only green and white, new moons eclipsed, shadowed like the barrel of the gun.

If he was any more a demon than his blood has already leant him to be, that stare alone would have their soul devoured and their bones heaped where they sit.

Terzo's lashes flutter like a royal. Idly, he tips his glass into another sip. Ale watches his throat like a hound.

"Well, then," he rumbles, smirking over his wine, before he unfolds his legs. His robe slithers apart, with them: dark hair and warm skin, soft curves and muscle, baring the damp slopes of his thighs, the pink-kissed flush of his cock between them. "Get on with it."

No banter, to that—nothing they can dream of saying, now.

His glass turns clumsily forgotten, abandoned. His lashes heavy on eyes a touch from rolling closed.

In the quiet chaos of their own artistry, he is the muse; their tongue, the brush glossing down the canvas of his body. Every crease, every curve, every salt-sweetened vein. Satin warmth and silkened musk, blooming on their tongue like nectar.

He fists a hand through their hair. Chokes out a breath.

"Al—ah—"

And they swallow him whole.

His head slumps back into the cushions. 

Tenderness and need mangles beneath his nails. Between it, a primal mindlessness—to take, to fuck, to command. It hangs in the way his palm squeezes on their neck: the way the warmth of his skin shudders down their spine: the way his hips bow off the sofa, aching to drive them down more, more—

But they lay a hand on his thigh. Catch his eyes, hazed with hunger. 

And he eases. Shivers.

Lets them play him like a string.

A slick twist of their mouth; gravel in his throat. "Oh." A lingering stroke of their fist; a river in his lungs. "Hh—" Their lips kissed over every velvet seam; heat jolting on their tongue. "Sl-oh—fuck." His nails paint tremors over their nape. "Slower, sweetheart," he huffs, "that's...mmh, that's..."

They can't resist lifting their eyes. Lost on the marbled arch of his body, that damned freckle on his neck. The flush in his chest, ebbing like a tide—his robe off his shoulder, fine-brushed ink splayed down down down: warm on his thigh, trembling against their cheek.

His voice is pinched, breathless. "Oh, that's g-hh—fuck, that's good—" 

Their hand slithers over his belly, catches at his waist: holds him like a serpent writhing from a kill, a beast fighting free from the confines of its own pleasure. The warmth of his palm anchors on the back of their head. The other scrapes at the cushions. 

"Fuck," he bites out, his face scrunched. "Don't st-ah—oh, fuck, don't stop—don't—oh—oh—"

Ale weighs him down. Devours him. Licks him up like sugar: bittersweet and molten, sweat and spice, the broken whine of his breath delectable.

A symphony to their ears.

When he comes down, he comes down slowly: lungs heaving, hummed. They could stay there for hours, waiting for any final taste he'll give them; for the first slow-thumbed stroke of praise. The lazy grin that peeks through his fringe is more than enough.

"You," Terzo purrs, deliciously low. They swallow around him: watch his lashes flicker, his teeth pit into his lip. "Mh." He smooths the start of tears from their lashes. "My tempter," he hushes on, "my marvel." Their jaw aches when they pull away, cradled in his palm. They wouldn't trade it for the world. "Saints, you're good to me—always so good to me, sweetheart. Come here."

Their legs try. He draws them up the rest of the way, a warm tangle of hands and kisses, his heart beating like a drum at their back. 

Ale tips into his neck, sighing. "Was that—was that all you needed?"

His mouth plants another string of pecks under their jaw. "All I needed?" Clever fingertips at their shirt: squeezing slow and molten over their chest. Ale flinches, arching like a crescent. "You seem...quite strung up, yourself, little one." 

If that's his thigh nudging between theirs—and Hell, it is—he's not all that far off. Not that he usually is. 

He teethes at their ear, a smile playing at his lips. His hand finds the bare slope of their waist: thumbs harder at their back, urging them to grind down again, grind firmer, and—

"Oh—"

There's wonder edging darkly in his voice: prideful as much as adoring. "All this just from tasting me, mh...?"

Ale's fingertips dimple deep on his thigh. Beneath it, muscle firm as marble. "Not just—tasting you," they huff. His fingertips curl beneath the waistband of their slacks. "Watching how you—hearing you—"

The words slither into a gasp. Their nails knit through his hair.

