#i can literally draw whatever i want its great

[luckycloverforducks]

That part in the good omens book where Crowley calls Aziraphale Angel Infront of Anathema and she immediately assumes they're gay (they are) but with swap Radiodust and literally any bystander

They're not dating or anything, officially they're just good ole close friends/"aquaintences" but that's not stopping anyone

One of these days I'm gonna draw non canon art of swap Radiodust kissing for shits and giggles and literally no one can stop me

[sunshinesalmon]

why does everyone act like its weird that i actually enjoy spending time alone

[jacobied]

feeling an unreal amount of dread rn bc i have to write some sentences about an illustration of mine in a way that fits a theme lmfao

[mcmansionhell]

on neuschwanstein castle (part 1)

This is an essay in two parts.

Neuschwanstein Concept Drawing by the stage designer (!!) Christian Jank (1869).

There exist in architecture clear precedents to the McMansion that have nothing to do with suburban real estate. This is because “McMansionry” (let’s say) has many transferable properties. Among them can be included: 1) a diabolical amount of wealth that must be communicated architecturally in the most frivolous way possible, 2) a penchant for historical LARPing primarily informed by media (e.g. the American “Tuscan kitchen”) and 3) the execution of historical styles using contemporary building materials resulting in an aesthetic affect that can be described as uncanny or cheap-looking. By these metrics, we can absolutely call Neuschwanstein Castle, built by the architect Eduard Riedel for King Ludwig II of Bavaria, a McMansion.

Constructed from 1869 through 1886 – the year of Ludwig’s alleged suicide after having been ousted and declared insane – the castle cost the coffers of the Bavarian state and Ludwig himself no fewer than 6.2 million German gold marks. (That's an estimated 47 million euros today.) The castle's story is rife with well-known scandal. I'm sure any passing Swan Enthusiast is already familiar with Ludwig’s financial capriciousness, his called-off marriage and repressed homosexuality, his parasocial obsession with Richard Wagner, his complete and total inability to run his country, and his alleged "madness," as they used to call it. All of these combine to make Neuschwanstein inescapable from the man who commissioned it -- and the artist who inspired it. Say what you like about Ludwig and his building projects, but he is definitely remembered because of them, which is what most monarchs want. Be careful what you wish for.

Neuschwanstein gatehouse.

How should one describe Neuschwanstein architecturally? You’d need an additional blog. Its interiors alone (the subject of the next essay) range from Neo-Baroque to Neo-Byzantine to Neo-Gothic. There are many terms that can loosely define the palace's overall style: eclecticism, medieval revivalism, historicism, chateauesque, sclerotic monarchycore, etc. However, the the most specific would be what was called "castle Romanticism" (Burgenromantik). The Germans are nothing if not literal. Whatever word you want to use, Neuschwanstein is such a Sistine Chapel of pure sentimentality and sugary kitsch that theme park architecture – most famously, Disney's Cinderella’s castle itself – owes many of its medieval iterations to the palace's towering silhouette.

There is some truth to the term Burgenromantik. Neuschwanstein's exterior is a completely fabricated 19th century storybook fantasy of the Middle Ages whose precedents lie more truthfully in art for the stage. As a castle without fortification and a palace with no space for governance, Neuschwanstein's own program is indecisive about what it should be, which makes it a pretty good reflection of Ludwig II himself. To me, however, it is the last gasp of a monarchy whose power will be totally extinguished by that same industrial modernity responsible for the materials and techniques of Neuschwanstein's own, ironic construction.

In order to understand Neuschwanstein, however, we must go into two subjects that are equally a great time for me: 19th century medievalism - the subject of this essay - and the opera Lohengrin by Richard Wagner, the subject of the next. (1)

Part I: Medievalisms Progressive and Reactionary

The Middle Ages were inescapable in 19th century Europe. Design, music, visual art, theater, literature, and yes, architecture were all besotted with the stuff of knights and castles, old sagas, and courtly literature. From arch-conservative nationalism to pro-labor socialism, medievalism's popularity spanned the entire political spectrum. This is because it owes its existence to a number of developments that affected the whole of society.

In Ludwig’s time, the world was changing in profound, almost inconceivable ways. The first and second industrial revolutions with their socioeconomic upheavals and new technologies of transport, manufacturing, and mass communication, all completely unmade and remade how people lived and worked. This was as true of the average person as it was of the princes and nobles who were beginning to be undermined by something called “the petit bourgeoisie.”

Sustenance farming dwindled and wage labor eclipsed all other forms of working. Millions of people no longer able to make a living on piecemeal and agricultural work flocked to the cities and into the great Molochs of factories, mills, stockyards, and mines. Families and other kinship bonds were eroded or severed by the acceleration of capitalist production, large wars, and new means of transportation, especially the railroad. People became not only alienated from each other and from their labor in the classical Marxist sense but also from the results of that labor, too. No longer were chairs made by craftsmen or clothes by the single tailor -- unless you could afford the bespoke. Everything from shirtwaists to wrought iron lamps was increasingly mass produced - under wretched conditions, too. Things – including buildings – that were once built to last a lifetime became cheap, disposable, and subject to the whimsy of fashion, sold via this new thing called “the catalog.”

William Morris' painting Le Belle Iseult (1868).

Unsurprisingly, this new way of living and working caused not a little discontent. This was the climate in which Karl Marx wrote Capital and Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol. More specific to our interests, however, is a different dissenter and one of the most interesting practitioners of medievalism, the English polymath William Morris.

A lover of Arthurian legend and an admirer of the architect and design reformer John Ruskin, Morris was first trained in the office of architect G. E. Street, himself a die-hard Gothic Revivalist. From the very beginning, the Middle Ages can be found everywhere in Morris' work, from the rough-hewn qualities of the furniture he helped design to the floral elements and compositions of the art nouveau textiles and graphics he's most famous for -- which, it should be said, are reminiscent of 15th century English tapestries. In addition to his design endeavors, Morris was also a gifted writer and poet. His was a profound love for medieval literature, especially Norse sagas from Iceland. Some of these he even translated including the Volsunga Saga -- also a preoccupation of Wagner's. Few among us earn the title of polymath, but Morris' claim to it is undeniable. Aside from music, there really wasn't any area of creative life he didn't touch.

However, Morris' predilection for the medieval was not just a personal and aesthetic fascination. It was also an expression of his political rejection of the capitalist mode of production. As one of the founders of the English Arts & Crafts Movement, Morris called for a rejection of piecemeal machine labor, a return to handicraft, and overall to things made well and made with dignity. While this was and remains a largely middle class argument, one that usually leads down the road of ethical consumption, Morris was right that capitalism's failing of design and architecture did not just lie with the depreciated quality of goods, but the depreciated quality of life. His was the utopian call to respect both the object and the laborer who produced it. To quote from his 1888 essay called "The Revival of Architecture," Morris dreamed of a society that "will produce to live and not live to produce, as we do." Indeed, in our current era of AI Slop, there remains much to like about the Factory Slop-era call to take back time from the foreman's clock and once more make labor an act of enjoyable and unalienated creativity. Only now it's about things like writing an essay.

I bother to describe Morris at length here for a number of reasons. The first is to reiterate that medievalism's popularity was largely a response to socioeconomic changes. Additionally, since traditionalism - in Ludwig's time and in ours - still gets weaponized by right-wing losers, it's worth pointing out that not all practitioners of medievalism were politically reactionary in nature. However – and I will return to this later – medievalism, reactionary or not, remains inescapably nostalgic. Morris is no exception. While a total rejection of mass produced goods may seem quixotic to us now, when Morris was working, the era before mass industrialization remained at the fringes of living memory. Hence the nostalgia is perhaps to be expected. Unfortunately for him and for us, the only way out of capitalism is through it.

To return again to the big picture: whether one liked it or not, the old feudal world was done. Only its necrotic leftovers, namely a hereditary nobility whose power would run out of road in WWI, remained. For Ludwig purposes, it was a fraught political time in Bavaria as well. Bavaria, weird duck that it was, remained relatively autonomous within the new German Reich. Despite the title of king, Ludwig, much to his chagrin - hence the pathetic Middle Ages fantasizing - did not rule absolutely. His was a constitutional monarchy, and an embattled one at that. During the building of Neuschwanstein, the king found himself wedged between the Franco-Prussian War and the political coup masterminded by Otto von Bismarck that would put Europe on the fast track to a global conflict many saw as the atavistic culmination of all that already violent modernity. No wonder he wanted to hide with his Schwans up in the hills of Schwangau.

The very notion of a unified German Reich (or an independent Kingdom of Bavaria) was itself indicative of another development. Regardless if one was liberal or conservative, a king, an artist or a shoe peddler, the 19th century was plagued by the rise of modern nationalism. Bolstered by new ideas in "medical" “science,” this was also a racialized nationalism. A lot of emotional, political, and artistic investment was put into the idea that there existed a fundamentally German volk, a German soil, a German soul. This, however, was a universalizing statement in need of a citation, with lots of political power on the line. Hence, in order to add historical credence to these new conceptions of one’s heritage, people turned to the old sources.

Within the hallowed halls of Europe's universities, newly minted historians and philologists scoured medieval texts for traces of a people united by a common geography and ethnicity as well as the foundations for a historically continuous state. We now know that this is a problematic and incorrect way of looking at the medieval world, a world that was so very different from our own. A great deal of subsequent medieval scholarship still devotes itself to correcting for these errors. But back then, such scholarly ethics were not to be found and people did what they liked with the sources. A lot of assumptions were made in order to make whatever point one wanted, often about one's superiority over another. Hell, anyone who's been on Trad Guy Deus Vult Twitter knows that a lot of assumptions are still made, and for the same purposes.(2)

Meanwhile, outside of the academy, mass print media meant more people were exposed to medieval content than ever before. Translations of chivalric romances such as Wolfgang von Eschenbach’s Parzival and sagas like the Poetic Edda inspired a century’s worth of artists to incorporate these characters and themes into their work. This work was often but of course not always nationalistic in character. Such adaptations for political purposes could get very granular in nature. We all like to point to the greats like William Morris or Richard Wagner (who was really a master of a larger syncretism.) But there were many lesser attempts made by weaker artists that today have an unfortunate bootlicking je nais se quoi to them.

I love a minor tangent related to my interests, so here's one: a good example of this nationalist granularity comes from Franz Grillparzer’s 1823 pro-Hapsburg play König Ottokars Glück und Ende, which took for its source a deep cut 14th century manuscript called the Styrian Rhyming Chronicle, written by Ottokar Aus Der Gaul. The play concerns the political intrigue around King Ottokar II of Bohemia and his subsequent 1278 defeat at the hands of Grillparzer’s very swagged out Rudolf of Habsburg. Present are some truly fascinating but extremely obscure characters from 13th Holy Roman Empire lore including a long-time personal obsession of mine, the Styrian ministerial and three-time traitor of the Great Interregnum, Frederick V of Pettau. But I’m getting off-topic here. Let's get back to the castle.

The Throne Room at Neuschwanstein

For architecture, perhaps the most important development in spreading medievalism was this new institution called the "big public museum." Through a professionalizing field of archaeology and the sickness that was colonialist expansion, bits and bobs of buildings were stolen from places like North Africa, Egypt, the Middle East, and Byzantium, all of which had an enormous impact on latter 19th century architecture. (They were also picked up by early 20th century American architects from H. H. Richardson to Louis Sullivan.) These orientalized fragments were further disseminated through new books, monographs, and later photography.

Meanwhile, developments in fabrication (standardized building materials), construction (namely iron, then steel) and mass production sped things up and reduced costs considerably. Soon, castles and churches in the image of those that once took decades if not a century to build were erected on countless hillsides or in little town squares across the continent. These changes in the material production of architecture are key for understanding "why Neuschwanstein castle looks so weird."

Part of what gives medieval architecture its character is the sheer embodiment of labor embedded in all those heavy stones, stones that were chiseled, hauled, and set by hand. The Gothic cathedral was a precarious endeavor whose appearance of lightness was not earned easily, which is why, when writing about their sublimity, Edmund Burke invoked not only the play of light and shadow, but the sheer slowness and human toil involved.

