#and for always delivering so brilliantly

[captainsavre]

You have a wife and a kid? And you want me to move in with you? Call your wife. Tell her. God knows that fatherless kid is gonna need a male role model, especially when the little weirdo tells all the other kids at school about his two mommies. No, go on. Call her. Tell her uncle Mason's coming. I'll pack my bags. STATION 19 || 7.07 - ‘Give It All’

[casscainmainly]

My Top 10 Batgirl (2000) Moments

This is my list of top 10 Batgirl (2000) moments!! There were so many to choose from, but these are my personal favs :)). Counting down from 10 to my absolute favourite.

10. Volving

An absolute classic. Perfectly encapsulates what Cass does throughout the entire run, and more writers should play with Cass' use of language like this!

9. Beat Up Every Mob In Gotham

Perfect encapsulation of the early Barbara-Cass dynamic, and one of the funniest moments in the series. Just love the expressions and the way this shows so much of Cass' character.

8. Choosing to Write

The entirety of issue #2 builds up to this heart-wrenching moment. After delivering a dead man's final message to his wife, Cass sees the wife's reaction to the written message and decides to learn to write. A foundational moment for her character, and a nice motherly Babs scene too.

7. Alpha Redemption

Capping off issues 35 + 36, Batgirl unmasks herself to convince Alpha (an amnesiac villain) that he doesn't have to be defined by his past. Brilliantly displays her core belief that people can change, and the fact that her belief pays off makes this moment extremely moving.

6. For God's Sake

Possibly a controversial pick, but I really like this moment because it underscores some of the fundamental conflict between Babs and Cass. They love each other, but they don't always understand each other, particularly in regards to each other's disabilities. A painful moment that should have been explored more.

5. Fight For Your Life

My favourite Stephanie and Cass moment in this run. You can feel Cass' grief throughout this hallucination, but there's also so much hope and love (for Stephanie and for herself). It's an amazing conclusion to Cass' initial suicidal tendencies: instead of desiring death, she now actively fights to live.

4. Darknight Detectives

This interaction sums up a lot of Bruce and Cass' best moments. Cass' unwavering moral beliefs, Bruce's pride, their instinctive understanding of each other; they just get each other in a way few others do. I picked this one instead of the 'instinct/good answer' moment because it also marks Cass' development in her detective ability. From Moment 8 above to here, the confidence in her mental capacities has grown so much. She really volved!

3. Perfect For A Year

I mean of course this had to be here. These lines literally take up 90% of my brain space, it's an incredibly tense moment that illustrates Cass' desire to be perfect, her need to be useful and good. This issue is also just awesome.

2. You're... Not

Another absolute classic. Illustrates Cass' compassion and her belief that people aren't defined by their lineage, which is particularly personal to her, given her own dad. This struggle between good/bad, parent/child defines many of Cass' best stories.

1. Who Do You Think You Are? + Father's Day

What else would number 1 be?? Issue 33 is my favourite in the entire run, and the entire thing is stacked with moments that could fill up this list. I just love 'who do you think you are' because it's all of Cass' rage spilling out, and yet she still loves David Cain in her own complicated way (and he reciprocates, too). Then we have the ending, which is the BEST Bruce and Cass moment ever. The sparse, meaningful dialogue, the expressions, the reveal of the TITLE: comic book writing at its finest.

Honorary mention to the Shiva/Cass fight, which just narrowly missed out.

[charliemwrites]

Uhhh this is sort of to get me back in the swing of writing since some people may have noticed I haven’t done much this week. It’s… it’s been a week, but that’s fine, those happen.

Anyway, concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.

(There will be a part 2 because this got longer than expected.)

Content: Verbal Threats, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Dub-Con, Name-calling. Please stay safe! 💕

You thought you were done with this.

Got out by making the best of a bad situation. Honorable discharge following an injury after your last base was infiltrated. “Data analysts” (hackers) can’t have unpredictable hand spasms in the middle of time-sensitive decryptions. So, you got out.

And now you’re all but being dragged back.

You don’t recognize the two stone-faced men flanking you, but you recognize the woman they sit you in front of.

“Laswell.”

She doesn’t look older, but she looks more tired. Like she hasn’t slept since she informed you of your discharge.

“It’s good to see you again,” she says without smiling. It’s good to see you; it’s not good that you’re seeing her. “I wish it was… I wish this wasn’t the situation.”

You arch your eyebrows. Have never known her to speak without measuring the exact dimensions of her words first. She always slides them into spaces perfectly designed for them, builds towers and forts out of syllables.

There’s a treacherous unintentional volume to the word “this” that prickles across your neurons.

“And what’s ‘this’ exactly?” you ask.

“A recently recovered asset,” she explains. You expect a dossier of some kind to be set in front of you. She links her fingers together on top of her desk and looks you in the eye. “He’s asking for you.”

You blink. Never was any good at staring contests with anything but a screen.

“And who,” you speak slowly, poking at the edges of whatever she’s hedging around, “is he?”

A pause, heavy enough to slowly start pressing the air from your lungs.

“Do you remember John MacTavish?” she asks.

You frown, rifling through mental files.

John MacTavish of Task Force 141. Soap. You remember liking him, even though he made a shy, anti-social part of you uneasy. He had a starting problem, and a smiling problem. Or maybe you were the one with the problem - with the way he would often stare and sometimes smile.

You taught him how to find files out in the field. How to take from the enemy and corrupt entire systems. He was good at it. A digital pyromaniac. Used to hand-deliver drives and disks to you, sometimes still bloody and bruised from getting them.

You heard through the gossip vine that he was MIA (or maybe went AWOL?) at some point. Was shipped out to your final assignment soon after.

“Is he the… asset?” you ask.

Her eyes do this funny flicker thing then, and the corner of her mouth tenses. You press your thumb into your palm as your fingers twitch.

“He’s asking for you,” she explains, “and he has information we need.”

Between the lines: we need you to get the information from him. The error code flashing in your mind demands to know why.

“Why?” you wonder.

Maybe you’ve been out too long; forgot that “why” is blasphemy to the government. The answer will always be “because we said so.”

You already miss being out.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she answers and stands.

—

Laswell takes the lead, the same blank-faced guards bring up the rear. This doesn’t feel like you’ve been volun-told to do them a favor. It feels like you’ve been sentenced without a trial.

You’re led down silent, nondescript halls, through heavy gray doors, and into shiny metal elevators. Everything needs a keycard you’ve not been given. The quiet gets heavier, meaner the deeper you go.

There’s the vague sense that you’re underground when Laswell finally stops at a heavily guarded door. She pauses, steals a glance at you that starts a high-pitched alarm in your head.

“He’s different now,” she says finally, “I’m sorry in advance.”

A guard unlatches the door. She nods you ahead to enter first. You hesitate, don’t like the change in light beyond. Behind you, one of the guards shifts. Don’t like that either.

On tingling legs, you slink through the cracked door. It shuts with a gavel’s finality behind you. Alone.

The room you’ve been tricked into barely deserves the word. It’s more a tiny patch of sequestered floor, little bigger than an office cubicle. Clean linoleum and unmarked walls. In the corner, a camera blinks.