They babble. One of his hands palms lazily against their briefs, matching the rhythm their hips seem intent on setting. The other smooths over their throat, squeezes under their chin.

"Easy, darling," he gravels in their ear. His thumb hushes along their jaw. "You can tell me. Go on."

The words tangle on their tongue. They could manage, maybe, if his hand wasn't doing that—

"I—I—"

The heel of his palm circles hard against their clit, softens to a lazy squeeze. Beneath it, his fingers: sliding lower, and lower still.

"Oh—I want your mouth," Ale blurts. "I want your tongue—I need to you fuck me, fuck—please—"

His breath snuffs to a groan. "Shit."

It all moves too fast: their bones too electric. 

The sofa whuffs beneath their back. Their slacks rustle off their legs, shucked unceremoniously to the floor. A wine glass might have toppled over, or one of the book stacks, or both. A pillow Ale kicks joins them.

"Lilith—you're making a mess, already." He doesn't mean the state of his floor.

Their skin burns. "Terzo," they hiss.

Their briefs snap on their knee, glide quick past their ankle. "What?" He tosses them a toothy smile, nuzzling into their hip. "It is true." He draws in a quiet breath, savoringly slow; rasps it out, on a growl. "Oh...fuck, you smell good." 

Ale drags their thigh against his shoulder. Their fingers pinch through his hair: steer him down. And he plants a kiss to their inner thigh. Lifts his eyes, again. 

Silence bubbles. Their nails cave. His breath is too close—not close enough.

Then, he bows to lay homage to them. 

Worships. Feasts.

His mouth is molten, the slick-skimmed glide of his lips like a hit from a drug. Euphoria buzzes down their bones, and wrenches to a livewire: leaves them whimpering like a dog, already.

Saints beneath, it's good.

Their legs clamp around his head. Their fingers scrape through the waves at his nape. A purr of encouragement sears against them.

"Oh—oh, just like that," Ale gasps. The cushions are drinking them down, another pillow kicked to the floor, his hair slipping between their knuckles. His fingers kiss, curl, glide in. "That feels so—oh...right there, right there...yes, baby, that—"

His tongue laps, licks; paths a burning current over their clit, straight up to their stomach, and trades for a bite.

Their gasp flutters to a giggle. His own joins it, low as a beast's.

His fingers are crooking higher, curling sweet and slow inside them, sliding out to a simmering stroke. Their teeth ache on their wrist. Still, their body sings back with a mind of its own. 

They can feel his breath scattering over their skin, his eyes on them, mapping out the pleasure in their body—every tremble and yelp and panted praise, every twist of their arms and legs. They won't last long, not at this rate: not with his nose teasing through the sweat beaded on their skin, his cheek skimming the glitter his fingers have spread, his mouth sucking over them.

"Terzo—Terz-oh—fuck—!"

They yank on his hair. Feel a grin lavish against them. 

The press of his teeth does them in.

In one go, they lose control of their limbs and their mouth: a half-mooned contortion of stunted shrieks, drowned in bliss that fizzles like a firecracker and bursts like a damn. Where he had come down slowly, they shatter like glass—some overheated sculpture crushed to powder, and smelted, somehow, back to something functional between his hands.

On their stomach: mothwing blooms of warm lips.

"Still with me, sweetness?" Terzo husks, eventually.

They can't feel their fingers. The cushions puff to a crater beneath their hand.

"Yeah?" He tilts his chin over their hip. "Feeling good?"

Another hum, hazy with satisfaction.

"Good. Very good." Terzo pauses, teething a soft smile against their belly. They can hear the smugness in his voice. "I, eh...heh...may need another bath, after that."

They stuff a groan into their arm. "Baby."

"What? As I said—it is the truth!" 

He makes a show of wiping off his cheek, with all the grace of a burlesque artist. And, Satan, he's beautiful. His hair wrecked, his eyes twelve shades of admiring, kissing the sheen off his thumb. 

"In fact," he rumbles on, shimmying closer, "I may just need to have you cum like that, again. Hell beneath."

Their hands slide up to cover their face.

