#i have many more thoughts but i'm not going into it panel by panel... i don't think any of you care about my opinions *that* much

[dailycass-cain]

Batgirl #1 feels like a dream. A dream that I always wanted to see but never thought it was possible. This past Wednesday changed that and held a physical copy in my hands.

It's finally time for my thoughts on the issue.

I'll start with the book's only two critiques I have for it. For new fans, this comic is just a gorgeously drawn comic with layers that scratch the surface. You get that instantly on the very first page when Shiva and Cass meet.

You can understand the subtleness. But I can see a new reader going? "I need to know more of this context." That leads to the second critique of the comic: editor's notes.

They could've added much more to the words of the comic. Explain further some of the history.

I mean there is a PERFECTLY minded trade that solves this problem (out April 8th, 2025). But it would've been nice to direct readers to a specific issue of the past. To further enhance the reading experience.

That said...

This feels like a continuation of Batgirl Vol. 1, but with the knowledge that even after #73 Cass continues to be a bat. There are so many callbacks to Puckett and Gabrych (in a way) along with Tynion, Hill, and Conrad/Cloonan.

I'll give it to writer Tate Brombal he just skips RIGHT to the meat keeping the reader as clueless as Cass is into the story.

We're dragged into this mess like her not knowing the full story save what she sees and knows. Even if she knows Shiva is trying to be better.

Just that she doesn't want to be dragged into this mess. Not only that, Shiva unnerves Cass in a way given they are two sides of the same coin (both in blood and choices).

Not only that, but the moment Cass meets her mom, she murders someone (a guard who is violent and earned the violent end). It's probably right there Cass decided to check out afraid of this being a relapse of "old ways".

This, in a way, feels like Brombal addressing the circle the two characters have been in since 2020 at the start of this issue. There is just this uneasy tension, which ends when the series' antagonists show up.

You get that "the Unburied." Ninjas are cut from the cloth of Frank Miller and Peter Laird/Kevin Eastman. You get those Hand/Foot Clan vibes from them.

As for how they are so dangerous. Well, again the Laird/Eastman method of ninjas. They just keep coming. Waves and waves. They know their target. Eventually, no matter how skilled one is, one wave is going to get lucky and overwhelm the target.

What makes them deadly is that they keep coming until their targets are wiped out. Therein lies the reason Cass stays (both times): She knows her mom could be right.

They could target everyone she loves, and some of the family could be endangered due to that unknown factor.

That is the core of Cass, and we get our "character introduction" of who Cass is. She was raised to be a weapon but chose to be a hero. She was an orphan by choice (okay a nice nod to THAT codename). That her parent is Batman (but aw not Babs). Choosing to protect.

That's where the comic just goes to another level thanks to the art by Takeshi Miyazawa and colors by Mike Spicer. Where each impact and panel just POP. Not to mention the "mood" with the colors Spicer does here.

Interestingly, the only impact we get is via Shiva's reactions to Cass fighting. Punching her, but also them fighting together against the Unburied.

The things she's seen of her mom. The death duel. The death. The violence. Being evil. That's what Cass has known (and in a way the murder mom clichés). But we see throughout the shades of Shiva that are more than that.

I think the points where we get little callbacks to the Question yet Cass sasses her mom with "Lying." Again, Cass knows that Shiva loves fighting. Because deep down she too loves this. But also the "lying" Cass means to Shiva. And again we get her saying what she's seen in the past.

And I'm kind of surprised we see the Cult of Shiva again (along with the survivor who Steph fought in #26). Again someone we haven't seen in well SO LONG. And well, say goodbye to this issue (farewell to Shiva's #2 fan).

I'm really curious to where this goes. Obviously, we're going to get answers. But the questions raised this issue do intrigue me. Not to mention Cass/Shiva teaming up. And that alone is a highlight into itself.

I just wonder WHO is behind the Unburied? Because you know it's someone. Question is it someone with a connection to BOTH Cass and Shiva? Or is it truly sins of the Mother dropped on the daughter?

If they're targeting people associated with Shiva? Does it mean we're getting the first meeting between Richard Dragon and Cass? To showcase another layer of Shiva to Cass that's never been explored? Or Ben Turner aka Bronze Tiger? Curious questions indeed.

Regardless Brombal really has a DEEP understanding for both characters.

There's just so much dialogue and just reactions that FEELS just entrenched from Batgirl Vol. 1. That this feels like a writer going FULL ON with no restrictions with Cass.

Not only that but artist and colorist just deliver that same method. Keeping what was in Vol. 1 here present as well

I felt for them again for so many times in these many years- at home.