But in front of you are bars; a wall of them. A door interrupting the grid-pattern. Beyond, it’s pitch black. You almost make the mistake of stepping forward.

“Stay there,” Laswell’s voice commands. Staticky. An intercom.

From the shadows, a growl. Low, rough. Just this side of human. You plaster yourself to the door you came through, hair standing on end.

The lights come on. It’s only because you’ve frozen that you don’t scream, all of it trapped up in a constricted throat.

The man in front of you is not Soap. It’s not even John MacTavish. It’s a very convincing beast wearing his face. Sort of.

More scars than you remember. A thicker beard too. His signature Mohawk is just a suggestion in the dark brown mess of his hair - like he’s been running his hands through it and ripping out any tangles along the way.

He’s not moving now though. Not except the deep heave of his broad chest. Could be a statue save for that. He’s staring; his eyes are bluer than you remember. Bluer and blanker. Nothing in them except a flicker of something vicious, something covetous. Something that’s peering out from this man.

“We brought her, just like you asked.” Laswell’s voice again, wary and expectant.

Soap doesn’t respond. He inhales deep, gaze still locked with yours. It’s loud, purposeful. Your stomach twists.

“Just as sweet as I remember.” His voice is gravel on ice, resonates in his barrel chest. Fills up the room like a rockslide. You curl your fingers against the door behind you. “You remember me, bonnie?”

It takes your brain a second to realize he’s talking to you. As if he could be speaking to anyone else. Your shadow maybe; she’s always been braver than you.

His eyes twitch, narrowing ever so slightly. His patience winding down, tick, tick, tick.

You jerk your head in a nod. His eyes burn.

“Good.” He cracks his neck. It feels entirely inorganic that he can move just that part of his body. “Would have to punish you if you didn’t.”

You swallow, dig up your voice from the crevice it slunk into.

“Laswell.” Your voice is too high, too nervous. Soap bares his teeth, slams his fist against the all-too-bendable barrier between you two. It shocks you, frightens you. How he could be so still and then so alive all at once.

“John, we brought her. That was the deal.”

You feel sick with something unspoken as he shakes his head.

“No, the deal was you give her to me. Do you see my fuckin’ hands on ‘er? My teeth?”

“The information first.”

You feel sick with rage. Like you’re going to throw up with the disgust that poisons your blood. Your legs nearly give out as you slide to the ground, pressing a hand over your mouth, filling with saliva. Stomach rolling.

Force yourself to breathe through your nose. Would work better if you could close your eyes but prey instinct won’t let you, survival too strong to dare look away from the predator now pacing at the bars. He’s agitated, devolving quickly into anger. You’d tell Laswell to stop pissing him off if that didn’t mean tossing you to him. More than she has, anyway.

“We will take her back if you don’t deliver your end of the deal.”

Like you’re some reward to be given and taken at someone else’s will. An incentive for good behavior.

The military used to make you feel like a dog - sit, stay, bark on command. But you’d take that over being the training treat any day.

Soap snarls. He sounds feral. Spits out a set of numbers, eyes pinned to you. When he’s done, he crouches down. Knees against the wall of bars.

“S’alright, little bird. C’mere and I’ll make it all better,” he coos, beckoning you with two fingers.

You press your lips together against a whimper. His expression twitches. You suck in a breath—

“We’ll need to verify those coordinates first,” Laswell says.

The noise that rips out of Soap makes you shake. You didn’t know people could make sounds like that; like something with teeth and claws and blood matted in its fur. He stands, huge and terrifying.

He curses and threatens (awful, cruel) but Laswell doesn’t respond again. You doubt she’s even listening. And you just stay still and quiet, hoping to avoid his attention altogether, pancaked to the wall.

As is the pattern today, your reasonable hope is eventually dashed. Can almost feel the exact moment Soap’s attention refocuses on you. Like a the click of switch.

And he’s down again, crooning at you so sweetly. Like you didn’t just watch him come within a breath of destroying his cell.

“You know it’s not fair, don’t you,” he murmurs. “You know that I’m owed you. C’mere.”

“I’m not a thing,” you snip, still too high. Almost petulant if not for the frightened crack in the middle. He flashes teeth.

“‘Course you are, hen,” he says, almost laughing. You realize with a jolt that you’ve amused him. “You’re my sweet, pretty thing with the sweet, pretty cunt that I’m gonna fuck and breed.”

Your voice slithers back into the abyss, snatched away by the smoke and shadow promises in his own.

“And you know that’s what you’re for, don’ you?” he continues, voice dripping lower and lower. “You know that you’re mine.”

You shake your head, want to explain that you didn’t have a choice. Government goons have been shuffling you about from place to place, only the illusion of free will, like horse blinders. Keeping you docile and complacent.

You don’t think Soap cares about things like logic or personhood right now though. Or at all.

“Come. Here.”

Hard metal between you, and every atom in your body screams not to comply. So you don’t.

When you shake your head, he snarls and slams his fist into the barrier again. You squeak this time, can’t help it, and try to become one with the wall.

He rages for a few minutes. Demands you, your compliance. At some point you just have to draw your knees up to your chest and lean your head against them. If he could get through, he would have by now. Let his anger become a terrifying background noise, a soundtrack for fear.

It’s when he goes quiet again that the fear returns. Your head snaps up. He’s staring again, still. Just like before. His arms are crossed - biceps huge, straining. There’s a sizable bulge pressed against the bars. Obscene.

“Best get your rest now, little girl,” he rumbles. Even and deceptively calm. “Because when that door opens, I’m not gonna be nice about it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Stop it.”

A puff of air. You can’t tell if it’s amused or annoyed. “Say it while you can, ‘cause it won’t make a difference later.”

You shudder through your next inhale, heart pounding. Try to wrestle yourself under control, convince yourself that Laswell won’t actually give you up to him. Not when she’s already gotten what she wanted from him.

A sound breaks you from your frantic meditation, slick and wet. You look up without thinking. Soap is fucking viciously into his fist, eyes trained on you. The head of his cock is flushed an angry red, dripping with precum, shiny and needy.

“Regret being a little bitch now?” he growls. “Now that you see what’s going in that prissy little cunt?”

You clench and cramp at the very thought. He’s massive, not just long but thick. You wouldn’t be shocked if your fingers didn’t touch wrapped around him — not that you should be considering those logistics. It’ll just freak you out more.

“Can smell your wet pussy from here, hen. Bet I’ll knock you up on the first try.” He squeezes almost cruelly, knuckles banging against the bars as his hips jerk.

You press your thighs together, trying not to think about it. Not to think about all that bulk pinning you down and using you. Big, rough hands and sharp, mean teeth while he—

“Stop,” you grit out, to yourself this time.

His breath shudders, a rough noise dragging up his throat. You twitch back as cum splatters the floor, coats the metal in milky drops. You stare at the mess, mortified.

“Well?” he rasps and your eyes snap back to his. “Going to lick it up like the bitch you are?”

You swallow and curl up tighter. He takes that for the denial it is.

“S’alright,” he says, “you’ll get a taste soon enough.”

Next

Masterlist

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[five-one-two-station]

Thinking about how good @arainydancer is, and how lucky the Signalis fandom is to have her. Every little gesture feels so organic, even with the fairly minimal low poly models, and the amount of story/feeling/movement is always *just* right to hit the mark every time.