A snicker spills over their belly. "Darling, you are so shy—come on, now." He smooths his hands over their waist. "You do not have to be shy about it."

"I didn't...think I'd get so loud," they mumble, mortified.

"I love when you get loud," he counters.

"I made a mess."

"I love when you make a mess."

"I already cleaned everything."

"And I told you: you did not have to do this, for me."

They groan again.

"Al," Terzo chuckles, speckled still with exasperation. For a moment, he just traces the hair over their knee, turning his mouth into it. His words soften. "Why are you so ashamed, eh?"

"I'm not ashamed."

"You are," he crows. His nose finds its way back to their stomach, smushed into a low burr. "My love, my heart—do you have any idea how much I want you...? How it's been, with all these weeks in between?" They settle their hand gingerly over his ear, stroking the tangle of black from his cheek. He sighs, curling his fingers against their back. "Torturous," he hushes.

Ale bites their lip. Feels their heart fuzz to cotton beneath their ribs.

More honestly melts out of them than they can help.

"I...I don't know what to do with myself," they admit. "I've never felt this...need to just..."

Any straws they grasp for come up short. 

It's another cruel irony, perhaps the cruelest of them all: they, who never needed anything; had been adamant about it, for so many years—

And yet.

They shrug, flushed, voice small. "I want you, so much," they admit, at last—like it's something no part of them should dream of exposing. "I want you all the time."

Terzo's eyes are on them, again. They feel his throat shift. His thumbs stroke down their hips.

"Look at me."

Their breath catches in their throat. Velvet crumples beneath their fingers.

"No thought of you—no memory of you is enough to replace this. Not your heat, your sound, your everything." His lips ghost over their skin, again. "And I..."

Ale swallows, watching as an animal stirs beneath his skin: lust-blind, and raw, and ravenous.

"I want you wet." He sighs a kiss against their stomach. "I want you writhing." Another, beneath their ribs. His palms glide up, splaying along the wings of them, squeezing. "I want you under my nails," he gravels against their sternum. "I want to smell you on my rings." His lips catch beneath their chin. "I want you stained so deep into this fucking chaise, they can't clean you out."

Their pulse batters like a rabbit's, aches into a mew.

"I want you soaked so far into my skin, I can't wash you off," he purrs into their neck. "I want you on my teeth, in my lungs—I want you always."

In four different ways, their body hunts for more of him: hips, hands, chest, mouth. His fingertips dimple at their jaw, before they can steal a kiss—the mingling of his breath slow, sweltering. They can taste themself on it.

"I don't care how much of a mess you make," he hushes on, "because I'll take as much of it as you can give me." A touch catches on the crook of their knee, and tugs: the seams of their bodies melded deliciously to one. Ale loses themself to the heat, the firelight, the shadow. To the trace of his lips on theirs. "And I'm not done making a mess of you, yet."

Their noses bump. Ale's lashes flutter; their nails creased at his shoulders.

No more fingers on their jaw, now—nestled in their hair, in their heart, their tunnel-visioned need to kiss him stupid.

"Fucking Hell," they snarl, entangled with him as close as they can manage.

Terzo preens, breathless. "Good?"

"You keep talking like that, I'll have you buttoned up to your ears for weeks."

They can feel him stir against their hip in the same beat that his bones liquify. "Oh." Their lips trail down the soft cut of his jaw. "I have m-nh—makeup, darling."

"Then you'll need to use it." Ale pulls him back into a kiss, sliding their fingers along his neck. He can't get his hands around them, fast enough. "Take me to bed."

A grin stretches against their lips. "Is that all?" he mumbles between another kiss, and another.

"Take me to bed, and don't trip."

His laughter wheezes like a kettle. "Hell's sake, Alessio." Their own snort mingles with it.

Peppered between their pecks, they slip him a smile. "Please," they add gently. 

He nearly does trip, once he's finally found his footing: his robe tangled up, and his vision clouded by them, hoisted boneless and giddy into his arms. 

"Watch the table—"

"I know, I know—"

But he manages, somehow.

They both always do.

[brandon-the-terrible]

I just finished the final TF2 comic (yes it’s actually out in case you didn’t know) and i just wanna make a post to dump my initial thoughts about it

Big spoilers below, of course…

- Damn Merasmus got JACKED. I was wondering what happened to him.