I felt for them again for so many times in these many years- at home. This comic really does feel like a celebration of the character. Something to honor the anniversary and everything that has come before it. Be it Batgirl Vol. 1 & 2, Tec, Batman & the Outsiders, Spirit World, and Batgirls.

That again why the emotions hit akin to Shadow of the Batgirl. Being a fan of the character so long. Being around for this ride. This hits on another level as well.

And after a week of darkness, this comic (along with another) brought some much-needed light to my world.

So to any Cass fan hesitant in the past due to well "DC being DC", let me just say that this is the one. The one fans have been dreaming of. Hoping. This #1 delivers SO much. Maybe, it shows to others why this character just resonates with so many.

[eirakairos]

Rendezvous Chapter 2

You were supposed to have a rendezvous with him away from the shackles of the city. You were supposed to tell him great news. He was supposed to have a rendezvous with you and be away from the shackles of reality. He was supposed to tell you great news.

A/N: I continued writing after but I liked the end part. I often think Sylus doesn't fully cry, but for the first time, he was a bit emotional from the dream, especially after what happened.

It took a while because I was busy with work and family but I'm working on the next one!

Words: 3,004

Chapter 1

Tags: Hurt/comfort, minor violence, and injury, character death implied!, pregnancy and childbirth, don't worry this is angst but with happy ending

You inhaled sharply with a groan when you reached consciousness. Everything in your body is screaming in dull pain. You were supposed to be out of the office to meet with Sylus then BAM! You heard a pitched noise piercing your eardrums as everything pristine suddenly turned into rubble. You tried to fight your consciousness as everyone was screaming for help, you knew Sylus would be there for you. But before you can move further, a pair of arms carries you and before slipping further, you hear their rough voices.

“Give her first aid! She has to be alive enough for the transport!”

“Finally! After so many weeks! We can use it to take over the grasslands into our empire!”

You hear the humming sounds of the engine and speeding. You glance at a nearby window and assume you are in a plane, as there is nothing but the night sky, the moon illuminating, and a few clouds. You are still in your hunter clothes but without your weapons. You think that maybe the people who brought you here were the ones who took them.

‘This chamber, I felt I was here before…’ you thought. You looked around the dark confinement around you. A memory started to resurface.

“This was one of the Onychinus ships we use for the transportation of goods,” Sylus said as they were walking in the ship. “It is an old model, but still useful,” he followed. You were looking around in wonder as you were there with him for an errand.

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked. “A faction under Onychinus was needing one,” he replied. “This ship has a lot of issues since I used to use it a lot.”

“Like what for?”

“I… Modified some things so I can deal with things easier,” Sylus grinned. Your eyes squinted. He pointed at an enclosed room, similar to where you’re now. “Like in this one, I made a pathway to get out of the halls.” He walked to the room and removed a panel, showing a form of door access. “It's not detected easily unless you know it's there,” Sylus went in the pathway.

“So a sort of escape plan, it seems. I feel you’ve been in a situation where you get jailed in your ship,”

“Well, there are such circumstances that happened,” he smirked and went closer to you. “If things fail, this would be handy.” He tapped on the crow brooch you won against him after he challenged you.

“Huh? I thought this was just a decoration?” You said.

“It's not just access to N109 Zone safely, Kitten,” he smirked.

You quickly went to the back of the room and gently touched the panels installed.

And indeed it was removable. You placed the panels on the side and went in before putting them back on again.

You are in no condition to fight as you meticulously try to sneak out of the halls. You hear murmurs in the far end going closer and making you panic, looking for any place to hide.

“Onychinus is making moves far more aggressively than expected,”

“Who knew that the leader’s weakness… is a woman?”

You quickly went to the metal cabinets where they would put clothes as their steps got louder.

You clenched your fists, they probably had heard of the Aether Core in your heart and wanted to take advantage of it. Sylus has one too, but they won’t dare to face him. You can fight them because of their comments but you’re on the shit end of the stick at the moment.

“We are almost there after two days of traveling in the skies. I’m so beat,”

“When we arrive, we are going to put that girl in the operation to extract the Aether Core if Sylus didn’t go to our demands,”

‘As if, even without Sylus, I will bring you all down,’ you thought. You peeked through the small slits of the cabinet to see them walk away and turn to the next hallway. You slowly went outside and walked to the other side of the hallway. You are trying to remember the map of this ship as you sift it in your memories.

“Does this ship have any last defense?” You asked. You are walking in the same halls as him. He was checking to decide if the ship was good enough to be given.