This is, of course, not true of our present estate. Neuschwanstein not only eschews the role of a castle as a “fortress to be used in war” (an inherently stereotomic program) but was erected using contemporary materials and techniques that are simply not imbued with the same age or gravitas. Built via a typical brick construction but clad in more impressive sandstone, it's all far too clean. Neuschwanstein's proportions seem not only chaotic - towers and windows are strewn about seemingly on a whim - they are also totally irreconcilable with the castle's alleged typology, in part because we know what a genuine medieval castle looks like.

Ludwig's palace was a technological marvel of the industrial revolution. Not only did Neuschwanstein have indoor plumbing and central heat, it also used the largest glass windows then in manufacture. It's not even an Iron Age building. The throne room, seen earlier in this post, required the use of structural steel. None of this is to say that 19th century construction labor was easy. It wasn't and many people still died, including 30 at Neuschwanstein. It was, however, simply different in character than medieval labor. For all the waxing poetic about handiwork, I’m sure medieval stonemasons would have loved the use of a steam crane.

It's true that architectural eclecticism (the use of many styles at once) has a knack for undermining the presumed authenticity or fidelity of each style employed. But this somewhat misunderstands the crime. The thing about Neuschwanstein is that its goal was not to be historically authentic at all. Its target realm was that of fantasy. Not only that, a fantasy informed primarily by a contemporary media source. In this, it could be said to be more architecturally successful.

The fantasy of medievalism is very different than the truth of the Middle Ages. As I hinted at before, more than anything else, medievalism was an inherently nostalgic movement, and not only because it was a bedrock of so much children's literature. People loved it because it promised a bygone past that never existed. The visual and written languages of feudalism, despite it being a terrible socioeconomic system, came into vogue in part because it wasn't capitalism. We must remember that the 19th century saw industrial capitalism at its newest and rawest. Unregulated, it destroyed every natural resource in sight and subjected people, including children, to horrific labor conditions. It still does, and will probably get worse, but the difference is, we're somewhat used to it by now. The shock's worn off.

All that upheaval I talked about earlier made people long for a simplicity they felt was missing. This took many different forms. The rapid advances of secular society and the incursion of science into belief made many crave a greater religiosity. At a time when the effects of wage labor on the family had made womanhood a contested territory, many appeals were made to a divine and innocent feminine a la Lady Guinevere. Urbanization made many wish for a quieter world with less hustle and bustle and better air. These sentiments are not without their reasons. Technological and socioeconomic changes still make us feel alienated and destabilized, hence why there are so many medieval revivals even in our own time. (Chappell Roan of Arc anyone?) Hell, our own rich people aren't so different from Ludwig either. Mark Zuckerburg owns a Hawaiian island and basically controls the fates of the people who live there lord-in-the-castle-style.

Given all this, it's not surprising that of the products of the Middle Ages, perhaps chivalric romance was and remains the most popular. While never a real depiction of medieval life (no, all those knights were not dying on the behalf of pretty ladies), such stories of good men and women and their grand adventures still capture the imaginations of children and adults alike. (You will find no greater fan of Parzival than yours truly.) It's also no wonder the nature of the romance, with its paternalistic patriarchy, its Christianity, its sentimentality around courtly love, and most of all its depiction of the ruling class as noble and benevolent – appealed to someone like Ludwig, both as a quirked-up individual and a member of his class.

It follows, then, that any artist capable of synthesizing all these elements, fears, and desires into an aesthetically transcendent package would've had a great effect on such a man. One did, of course. His name was Richard Wagner.

In our next essay, we will witness one of the most astonishing cases of kitsch imitating art. But before there could be Neuschwanstein Castle, there had to be this pretty little opera called Lohengrin.

---

(1) If you want to get a head start on the Wagner stuff, I've been writing about the Ring cycle lately on my Substack: https://www.late-review.com/p/essays-on-wagners-ring-part-1-believing

(2) My favorite insane nationalist claim comes from the 1960s, when the Slovene-American historian Joseph Felicijan claimed that the US's democracy was based off the 13th century ritual of enthronement practiced by the Dukes of Carinthia because Thomas Jefferson owned a copy of Jean Bodin's Les six livres de la Republique (1576) in which the rite was mentioned. For more information, see Peter Štih's book The Middle Ages Between the Alps and the Northern Adriatic (p. 56 for the curious.)

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[strawberrymochin]

The Moan Analysis✎

A slight analysis on how jjk boys would moan | Gojo satoru; Geto suguru; Nanami kento; Ryomen sukuna; Toji fushiguro | got a little carried away while writing nanami and toji

Gojo satoru

✎ starting off with the vocal king of sorcerers, gojo's moans would be vocal 'vocal'. Normally gojo has a playful smooth voice that does charms to human ears, however it changes completely in bed. His voice would go two or three octaves lower as he pants and groans as he thrusts in you. He's a kinda guy who would whispers slutty compliments while fucking you in the middle of the night, depriving you of your beauty sleep. If you're the one who's riding him, he would be squirming as whimpers would follow his delicate trembling lips, especially if you clench too hard around him. He has no shame voicing his pleasures and thus innocently ruins neighbour's peace.

Geto suguru

✎ Suguru's a guy, who lies mostly within rough grunts to panting breaths. He won't be the one to be much vocal while doing the thing. The vocal one in the relationship would be you, since you can't keep your mouth shut when he takes you (c'mon I mean nobody can keep it shut if it's geto suguru). He loves hearing your moans instead. And boy, he hasn't voiced out his thoughts yet, as its kinda embarrassing to him but if you would agree to it, he would record your moans into a playlist. I'm not even kidding, there would be a sorted out one containing your moans from finger fucking, eating you out, fucking you etc. (not to mention he would jerk off to those playlists when you're away from him)

Nanami kento

✎ ASMR. I repeat ASMR. The moans of nanami kento would be literal asmr to your ears. As a former salary man and now again a sorcerer, nanami gets real tired and has trouble sleeping. You were thinking of suggesting him asmr to relieve stress however you realised maybe he would want something more better. And this is how you would find yourself facing the mattress as your back is firmly pressed on namami's toned chest as he thrusts in and out, while snaking an arm around your curves finding his way to your neck slightly choking you, making you drool. His moans would be breathy and slight croaky. He won't waste his stamina trying to talk rather than keep his mind focused on the sensation on the pleasure where you suck him in so good. The only time he would be any vocal would be when he reaches his climax as he cums inside you with a series of low groans.

Ryomen sukuna

✎ Kk, forget about his moaning, this merciless guy would fuck you so hard that you would barely hear any sound other than you whining and moaning under him. The only time you could hear him moan, would be when you give him a blowjob or a titjob whatever he wants. His moans would consist of breathy groans to slight pants while he degrades you. You would know you're doing a great job if his voice cracks while passing you a snarky comment or if his breath hitched while you draw your tongue over his tip licking it clean as it twitches in your mouth. Though every single thing you do would make him experience heaven (which he would never go, nor you guys....lol) he would never accept that you have a slight dominance when sucking him or riding him as it would affect his ego.

Toji fushiguro

✎ Forget about his moans, his existence itself is the sluttiest to ever happen. Also he's such a softie in love babe I swear. He won't be much vocal again except the time he reaches his climax. He would cum as he whispers delicate words of you being such a good girl taking him in as he pants and groans. His words might mess up a little bit, as he cums, might end up blabbering nonsense incoherent words as he rides his high. He makes sure to say one thing everytime you guys have sex, is that he's grateful for you to exist in his world and would beg you a million times to never disappear. To never leave him. That's the only time he shows his true self to you, which you embrace in your arms, cupping his cheeks to gently kiss him to sleep. Even though he seems tough outside, I feel he might be the most insecure person due to his childhood experiences and might hesitate to open up to you. But there's no doubt he would be on his knees for you.

Other parts of the series- The cum analysis | The dick analysis

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[rambling-at-midnight]

Whatever You Need

Request: Jason helping reader through their period

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab!Reader

Summary: Your period takes you by surprise. Luckily, Jason's there to take care of you.

Word count: 1.6k

Sorry this took so long... I started four different Jason fics, which means none were finished. But they should be finished and posted sometime soon.

Sprawled on the couch in your pajamas, watching an episode of The Great British Bake-Off that you’ve seen at least twice before, you feel the first twinge of pain in your abdomen. You don’t think much of it at first, which is a mistake. There are still two days before your period is supposed to start, and you ate ice cream after dinner even though you’re lactose intolerant and ran out of Lact-Aid a couple days ago. You figure you’ll head to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of your actions if the need arises, but you’re too comfortable to move when the weighted blanket on top of you has a name and that name is Jason Todd.

You’ve been on bedrest (or couchrest) for the past week and a half after a bad fall in the rain during patrol twisted your ankle. It swelled to twice its normal size. The upside was that it happened during winter break so you didn’t have to make the choice between limping to class or skipping. The downside was that you wanted your superhero persona to have more of a presence with Gotham’s goons. As a part-time hero, unlike Jason and most of his family, you get much less respect when suited up than, say, the Red Hood.

As a contestant’s dough fails to rise and they begin to have a breakdown on the screen, your stomach cramps again.

Sometimes, if you ignore it, the pain will go away. You’re too comfortable to get up now.

To distract yourself, you run your fingers through Jason’s messy curls. He doesn’t have a wash routine, so they’re always frizzier than Dick’s, but you’ve never minded. He’s devastatingly handsome either way. At least like this he looks a little bit less like something come to life straight out of your fantasies. He’s just a little more real.

Jason hums sleepily and pushes his head into your hands, a bit like a cat nuzzling at you. It’s been a lazy day for you both. You’ve been in the same position on the couch for hours—you on your back, half-watching the show, half-dozing, and him on his stomach in the cradle of your legs, head pillowed on your stomach, not even pretending to watch the show, judging by his closed eyes.

Your stomach cramps again, and this time you feel it—the ache even lower, and a wet heat blooming between your thighs. “Oh, fuck me.”

Jason takes a minute to respond, still interested in your fingers that make his entire body tingle when you massage in just the right way. Then he cranes his neck up, brow furrowed and bottom lip jutting out with his confused frown. “Okay?” He starts to sit up, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you draw your legs up and out from under him and roll off the couch.

“No, not literally,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fuck—did I stain the cushion?” It was no big loss—you’d found the couch on the side of the road and Jason helped you bring it up to your apartment and sanitize it—but a bloodstain would stand out on the light brown color.

“Oh,” he says with realization as you run to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. “The couch is good!” he calls.

Your pants aren’t. It looks like someone died between your legs. You’ve always had heavy periods, especially the first couple days, accompanied by strong cramps. If you get ahead of them and take pain meds, they’re not too bad. Sometimes you can even patrol. But playing catch-up with ibuprofen is a recipe for disaster.

The rest of the day is going to suck.

Because you always feel gross when you’re on your period, and because no amount of wipes would fully clean up the mess between your legs, you hop into the shower and turn up the heat until your skin is bright pink. Jason pops in for a second to drop off a change of underpants and sweats, then ducks out just as quickly.

Turning off the water starts the race against time. As quickly as you can, you apply your preferred hygiene product before any more blood can leak down your leg. Then you towel off and shrug on the new clothes. You still feel icky, but the new clothes and shower helped slightly.

Something sizzles in the kitchen when you open the bathroom door.

“Hey, honey,” says Jason without turning around, standing in front of the stove. He points at the table. “Meds and water are right there. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” is your response. You down the pills and almost set the glass back on the table, but at his insistent look, finish it off. Hydration helps with cramps as well.

“You’re two days early.”

“Well, I haven’t been patrolling. Exercise changes can throw my cycle out of whack.” You sniff. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken stir fry.” You peek into the pan and see broccoli, bell peppers, and a couple other vegetables frying with the chicken. The covered pan behind it, you know without looking, contains rice. “I also have ginger tea brewing.”