Look at You Are My One Desire. There's so much going on, but it all makes sense together! It should be visually smashy and chaotic, but there's a thread of poetry to cohere every image. The gory violence wouldn't mean anything without the contrasting gentle intimacy; the gentle intimacy wouldn't be as convincing without the unapologetic sex (and they aren't at odds with each other). The unapologetic sex wouldn't mean anything without the gory violence and gentle intimacy. And doesn't that last shot bring all of it together at once brilliantly?

It's less than a minute long, and it delivers a bigger wallop than plenty of 2 hour movies!!!

And then on the other hand, you've got stuff like Anata Sonata, which on paper is pretty much just Elster playing a bit of halting, rudimentary index finger piano, in a nearly silent room, for the best part of that same 60 second minute. But because of how it's composed, because of the underlying mini-narrative and the confidence in telling it, and because of all the threads of subtext and implication involved, it's really a gorgeously crafted, sharply effective bit of tragic love story-ing, and it knocks the wind out of me every time.

But don't let me forget stuff like the one with Ariane "helping" with repairs. Isn't that just the sweetest goddamn thing you've ever seen in your life? Doesn't it feel exactly right for both characters, even though - in many ways - the game only lets us see them both as their own ghosts? Doesn't the casual, practical body language tell you all about their months, years, of undisturbed closeness? Doesn't it tell you everything about both these two very different people, and how they live life on the ship, and why they would fall in love? Didn't you giggle at the whole cute as hell scenario? 20 seconds! All of that in 20 seconds!

She has the range!!!

Anyway, just taking a moment to rave.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Special Delivery

"Babe! He's here!" I yell to my husband. Peaking between the blinds, I study the delivery worker as he comes up the driveway.

His name is Michael, and he's a bit of a local celebrity on our street. Just about every housewife in the neighborhood savors the arrival of his big delivery truck, and none of them hesitate to fetch him water or a snack.

He of course indulges the women, but Michael never wastes time at our house.

"Really!" my husband calls back, "Let me see."

Together we study the shredded delivery guy as he marches towards our front door.

"He always looks angry," my partner notices.

"Only when he's at our house, babe," I remind him, "I can get the door."

"No, I can get it."

We squabble over who's going to greet the delivery man until the doorbell rings and we open it together. I'll admit, we may have appeared a little eager when he finally saw us.

"Package," he grunts, barely looking our way.

"Thank you!" I reply cheerily, "It's a hot day. I can get you some water."

"No," he looks a bit disgusted by the offer.

"You sure?" my husband adds.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Michael's veins bulge, "I wouldn't accept anything from you! Pathetic excuses for men."

After aggressively throwing our package to the floor, he stomps off, back to his delivery truck.

"That was rude," I'm at a lack for words, "I guess you really never know a guy."

I turn to see my husband's pleading eyes.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Definitely."

His irises roll into the back of his head as his consciousness leaves his body. I catch him before he falls and begin dragging his limp frame towards the sofa. I'm a bit of a scrawny guy so I only manage to move him a few feet.

"Could I help you with that, sir?" I hear a deep voice ask.

Michael is back, only this time, he's smiling brilliantly and posing with his arms on his waist like he's some cheesy superhero.

"Thank you!" I cry as Michael effortlessly picks up my husband and gently lays him across the couch.

"Just doing my job, sir," he reports with a mockingly deep voice, "It's a good thing your hubbie is unconscious right now. I wouldn't want him seeing what I'm about to do to you."

"Stop goofing around, babe," I chuckle.

"I'm not goofing around," my husband exaggerates through Michael's voice, "I'm the big, strong delivery guy. I wear tight shirts and put on a show while I deliver your mail!"

He pairs each word with a new flexing pose.

"Now, about that glass of water, sir," Michael purrs, stepping so close to me that I almost fall back, "This boy is thirsty, and only you have what I need to quench it."

I almost collapse, but my husband quickly grabs me and cradles me in Michael's bulging arms.

A couple hours later, after we'd thoroughly explored our delivery man's body, we got dressed and went out to the park. My husband found the skimpiest outfit to stretch over Michael's ridiculously defined muscles.

"People are staring," I whisper.

"Let them stare," Michael loudly announces, "I don't care if they see me. I'm just a bottom slut out on a stroll with his boyfriend."

I can't help but chuckle as my husband laughs with Michael's mouth. I doubt such words have ever escaped the delivery man's lips.

"Michael?" a confused voice calls behind us.

Turning we find a group of similarly athletic men tossing a football around.

"I thought you were working?" the worried athlete asks, "And what are you wearing?"

"I wear whatever he wants," Michael throws a heavy arm around me, "If you'll excuse me, he doesn't like it when I go too long without physical contact."

My husband turns and plants a big smooch on my lips with Michael's mouth, pulling away only to whisper, "Slap my ass! I think that'll really blow their minds."

We continue our passionate display of affection for awhile while I aggressively grope Michael's muscle butt beneath his tiny shorts. His former friends eventually leave the park, muttering insults his way. Meanwhile I lose myself further in the paradise that is our delivery man's homophobic mouth.

My date with Michael has been fun, but I'm ultimately much happier to return home to my husband, leaving the delivery man scantily clad and confused in the middle of the park.

I doubt he'll get fired. Guys like him can usually talk their way out of consequences, so maybe he'll be a little more respectful the next time he delivers us a package.

[see-arcane]

How different are Dracula's Demeter and TLVOTD?

Oof. Okay. This is going to hurt me as a staunch THE BOOK IS ALWAYS BETTER believer, but.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter is very much the better story. By a wide margin.

Spoilers for The Last Voyage of the Demeter, Dracula's Demeter, and Dracula below

Just speaking on differences, TLVOTD does sadly tuck in that Universal Pictures nonsense about ~the sun hurts vampires~ and sacrifices some of the Captain's coolness and giving the Romanians and the Roma any respect due to the origins of the poor chick who got boxed up as a bloodbag stowaway. But it is still a very very well done Dracula as an Actual Goddamn Monster horror film. Even the close of the movie--yes, with more random action slapped on for cinematic reasons--leaves a door open for one last knife twist as OC Protagonist stalks off into the shadows to hunt Dracula down...

...and possibly accidentally-brilliantly nodding to a certain scene in the novel where the gang enters the Count's Piccadilly house and finds a bowl of bloodied water. RIP.

It's a good scary story and it built something enjoyable out of the Demeter chapter's foundation. Definitely a refreshing departure from the constant sexypire barrage of Draculas.

Dracula's Demeter feels like a con job by comparison.

Specifically because it opens so promisingly. It's very obvious that the author read Dracula front to back and loved what he read! He uses tons of direct lines from it! He has period accurate details dappled throughout for the Demeter's ship and crew! He does an admirable job of building up his own two Requisite Guy and Girl Stowaway Romance OCs so they can do Meaningful Things, just like TLVOTD's duo do! Dracula is sinister and erudite and--credit where it's due--delivers an absolutely nightmarish demise to poor Petrofsky. Holy shit.

With all that, you can forgive the kind of rough editing and the way that (parentheses) and ALL CAPS ACTION WORDS get sprinkled throughout like someone who just peeled their stuff straight from Ao3. It's fine, it's fun. At first.