“Well… If exploding itself is what you call a last defense… Then yes,” He replied. You were surprised. “There are bombs in this ship?!” You exclaimed. Sylus grins as he goes to a security panel…

And you punched the code, it was your anniversary date with him. It opened a slot, it looks like a circular item should be placed in. You shuffled around your body to find the crow brooch he gave you in your secret pocket. You inserted it in the slot and it shines red, accepting the brooch. “Self-destruct will start in thirty seconds…” a robotic voice confirmed. Alarms are heard as you panicked again, running through the exit.

“High-security alert! The subject has escaped! High alert to all personnel!”

“It is not just a crow brooch…” You said. Sylus smirked as he closed the panel after showing it to you. “The brooch is… for really special guests,” he continued. In nearing the wide exit, he went to open the hatch. Gusts of wind suddenly burst inside, almost swaying your body away.

“What- What are you doing?!” you yelled.

You open the hatch as the footsteps are getting frantic.

“Well, we are going on to the errand a bit different this time,” he said as he tossed over a parachute backpack to you. “Huh?!” you yelled as Sylus carried his on his back. He went on you to adjust the backpack and grabbed you by the waist.

“Ready to escape this hellhole?” Sylus asked as you got dragged to the edge of the hatch.

“Six… Five… Four…”

You ran to the hatch as the men saw you and started to shoot.

“Remember we need her alive!”

You were afraid because the drop was so high. “Well, I have no choice, aren’t I?” you said, nervously smiling at him. “You are stuck with me after all… Don’t worry, I’m with you,” he reassured. “If you get lost, I will find you,” he continued. You held onto him tighter as you two jumped together.

You suddenly feel the weightlessness of the sky as you jump. BAM! You shielded yourself from the debris as you saw the ship go into flames. At the appropriate height, you activate the parachute as you gently glide down, you see neverending grasslands below you. Your adrenaline is starting to go lower, and the pain is starting to be more felt, especially since you just saw a gunshot wound on your side. Exhaustion is starting to take over you as you unlatched yourself from the parachute and looking around, realized you are in the middle of nowhere. Everything is overwhelming, even though on the good side you escaped but otherwise, you have no idea what was happening, only to put pieces together.

Before you can react, your body was unable to keep active any longer. You wish your love was here with you, he would know what to do.

“Sylus…” you murmured as your vision got blurry and completely went dark.

You stir and see yourself inside a hut. You do feel tired, but the pain is survivable.

“Good day, finally you gained consciousness,” You looked at who was speaking, who was an old woman, cooking in the makeshift kitchen. “How are you doing, dear?” she asked after placing a bowl of soup beside you.

“Where am I?” You asked. You’re still a bit disoriented. “Who are you?”

“You are in the grasslands,” she answered. “The warriors had found you collapsed while they were hunting. They brought you here for healing. I am the healer and advisor in my tribe,” she said. You looked at the bowl and scooped it with a spoon. You are starting to wolf it down, making the old woman amused. “My assumption is right, you were famished.” she smiled. “Based on the peculiar clothes, you came from a far place, didn’t you?” she asked. You stopped and nodded. “Yes, it was a long story,” you said. You did retell the tale from your point of view. The old woman listened eagerly. “It seemed you have endured so much, dear,” she spoke.

“How… How would I get out of here to return?”

The old woman sighed as she went to the cabinet. “Well you have to travel for five days to get to a nearby village, then traverse further around two days more to get to the main city,” she said. “But we are nearing the hibernating season, where we don’t travel because the journey are being perilous,” she continued. “You needed a longer recovery time. In the meantime, do stay and rest.”  You were disappointed, the travel is going to be long. But you have to return… Back to him. She gave you fresh clothing, which is simpler than your tattered uniform. You noticed the robes and the accessories were very familiar. You suddenly remember you are in the grasslands. The hut looks different, much modern but familiar.

The old woman is working on her table, with her herbs, roots and stones ready. “Also, Miss, I would like to ask something,” she spoke. You hummed and looked at her.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

In the following weeks, your wounds were healing well but you have gone sicker occasionally. You slowly acquainted the women in the village and do help with menial, lighter tasks since you are carrying a baby… Sylus and your baby. It just sunk to you. You were in the office many weeks ago, getting your things ready to go on a special date with him. You were exiting the floor when you just felt being blasted away. You were excited to go with him and tell the good news. After grueling weeks, you were looking forward to being with him again. You are having this indescribable feeling, that it is probably better that when you can return, you won’t come back as a hunter again. So much time was wasted, even just spending time with Sylus. You missed him so much, you wanted to return but your pregnancy was very delicate, especially after your body went to the limit because of the explosion and the kidnapping. You wish he would find you again soon.