All of it, every part of the meal, is meant to help reduce your symptoms and pain.

You can’t help it. How is he always so thoughtful? You throw your arms around Jason’s middle and squeeze. So he can keep stirring the food, he shifts until you’re tucked beneath one arm. His hair is in complete disarray from your fingers like he just walked through a tornado. When he notices your gaze, red colors his cheeks and he flattens his hair down self-consciously.

You press a kiss to his shoulder, the highest place you can reach without stretching.

“Go sit down,” he pretends to scold.

In response, you lean into him, heavier and heavier, until he’s practically carrying you. Jason doesn’t even blink at the added weight.

“I plugged in your heating pad,” he says. “It’s right by the couch.” Another thing right next to the couch is a coffee table he stole from the manor when he was pissed at Bruce. On top of it is a bar of dark chocolate and a freshly-washed bowl of your favorite berries.

You kiss his shoulder again. Jason kisses the top of your head, then nudges you away with his chin. “Go. Sit down. Rest your ankle and your uterus.”

“That is not how it works,” you say, mirth in your voice.

“It’s how I think it works,” he mumbles.

When the food is done, he brings two bowls over. You lift your legs and he slips underneath them. He uses your shins on his thighs as a makeshift table, balancing the bowl between them, and absentmindedly rubs your weaker ankle with the hand not holding his spoon.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence as The Great British Bake-Off plays. You finish first, and as soon as he sets his bowl down, you sit up slightly and make grabby hands at him. “C’mere.”

Jason pretends to roll his eyes, but judging by the line of kisses he trails from your wrist to the inside of your elbow as he lies down, he doesn’t mind your bossiness too much.

You shiver at every brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your forearm. It’s almost enough to distract you from the cramping that’s beginning in your abdomen again—a cramping that eases slightly when he’s atop you again, resting the gentle pressure of his weight on your stomach. Warm, fed, and with his weight on you, is it any wonder you fall asleep?

You’re only woken by Jason’s gentle hand shaking you, telling you that it’s been eight hours since you last applied your feminine hygiene product and you need to change it. You’re tired and sore and cranky, but as soon as you blink your eyes open he has pain medication and water for you to take.

You do so in the bathroom in a daze and tumble into your shared bed, tugging Jason in with you. He goes down easily, using his huge, warm form to surround you with his easy, comforting scent. You left the heating pad on the couch, but the thick arm Jason winds around your stomach does the job well enough, and you drift back to sleep quickly, never fully awake in the first place.

The next morning, you wake to an aching back and stained sheets.

You stare up at the ceiling and swear, which unfortunately wakes Jason, who lifts his head and stares at you, one eye still crusted with sleep. His curls are in wild disarray, one side flattened from the pillow and the other on end as if he’s been spending his spare time sticking forks in electrical sockets.

If the cramps have gotten to your spine already, then the next few days are going to be hell. And this was a nice pair of sheets! The blood had better wash out.

Jason grunts and lowers his head. “Everything we own is bloodstained, honey. Though usually it’s mine.”

You leave him in bed. Your hair feels way too greasy, and your skin feels tacky, and even after a half-hour shower, you still don’t feel great.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom, Jason is there with chocolate-chip pancakes he made himself, accompanied by a fresh bowl of fruit and more meds.

Emotion rises in your throat. You want to tell him so much, like that you love him even though you haven’t said it, or that you can’t fathom going through your period on your own anymore, but all that comes out is, “You’re perfect. You know that? You really don’t have to do all this—or stay home from patrol for me.”

Jason tousles his messy curls and shrugs. “Well, I’m gonna anyway. You need me, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

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Let me know if there's anything you want to see from me!

[capquinn]

okay not to be like insane or anything but

i want quinn hughes to fuck me into his couch cushions

BAHHAHAHA it’s literally all i can think about and our like inside look of his apartment has NOT helped. it looks so comfortable 😭

anyways yeah hope ur doing great 🫶🫶🫶

MDNI — 18+ only

The evening breeze drifts lazily through the open balcony door, carrying with it the faint scent of the city. The room is filled with the quiet strum of music, blending seamlessly with the soft, golden glow from the lamp by the sofa. You’re both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, each lost in your own book, but your legs are intertwined in the middle, a comforting reminder of each other’s presence.

Quinn’s hand rests casually on your ankle, his thumb tracing small, absent minded circles on your skin. The touch is gentle, barely there, but it keeps you grounded to reality, your focus torn between the words on the page and the warmth of his hand, unable to fully immerse yourself into fantasy worlds.

You try to refocus, to dive back into the story in front of you, but it’s useless. Time seems to stretch, the moments bleeding into one another, until you’re no longer sure how long you’ve been stuck on the same page, reading and re-reading the same sentence, all while his hand continues its lazy rhythm.

The circles he’s been tracing are getting smaller, his hand shifting just slightly higher with each pass. The faintest brush against your calf sends warmth rippling through you, soft and insistent. At first, it feels unhurried, unconcious, like he isn’t even aware of what he’s doing. But then, the movement becomes so precise, so maddeningly deliberate, that it feels impossible to believe otherwise.

You glance at him, trying to read his expression, but his face is serene. His eyes are on his book, his brow faintly furrowed as if he’s completely engrossed in whatever world the pages are painting for him. The steady rise and fall of his chest only adds to the illusion of calm. If not for his hand, you might believe it.

His thumb drags lazily, intentional and tantalising, brushing against your skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. You press your lips together, willing yourself to focus, but the words on the page blur into meaningless shapes. The sharp edges of your book press into your palms, grounding you for a moment, a brief reprieve, but it doesn’t last. The warmth of his hand keeps creeping higher, the soft and invisible shapes he’s tracing drawing your attention back to him like gravity.

Your hips shift subtly, almost instinctively, as his fingers slip higher, just brushing the curve of your knee. The contact is brief, featherlight, but it’s enough to make your heart skip. 

You steal another glance at him, and for a moment, you’re certain he’s smirking. It’s so subtle, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it’s there. 

He knows.

“Quinn,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet like a thread snapping. “You’re distracting me.”

His lips curve, just slightly, but he doesn’t lift his gaze. 

“Am I?” he murmurs, the words so casual they set your teeth on edge. His hand doesn’t falter, doesn’t pause, his palm continuing its journey upward, brushing just above your knee this time.

You narrow your eyes at him, but he stays perfectly composed, perfectly calm, his hand resting on your leg like it belongs there. The contrast is infuriating — how unaffected he looks, how completely at ease he is, while you feel like every nerve in your body is stretched taut. You try to shake it off, to reclaim your focus, turning your eyes back to the page in front of you. But the words blur together, their meaning slipping further from your grasp, leaving nothing but the pull of something deeper, sharper, building low in your stomach.

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh — just barely, just enough — it’s like the dam breaks. Your breath stutters, the book snapping shut in your lap with a dull thud as you shift away, your knees drawing up to your chest in a flustered retreat.

The silence stretches, heavy with his triumph, before a soft chuckle escapes him. You glance over, and there he is, leaning back into the couch, his book discarded open on his lap, his eyes gleaming with smug amusement.

"Something wrong?" he asks, the feigned innocence in his voice doing nothing to mask the mischief dancing in his eyes.

Your glare sharpens, your cheeks hot, but the betrayal comes quickly — your lips widen into a grin, giving away your amusement despite your best effort to remain stern. 

"You're impossible," you mutter, the words carrying no real venom, only a begrudging acknowledgment of his triumph.

He shifts slightly, still stretched out on the sofa, legs lazily sprawled like he hasn’t a care in the world. The smirk tugging at his lips widens, the glint in his eyes daring you to make a move. It’s infuriating, and you don’t stop to think before you act. Tossing your book aside, you shift forward, crawling over him in a way that makes his brows lift in faint surprise.

When your knees press into the cushions on either side of his hips, his hands are there instantly, steadying you, fingers curling firmly against your waist, his own book slipping to the floor. You feel the way his body stiffens beneath you for just a second before he recovers, leaning back into the armrest with a confidence that only fuels your determination.

The smirk tugging at his lips is the last straw, the final push that has you leaning forward, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the collar of his shirt. You hover there for just a breath, your lips barely brushing his, a deliberate tease that makes his fingers dig into your waist. Then, you close the distance, capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s heat and friction, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he meets you with equal intensity. His lips part slightly, deepening the kiss, and the sound he makes — a low, quiet groan — sends a shiver rippling through you. You tilt your head, angling to fit against him perfectly, and his hand slides up your spine, pressing you closer as if there’s still space to close.

Your fingers knot into his shirt, clutching at the fabric as you shift in his lap, a slow roll of your hips that makes him break the kiss for half a second, his forehead pressing against yours as his breath stutters.

"God," he murmurs, voice rough, his hand sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying warm against your skin. “Didn’t see this coming,” he chuckles, breathless, as your lips trail down his jaw, soft and deliberate, leaving his skin tingling with each press.

"You knew what you were doing," you murmur, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, soft and teasing. His grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly, his body tense beneath you.

"What did you think was going to happen?" you continue, your tone light but laced with challenge, your breath warm against his skin.

His head tilts back just enough to meet your gaze, his pupils dark and blown wide.

"Something," he admits, voice rough and edged with amusement, though it cracks slightly at the end.

"Something?" you echo.

Quinn exhales sharply as your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, your fingertips brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach. His skin is warm, firm under your touch, and the way his abs flex beneath your fingers sends another ripple of heat through you. You push the fabric higher, palms flattening against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your fingertips.

His lips twitch into a smirk, his eyes darkening as they roam your face. But before you can press further, before you can make another move, he shifts. His hands slide from your waist to your thighs, gripping just firmly enough to draw a gasp from your lips. He leans forward, his lips brushing yours in a way that feels almost teasing, and then he moves with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

In one smooth motion, he flips you, easing you down onto the cushions beneath him. The weight of him hovers above you, one arm braced beside your head while the other slides to your hip, holding you steady. Your legs part instinctively to make room for him, his body pressing into yours, his presence filling every inch of the space between you.

"Something like this," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the sound sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

His lips crash into yours again, deeper this time, hungrier. His hand moves, roaming upward, fingers grazing your ribs before his thumb brushes just beneath your breast. The touch is light but it sets your nerves alight, and you arch into him, craving more. His mouth trails from yours, sliding along your jaw, down the column of your neck, each kiss deliberate and slow, his lips warm and slightly parted.

“Quinn,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, your hands slipping under his shirt again, this time tugging it upward. 

He chuckles softly against your skin, a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach tighten, and he lets you pull it over his head, discarding it somewhere behind him.

His now bare chest presses against yours, and the heat of his skin against yours makes your head spin. His kisses grow rougher, more insistent, as his hand roams lower, skimming your hip, brushing over your thigh. His thumb strokes the inside of your leg, teasing, before sliding higher, closer, until his hand grazes the edge of your shorts.

Quinn smirks faintly as he feels you lift your hips, a silent invitation that makes the air between you feel electric. His gaze flickers to yours, and there’s something in his expression — equal parts knowing and teasing — that makes your breathing slow. He bites down on his bottom lip, the faintest groan escaping as his hand slides further up, slipping under the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease.

His fingers move with agonising precision, tracing slow, measured circles over the thin fabric of your underwear. The friction sparks through you, sharp and undeniable, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. Your back arches into his touch instinctively, seeking more, and the faint curl of his smirk presses against your neck as his lips graze over your skin.

When his mouth finds yours again, it’s searing and unrelenting, stealing the quiet, broken sounds spilling from you. His hand shifts, slipping under the fabric with unhurried ease, his knuckles brushing against your skin. His fingers find you, warm and slick, and he stills for just a beat, teasing, testing, like he’s savouring the moment before finally moving.

The first press of his fingers is deliberate, enough for your breath to catch in your throat and your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance. He explores with a confidence that feels like a slow unraveling, tracing over every sensitive point with the kind of intent that leaves no doubt — he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to pull you apart.