- I actually fucking burst out laughing when Soldier just whipped out a piece of Australium. Of COURSE Soldier would just happen to be in possession of a shit ton of Australium without even knowing. That’s the most tf2 way they could have resolved that.

- Y’know, the reveal that the Administrators big master plan was just a plot to ruin the Mann family feels appropriate. Like the plot of tf2 was centered on the war between Redmond and Bluarch, so that feels like a continuation of the whole “pointless violence” theme.

- Miss Pauling straight up lying to the Adminstrator’s face about the Australium made me gasp. It really puts into perspective how much of a… disappointment this whole thing must be in Pauling’s eyes. The enigmatic scheme she dedicated her whole life to and killed countless people for, was nothing but 100+ years of bitter revenge on a man who’s basically just a corpse by now. A bitter revenge scheme she doesn’t want to see keep going, so she betrays the person she spent her whole life serving and lets her finally waste away and die so it can all finally end.

- “It was worth it.” Jesus. So even after finally realizing how pointless her revenge scheme was, the Administrator doesn’t even care. She was so consumed by hatred for Zepheniah that simply knowing he suffered for over a century was enough. By her own admission, she doesn’t even really remember what he did to warrant it.

- Glad to see that Pauling got rid of the remaining Australium. I was worried what would happen, with all those shots of her staring at it. But after seeing what happened to the Administrator, how many lives were destroyed in pursuit of it, she made the right choice.

- Scout last name reveal????

- So I guess the mercs are finally, fully retired now. Nice to see them all finally move on.

- How many kids did Scout have??? I thought the whole “God’s gift to women” thing was just because it was his own personal heaven, but nope, I guess he really is.

- Ahhh the whole Smissmas part is amazing!! Spy with his mask off!! All the mercs are still in touch!

- HEY WAIT IS THAT THE PYRO’S MASK ON THE TABLE AT THE END???

- Oh my GOD I love teenage Olivia so much. I didn’t even think we’d see her again! Plus her ending was great, she gets to live her own life out of her father’s shadow.

- And of course, the comic started with Hale, so we end with Hale. Even in his winter years he’s still doing what he does best: beating the shit out of wildlife.

I think that’s all the thoughts I have, at least for now. I might reblog this with some more thoughts, idk. Either way, goddamn what a sendoff. This was SO worth the wait.

[tobiasdrake]

I think you're right in the Sonic movies not trusting the game characters to hold the weight of their own story; I think that's why the villain emotional core shifted from Shadow to the Eggmen.

I liked the movie! I think they did a good job with the story they were trying to tell!

But I would have liked more of that story to have focused on Shadow than Eggman. (Although finishing an Eggman arc to send him off I completely understand, too.)

*nodnod*

I have a lot of criticisms for the Sonic movies, but I also enjoy them a lot. There's a lot of creative choices that I don't like that they made, that I wish had been made differently. But the choices they do make are executed on very well.

Generally speaking, for me, watching the Sonic movies is like reading an amazingly well-crafted, easily digestible, and emotionally captivating fanfic... for a ship you don't like. I don't like how they characterized that guy. I don't agree with how they're presenting the cast. Their OCs are hit and miss. And I am 100% invested, when next chapter.

Many notes. So many notes. But I am having a good time nonetheless. I don't like what they did but I love the way they did it.

Getting into spoiler territory to talk about Eggman.

With Eggman, it was kind of a miracle that they even got him for this movie. Carrey announced his retirement in 2022 alongside the release of Sonic 2, so there was a long stretch of time when nobody even knew if he would be in Sonic 3.

There is a parallel universe where Carrey stuck to his guns, and Eggman's Maybe-Maybe-Not finale in Sonic 2 was the end of him. In that universe, I think we probably would have gotten a much deeper dive into Shadow, who would have to carry the weight of the film on his own shoulders. Possibly with Gerald, played by a new actor.

For the film we got, in a way, Sonic 3 feels like it was tailored to be the final word, not just on Eggman's character but also on the decades-long career of goofy antics and physical comedy that Carrey became famous for.