And then shit goes downhill and straight into Dracufetishland: Naughty Nautical Edition.

Because it turns out that where TLVOTD had Required Girl Character get to be a whole person and not a gossamer-dressed sexy lamp (even having been chomped), DD's Required Girl gets chomped and immediately goes full 'lol my human boyfriend is a loser compared to Count Fuckula,' in a way I might forgive if we were going for some unrelated vampire's story--but no. This is a Dracula story and she's in full Coppola mode.

She gets turned, ogles what's left of her reflection so we can talk about how hard and visible her nips are in a borrowed shirt, gets Dracuhorny, and ditches her boyfriend.

And then, when Earnest Englishman Boyfriend tries to burn the ship and save the day, he gets burned alive, and then Dracula orders Vampire Girlfriend to garrote the poor guy to death while wearing the convenient billowy white dress she brought onboard. And she does. Happily. There's not even a crumb of will or even dissent left in her the way we see with the goddamn Weird Sisters who were with him for centuries and actively tried to steal Jonathan from their master***, or even Bloofer Lady Lucy reaching for Art.

Just a pointless fuck you of a death that added nothing.

Followed by Dracula snapping Vampire Girlfriend's neck, double-kills her, and chucks her into the sea while chuckling about how silly it is to think that he would want a companion, ha ha!

...

Yes, I am also staring at the camera The Office-style, thinking about -checks notes- the Weird Sisters, Jonathan, Lucy, a random ass girl in Piccadilly, Mina...

Oh, that Dracula. Such a loner.

And all that leads to the Captain with the rosary--WHICH ISN'T EVEN HIS--and the last few chapters which are just pure padding about Dracula shoving the Demeter to shore. After getting a cutaway scene to Dracula hopping into Lucy's brain somehow to grope her while Mina watches. For reasons.

The book is, in short, pointless.

The OCs are pointless. Them being on the boat is pointless. Nothing they do, nothing the author has the crew or Dracula do, adds literally anything to what was already in the Demeter section of the book. There is no meat here, only voluptuous gristle.

And the thing is! The infuriating thing is! Because this is a Dracula*** story, it is still technically more respectful than the bulk of other writing and media about Dracula, because so much of it is doubly extra-fetished never-read-the-book never-liked-the-book utter garbage.

So I still have to give it 3/5 stars as a Dracula story. 1.5-2 in isolation.

Anyway, I'm going to go re-watch TLVOTD now

[grigori77]

Reasons to LOVE Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

It's brand new in cinemas, so there are still plenty who ain't seen it, so if you're among 'em best skip this and just GO SEE IT, it's SO well worth it, genuinely it's one of the best new movies I've seen so far this year. Hope you love it as much as I did!

So, yeah, there you go - SPOILER WARNING, FOLKS!!! If you don't wanna get spoiled, RUN!!!

Still here? Okay, here we go then ...

This really is, UNAPOLOGETICALLY, a comedy. I mean yeah, this is a classic fantasy action adventure in the Willow, Krull or Ladyhawke mold, but it is also very enthusiastically POKING FUN at the classic conventions of the genre ... albeit CLEARLY done with great affection and love for the material, as only the best lampoons can be. So this is more The Princess Bride or Galaxy Quest than Your Highness or Spaceballs ...

Chris Pine is ALWAYS at his best when he's being FUNNY, so he is PERFECT here. Edgin is most definitely a bit of a douchebag, but he's the sweetest, most lovable douchebag you'll ever encounter.

Holga. Literally just EVERYTHING about Holga. She's my favourite character in this, this REALLY IS the best role that Michelle Rodriguez has EVER HAD, if you ask me. She's a total badass, a truly AMAZING FIGHTER, but I love that despite her dour demeanour she's actually quite sweet, gentle and really a great innocent in many ways. She's an absolute cinammon roll and must be protected at all costs.

OH MY GODS!!! All the easter eggs, SO MANY easter eggs ... FAR too many to count throughout, all the references and nods and winks to the game itself, all the spells and races and creatures and stuff ... but I love how the movie NEVER beats you over the head pointing any of it out, it just lets you enjoy it. So the proper fans will get a huge kick out of spotting it all, but casual viewers will just enjoy it as rich worldbuilding colour and flavour.

Seriously though, it's a D&D fan's DREAM!!! Not just the mimic, or the owlbear, or the gelatinous cube! SO MUCH to spot ...

Justice Smith's Simon gets THE CLEVEREST and best introduction in the film, I love the theatre scene, he's SO BAD at this while also simulataneously being really great. Totally sums up this gloriously clunky hot mess of a sorcerer ...

the opening is GENIUS, totally sets the movie up as it means to go on - the parole hearing is a brilliant comedic take on the scene-setting infodump which is brilliantly carried through in the way the movie delivers exposition in a fun way or just lets you absorb it through what's happening in each scene. This is the perfect, TEXTBOOK way to do it.

"That is one pudgy dragon!" LOL

Doric. Just EVERYTHING about Doric. Sophia Lillis' tiefling druid is a wonderful diminutive little action hero, so fiesty and capable. I love her. It's just a shame she's not primary coloured, I'd have loved it even more if she'd been blue, or red ...

The Wildshape Escape! XD Yeah, I love that, that's THE BEST set-piece in the whole movie, definitely, when Doric gets cught out spying and has to shapeshift on the fly to get away, and it all plays out in one immersive single shot that just leaves your heart in your mouth ...

Oh, the Speak With The Dead montage, that is comedy GOLD. Funniest scene in the whole movie. And with added payoff at the end! XD

Rege-Jean Page's Xenk Yendar. Oh boy, that paladin is something else. I love how LITERAL he is, he's like Drax in GOTG but much more intelligent. Y'know when Holga says: "You're not a lot of fun, are you?" to him? She's so wrong. I just wish there was more of him in this ...

The heist! Oh, the heist! So good ... the portal trick, it's great, love the way they did that, and then that HILARIOUS bard illusion distraction - Pine skipping the song like a broken record was just chef's kiss!

That wonderful wibbly-wobbly illusory reality thing whenever Simon tries to atune to the Helm ... wow, that is some spectacularly trippy shit. Granted, twice is fine for terms of pacing, but I could've done with a few more scenes of that, it's fascinating.

Hugh Grant really has just become a MASTER at playing smarmy, slimy duplicitous gits now, hasn't he? Forge is a reprehensible prick and I love it.

I love how they made Bradley Cooper a halfling for his cameo. They're never gonna let him live down the fact that he's now probably best known for playing a two-foot-tall talking racoon so forever after he will be a Short King.

Wow, Daisy Head's Sofina is a CRACKING villain, she's just SO CREEPY!!! I love how coolly menacing she is, a brilliant dark necromantic wizard that just makes your skin crawl. Especially at the end ... IS SHE a lich? Is that what they were doing there?

That whole big action climax, the showdown in the city centre is FIRE!!! It's so amazing, so brilliantly dynamic, with EVEN MORE great easter eggs! Simon and Sofina having an insanely awesome "arm wrestling" bout with Mage Hand versus Earthen Grasp (I think that's the spell, couldn't be sure), oh my gods! So cool ... and then the way they neutralised the threat! Brilliant.