When he finds the spot that makes your thighs tense and your breath catch in your throat, his grip on your hip tightens, anchoring you in place as his fingers work. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice low, rasping, barely a question. It’s almost like he’s talking to himself, a rough edge of pride in his tone, but his gaze flickers up to yours, watching every glimmer of emotion on your face.

Your nails bite into his shoulders, your head tilting back against the couch as your body arches into him. He hums softly, like your reaction is all the confirmation he needs, and his thumb drifts lower, adding a new layer to the building tension. The circles he draws are unhurried, every movement precise, every press coaxing quiet, shuddering sounds from your lips.

His mouth doesn’t leave your skin, trailing along your jaw, nipping lightly at the curve of your neck as his rhythm builds, steady and confident, like he knows your body as well as his own.

You gasp, his name breaking on your lips like a prayer, and then he leans back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, filled with something between determination and adoration, like you’re the only thing in his world right now.

His fingers still, and for a moment, the world narrows to just him — the way his lips part slightly, the way his breath hitches as his eyes trace your face, taking in every flush of your skin, every uneven rise and fall of your chest.

"Quinn," you whine, frustration lacing your voice as his fingers retreat, leaving an exasperating void in their absence. 

Your hips lift instinctively, seeking the contact he’s denied you, and his lips twitch into a crooked smile, like he’s thoroughly enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“Patience” he murmurs, his voice a mix of teasing and heat, though the fire in his eyes betrays how little of it he has himself. 

His hands move to your waistband, fingers hooking into the fabric with an ease that feels practiced, familiar. In one smooth motion, he slides your pants down, taking your underwear with them, his movements steady and deliberate. The cool air brushes against your skin, sending a shiver up your spine, though it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze as he takes you in.

Your thighs have already fallen open around him, and he kneels there, his hands pressing gently against your legs, encouraging you further apart. He leans in, his lips brushing against the inside of your knee, soft and lingering, before trailing further down. His kisses are slow, deliberate, igniting a fire everywhere his mouth touches. 

The tension in the air is palpable, every second dragging out as his lips work their way closer to where you want him most. Your breath catches as his stubble grazes your skin, the sensation sharp and electrifying. His hands tighten slightly on your thighs, steadying you as you instinctively shift beneath him, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a live wire.

When he finally reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his warm breath fanning over you, making you squirm. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze nearly undoes you on the spot. The crooked smile returns, softer this time, but no less devastating.

“Just relax,” he says, the words low and rough, more of a reassurance than a request, before he finally closes the distance.

The first touch of his tongue is soft, exploratory, but the effect is immediate — your head tips back against the couch, a gasp escaping your lips as your hand flies to tangle in his hair. He hums against you, the vibration sparking a fire low in your belly, and his grip on your thighs tightens, anchoring you to him.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t falter, taking his time to draw you apart piece by piece. His tongue moves in deliberate strokes, circling and pressing in ways that leave you trembling. Your other hand clutches at the cushion beneath you, seeking something to ground you, but it’s useless. He’s everywhere — the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his hands on your thighs, the sheer focus in the way he devotes himself to unraveling you.

“Quinn,” you gasp again, your voice cracking as your hips lift toward him. His hands press you back down, his touch firm but gentle, his control both infuriating and intoxicating.

He glances up briefly, his eyes meeting yours with that same mix of adoration and smug satisfaction that makes your pulse race. Then he doubles down, his tongue finding a rhythm, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Every flick, every swirl is calculated, the kind of attention that only someone who knows your body so intimately could provide.

Your breathing stutters, your thighs trembling as the pressure builds to a breaking point. His name falls from your lips in a mantra, broken and desperate, and he doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop until the world shatters around you.

You arch against him as you come undone, the sensation crashing over you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling, and utterly consumed. Your hands are buried in his hair, gripping tightly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your already-overwhelmed body. It’s more than you can handle, your hips shifting instinctively as the sensitivity becomes almost unbearable.

You try to push him away, your fingers tugging gently at his hair in a silent plea, but his hands hold you steady, firm yet tender. He keeps you there, pressed against his mouth, his movements slowing but never fully stopping as he coaxes every last tremor from you. The sensation lingers, both grounding and electric, until your body melts into the cushions, utterly spent.

Finally, he relents, his movements slowing until they’re just soft, tender kisses against your inner thigh, letting you catch your breath. When he lifts his head, his lips glisten, his expression a mix of mischief and pride that sends heat pooling low in your stomach all over again. His hands glide up your sides as he rises, pressing kisses along your stomach, over your ribs, until his lips find yours. The taste of you lingers, warm and intoxicating, as his weight presses against you.

Quinn pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath mingling with yours as his forehead rests lightly against your own. 

“Still with me?” he murmurs, his voice low, roughened with need. 

His hand slides along your thigh, fingers curling just under the curve of your knee, lifting it to press snugly against his hip.

You nod, your fingers threading through his hair again as your legs instinctively wrap around him, pulling him closer. His lips quirk into a crooked smile as he leans down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his body aligning perfectly with yours. 

The moment stretches, charged and electric, every brush of his hand and press of his body sparking anticipation that coils tightly in your chest. His breath ghosts over your lips, his touch firm but unhurried as he keeps you pressed against him, as if savouring every second. 

There’s no rush, only the quiet, unspoken understanding that this is just the beginning — a promise of what’s to come that makes your pulse race and your body hum in anticipation.

[son1c]

in a fit of what i can only describe as "pure madness," i wrote this entire thing from 12AM to 4AM last night. it's for 10verse. it's related to these drawings. i hope you like it

RETURN TO SENDER

Plants roared in the great forest of Boscage Maze. Not literally, of course. They didn't have mouths. But as vines whipped and branches slashed, sending a flurry of poisonous leaves exploding in every direction, one could be fooled.

Sonic and his friends-who-weren't-his-friends had to be mindful of jagged wooden teeth as they reached down from the treetops to snap at them. While passing by one such monster, Whirley nearly lost an ear, but was saved by Windthrow. It was hard work navigating the dangerous forest, but between Sonic's spindashes and Thorn Rose's hammer, they managed to bash their way through the foliage and into the deepest part of the Boscage.

This made the plants angry. Since they'd connected with a mind greater than their own, they'd learned how to feel. And now, the hive buzzed with its collective rage as it convulsed its million limbs.

Thorns shot out from the brush like arrows. Prim had to fold in her wings and drop down to avoid becoming Swiss cheese. Although, maybe that would've been preferable to the dirt and bugs crawling on the forest floor. She stuck her tongue out in distaste.

But it was too late to turn back now.

The heart of the Boscage was just up ahead--that much was obvious to Sonic. Sure, it was just as green as the rest of the forest, but the way the vines weaved around each other, creating a tangled nest of knotted foliage gave it away. That, and the sickly light of the Green Prism Shard leaking through the cracks.

With the killer plants hot on their trail, Sonic motioned for everyone to stop. Wasting no time, he curled into a ball and slammed into the wall of snarled vines at top speed. His sharp quills sliced through the plants with some trouble--because they were so thick--but his will was stronger than their defenses. After successfully sawing a door through the vines, he stood and turned back toward his companions.

"Did someone call a gardener?" he quipped with a wink.

Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Tough crowd," Sonic muttered.

But then the vines began to squirm. Realizing they were already starting to regrow, everyone hurried through the gap Sonic had created. It closed behind them shortly after.

Gnarly gulped. "You don't think they're gonna eat us, do ya? The a-a-aliens?"

Thorn Rose slammed the handle of her hammer down in front of her, making Gnarly jump. "We're as good as eaten if we don't fight back!" she snapped. "The Green needs our help. Without it, we're all alien food."

Gnarly grimaced, but didn't argue.

Halcyon turned to face Sonic. "Your plan is unlikely to succeed," he said matter-of-factly. "However, I will allow you to attempt it. Once. In the case that it fails, I will do whatever it takes to dispose of the Black Arms."

Sonic grinned. "One shot's all I need," he said confidently.

Halcyon considered this. After a moment, he nodded.

Sonic tried not to think about how much Halcyon looked like Shadow when he did that. Not like it mattered, anyway. Because they would save Shadow. Together. Right here, right now. No matter what Halcyon thought the odds were--Sonic would beat them like he always did.

Squeezing his hands into fists to hide their slight tremor, Sonic turned to the group and said, "Let's whack some weeds!"

The forest shuddered. Prim yelped as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. Windthrow and Whirley growled as the vines trembled, their hackles raised in warning. Gnarly looked like he wanted to bolt, but realized he'd probably be safer with the group than on his own, so he stayed where he was. Thorn Rose, Halcyon, and Sonic shared a look.

It must be him.

It must be Shadow.

A moment later, they were proven right. In the middle of the clearing in front of them, vines slithered apart like waves of snakes to reveal a dark form wrapped in flowers and thorns: Shadow. Or, what was once Shadow. His mind had been overwhelmed by the combined might of a billion plants--the Megaflora, as Halcyon had called them. The result of Gerald Robotnik's research. They were plants mixed with Black Arms DNA, and they were hellbent on planetary conquest.

Shadow opened his eyes, but Sonic knew it wasn't really him in control. The dark hedgehog locked eyes with his rival. "Earthling," he cooed. "You have returned to us."

Sonic wanted to jump into action right then and there, but his hastiness was what had gotten them in this mess in the first place, so he forced himself to act cool. "Yeah," he said casually. "What can I say? I just couldn't stay away."

Without looking away from Sonic, Shadow said, "You brought the others."

Sonic was surprised to hear disdain in Shadow's voice. So, the plants had finally gotten the hang of emoting, huh? Well, it didn't make them any less creepy. With a wave of his hand, Sonic replied, "Don't mind them. This is about you and me."

The vines squeezed tighter around Shadow. Sonic could see the thorns dig into his fur, drawing blood. Sonic had to keep talking in order to stop himself from abandoning his plan. "I get it," he said, a little tightly. "You missed me. I'd miss me too. Thing is, I did some thinking while I was gone..."

Shadow didn't move. Didn't blink. He just stared at Sonic, listening.

It seemed as though the whole world had gone quiet. Maybe it had.

"...And, well," Sonic continued, "I changed my mind."

Finally, Shadow reacted. He leaned forward, his body moving like a puppet on strings. "Is that so?"

Sonic stepped forward. Not too fast, not too slow. Deliberately. Shadow--but really, the Megaflora--tracked his every move. Good. That was what he wanted. "Uh-huh," Sonic said. He folded his hands behind his head calmly. Then, with a lopsided smile, he added, "I wanna stay here with you."

At last, Shadow left the center of the clearing. The Megaflora had gotten better at moving his body since the last time Sonic was here, but "better" was relative, and plants were never meant to walk in the first place, so was it really any surprise that now that they could, they did so with stuttering, jerky steps?

As Sonic watched Shadow come closer, his stomach twisted uncomfortably. But he kept his eyes on him. He didn't dare look away, especially not up and over the dark hedgehog's shoulder, where Thorn Rose and Halcyon now were. No, Sonic kept his eyes on Shadow just like he said he would. Because that was the plan.

When he was directly in front of Sonic, Shadow finally stopped his scary marionette-walk. Unfortunately, he did something even scarier next: he smiled.

"Do you take us for a fool, Earthling? These eyes are not the only ones that can see."

Thorn Rose gasped as eyeball-covered, alien vines suddenly shot up from the ground and grabbed her ankles.

"Loathsome vermin," Shadow said darkly. Then, he turned his attention back toward Sonic. Now, his voice was soft. Almost sad. "If only you could have seen... but no matter."

Vines anchored Sonic's feet in place as Shadow wrapped his hands around the blue hedgehog's throat.

"Your corpse will make fine company!"

Suddenly, Halcyon shouted, "Now!"

Windthrow tackled Shadow, and his superior size sent them both tumbling to the ground in a flurry of fur and foliage. Sonic, meanwhile, instinctively touched his throat. Oh, yeah. That was going to hurt later. But there was no time for that now--he shook his shoes free from the vines before Shadow could get back up.