“Miss, are you alright? Why are you crying?”

You stopped your thoughts. You just saw your hands on your tummy and felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped it away. “Sorry, it's probably the pregnancy,” you chuckled.

The ladies were calmed and continued weaving robes. You are trying your best to gain weaving skills, but it was a bit more complicated than you expected. You were amazed the ladies were doing it very well and fast. 

You are almost on your way to your pregnancy several months later. Your belly is very obvious now and nearing its due. “I’m glad to see the baby is strong,” the old woman said. “It shows that she is a fighter like her mother,”

“Wait… She?” you said, astonished.

“Well, that is my assumption, based on your appearance, the shape of the belly, and what I see in the stars,” She hummed. You are half believing and not in the other. You imagined a baby girl in your arms but has Sylus’ hair color and eyes or your colors to a baby boy. You smiled at the thought, you would love them anyway, as they are half Sylus.

“What about the father of the baby?” the old woman asked. I won’t be surprised if it takes long to find you if he does,” she continued. We are really in a remote place, and people who come by to the tribe either have a purpose or a fated coincidence.” There was silence for a bit. What is he like?” the old woman curiously asked.

You believed in Sylus, he would find you wherever you go. He has always done that since you’ve met him. “He is a formidable warrior. A… Leader in his tribe,” You answered. He is despite the environment of his place is the opposite of the grasslands. “Despite the comfortable life, he did… Has his bargains and sacrifices, especially whenever I’m involved,” you followed. In peaceful times like this, you did wonder if abandoning everything with him would be worth it. “I hope he would find you sooner, dear… Does he know? It would be quite a surprise if he didn’t,” she smiled. You looked down on your belly. You were going to, as you got a confirmation hours before the meeting. You were excited to welcome a little being, half you and half him.

You were resting beside the hut as you saw young ladies making little pouches. You remembered the dagger and when you were transported to the grasslands with Sylus. You remembered the tribe’s culture of a girl giving a pouch they made to the man they liked. You gave one to Sylus, which you hope he still keeps it. You suddenly felt this longing for him, questioning why is he not here with you, anxiety sets in that probably he had forgotten about you and moved on. It’s been a few months, if his stalking skills were good, he should’ve been here by now. Are the grasslands that remote? If he were here, he would know what to do, much better than yourself. You wanted him here beside you, being happy and ecstatic to meet his little one soon. You miss his company, his eyes glaring at you, his protectiveness wherever you go, you feel… Much helpless and lonely here.

Sylus sees himself in the endless field of grass as he wonders where his dream is taking him this time. He had been having nightmares since you were gone from the explosion in the Hunter’s Association months ago. The investigations had been slowed and people had moved on, but not him. He searched the nearby cities everywhere and took revenge against any people connected to the tragedy. The job was far from being done, they took you away, and he will take away the world from them.

Sylus kept on walking until his eyes widened, he saw you sitting under a tree. You are in a tribe as you are wearing similar clothes like them. He runs as fast as he can, he didn’t have such dreams as this, as seeing you alive and… Pregnant? This is definitely a dream, his dream of just wanting a family with you, you carrying his child, making the limited time witness of your love together. He was going to but it seemed a far-fetched wish now. You looked so beautiful as always but much more in reaching motherhood.

You didn’t have any reaction when he was already in front of you. Your eyes were looking at the distance, almost teary. “Sylus…” He heard you whisper. He called you but you seemed to not be hearing him.

Suddenly your face contorts in pain. “What’s wrong?” he asked but you screamed more, alerting the tribe members. He wanted to comfort you and give aid but whenever he tried to touch you, his hand goes through. He realized that you were going to give birth, and he followed you as the people helped you to get back to the hut. The healer prepared the childbirth as you were huffing and started to push. Sylus felt helpless, he wanted to reassure you and be at the most comfort despite the situation. “My beloved, you’re doing good, don’t worry…” Sylus whispered beside you. He wished he can hold your hand, to somehow deal with the minuscule of pain of your grip. He whispered support and reassurances to you, even if this is a dream, he is angry at himself for not being with you. In real life, he still tries to find answers, even though in logical circumstances, you are not alive anymore. His heart beats in happiness seeing you here, despite it is only an illusion.

A cry stopped his long mile of thoughts as it felt it was hours. You are a fighter indeed in his eyes. “It is indeed a girl!”

You are exhausted, far, far much worse than dealing with a horde of wanderers. You heard stories about childbirth and it is scary and painful as they said. You heard the cry of your baby, she is alive and finally arrived here in this land. You cried as you saw the baby girl and held onto your arms. You also heard that childbirth is a rewarding, unexplainable blissful feeling of seeing a piece of you and Sylus merged into a tiny human. You are a family, despite him being away. You know deep down he would be here if he knew.