I think that's part of what makes Eggman's silly yet moving final sacrifice feel as powerful as it does. This isn't just Eggman taking the ARK for his last ride. It feels like Carrey saying farewell to the career and fandom he's built up, and that context makes it all the more emotionally gripping.

It's a strong sendoff.

And it also comes at the expense of a deeper focus on Shadow, whose climax ends up feeling rushed. Basically looking Sonic in the eyes and going, "You were mad like I was mad but you didn't take revenge. I see now that revenge is wrong. Let's go save the world from my revenge."

Two things can be true.

It's interesting to note that the film uses Gerald as, essentially, Shadow the Eggman. An embittered shadow archetype of Eggman turned to vengeance by grief over Maria's loss, who serves as the ultimate foe that Eggman must overcome.

This is most obvious with the parallel fights Sonic and Eggman have with Shadow and Gerald at the end. But I also don't think the film interrogates that idea very thoroughly, and I'm kind of okay that it doesn't? It's too busy having fun to be that serious.

Like. In place of that deeper analysis into Shadow, this movie is unapologetically meta. It's so meta, Eggman and Gerald literally look into the camera and point out that the same actor is playing them both at one point.

Which is sort of the point? There's kind of a purposeful tonal clash in this movie between Team Sonic, Eggman, and Stone versus Shadow and Gerald. Shadow and Gerald are grim and serious characters, except when Gerald is playing off of Eggman. Eggman brings out the goofiness of Gerald, while Shadow has the inverse effect on Sonic. Shadow makes Sonic darker, edgier, and less fun.

I described it before as "like making fart noises in a mortuary" and I stand by that. The film very intentionally feels like it's having an identity crisis over whether it wants to be a serious story of revenge, love, grief, and redemption or the kind of movie where a grown man in spandex has an elaborate performative dance number with his stunt double down a hall of death lasers. That is the tug-of-war that Sonic and Eggman are having with Shadow and Gerald.

It's that scene at the Chao Garden. Where the lights suddenly go out and it's like, oh shit, we're under attack. But then they come back up and it's just a funny stage show starting up. But also we are under attack, completely unrelated to the lights going out just now.

There are two conflicting payoffs to the suspense of that moment, playing out simultaneous to one another. It's like Sonic and Gerald had different ideas for how this scene should end.

Which is... really interesting to think about.

IDK

Coming out of the movie, my initial impression was that it was good, but not as good as Sonic 2. And, as a Sonic adaptation, I stand by that. Sonic 2 did the better job of adapting the Sonic material to film.

But as a creative exercise, as a piece of art, this movie's growing on me more. I think Sonic 3 is a fascinating performance piece.

[its-so-zazzy]

Yesterday I was kind of numb about all of this, but after waking up today I am just filled with rage.

I truly cannot comprehend how everyone involved in this let it come to such a point. To turn the possible retirement of one of the most loved F1 drivers into this circus... Allowing him to be put in such a situation, crying in front of reporters, saying goodbye to his career in such a sad way without having a definite answer whether it is the actual end is just disgraceful. Even in that godawful McLaren team, he had a proper sendoff, with cowboy hats, and goodbye messages, and donuts. And it is incredibly rich, after judging Zak Brown for the way they treated him, for Christian Horner and company to find a way to do even dirtier by him.

(And I also can't help being angry at Daniel's team. How is it possible that they were incapable of at least mitigating this a little bit?)

Even if this isn't the end, and they end up letting him finish out the year, or even offer him that RBR seat, why would he take it? To continue to be treated this way? How can they possibly correct this in any sort of way?? And if not, what do RBR think they're gonna achieve? Test Liam with six races in that shitty VCARB for a possible seat at RBR in 2025? And when that inevitably fails, then what? They're left with a shitty lineup at VCARB, and they are left with Perez in RBR, loosing sponsors at VCARB (because Visa and Hugo sure as hell aren't there for Tsunoda or Lawson), with a permanent stain on their name for what they did to someone like Daniel...Truly mindboggling...

So I hope they lose even the 2nd place in WCC, and I hope Max loses WCC as well (nothing to Max, I would love for him to win it over Norris, but my hatred for RBR burns brighter right now), and I hope it all burns down around them, so not even Checo's sponsors can help them pick up the pieces....