Everyone was on the move. While Windthrow was wrestling with Shadow, the scavengers had taken to beating back the plants attempting to stop Halcyon and Thorn Rose from cracking open the cage of vines in the heart of the forest. Halcyon had transformed his jelly arm into a saw, while Thorn Rose used her hammer to block the vines from growing back. Soon, Halcyon was able to break through to the core, and from it he pulled out the glowing Green Prism Shard.

Shadow shoved Windthrow off of him. "No!" he roared, and it was like all the plants in the world did too.

But it was too late.

Halcyon threw the Shard. At the height of the chaos, it seemed as though time slowed down. Sonic watched as the Shard began to arc through the air before reluctantly tearing his gaze away from it. He turned instead toward Shadow. Using his super speed, Sonic snatched Shadow's wrist, hauled him up, and then with his free hand, he took the one chance Halcyon had given him.

And he didn't miss.

Sonic's fingertip connected with the Shard.

A brilliant flash of light filled the forest.

When it cleared, Sonic and Shadow were gone. But the sounds of the wailing Megaflora seemed to follow them through the Void, their agonized screaming licking at Sonic's heels, lamenting, "We almost had you!"

But Sonic didn't believe in "almosts". He kept a tight grip on Shadow as the two of them careened through the Void. It was the bright blue gate of No Place that swallowed them up, and after the suffocating green of the Boscage, Sonic welcomed it.

The portal spat them out in the sky, which was frankly quite rude of it. Sonic blinked, realized the two of them were now falling down instead of horizontally, and brought Shadow--who hadn't moved since he'd touched the Shard--into his arms. With any luck, they'd land on the same small island Sonic had discovered the first time he'd come to No Place.

It felt like they fell for a long time, but it was probably only 10 seconds. Sonic's spines hit the sand first, and it knocked the wind out of him, but not in a "linebacker just punted me across a football field" kind of way. It was more like a "shopping cart just hit me unexpectedly" way. In other words, because Sonic was tough, all he really did was let out a quiet oof.

"As far as landings go," Sonic said, "I'm gonna have to give that one a 4 out of 10. Forget about style points--we're totally beached!"

Shadow didn't respond. In fact, he still hadn't moved at all.

Sonic sat up, pulling Shadow up with him. Shadow's eyes were open, but they were glassy and unfocused, staring at nothing. Frowning, Sonic said, "Hellooo? Earth to Shadow?"

When Shadow still didn't respond, Sonic's grin faded. The blue hedgehog's nose twitched before he bent his head down, pressing one ear against the Ultimate Lifeform's chest, listening for a heartbeat--which he heard immediately. "Geez, Shadow," Sonic said after lifting his head back up. "You really had me going for a second there, bud. Trying to ruin my awesome rescue by..."

Sonic trailed off. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to get a little nervous, and he didn't feel like making jokes anymore. He just wanted Shadow to say something--anything. Because the longer he kept quiet, the more time Sonic had to think about why that might be.

Could his rescue have actually ended in disaster? Sure, he'd saved Shadow's body, but what about his mind? Was it still trapped in Boscage with those awful weeds?

Shadow blinked.

Sonic snapped out of his thoughts. In a small voice, Sonic asked, "Shadow...?"

Slowly, so slowly they would give molasses a run for its money, Shadow's eyes moved from staring straight ahead at nothing to looking up and over at Sonic.

"...Sonic."

Sonic's face lit up with a dazzling grin. He pulled Shadow into a hug, pressing his cheek against Shadow's in a way he knew was annoying and that Shadow would hate. Except, Shadow didn't push him away. Unlike the last time he did this in the Void, Shadow stayed still and let Sonic hug him.

For a brief second, Sonic worried that he had just imagined Shadow talking, and he was actually still catatonic. But thankfully, Shadow said something else, although his voice was a little muffled by Sonic's quills.

"I'm... free?"

Sonic pulled back so he could see Shadow's face. The dark hedgehog was looking down, his normally unreadable expression clouded with confusion and... something else. He still didn't move other than to breathe, almost as though he was afraid to do so.

For the first time, Sonic let go of Shadow. With his typical cocky attitude, he flashed his rival a thumbs up. "Yup!"

Shadow's expression grew more extreme. His hands shook as they reached out to grab Sonic, and in that moment Sonic realized what else was shining in Shadow's eyes: fear.

Sonic let Shadow pull him into an embrace. "Whoa, hey," Sonic said. "It's alright! Those weeds won't be bothering you anymore, Shadow. Promise."

Sonic felt Shadow's grip around him tighten. Then, Sonic realized with growing horror that his shoulder was getting wet. Wet from tears he couldn't see. He thought about how time flowed differently between the Shatterspaces, and how while he had only been separated from Shadow for a few days, Shadow had been alone with the Megaflora for much, much longer.

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut. However, he quickly set his jaw. The guilt could wait in line with his feelings about breaking the universe. He had something more important to deal with right now: Shadow.

"Sorry I was late," Sonic said quietly. "Didn't mean to make you wait, Shadow."

Shadow didn't reply, but Sonic could feel him press his face into his shoulder. So, Sonic asked, "Not up for small talk, eh?" Because he already knew he wouldn't get an answer, he continued, "That's fine. I got you."

Sonic watched the waves lap against the shore while Shadow cried. He didn't say anything else. There was nothing more to say. It was hard not to think about how he'd almost lost him, how Sonic was almost alone with nothing but the pieces of their broken world to pick up on his own, but Sonic didn't do "almosts". He just sat in the sand and rubbed his thumbs gently against Shadow's back.

Eventually, Shadow grew still. Sonic didn't want to move him, but when he didn't respond to his prodding, he did it anyway and found that he'd fallen asleep. Sonic could've said something about how they didn't have time for power naps, they had a world to save and a multi-verse to fix, but he didn't. The truth was, he was tired too. He hadn't slept since...

Uh...

Well, he wasn't sure how long it'd been. But if Mr. Ultimate Lifeform was tired enough to sleep, then he got a free pass for a nap too. That's how it worked, right? Come to think of it, did the Megaflora even need to sleep? They were plants, so probably not. But that would mean...

Sonic looked at the bags under Shadow's eyes and winced.

Without a word, Sonic laid Shadow down in the sand. Then, Sonic laid down too. The sun was setting on the horizon, and the first stars of nighttime were becoming visible in No Place's sky. Sonic thought that they looked identical to the stars he saw in Green Hill, but quickly stopped thinking it when his heart squeezed painfully.

Wait in line with the rest, thanks.

Eventually, the steady sound of the ocean foam lulled Sonic to sleep. Now, was it a good night's sleep? Was it free of awful dreams and fitful rolling? As a matter of fact, yeah, it was. He must've been exhausted because he slept like a rock despite all the baggage weighing him down.

In fact, when the stars faded and the pink-orange sun began to drift over the horizon, it was Shadow who woke up first.

Though, it was hard to tell, because he didn't open his eyes. For several horrible, horrible seconds, he didn't remember the events of last night, and he thought he was back in Boscage Maze. So, he waited. He waited for the Megaflora to tell him what to do, as they had been doing for the past month and a half. But their instructions never came. It was quiet inside of his mind, their raucous hissing absent.

He remembered what Sonic had said.

You're free.

Shadow opened his eyes. He was greeted by the beautiful blue ocean of No Place, so much nicer than the suffocating green of his old prison. After sitting up, he turned his head, and saw Sonic asleep next to him.

A cavalcade of unwanted thoughts rose to the forefront of his mind. All things that the Megaflora had wanted--had told him that he wanted--had forced him to want. Conquer the planet, kill the scavengers, save the Earthling.

But as it turned out, the "Earthling" had saved him.

Shadow swallowed thickly. It was difficult to put those thoughts out of his mind, to remember what was his and what was theirs. For what felt like an eternity, there was no difference. It was simply them. Theirs. We. Us.

Sonic's ear flicked in his sleep. Shadow stared at it.

"I'm Shadow the Hedgehog," he said to no one in particular. "I'm the Ultimate Lifeform."

A soft sea breeze blew across the tiny island. Sonic stirred. He cracked an eye open, then grinned. "’I'm the Ultimate Lifeform’," he said in his best Shadow impression.

Shadow scowled. He looked away from Sonic and out at the endless ocean. "Hmph."

"Back to your old self, huh? Good. I was starting to think I'd need to find a new rival!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shadow lied.

Sonic sat up. "Aw, c'mon, Shad," he teased. "We're not doing the forgetting-important-events thing again. Once was more than enough! Besides," Sonic leaned in close to Shadow, "it's a lot more fun when you play along."

"This isn't a game, Sonic!" Shadow snapped.

"C'mon, dude. You're back. I'm feelin' good. What's wrong with a little--"

Shadow interrupted, "You still don't get it. We-- I--..." Shadow said again, putting heavy emphasis on that first word, "I saw things. All of their memories. These aren't just facsimiles of your friends; these are whole worlds you've created with your mistake."

Sonic grew quiet. After a moment, he asked, "So they're real now, huh?"

Shadow glared at Sonic. But then, all the anger drained from his face. He just looked tired. "The accursed Megaflora has been around for longer than my Project. I witnessed its conception and subsequent failure. It... is real. And the suffering it’s inflicted on Boscage Maze can't be denied."

Shaking his head, Sonic said, "Yeah, well, that's what they made you for."

Shadow tensed. But Sonic waved his hand and said apologetically, "Halcyon, I mean. The other, uh... you. He's supposed to fix it." Sonic cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now that you're outta there, those weeds won't last long. Don't sweat it!"

Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sonic, you..." He was aggravated. "No, I made things worse. They probed my mind. They have my intelligence. I couldn't... there was nothing I could do to stop them. They kept pushing until I..."

Broke.

"...It's okay, Shadow. Really."

"How can you say that?" Shadow was shouting now. "How can you possibly... understand?"

"I don't," Sonic admitted. Then, he patted Shadow's arm. "But I know you. And even a faker like Halcyon has gotta have some of you in him. And I know you don't take the easy way. You don't quit. So, it'll be okay. Cuz I trust you."

Shadow laughed bitterly. "You're still the same idiot," he said.

"Maybe," Sonic said with a shrug. "But I got you back. Right?"

Shadow's mouth went dry. He remembered--both through his own two eyes and the thousand eyes of the Megaflora--seeing Sonic fight against the immense might of the Boscage Black Arms. He conceded, "You did."

Sonic's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "And why's that?"

Frowning, Shadow searched Sonic's eyes for a hint of what the answer might be, but he couldn't figure it out.

Sonic didn't look away. "It's cuz I need you. I'm big enough to admit that."

The thought of having to fix the world all on his own was almost too much for Sonic to bear. He'd been faced with that awful reality while separated from Shadow, while Shadow had been suffering under the Megaflora's control. Thankfully, Sonic didn't have to see the reality of that "almost".

Sonic held out his hand to Shadow. "Let's fix this, Shadow. Together."

Shadow looked at Sonic's hand for a long moment. In the end, he took it and said, "Together."

[imsobadatnicknames2]

To my great surprise, one of my friends expressed interest in DnD, bringing the total people interested including myself to a whopping THREE! Now, I've only played DnD a few times at a game shop and literally no other TTRPGs, but I'd be open in checking out other stuff (and can hopefully persuade my friends)! Would you happen to have any recs for maybe a bit more of an intro/beginners game that one could run with three players total? (If you happen to know any that maximizes a player feeling badass, that'd be neat & appreciated, as I think that's the main draw for them lol). Anyways, thanks for your time :3

Hiiii thanks for your question! So have in mind that I haven't played any of these firsthand because I'm mostly into games that mechanically emphasize disempowerment (the games i run tend to go less for the Found Family of Heroic Misfits Go on an Epic Quest approach and more for the Gang of Amoral Treasure Hunters Get Themselves Killed While Looking For Treasure in a Dark Scary Hole one), so I'm going off mainly from the play experience implied by reading the rules themselves and by what I've heard other people say about them.