Chloe Coleman's Kira is an absolutely adorable delight, and I think she's ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED in how pissed she is at Edgin for abandoning her. It makes the payoff when they finally make up so much better.

And that resurrection scene at the end? Yeah, sure, I saw that coming a mile off, but it was so well done, and they played it so well, that it was still SUCH a powerful scene even so. Just perfect.

Seriously, they just did this whole thing SO PERFECTLY. It's visually STUNNING, really it just looks AMAZING, and the action sequences are BRILLIANT but always feel entirely necessary for the story, which is how you want to do it. Best of all, though, is THE PACING!!! This is such a quick, breezy film, it just barrels along at a spectacular clip, so it never drags. Mark Kermode is right, even though this is two and a quarter hours long it doesn't FEEL LIKE IT, it feels like a super-trim 90-minute movie.

And it ties everything off nice and neat, too. Sure, there are definitely possibilities for the future, going forward if they make more, but if the movie DOES tank then it's fine, because this really does do a great job about feeling self-contained and telling its own complete story, so if we DON'T get more it won't be too big a disappointment ...

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 764: Dearest wish

Pag 1

1: The one thing the third year Onoda Sakamichi desires is....?

Pag 2

3: His dearest wish!!

4: Right!!

Pag 3

1: That's definitely Onoda's dearest wish

Pag 4

2: Do your beest

They're so fast!

They move the wind

The jerseys are so brightly colored

3: No no no no

4: That- that's not it

That's not-

Is Sohoku arguing over something!?

Pag 5

1: That- that was just the spur of the moment

I ended up just saying anything

2: That's not my dearest wish at all....

So- uhm

3: Please forget about it, everyone!!

4: No way!!

Yeah

Teh!!

Yep

Yeah

Pag 6

1: That must be our goal this year!! Our third victory in a row!!

Pag 7

1: Yessir!!

On!!

Yeah!!

2: The three day long stage is harsh and long, that's why everyone's strengths will be necessary!!

Yessir!!

3: If we can all unite our strengths and support each other as one...

4: The I'll be able to win brilliantly!! Yeah!!

Just like I did during the prefectural qualification!!

Ohhhh

Tch

Pag 8

1: I'll sprint desperately, Hotshot-san will accompany me, and I'll do a grand finishing dash, just like that day!!

Okay!! You've been saying it over and over again!!

2: You're really a guy who clings to the glory of the past

The prefectural qualification is connected to the Inter High, it's not in the past!!

You're the type of guy I hate the most when you get carried away

Naruko-san was amazing, teh!!

That day, yeah!!

Naruko-san!!

3: Sto-stop iit, you were both amazing that day

4: Come oon... we're in the middle of an important meeting

6: Now that I think about it

Onoda-san's....

7: This is all

Pag 9

1: Can I say one last thing?

2: I also think our goal must be a third consecutive victory

3: There's just one thing I'm curious about we still haven't asked

Onoda-san

5: What's your goal this year?

What are you running in the Inter High for?

6: When I asked you this last year during the first years' race

Pag 10

1: I want to report it

2: You said you wanted to report the victory to your senpai

3: And you

4: Accomplished that

5: Honestly, when I first heard that I thought “what is he talking about, that's such a small goal”

But that day, after the race, when I saw Onoda-san doing it

6: I was shaking

I thought from the bottom of my heart that it was amazing

Pag 11

1: I thought you were super cool

5: Wh- no no

That- I was just reporting, there's nothing cool about it at all, okay

Pag 12

1: So I want to know what your goal is this year

Please tell us what you're thinking about!!

2: Is it “I want to report to that senpai once again”!?

4: Crowning your third victory in a row as the captain!?

6: Is it the mountain's bib!? Is it winning a stage!?

Please tell us... your goal during the race...

7: or maybe for when the race is over!!

8: A.....

9: No no no

It's nothing- yes, it's nothing!!

Pag 13

1: Onoda's goal....

2: I see, what Onoda-kun wants to do....

3: Now that I think about it....

4: What is it!? You started saying it now, “a”!!

Is it “running as an assist”!?

5: Does it mean you don't want to bear the last heavy burden!?

No no no no, that's fine, if the situation calls for it I'll do my best

6: That's enough, Issa

7: There are things Onoda-san doesn't want to say too

No, if it can become motivation for the team then he should say it

Pag 14

1: Onoda-san's goal!!

2: But still, Issa!!

I'm telling you, anything is fine!!

Ah, uhm...

3: It's a really personal thing, so.... don't get your hopes up...

But.... that's... always been.... my dearest wish...

4: Dearest wish!!

5: If we run with all we have in this Inter High.... putting together all of our strengths and deliver our jersey to the finish line

6: If we get the best result....

Pag 15

1: No no, I really can't say more than this

3: Say it, everything's fine. I'm curious too

4: Ah.... if we get the best results.... I....

5: I want to reserve a room somewhere...

6: A room?

8: Prepare teacakes

9: Cakes!?

10: Ask for everyone's cooperation...

Pag 16

1: Gather five people

5: It's something I've been imagining.... since before... entering school in my first year.....

7: Even just for one day

8: Even just a few hours after school

Everyone will bring what they like

9: A.....

Oi.... don't tell me you mean.... you

Pag 17

1: I'm thinking of reviving the anime research club!!

Pag 18

5: No way!!

Pag 19

1: And then, there

2: I think I could call Makishima-san, who likes figures

I feel like you've misunderstood something here

3: And Midosuji-kun who likes anime

Would you be able to hold a conversation with him!?

4: Isn't that good!! The best goal!!

5: You'll gather five people in no time!!

6: Kakaka mine will be the first name you write down

7: Amazing

From England and Kyoto....!!

Pag 20

1: I don't really get it, but somehow that fired me up!!

2: That's Onoda-san's dearest wish!!

3: Ah

4: N-no, it's really nothing much, so I take it back...

Revive the anime club!!

Let's do it, for Onoda-san!!

I don't really know what an anime club does, but I'm in!!

Me too!!

5: Yeeah!!

Let's do it!!

Issa, calm down

Pag 21

2: Your goal is to “revive the anime research club even for just day”?

Oi oi, that's such a small

3: but splendid goal!!

4: You managed to unite the club's intentions as one with such bizarre words!!

5: You're really are an unpredictable guy!!

The plate will soon become green

“Real start”.... the real race will start!!

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Im doing this again because I forgot to add something for the love letter event-

Shadow milk cookie, and this is for my friend, golden cheese cookie. Uhh romantic-

[A shadow delivers an envelope.]

My blueberry,

How have you been? Having fun? Oh, I hope so! I know it's been oh-so long since you've seen me and I you, but I promise that I will be put soon! I'll put on my shows once more, and you'll be front stage to see them all!

Your favorite trickster,

Shadow Milk Cookie

[A Cheesebird delivers a letter to you.]

My beautiful sunstone,

My love for you shines so brilliantly that none of the gold in this kingdom could compare. None can love you as I do, and none ever will. Our love radiant is as my godhood, and I won't even stand for someone thinking it isn't.

Just know that, always, I will love you more than anything possible.