[dropoutconfessions]

the intrepid heroes need to be retired. their dynamic has been played out here already. the longer they go on, the less of the original appeal they had, and it makes it harder to engage with d20 as a result.

I'm not saying they should all be taken out back and shot. But split them up. Let the time quangle be the final fun sendoff for the IH seasons and give other cast members a chance to shine in 20 episode seasons.

-

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I will finish this show tonight or it will finish me! 💪💪

But now that Gu Tingye is back and we are past that stupidity of the last few episodes, I am looking forward to the final showdown!

***

LOL, I couldn't get a decent screenshot of this because everything is dark and moving too fast, but I love that Minglan's head torturer just killed two people by sitting on them 🤣🤣

***

Was there really a need for her ass to be out on the battlefield?

She can't fight, if things go sideways, and they easily could, she will just get herself killed.

Getting strong Jiang Yanli vibes from her right now, ngl.

***

Oh, Minglan, baby 😢

I would honestly divorce his ass after this stunt.

***

Yes, my guy. Yes, you did.

Such a failure to plan.

***

Minglan, kill him 💀💀

***

She spat in his face, LMAO. Thank god for small blessings.

***

I would write him one right now and go marry He Hongwen, smh.

***

Ancestor of the fox 🤣🤣

I can't stop laughing! I love Chinese so much 🤣🤣

***

LMAO

Resurrected, my ass 🤣🤣

***

Also, I love that the Empress Dowager is now refusing to get involved. "Just an old woman," yeah right.

***

I almost feel sorry for them. Somehow I doubt they will be getting an easy death.

***

Oh.

***

I am not Chinese so the full context of this is really going over my head, but I can't help to think that this is such a petty reason to stage mutiny over.

***

LMAO, I can't believe she threw her under the bus just like that 😅

What a giant snake.

***

I don't know why, but I never expected him to execute her.

I always assumed her punishment would be a simple retirement.

***

Thank you!

Please get on it ASAP, then! I am so tired of your wretched bullshit.

***

LMAO, it is her turn to go fully insane.

***

Tried murdering people, you mean.

And of we look at it that way, you are also a person who could never be successful.

***

Ah, so that is her problem. Finally, we get to the crux of the matter.

You can always trust classism to rear its ugly head.

Poor Tingwei, I disliked him this entire show but I now feel sorry for him.

***

This actress is fantastic!

Madam Qin, I think I am a little bit in love!

***

Weren't you the biggest blood-sucking devil of them all?

***

What a fantastic sendoff to a fantastic character!! 🔥🔥

This drama is fully forgiven for the shitty last however many episodes. Madam Qin, you are a legend!!

***

Well, you fucked around and found out.

[corsair-news-alliance]

>> Callsign Roadburn, reporting.

>> I'd like to request something.

>> I know the weapons on the requiem are damaged, most nonfunctional. However, I believe Longbeard nonetheless deserves a proper sendoff with one that remains.

>> To that end, I'd like to say a few words.

>> Many people know him as the CMC pilot Longbeard. Even more know him as the Iron Bear of the Dawnline Shore. But to me, he was Harvis Johnson, my adopted father.

>> He picked me up off the street, so many years ago, at a time I was nothing more than a common thug. He showed me the path to a better life. And I can never thank him enough for it. I owe to him everything I am today, everything I've become, everything I've accomplished.

>> I would be nothing right now, had he not shown me that infinite kindness that a father does.

>> He was not a perfect man. I'm painfully aware of the battlefield recordings, of the words he said during Three Candles Deep. And I won't make excuses.

>> But that wasn't who he was. Not to me. That was a battle frenzied ghost from his past, drawn out by everything we witnessed on that ship. And he gave his life, in the end, not as that frenzied man but as the father I knew him to be.

>> He deserves to be recognized as such.

>> One last thing.

>> After the funeral traditions, I would like to tender my official resignation from CORSAIR mercenary company. I don't see a future here for myself, or anywhere else for that matter. Not after what I've been through in the past few days.

>> I am fully retiring from the mercenary business, for the foreseeable future. And I think he would support me in that, were he still here.

>> 'Til Legends Bleed.

{ROADBURN}

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[Till Legends Bleed]