First of all Is Quest RPG

I've seen it recommended a couple times by @thydungeongal and after reading a bit of it I have to agree with her assessment that this is the game that most D&D players seem to ACTUALLY want to play when they start invoking Rule 0 and the Rule of Cool and playing fast and loose with mechanics. It's a game where the explicit design intention seems to be natively supporting the style of gameplay that most popular D&D Actual Play shows feature, without any of the negatives of trying to fit 5e's square peg into that particular round hole. It's also available for free, which is pretty nice.

I would also recommend Brighthammer: Rules Light High Fantasy (which is a hack of Sledgehammer: Rules Light Dark Fantasy)

It's a simple system with a d100 resolution mechanic which fits into two eight-page mini-zines, one for the players and one for the GM.

It leans into the heroic fantasy angle specifically by letting players continually accumulate advantage to rolls during combat encounters by performing heroic actions, such as defending an ally or an innocent bystander. This one is also free and it's a pretty quick read so you don't lose anything by checking it out.

Next up is The Basic Hack

This one is a slightly streamlined version of The Black Hack, which itself is a massively streamlined version of early editions of D&D. Just like The Black Hack, it uses D&D's classic six-attribute array and a lot of other mechanical elements that make it pretty easily compatible with a lot of D&D materials while still being a very distinct system of its own, but where it differs from TBH is that it simplifies a lot of its mechanics and overall has a less gritty and more heroic tone.

Lastly there is Break!!, which is the only game in this list that is going to cost you any non-zero amount of money

Break!! has some old-school sensibilities here and there (seems to take some inspiration specifically from games like Cairn and ITO) but aesthetically and tonally it takes most of its cues from fantasy anime and JRPGs. It has a pretty cool-looking setting, and some interesting twists on classic fantasy TTRPG races and classes. You get everything from "basically a D&D fighter with a different name" to "paladin meets magical girl" to "literally an isekai protagonist". Anyway one way in which it leans into making the players feel pwoerful and badass is that its initiative system rewards being proactive in fights: whatever side starts the fight gets to act first, with no checks or rolls required. Also, it handles health depletion on a per-encounter basis. Health regenerates fully imbetween fights, essentially ensures that players always start fights at full strength and gets rid of long-term resource depletion. Which, you know, i like long-term resource depletion for my games, but if what you want to do is feel like badass heroes this is definitely the way to go, and it still has some interesting long-term consequences for running out of health in a fight.

[sunny-speaks]

Hacker! Ren Headcanons

Basically just hc’s abt what ren does in his free time watching u, yk, normal stuff

Character(s): Ren/[REDACTED] from @14dayswithyou and mild mention of Harper from @/campwillowpeak

A/N: Definitely check out Camp Willowpeak if you have the time! Great VN in progress!

Trigger warnings: Minor panic attack after ‘And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.’

Um, mention of NSFW and kinks etc. Minors DNI !

Ren spends every waking hour of the day trying to be as close to you as he can possibly muster.

He just wants to be there with you in some shape or form!

The best days for him are the weekends, you don’t have to work and you can stay home all day if you choose to!

Some of his favorite things to watch you do is watch your anime, read fanfiction and a bunch of other things that help with his research.

When you indulge in your fixations, it helps Ren change himself accordingly to whatever you like at the moment!

You like science-y guys? Luckily for you, he took Biology and Chemistry in high school!

Totally not to figure out how to kill people effectively or clean up bloodstains, what???

You like artsy guys? He makes these amazing collages and collections of photography! Also took painting and art in high school!

Once again, totally not because he wanted the best drawings/paintings of you or the best high quality photos for his shrine, whaaat???

But having you read fanfiction is much more interesting to him.

He can see the types of characters you like to read about, your favorite genre, your favorite pairings, your favorite character dynamics…

Whether you prefer sunshine characters with a dark side, characters who look like they could kill you but are actually cinnamon rolls, two idiots + one brain cell, it’d all help him further his agenda of manipulating you to love him making him perfect for you!

And if you go into the NSFW section? He is frothing at the mouth.

This is his chance!! He can figure out what you prefer in the bedroom and win you over with his seduction skills! (not that he needs any ofc… have u seen him??? His dick is like 10 inches, that's a seduction skill on its own…)

(and maybe sometimes he takes advantage of the cameras around your place to listen in and watch you do some… intimate activities)

Whether you like submissive guys or dominant guys or service tops or brats, Ren is all for it! If you’re into some kinky shit, he might not be too into it, but he’ll give it a try for you!!

But if you share one of his massive kinks (ex. Breeding, marking) dude, you are so fucked.

Ren is straight up praying to his shrine that he can be the only one to fulfill your desires because, whoa, he would be soo good to you if you gave him a chance. He would literally cry if you wanted him to do whatever he liked to you.

Also you both like the same shit??? You were clearly meant to be!!

He sees you scrolling on social media and calling yourself delulu? (just like him ong) Don’t worry, he’ll be there so you can fufill your delusions!!

You’ll never have to be delusional again now that you have him!!

Ren saw you scroll through your Tumblr feed, seemingly spending hours lurking on this one account of… Camp Treepeak, or something. It irked him when he saw you focusing on this one character who had you swooning.

So what if that dumb brunette was 6’9’’??? So what if he was a pyromaniac??? He was just a dumb game character, Ren was real! Besides, Ren was more than sure that those missing 4 inches of height between and that fictional guy went somewhere… else.

You didn’t know what you were missing out on!! Ren was right there, always waiting for you to notice him! If you gave him even the smallest chance, he’d swoop in and make your life a living romance visual novel if you wanted!

He could be anyone you wanted him to be! At all! If that’s what it takes for him to be yours, he’d do it in a heartbeat!

(I have brought this up before lmao) Would absolutely be down to try and cosplay any character you aggressively rave about to Moth.

While he absolutely detests Moth for being the one that you go to with this stuff, he can’t deny that it's useful for him to tap into the call, mute Moth on his own end and listen to you go on and on about whatever you’re rambling about at the moment.

Your voice is so pretty, like a canary… Birds remind him of freedom in some way, some days Ren would like to keep you captive, hide you away from the world.

But then he looks at himself in the mirror and he sees his father stare back.

And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.

He hums to himself, listening to you talk on and on to Moth but can’t help and think, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if I was the only one they ever sang to?’ and it sends Ren into a spiral of dark thoughts he immediately dry heaves at.

He’s trying so hard to focus on your melodic tone before he pants over the sink, body shaking. No, no, no, no.

No. He is not psychopathic. You are not something he can own. You are not his. That is not his decision. You have your voice. You are your own person.

“Hey, you alright?” Your calming voice shakes him out of his stupor. Of course, it did. It helped him get through nightmares, through hungover evenings where he just wanted to be with you, past his job when he felt demotivated.

Subconsciously, he knew you were just talking to Moth, but he couldn’t help but respond. “Y-yeah. I think so.”

“Mm, I feel that.”

Wow, maybe if he squinted, the two of you could be having a conversation! If it wasn’t for that lingering thought of his bastard dad, he would’ve been giggling on the couch, kicking his feet and twirling his hair.

…He was really getting into his Ren persona, wasn’t he…?

“Look, cheer up, things get better. I mean, my job’s no walk in the park, but it’s about the small wins!” He could hear the grin in your voice, you always managed to bring your emotions through audio, “Like, like! The other day, some guy on the street saw my subtle Attack on Giants jacket and stopped to me and said―”

“ ‘Yoo, is that AOG?’ “ Ren repeated the same words with a small smile on his face. He remembered how you reined in your expression before your face lit up as soon as you were by yourself.

You sighed and chuckled at whatever Moth had replied. “No, I am not a huge nerd. I simply have good taste. Oh yeah, remember how I told you about that one skater boy–” and your voice faded to background noise again.

Ren took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t his sperm donor, he’d be better. For you.

And the rest of his nights would be spent, adoringly adding to your shrine and his collection of your items.

Then he would lay in bed, clutching a pillow, wishing it were you he had to cuddle with but could settle for the plush, soft object until he finally won you over.

(personal headcanon that ren has one of those like, duck filled pillows he hugs instead of his stuffed toys which he leaves on display. Sometimes all the body parts just get in the way and he just wants to hug something soft… :(( like you :(( )

Which he would… one day.

[elainsgirl]

I tried to get myself to like gwyn and azriel but I just couldnt. Ill look at fanarts and stuff but I just cant SEE it.

I fear they would be boring. People call elain and azriel boring and cliche but be fr... thats literally gwyn and az. you can literally see how their story would develop. it would literally give feysand and nessian.... im tired of seeing the same stuff.

Hey anon 🫶

You’re so right. At one point, earlier on in the fandom, I too tried to get myself to see where gwynriels were coming from and what the appeal about Gwyn and Az were. It’s nothing special. There is nothing unique or interesting about Gwynriel.

I promise this is related to my poimt. Lately, there’s this discourse going on about the decline in individuality and quality of books. After 2020, people have started to notice that recent books are no longer as intricate as books once were. Every book within a genre feels the same. The plots, characters, dynamics, tropes etc - are all mirrors of each other. There isn’t individuality anymore when it comes to books within a set genre. Now, a genre that rlly increased in popularity was romantasy. Over the last few years, which trope has become increasingly more prominent? Enemies to lovers. Which fmc character type is more favoured? The sassy, “I can do it all”, powerful warrior who is the best at everything and is great at wielding a sword type. Almost every single book thats comes out will be advertised as enemies to lovers. The fmcs themselves have all become similar. Another point I would like to add in: when it comes to these sort of books, there will be lots of banter between the couple and the fmc always proving the mmc wrong - sometimes even challenging him. Aside from acotar: many of us are also readers who consume other genres and books/series. I think its fair enough to say, many of us consume all types of “popular” books. I can guarantee that many of us have read enemies to lovers books or even have it as a favourite trope. When you are constantly consuming a specific type of media, as a reader, you will want more of whatever you are consuming, limiting your mind to other possibilities. As an example, if you constantly are reading enemies to lovers books’ -> you won’t really like anything that is not enemies to lovers. Obviously, we all have our favourite genres and tropes we love to consume BUT we should always be open minded to try new things. Ok, slightly of course but back to my point:

Gwynriel fits in the checklist for your standard couple: in a fantasy, “enemies to lovers”, book. . Girlboss FMC that can do it all and shoves it to do the dark, broody MMC.

. “Banter”. The couple “challenging” each other

. MMC’s dark trauma and past that only the FMC can help him to heal

you get my point. People love gwynriel and it is so popular due to its lack of originality. They are such cardboard copies of a typical EtL book + we have literally gotten not much scenes on them -> it is so easy for their stans to self-insert and virtually put on any HC they want onto gwynriel.

Now compare that too elriel? There are not many “soft”, “feminine” fmcs. The recent one I can think of is “Evangeline Fox” from once upon a broken heart. So you already have Elain Archeron that stands out as an fmc from the norm - people aren’t used to her character type therefore view her as weak and boring. Elriel is far from enemies to lovers. They do not banter. They’re not the type of characters to draw attention to themselves or their relationship. Their dynamic is more mature instead of fun and childish. They have more dangerous stakes then anything gwynriel can have. Their story is more unique -> people aren’t used to that as it isn’t often potrayed in books anymore therefore they are disliked and people find them uninteresting.

Gwynriel is popular as it lacks originality. Elriel is hated due to their unique dynamic.

When I see gwynriel fanarts, the concept is lovely but knowing that Gwyn and Az don’t even like each other romantically and Az was ready to beg for another woman, it usually puts me off. I can’t view them as a couple since the books do not potray them as potential LIs.