Your goddess,

Golden Cheese Cookie

[cyberrose2001]

Girl, I have a good one for you. If you recall the episode s2 ep21 in TFP when Prime got the Starsaber destroyed. He had a bit of an attitude at the end. Sure, everyone could understand why, but it makes you curious.

Place a f!human reader, supposely close to him. She cannot stand him acting this way and basically yells and bitches at him. In the end, he argues back which frighten her since she hasn't seen him mad. She runs only for him to come and apologize leading to confession and a nice NSFW!!

Consequences

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

I'm so sorry that this took waaay longer than intended, my word doc glitched and didn't save half of it so I had to rewrite the rest from memory :(

Either way, Medli, your requests are always so delicious to write, and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Overstimulation, orgasm denial, oral sex.

Word count: 2531

You can't stand him being like this, cold and distant. Optimus had just returned from retrieving the first set of the precious Omega keys that supposedly would revive Cybertron, but only with great sacrifice.

It was bad enough that Optimus thought he had lost another team member at the hands of Megatron, our rookie who tends to bite off more than he can chew. He hid his emotions well, but at that point, you could tell in his optics that he was about to snap. A force that you were sure would send shockwaves throughout the team and across the cosmos.

You knew that impact was evident when you watched Optimus walk through the ground bridge with a shattered Star Saber. A powerful weapon forged by the Primes solely delivered for Optimus's use is now destroyed, broken beyond repair. You can feel his EM field in the air, instantly dampening the atmosphere in the room. It's heavy, laden with sorrow and, worst of all, silent.

He hadn't said a word to you. Not even a glance or a nod. Nothing, nada. He skipped past everyone's worried looks and made a bee-line to the base computer, where the next set of Iacon coordinates remained projected onto the screen, waiting for him to decode them. The emotions on Optimus's face were difficult to read, a mixture of despair, desolation and, most of all, focus, all colliding behind these brilliantly blue optics you've come to love and drown yourself in.

But those hardened eyes won't prevent you from giving him a stern talking-to. You've grown close with the stoic leader for the short time you've known him compared to his potential billion-year lifespan. You're not afraid to tell him to take a break or say things how it was, no matter his intellect. And right now, the Prime needs a break.

You slowly approach him from behind. Even when he is helm deep in the monitor's circuits, you are sure he can still hear you. After all, Archivists were the eyes and ears of his home planet. You give him a light tap on his pede to try and draw his attention to you.

"Hey." You call out to him. His frame is unmoving, delicate servos feverishly typing away. He hadn't seemed to notice you, or maybe he was ignoring you. You give him another firm tap of your foot, which turns into kicking.

"HEY!" You yell to him, "I know your ears work. Get your head out of the computer and stop ignoring me!"

That got his attention. His servos stopped in their tracks, but his back still faced you. He seems to be listening.

"You need to take a break. You're overworking yourself." You fold your arms, "Those coordinates can wait. You can't decode them properly while your processor fries from lack of recharge."

"I'm fine." He says bluntly, not even bothering to turn and look at you.

If there's one thing you hate more than being ignored, it's when Optimus lies through his teeth.

"Optimus, you're not fucking fine!" In frustration, you throw your hands in the air, "Don't lie to me because I know when you do. Ever since you got back, you've totally ignored everyone… your team… even me! You're being a total bitch to everyone that actually cares about you. That's not who you are. Now, it's best that you get your head out of your aft and that damn computer and get some fucking rest!"

Now that struck a chord. Optimus spins around fast, slamming a fist into the concrete floor next to you and sending debris into the air, some almost hitting your face. He crouches close to your frame, harsh ex-vents grace over your body, and whips your hair around. But you stand your ground, albeit slightly terrified at the change of Optimus's demeanour.

"I do not suppose you believe Megatron wouldn't stop at nothing to get his claws on the next Iacon relics?" He growls. He's so close to you that you can see every dent and imperfection on his faceplate, some from his most recent battle with the Decepticon tyrant, "I will NOT stop until I decode the remaining coordinates. I will not let you or anyone prevent me from doing so. So if you would be so kind…"

He looms closer to you. He's growling at you. You step back but almost trip on the rubble scattered behind you, "Leave me alone."

You're trembling because of two potential reasons. Optimus has never raised his voice or got angry at you, not even at the other bots. And the second is the ungodly amount of blood rushing to your loins. You're at his mercy under his gaze. While you are surprisingly horny, you're intimidated by the pinpoint optics burning holes in your body.

"Fine. You wanna be left alone? Then I'll leave you alone." Your own fists are clenching now. You can't look vulnerable before him, "Come find me when you're not busy making out with the computer screen."

And with your final blow, you turn on your heel and storm out of the base, ignoring the wide-eyed faces of the other bots, who had unfortunately witnessed the whole thing. You didn't care where you were running to; you just needed to get out of there and blow off some steam. Something that Optimus should be doing as well.

-

Optimus watched you run out of the base, his optics softening a fraction. While what he said about not resting until he decodes the rest of the coordinates was true, Optimus caught himself lying when he told you to leave. You were the only thing preventing him from breaking down and losing his shit. You are why he hasn't locked himself in a stasis pod and cranked the dial to ten billion years so that he doesn't have to endure a moment longer of this Primus-forsaken war.

But watching the human he loved run away from him, he realised his mistake. Optimus has just pushed away the only human tethering him to the edge of a self-hatred cliff, and he's just cut the cord.

He releases his death grip on the crumbled floor, letting the pebbles fall out of the servos. You probably hate him now. You probably don't even want to see him again, and he doesn't blame you. But the least he could do was apologise before you leave for good.

-

Your feet are starting to ache. You know you've been walking for a while when there's nothing but desert sand and the worn-down asphalt of the road to keep you company.

You hadn't meant what you said to Optimus to come out so harsh. Most of the time, when you would first tell him to recharge, he would be reluctant but would oblige. Tough love was your philosophy. But this time, your philosophy may have been a step too far today. You greatly underestimated how stressed the Prime was. That was a mistake on your part. That fact that he was grieving the potential loss of a teammate and the weapon that could win the war? It would've helped if you were more understanding and compassionate.

You should turn back; the sun was beginning to set. It looks beautiful, and you wish Optimus was here because you know he would enjoy this as much as you do.

Speak of the devil. A low rumbling noise grows louder from some distance behind you; you know it's Optimus. Most likely coming to banish you from the base for how you spoke to him.

He rolls behind you and flashes his high beam, and you stop. You can feel and hear him transform behind you, but you don't turn to look at him because you feel ashamed.

"Optimus, I'm sorry for how I spoke to you." You take a deep breath and cradle your arms to your stomach, "I… I didn't realise how troubled you are about…"

A cold servo wraps around your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your body. Optimus carefully spins you around to face him, and he oozes your exact amount of regret. His optics cast a brilliant glow across your form, and the remaining flickers of the sunset reflect off his metal, casting him in an orange hue.

"Y/n, I should be the one who apologises." His downturned dermas hurt your heart, "There was no justification for my actions. I should not have lashed out at you the way I did."

"But there was justification for it, and I was careless about your feelings." You say, bringing a hand to the servo resting on your shoulder, "I shouldn't have said those things, I realise now."

A small smile creeps into the corner of Optimus's dermas, "Perhaps not, and while I am very saddened by today's events, I do not think you realise how much your words encourage me."