[ivorsblocksleeve]

the mcsm fandom fuckin sucks dude

As a long time member of the furry, danganronpa, and BNHA fandom im not the type of person who likes to generalize entire fandoms based off of experiences i hear about or have with other people in said fandoms. but the MCSM fandom is such a filthy stain on the internet and so many people in the community have gotten WAY out of hand. the constant racism and whitewashing of characters. people publicly talking about NSFW topics in numerous discord servers that have children in them, sometimes with people under 13 years old. the ridiculous amount of drama surrounding character headcanons among other things. its RIDICULOUS

im a black guy. i can care less about the "issue of blackwashing", it does not exist and never has existed. i care a LOT about the whitewashing in this community. there are multiple jesse skins for a reason, to represent a ton of different peoples races! red suspenders jesse is literally WHITE! if you want to draw white jesse draw HIM! why are people whitewashing the other jesse skins? why are people whitewashing characters like radar, stella, olivia, etc?? MCSM as a game has blessed its community with a wide range of characters of different ethnicities and races (even if not directly stated) and none of them are stereotyped, theyre all incredibly well written and have great characterizations but unappreciative morons are choosing to whitewash the shit out of them :/. the characters are so easy to colorpick. theyre minecraft characters. literally pixels. coloring people of different skin colors is NOT a difficult thing. have some common sense and use references properly.

im an adult who likes adult things. as an adult i understand boundaries and that talking to minors about sexual headcanons is NOT a good thing! woah! some of you dont understand how important it is to tag certain shit on different sites correctly or how to keep conversations about NSFW topics away from people who are WAY younger than you. vague jokes are one thing but time after time ive either heard or seen myself that grown ass people are describing explicitly sexual things with minors. gross much???? and PUBLICLY of all things. its one thing to have your own friend group or whatever, its fine to discuss things in private so long as its with someone in your fucking age range but JESUS CHRIST! MCSM discord servers have become BREEDING GROUNDS for these kinds of adult NSFW discussions with minors and it only creates a domino effect where they too start sharing that in OTHER MCSM servers with OTHER minors. ITS GROSS!!

(whole paragraph above also applies to headcanons and aus that are also potentially triggering. jesus christ some things should just be kept in private convos on the internet)

and my god the DRAMA over characters its insane. its completely fine to dislike certain headcanons and to have certain opinions on them. you can publicly voice your opinions in a RESPECTFUL manner. it really is not hard.?? at all. there are a ton of headcanons i hate personally, i rant about them in private and if i ever feel like voicing about them in public ill say it in a respectful manner. if someone dislikes a headcanon you like it is not a personal attack on your entire being. relax dude. i will always agree with the statement that fiction affects reality but my god they are just FICTIONAL CHARACTERS that you do not know personally and you do NOT need to go on a rampage and witch-hunt people because people say things like "i think xyz character has a different body type!" or "i think xyz character is a certain sexuality!". this especially applies to age headcanons. ages are NOT CANON, sure there are characters that appear to be older than others but ages are always up for speculation. not everyone is going to agree with your "minor coded" headcanons, dont attack and throw proshipper/pedo accusations on people who dont? id go into the infantilization of the characters who get this kinda treatment but different problem different day. point is, headcanons are headcanons and sending swarms of people after people who disagree with them is DUMB and STUPID and NOT NICE! stop doing that

in general this fandom harbors horrible mindsets and even more horrible people who i will not name and frankly its getting very frustrating seeing how the people in this fandom treat each other. have some respect for others and also yourselves. fix up your behaviors, dont make your bad attitudes everyones problem, and spend some time off the internet. have a good day yall

[impactrueno]

Do you have any advice for small artists who want to grow an audience on social media? If so, what's a good platform for it?

man, i really don't know how helpful i can be about this. i very rarely post with that much intent, i just do whatever i want and i'm stupid lucky that people happen to enjoy that. so there's that, and also the fact that i grew my audience organically years ago, before we entered the dark age of social media. so whatever i did then, might not work now. (plus i literally don't even know what i did)

if you're an artist, social media platforms all suck right now. period. so really, just spread out. be on all of them if you can until one of the algorithms picks you up because unfortunately this stuff is luck based at this point. ok well not entirely luck based, obviously each platform has its own tricks to working the algorithm to your favor, but THAT, i have no clue about, i'm sorry. i don't understand the algorithms so i just never bother, feels like it only gets worse with time.

what i do know is that finding your niche will help you a lot with growing an audience. i'm gonna review my own experience as an example and share some stuff i picked up on along the way.

fanart helps a lot, especially at the beginning. but make fanart of stuff you're actually passionate about, not stuff just for clout. from my experience, i noticed that people can always tell when something was done with love, and judging by the comments i get, that's a pretty big thing that draws people to my art. there's always someone telling me "i don't even know anything about (insert franchise i'm fixated on) but your art and enthusiasm is making me want to check it out" so it's not really like your audience has to be compromised of nothing but fans of the thing you're drawing! it probably will be at the beginning though, just keep at it.

once you have a small audience and you feel like branching out, you might want to consider what the bulk of your audience is into because this is how you're gonna find your niche. in my case for example: a lot of my following came from my simpsons fanart randomly blowing up on social media. people who enjoy the simpsons usually also enjoy other 90s cartoons, so when my focus shifted to hey arnold, people loved it and it drew in even more fans of 90s cartoons. so the large majority of my audience comes from those two fandoms. every now and then though, i make fanart of other stuff i really love but i don't have the audience for it, whatsoever. like whenever i draw persona/megaten or zelda or pokemon, despite these franchises being incredibly popular, it's always flop city for me. because there's not enough overlap between those and my 90s cartoon oriented following. it's just not what people expect from me, and it's not that they hate it, but that fanart is gonna have a really hard time reaching its target audience unless you get lucky. but you know what did blow up recently? my beetlejuice fanart! and the pattern is there once more: 90s cartoons and millennials reminiscing about the show or the movie. this is my niche. it's pretty much the same for every fanartist you'll see on social media.

so again, finding your niche is key if you want to grow an audience.

also participate in the community! i never actually do this, i'm a hermit lol, but i've seen it works great for others. do art challenges, memes or trends (if it's fun to you, because again, being genuine is important.) socialize with other artists, join discord servers, make friends. engage with your own audience. be fun to interact with! make funny stuff! but also don't force it, trust me, forcing humor just repels people. this isn't even artist advice anymore, it's a charisma lesson. and i hate that this is necessary but you'll probably notice that artists with large followings usually also have "personality." and when i say "personality" i mean this is literally what google defines me as. NOT ARTIST??? HELLO??? 😭

this kinda sucks (if you're an introvert like me) but it's the reality for a lot of artists on social media these days. you have to also be an influencer, and honestly, who the fuck even knows how to do that? the most random shit gets popular and you have very little control over the algorithm. even more so these days.

this is why i'm not sure if i can be of any help. being an artist on social media right now is hell. i genuinely have no clue how a small artist would even make it through all the slop we're being inundated with every day. it just didn't used to be like this. :(

but i hope me sharing my experience can offer a little insight into how to cultivate an audience!?1????! despite feeling like i'm clueless about this stuff. i feel like i should know more about this. but that's all i got lol

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina , Do you have a category for reread fics?How can I find them

Meaning fics I’ve read more than once? I don’t think I’ve ever made one—let me see what I can do.

Hats Off To My Distant Hope by orphan_account (E, 21K) This was such a pleasure to read. The writing feels so effortless as the fic explores the deep emotions of these two characters. They’re stubborn and inarticulate and gentle and passionate and finally, finally open up to each other. I really wish I knew who wrote it because I’d love to read more of their work.

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy (E, 150K) I’ve read this one multiple times and still love it. Their bickering is so realistic, their resistance to their attraction to each other is perfect, the way the author portrays all of their weird quirks and differences but still makes it believable that they’d fall fo reach other is such fun to read….I love this fic.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (E, 160K) Probably my absolute favorite time travel fic. I’ve read it more times than I’d like to admit, and every time I love it more. One of the things I like most is how organically the author weaves in canon events…every little moment is an easter egg without it being so obvious that it pulls you out of the fic. Anyway, this one is so moving and so absorbing, I hope you like it if you give it a try! There’s an 18K companion piece to it as well, but you’ll see the link at the appropriate time when you’re reading the main fic (and when you read the scene that breaks your heart –– in the best possible way –– come and scream at me. You’ll know which one I mean).

Our Lives, Non Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 114K) this is, quite literally, the best fic I’ve read in years. It’s so well written, clever, funny, emotional, and sexy. Its draw you in immediately and you’ll end up falling in love with these characters before you know it. Don’t miss this one.

Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (E, 10-work series, 439K)Yes, here I am again, putting this series on a list. Probably 10 people in this fandom like it as much as I do, but I don’t care. I have read all 440K words more than once, and will likely do it a few more times. Yes, it needs editing, but even so…really well written, super sexy (if you like reading BDSM and can handle Larry + someone else), and such interesting character development. One of my favorite things about this fic is how the authors differentiate between the ways the different characters inhabit their Dom and Sub personalities.

Make Your Words A Weapon by HelloAmHere (E, 36K) I love everything this author writes. This one just really hit me hard for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the way they explore Louis’ anxiety and coping mechanisms and pain and the way he pushes people away and protects himself, but also wants someone to push back just a bit and love him despite all of that. And the way Harry is the perfect foil for all of it, while also feeling like a fully developed character himself. Yeah, it’s probably all of that. Plus soul marks!

Pull Me Under by zarah5 (E, 140K) One of the very first fics I read when I came into this fandom…and I’ve read it multiple times since. Zarah’s fics hold up every time. This one has it all, great pacing, ot5 friendship, banter, super sexy smut, etc etc. Plus, Louis being super jealous of Harry’s best friend.

Into The Blue by zarah5 (E, 117K) honestly, I love all of this author’s fics, but I think this is my favorite of theirs. Louis as a flirty scuba instructor? Newly single Harry who just wants a fling? Boys living on other sides of the world who only have a few weeks together? Heartbreak. Hot af smut. OT5 friendship. Please….give me all that shit.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (M, 46K)This one is so sweet. I loved Harry's internal monologue... his insecurities and thoughts that he'd made Louis uncomfortable because he liked, him made me cry. Louis is so soft and supportive. It’s just a lovely fic.

Remind Me Again by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (E, 29K) Every sentence in this fic is so effortlessly beautiful. I love that the miscommunication between them is done in a totally realistic way. The fight and make up like real people do and that makes the angst more painful and the making up more emotional. One of my favorite authors.

And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train (E, 36K) I really enjoyed how this author handled Harry’s confusion and growing attraction and eventual sexuality crisis. That, along with the angst and very sexy smut, made it a really good read.

may we all have a vision now and then by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (M, 4K) This author is one of my favorite writers in this fandom and everything they do is infused with so much delicacy and tenderness. I literally cried through this fic because of how wounded Harry’s character feels. Read it and then treat yourself to their whole AO3 catalogue.

Seeing Blind by zedi (E, 47K) I really liked the way this author gave a twist to both Omega Harry and Alpha Louis’ characteristics. It’s a whole lot of smut and miscommunication and, of course, a happy ending.

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (NR, 209K) this fic will run you through the wringer, but it’s really a great read. I really like the way the author took the boys from enemies to friends to boyfriends, and how we got to see how protective and supportive Louis became towards Harry.

smell the sea, feel the sky by @lightwoodsmagic (E, 16K) This is the perfect summer pining fic. I love that they’re adults and still the same horny, pining fools for each other and it still works. It’s just very sexy, light, and fun.

we can take the long road home by @pinkcords (E, 46K) This was absolutely gorgeous. And it made me cry, damn it. Seriously though, the writing is so beautiful. I loved the characterizations and the way they both showed their vulnerability. I loved the slow pace and the hot smut. I loved this fic.

smile in slow motion by istajmaal (E, 24K) One of my favorite Daddy kink authors, this one is lighthearted and funny while also being super sexy. Plus it’s got great Zouis friendship.

all my love was down on a frozen ground by navigator (E, 16K) This is an old one that I didn’t have bookmarked for some reason. But it’s a favorite and I love everything this author wrote. This is one of those quiet, soft fics with a bit of angst and a lot of internal monologue and gentle conversations. I don’t know, there’s something so touching about it.

Thought The Song Was Sung by 100percentsassy (E, 13K) This is both a famous/not famous and a dating app AU. Plus, older Larry. Plus an author who writes great fic. And this one is just sweet and charming and I really like this one.

the way the storms blow by rbbsbb (E, 22K) What would happen if you walked in on your best friend in the midst of an orgy? Louis finds out and it’s pretty damn hot.

we can take the long way home by eleadore (E, 27K) this one is a canon divergent future fic where Louis is a “carrier” (basically, he would be able to get pregnant) and it’s just SO good. It’s beautifully written (like everything this author does), so well-paced, and I just find the way their developing relationship is written to be so touching and realistic.

The light to guide me home by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun (E, 65K) I don’t know what it is about this fic but I’ve read it so many times and I just really love the instant chemistry, the smut is stupid hot and fuels the character growth, and even with the angst, the whole thing is just lighthearted and sexy.

Speaking of Marvels by navigator, quitter (E, 101K) This was one of the first fics I read in this fandom, but I read it again recently and had forgotten how really wonderful it is. The writing is so lovely and the characters feel so well developed. I especially loved how the authors explored how differently the two of them would respond to their relationship given the different stages of life they were in. It made the romance and the attraction and the angst feel really real.

Constant Debauchery by Blake (E, 19K) Yes, yes, I know. I’ve probably recommended this 10 times. But have you read it yet? Anyway…Edwardian setting, uni ABO (Alpha/Alpha) fic. Gorgeous mood setting, I’ve said before that it reads like an Merchant Ivory film looks…just gorgeous. There’s a similar sense of repression and uncertainty about flouting societal expectations, and a character who appears one way on the surface, but underneath is quite different. I love this one, I’ve read it a number of times.

Lightening Strikes Twice by @dinosaursmate (E, 106K) It’s not often that I read a 100+K fic multiple times, but this one is worth it. It’s one of my favorites from this author, and a favorite all around. It’s an epic love story spanning decades and massive life changes. It’s sexy and well-written, and so touching, and so fulfilling in many ways.

precious little thing by mercutionnotromeo (E, 21K) I’ve read this one so many times…it’s got it all. This time the phone sex operator is Louis, and subby Harry is just beginning to realize his daddy kink.

Good Enough to Eat by objectlesson (E, 7K) This author always does such a good job with depicting young, queer love and the way their characters experience the overwhelm of realizing they’re not straight, realizing the’ve met their Person, pining, and giving in. I love a lot of their fics, but I think this is my favorite of them. Link is to a download.

One day to believe in you by mediaville (E, 8K) another author who always hits it out of the park as far as I’m concerned. This one is super funny and then super sexy. Louis gets cursed and has to tell the truth. No matter what Harry asks him. Read it!

like a bastard on a burning sea by vashtaneradas (NR, 21K) Heartbreaking, perfect writing. So well-written that the fandom hated real-life Harry for a while after this was posted. 😅

These Roads We Stumble Down by onewasturning (E, 18K) I adore this author’s writing and I’ve read this particular one multiple times. It’s just a little melancholy and very sexy and one of those fics that reminds me why I can read about the same two people falling in love 46372 times and never tire of it.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (E, 13K) I just started re-reading this the other day and it holds up so well. This author is always a pleasure to read. Their fics just are well plotted and the characters are nicely fleshed out. I loved Perrie as Harry’s bestie, the bitterness and angst is PAINFUL, and the ending feels well earned.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (E, 124K) One of the OG classics in this fandom. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out. It’s just a great, original story. Plus, cowboy Harry, city boy Louis, bad guys to hate, nail biting drama, hot af sexual chemistry and smut, and a super satisfying ending.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (E, 135K) Everything about this fic is glorious. I’m always struck by how well the characters are fleshed out, how their behavior lines up with their backstory, how ridiculously hot the chemistry is, and how agonizing the angst is. So yes, no shocker, I cried buckets. Thank god for a happy ending.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry (E, 137K) High school Au, footie, enemies with benefits, so much sexual tension (and just tension), and really well-developed, complex characters. Most of the conflict in this (and in the companion fic from Harry’s POV) is straight up lack of communication. But, given the age of the characters, it’s forgivable (although sometimes frustrating).

In Dreams by dolce_piccante (M, 24K) This actually might be my favorite of this author’s fics, although I know it’s definitely not the most popular. It’s just soft and romantic and sweet and I’m a sucker for tattoo artist Louis winning over slightly uptight Harry.

Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart my mcpofife (E, 87K) I reread this one recently and it's truly delightful. The characterizations are so well done. Harry is so endearing (I cried over his heartbreak). And the smut is both hot and really emotional. Love this one.

[infiniteglitterfall]

OMG, COULD EVERYONE PLEASE STOP IMMEDIATELY BELIEVING AND REPEATING DISINFORMATION?!

Sorry, I just. Was just on Twitter, and I snapped.

I literally haven't seen one true statement about Israel on social media in MONTHS.

It's gotten to the point that I'm seriously considering starting a sideblog fact-checking all of it.

PLEASE STOP BEING GARFIELD I AM BEGGING ALL OF YOU

BE NERMAL FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

I've written at least one really long post about fact-checking things before. I have another saved as a draft somewhere.

But all you really have to do at this point is GO LOOK AT AN ACTUAL NEWS SOURCE.

What do I mean by an Actual News Source?

An actual news source will tell you where it's getting its information.

Basically: Wikipedia rules apply at all times. Citation. Fucking. Needed.

Except with news articles, I don't mean a detailed footnote.

I mean, if they say, "Rosco Flubberish reported seeing a pig fly across Whatever Place. 'It was a flying pig,' he said," they're fine.

If they say, "Sources close to the President reported that the Department of Farmland Creatures launched a pig into the air this afternoon," they're fine.

If they say, "There have also been reports that pigs flew," they are purely making shit up.

Just check CNN or something. CNN checks their shit, and they're very quick on the draw.

NBC has been very reliable too, in my experience. So have ABC, Newsweek, the Jerusalem Post, the Guardian, the New York Times, the AP, PBS, the Washington Post, and Reuters.

You can break through most paywalls by putting archive.is or 12ft.io before the https:// of the URL. Or just go to either of those sites and paste the URL in the box.

Nobody is perfect. I've seen some articles from all of the above that were accurate, but left things out that I personally thought were important.

Journalists are humans, humans fuck up.

(Also, NONE OF THIS APPLIES TO OPINION PIECES ON ANY TOPIC. Opinion pieces are exactly that: opinions. They don't seem to be fact-checked anywhere, as far as I can tell. They range from super-accurate and informative to complete nonsense.)

(Surprisingly unreliable sources in my experience: Democracy Now, Jacobin, Workers World Party. The latter two act like news sites but are basically running nothing but opinion pieces; Democracy Now can do important deep dives, but I've also seen news coverage from it that was wildly misinformed in that same way.

On the flip side, Slate and the Atlantic are largely opinion -- the Atlantic more than Slate, maybe -- but they often have really well-researched analysis of political situations. Ditto Teen Vogue, and sometimes Vox.)

You don't have to read CNN or the NYT or whateverfor fun. You don't have to make it one of your news sources.

Just. Do a quick check on Google News before you assume anything is true, and then run it through a bullshit filter as described above.

You are being actively lied to, all the time. So am I. We all are.

And people will believe and repeat literally anything that sounds about right.

That's just human nature.

That is WHY none of us are immune to propaganda.

if you want my personal shortlist of Bad Sources, as in Sources That Consistently Publish Absolute Falsehoods:

Any and all state-owned or state-controlled media. For example:

Al Jazeera is owned by the Qatari government, and so are a bunch of other news sites.

Mehr News, the Tehran Times, Al-Quds TV, and Al-Alam are owned by the dictatorship of Iran.

Oops. Looks like every form of broadcast Iranian news media is owned by the dictatorship of Iran, which has a monopoly.

Palestinian Broadcasting Corporation, Palestinian News and Info Agency, and Al-Hayat Al-Jadida are owned by the government of Palestine (the Palestinian Authority)

Al-Aqsa TV and Felesteen are owned by Hamas.

TASS / Russia News Agency, Russia Today, and a fuckton of others are owned by the Russian government.

State Media Monitor seems to do a pretty great job of tracking and listing these things. Check out your own country there!

I specifically listed those ones because some of them (especially Al Jazeera, Mehr News, and TASS) are sites I've seen come up frequently on Tumblr, or in my attempts to fact-check what people are saying here and on Twitter. The rest are just more examples from the same governments.

Al Jazeera deserves special notice because it's become a very popular leftist news source. Believe me, I used to read it all the time too.

It can be reliable and accurate sometimes. But:

It consistently tweets things that are unsourced, never appear anywhere else, and that would be big news you'd expect it to follow up on if they were true. It seems to be following a strategy of "tweet every rumor you hear in case it's true, so you can get the scoop."

It also does this with its liveblogs of the war. And ALL its coverage of the war at this point is liveblogs. So things that are verifiably true will run right next to things that are complete hearsay, but are too long to just tweet.

This is especially dangerous because as far as I can tell, Al Jazeera doesn't delete anything that turns out to be false.

I've also seen regular news articles in Al Jazeera, on multiple topics, that veer from Absolutely True Statements to Wildly Exaggerated Numbers and Speculation. Stuff you wouldn't expect a source on, like statistics or descriptions. And there's no way to tell the difference unless you already know a topic really well, or are fact-checking them while you read.

One especially terrible example, from Gazan activist Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib:

Al Jazeera has never posted or published a correction.

Alkhatib has also blamed it for destabilizing the region, although he's exaggerating about it being Hamas's official propaganda outlet:

TL;DR: If you see a Tumblr post making any kind of factual news statement without a link, at this point you need to assume it is absolutely not true. And either scroll on past, or go check Google News.

If there IS a link, you need to click through to see what it's from and what it actually says.

(Honestly, you need to do that with Wikipedia too. I've repeatedly clicked through on citations that absolutely did not say what the article implied they did.)

And pro tip: on mobile, you can just smack a button to sort Google's news results by most recent, and it helps A LOT. There's gotta be a way to do the same on desktop, but if there is, it's not immediately visible, which sucks.

[ceelisiowo]

A happy (mackerel eyed) family :) So uhm... I had this idea for an AU where Dazai takes his 'pupils' away from the Port Mafia after a change of heart (? Dazai is 17, Akutagawa 15 and Yumeno 6... or 7 o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o I think those are their canon ages :]

Get a bit of lore!! Or well just my thoughts on this AU hehe (its pretty recent). After knowing Odasaku for a while (like a year I think?) Dazai gets this idea on his head that to be 'happy' and 'a good person' like Oda he must be like him (? So what is it that makes Odasaku happy? His kids!! But then Dazai's like "but I don't have kids :(" until he remembers the poor kid he left abandoned in the Port Mafia basement and Akutagawa, who he knows has not treated well but... people can change right? :D He goes to Akutagawa "hey let's leave the port mafia just the two (and kyu) of us, your sister will be fine here don't worry" and of course he says yes to whatever Dazai wants (;w;) and then they both secretly steal Kyusaku from the basement™️and the kid's like "you literally were the one that put me in here" and Dazai "yeah but now I'm taking you out so the three of us can escape together :D" and Kyusaku's "yeah ok that sounds great :)" and inconspicuously run away from the mafia 👍 (Before this whole mission starts though Dazai goes to Chuuya asking him if he wants to leave the mafia and Chuuya's like "yeah right you obviously won't leave" but ahm... he does... and Chuuya ends up alone 👍) So the three of them are in the run because Dazai didn't really have a plan for more than a few days, this whole idea coming to him out in a whim (yes yes very ooc sorry orz). Of course the whole mafia is looking for them but it is Odasaku and Ango who find them first!! (in that very ditch from the drawing hehe). He ends up telling him the whole 'plan' and in the end Ango reveals himself to them as a double agent and speedruns Dazai's connection to Taneda. At the end, Dazai, Akutagawa and Kyusaku end up in the care of the ADA :D (or maybe they stay under the government's wing for a while until Fukuzawa is ready to take them) I'm guessing that now that Odasaku knows about Ango maybe he gets the courage to also leave the Port Mafia before all that Mimic fiasco (〃＾▽＾〃) (Thank you if you read this far!! <3)