"But…" You're cut off by a smooth thumb brushing over your cheek.

"I should have told you this a long time ago, but… Primus, you are the only thing in this universe holding me together." He takes a sharp intake, "I love you more than anything."

Your breath catches in your throat. Optimus, the greatest warrior to ever grace this Earth, just confessed to you. In the middle of the desert, when the temperature is dropping but you don't even feel it because the warm glow of his optics and his confession sparks a fire in your chest.

"Optimus… I do… I love you… I." You struggle to find the words—instead, you involuntary shiver.

Of course, Optimus notices and give you a slight chuckle, "It is getting cold. May you accompany me back to base?"

You nod, and instantly, he transforms into his alt mode, leaving the passenger door open for you and you make haste and climb in, and he buckles the seat belt for you. Staring out the window to witness the last of the sunset, resting your head against the window as Optimus turns his heater on for you. You sigh in contentment as he pulls onto the road and journeys home.

-

"OptiMUUS… hngh… please." You whine from the bed and tug at the restraints on your wrists, soft, breathless begging as Optimus's grip on your thighs tightens and relaxes with every swipe of his glossa.

You could say that this was a form of payback, a playful punishment from when you yelled at him earlier. Even though he had forgiven you for saying those harsh words, he told you on the way home that he still needed to "put you in your place". At the time, you had no idea what that entailed, but little did you know the method Optimus liked to 'punish' you was to edge you on the cusp of euphoria multiple times only to deny you of any orgasm.

It was torture, but you kind of deserved it.

"P-Please, fuck…" You beg, writhing your hips as Optimus drags his glossa around your folds, then circles your clit, "I can't- no more… FUCK."

It was an endless back-and-forth pattern. Optimus would lick your folds and collect your fluids on his glossa before dragging it back to your clit, circling it and increasing the pressure momentarily. And just when you were so close to cumming he would stop teasing the bundle of nerves and go back to licking strips up your pussy. You tried rocking your hips desperately to chase the high, but it was in vain as he would instantly pull away and watch as your hips writhe around to find friction.

"I do believe you are close. Am I correct to assume so?" Optimus grins, pressing light kisses to the inside of your thigh and, in turn, smearing your fluids over your soft sweaty skin.

"You asshole," You groan as he presses a firm kiss to your clit, "You know I am-aahHHH!"

Your whine cuts you off as Optimus wraps his dermas around your clit and gives you a harsh suck, and rolls it around his denta.

"I do not like your choice of words, Y/n." He growls against your clit, sending vibrations throughout your body, "I am not the 'asshole' you speak of."

The sucking at your clit sends electrical shocks through your thighs, making them shake and clench around his helm. Your hands find purchase on the berth under you, and you grip the sheet so hard you can feel it rip. You can feel him smiling against your mound as you thrust your hips into his intake, finally feeling your orgasm wash over you. It was sweet relief from a long two hours of edging, and you weren't sure how much longer you could've handled his glossa torturing you.

Optimus lifts his helm from your pussy, and you're trying so hard not to whine as you watch him lick up a string of arousal still attached to his dermas.

"F-Fuck…" You whimper, hips stuttering. The torment is finally over, you think. But you were severely wrong when you felt a cold digit rub at your folds, and he pushed it inside. You cry in overstimulation as he curls the digit, pressing against your G-Spot in a mind-numbing, relentless thrust. Similar to Megatrons antics in retrieving those Iacon relics, this bastard is stopping at nothing until he retrieves every last orgasm from your trembling body.

Optimus chuckles as you throw your head back and try to maneuver your hips away from his servos. He's enjoying watching you become an overstimulated mess, he's getting a high out of it, and it's taking all your strength not to slap him in the helm. You love him, but this is getting too much for you.

"You seem to be enjoying your punishment, hm?" Optimus smirks and strums his thumb to your already hyper-sensitive clit, "It certainly looks that way. I wonder if I can make you overload again."

You let out a string of swears as he thrusts his digit with haste, his thumb circling your clit and increasing the pressure. The wet sounds between your thighs are lewd and only add to your pleasure. The room becomes hazy and distant as you clench around his digit, and a second orgasm slams your body within the span of two minutes. Optimus lets out a guttural groan as he feels your walls clench around his digit; Primus knows what it would feel like with his throbbing spike inside you.

Optimus watches as you pant, sweat covering your entire skin. He gives a breathless laugh and leans down to kiss your soft lips, his glossa transferring some of your fluids onto your tongue. During the kiss, he groans as he slowly drags his digit out of your dripping pussy and relishes the little whine you give him.

"You're mean." You groan out against his intake. Your body is exhausted from his torment, and you're sure he can feel your muscles quivering against his plating. He innocently chuckles as if he hadn't just made a mess of you.

"I can assure you this was a one-off. No more torment, love." Optimus kisses your forehead, servos tracing circles on your thighs, "But on this occasion, you needed to know the consequences of your actions in future."

[nalyra-dreaming]

Did you have favorite actor moments from the show this season? Favorite lines or silent moments, particularly from Jacob and Sam, but from any and all of them? :) I always enjoy hearing about people's favorites

Eglee giving Santiago a blow job while he rants about Claudia's song was a favorite dead-pan moment^^.

Santiago in general, and Claudia being badass at the trial. Lestat's "Siri, pause". Armand's "fine"... iteration. The "beigest pillow" so fucking brilliantly delivered by Jacob. Eric's "telenovela" moment. Luke being pulled in by Armand. And a million more :) but these came to mind immediately^^.

[sleepynegress]

On Challengers...

Okay.

So, here's the thing. It's decent.

It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.

....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow? And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant. Remember, the movie Closer? -I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.

Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen.... .....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean. This felt like it held back at moments... When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other. It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!) I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis. THAT did deliver. WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping. A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN. It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.

Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star. But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...' He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that. He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...

Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell. You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze. And resented regardless.

*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress. Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department. Mike Faist is a STAR. He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls. I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.

Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else. Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man. Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething. Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh* ...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé. Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.

....Anyway. It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.

P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster. P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...

Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?) Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.

This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not. Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit! Note they never even touch each other.

[mangeur-detoiles]

i am/was so excited to see you binging special ops: lioness. definitely cruz and aaliyah made the show what it was. i could see so much potential for aaliyah to be in season 2 but the straights are gonna straight. now there’s just gonna be joe’s family drama-rama colliding with her work 23/7 with the 1 hour left available for covert ops and whatever weird shit thing going on with nicole kidman’s character and her husband market manipulation or whatevs idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One of the show's purposes is to depict how these women navigate their violent and challenging jobs at the CIA, as well as their family and love lives. However, the main problem for me is that the only storyline I find truly compelling is about Aaliyah and Cruz. I have no interest at all in Nicole Kidman's character's private life. Joe's family drama was decent imo, but I doubt the writer can create something genuinely interesting for S2.

Aaliyah and Cruz's story was clearly meant to conclude with S1, but it was executed so brilliantly and powerfully that it stole the show. As a result, the ending feels deeply unsatisfying. The journey was so intense that I was fully invested in their fate, and now I can’t accept this bland conclusion. It’s not that I simply ship them and want a happy ending; I need a closure that is emotionally resonant and as profound as their story.

I completely agree with you: their story has so much potential for another season, and I'm surprised the showrunner didn't want to take advantage of it. After all, Cruz will return at some point in S2, and Aaliyah's fate will always weigh on her mind. However, you're right—"the straights are gonna straight," and we have plenty of sad examples of incredible potential wasted by writers, producers, and executives (CBS, I'm looking at you right now!). At this point, I try to find closure in fanfiction: fanfic writers always recognize great potential and consistently deliver!

[kaibutsushidousha]

What are your thoughts on Papermoon? Did it change your expectations for the Ordeal Call arc?

I really liked most of PAPERMOON's cast. My unpopular opinion is that Minase can be a garbage writer but he's a great character creator. His characters are always built around one solid core and can feel one-note due to how they never shift too far from this core element, but the element is always chosen with one impactful scene or interaction in mind, and these goal scenes generally hit more often than they miss. Maybe. At least in PAPERMOON, they hit with Lainur, Bhima/Cerejeira, Medusa, Kama, and Duryodhana.

Another thing that Minase always knows how to do brilliantly, better than Nasu even, is to re-deliver the most memorable quotes of past Type-Moon content in new contexts. Bazett's growth marked by well-timed use of Angra quotes pretty much carries her event, and Yuga Kshetra's remixes of JinaKarna interactions ultimately deliver what's still the most powerful scene in FGO. Honestly, only Haganeya (Lilim Harlot event writer) competes with Minase when it comes to hard-hitting references. His good sense for this shows in his great choices for which otherwise minor aspects of Sakura and Rani should take the forefront in this new context and which shouldn't. And then his handling of Lainur is about as masterful as his handling of Bazett. When Lainur drops the "Because it might cause something to change"? That's exactly what I mean by clever recycling of old quotes.

But enough about his strong suits. Minase's storytelling sucks for a couple reasons and the most prominent of them is that he almost never knows what to do in the middle. His good conclusions suffer from how he struggles to lead up to them in exciting ways. And his number one crutch for this problem is reaffirming the character traits that will be relevant to the good conclusions ad nauseam.

PAPERMOON also introduces us to Minase's crutch number 2: plot recycling. Again, his inability to plan the midfield leads him to corrupt one of the things he's legitimately good at. Here we get sections 5 to 12, a whole 50% of the chapter, dedicated to the most uninspired and uncathartic rehashes of Gilles and Zouken's arcs in Fate/Zero and Heaven's Feels respectively. Genuinely garbage recycling. This cool cast really could be doing cool things instead.

Ultimately, I think Minase was a poor choice for the Alterego chapter because the setting and concepts involved play directly into his crutches. Alteregos being isolated facets removes the absolute need for Minase to flesh out the characters beyond their necessary core, and System Grail War being a simulation taken from real samples facilitates otherwise inorganic repetition. He's an uncreative man thrown into the smack middle of his comfort zone and this is the result.

Final verdict:

As for Ordeal Call expectations, yes, they did change. Before, I saw two routes for Ordeal Call.

A: pure Class mechanics-based filler that doesn't advance any of the plot points necessary for the finale.

B: final showdowns with each of the Apostles since Kotomine is Alterego, Dantes is Avenger, and Holmes is Ruler.

PAPERMOON was neither. It was completely unrelated to Kotomine, but it still changed the board for the finale by dooming Sion's plotline at the end.

Sion's arc in this chapter comments on how she's been always a sidelined cheerleader than a proper companion to Novum Chaldea, with her reasoning that she's not fit to be Fujimaru's friend because she predicted a role for herself in the finale that requires her not being a friend. This was already alluded to in Imaginary Scramble but mostly forgotten by the narrative otherwise.

Our main companion through this ordeal is an Alterego in the form of Sion's childish aspirations to be Fujimaru's friend despite knowing she can't, and the two of them are stuck in an unreal world where her actions wouldn't have consequences. So little Sion wholeheartedly indulges in this fun adventure.

However, even the most childish side of Sion knows that this cannot be. In the end, when she finally returns Fujimaru's Alterego to their complete self, she chooses to stay behind. The joyful memories of the child's adventure can't be allowed to return to the adult. Sion can't be Novum Chaldea's friend. This is essential to preventing mankind's demise.

The young Sion closes the door behind Fujimaru and leaves herself stuck in an isolated micro-world. It's the only option Sion Eltnam Sokaris is capable of taking. And then comes the epilogue revealing the fallout of it:

Sion remembers the adventure. Sion remembers being Fujimaru's friend. The bystander "unfortunately" became part of the team. The actress can no longer take the role in her script. It's over. She got attached to her sacrificial pawns. Sion had a chance to save the bleached Earth, but now she's suddenly faced with the greater challenge of saving both the world and the people she was planning to discard to save the world.

This is a big game changer for the final chapter, and honestly, in a route much more interesting than anything I had in mind. The Sion hype for FGO's finale is finally undeniably real. Took her long enough.

[earlgreytea68]

"Dance, Dance" has never really struck me as a Peterick-y song before persay (beyond the fact that every song is a collaboration between them), but for some reason, I just randomly remembered some of my favorite lyrics from that song, and honestly some of my fave FOB lyrics period: "I'm two quarters and a heart down, and I don't want to forget how your voice sounds..."

And then it hit me: Pete has literally said before, that Patrick's voice is one of his favorite sounds in the world!

And Pete's lyrics have always been what connected him to Patrick, no matter how strained things got between them back then:

"These words are all I have, so I write them, and you'll need them just to get by..."

I don't know if that's the reading Pete intended (he's more than entitled and right to have his secrets), but it definitely got my brain buzzing, and adds some context to the desperate tone I always got from those lyrics...

I'd love to hear what you think!

You know, this is so interesting, because I usually think about "Dance Dance" as being one of their more heterosexual tracks, I guess because it has the "she" in it, although I don't think about "Jet Pack Blues," so I don't know why I would feel that way lol.

And now that you mention it, this is one of those songs where there is a She, but there's also a You, and there's nothing that says they're the same person (which is how I feel about Jet Pack Blues). That disembodied "she" is there at the beginning of the song, but never shows up again. So for all we know this song is about the speaker telling the woman sitting next to him at a bar about this tortured relationship he's having, and She's not a part of that relationship at all.

And you're right that the pre-chorus especially is written in Peterick-coded words, not wanting to forget your voice, handing over your words. In the verse, he's complaining that he's no good with words, but in the pre-chorus, that's all he has, and the You needs them so he hands them over, regardless of how overdramatic he might think they are.

Even something about the chorus -- "these are the lives you love to lead," "if they knew how misery loved me" -- feels very ~~celebrity-centric, like, not about some relationship with a girl but about Pete Wentz in a band, trying to keep different lives straight, having an unhealthy relationship with misery because it sells the records ("I only keep myself this sick in the head 'cuz I know how the words get you off"). Read that way, the second verse can actually be read as one of self-loathing, where he's talking to himself: "You (I) always fold just before you're (I'm) found out."

I've always loved the sarcasm with which Patrick delivers that "love" with his little heart and the whole bridge is brilliantly snarky and mean and sometimes I think that in itself was just a little vignette Pete wrote when he was angry with a girl and Patrick liked it and used it in the song lol.