There is this protective and proud feeling to Sylus in seeing you and your child together. A little family of his own, and he is now a father, even if it's only in dreams. He went to kiss your cheek, he wished you would feel it. But you are crying in happiness looking at his daughter. He smiled more at seeing his daughter, she had tiny white strands of hair. He would give everything for this to be a reality. He would give the world to his beloved partner and daughter.

His eyes opened and blinked a couple of times, realizing he was looking at this high ceiling, being back to his darkened room as he roused. In the blink of an eye, he lost you two again. He looked at the ring box on his side table, then at the dark red sky in his window, the slimmer of light illuminating tears forming to the edges of his eyes.

[boyfridged]

hello lovely, robin lives is out. any thoughts or comments? :) absolutely love your meta and writing especially ones about robin jason <33 there's so much heart you put into it, it is lovely. cheering you on.

thank you for this lovely message, i'm glad that how dear i hold his character does come across in my meta! and: i'm sorry, i said one business day, and yet i'm here four days later... however, i also reread in this time, to give a more detailed review, and here are my thoughts so far:

as i already complained: the ableist tirade about "fried circuits in the brain" and cruelty being "chemical," about the "morass of psychosis and sin" at the beginning of it all almost made me close it... it took so much space in this single issue, and was so unnecessary and grim, very out of place compared with the joker image from the 80s, which the story is supposed to relate to after all.

speaking of: the bits that were very clearly referring to aditf & the following issues i liked best (maybe besides dematteis trying to deal with the whole iranian diplomat plotline... there's nothing to salvage there so it was just pitiful). clark's cameo was a very clear throwback. but my favourite was the panel with sheila... that might be my particular weakness to sheila though.

the general framework of a shrink (sigh) brought to "deal" with jason makes me think of gotham knights #45 (derogatory.) also. hello ao3 called they say they want their classic outsider pov trope back-- i need to make it clear: i love outsider povs. but here-- this is just not it.

i have concerns about bruce's portrayal as a father too, and that's where she enters anyway. again, i love to see bruce failing; i love seeing his flaws; and post-crisis bruce is not the most competent parent, we know it... but... "moping" says batman about a child that witnessed (or at least was in presence of, since he was probably unconscious by then) his mother's demise? that is a bit... much you'd think? especially that jason doesn't do anything too offensive in that moment at all?

this is actually something that @iliadicjasontodd said but i have to agree: it is really funny how dick comes in and has one conversation with jason about a completely unrelated topic and acts like this fixed everything. it's not the worst we've seen of dick & jay but it does feel very much like dematteis was just checking a box "dick grayson" on the characters to include/references list and left it at that. and to be fair, the whole issue feels like that, but i do get that it's just the first one and he needs to set it all up...

now! to the reference that is actually interesting to me... the page on the right is imo a very clear reference to batman #414 (on the left). if you've seen this post of mine you know that later, in the same arc, there's a parallel scene in which jason does *exactly the same*, with the dialogue being a 1:1 too. which makes me curious: is the analogous scene here a set-up for jason to mirror bruce's violent actions again? if it is, we'd get the point that it is bruce who dooms jason by projecting on him brought home... and it does vaguely seem that they could do in that direction, no? while i am a fan on this reading, i'm just not sure how i feel about it in an instance of jay lives scenario, where that would be a perfect moment for the a divergence from what happens in his death and post-mortem.

the question at the end... about "why batman brought a child to batman at all" is a question that was already answered with much sensibility. but i won't lie, batman as a title certainly needs a refresher on this one --- so as long as we arrive at the same reply that *is* implied in aditf and many of older batman stories, we are fine. the answer in the 80s was that bruce can cmopartmentalise his identities, but he cannot compartmentalise his family and familiar love. but if instead we get what contemporary canon has been delighting in for decades now: the notion that it's the children who need it themselves, that it's the only way, that they would always end up in the same place otherwise, if not worse off-- i will be severely disappointed.

so far, i think the biggest weakness and what makes the whole thing underwritten is that we don't get to see jason directly after waking up from the coma...? why is bruce having these conversations with him now? why does jason still go out as robin and does so alone...? i'm not saying none of it is plausible, because it could be written as such, but we just don't get any of it. i def wish we get more insight into jay's mind next issue.

all in all, i do not want to condemn it preemptively-- all my concerns from before definitely hold. i just hope i will be proved wrong, though the whole framing of "i should have seen it coming" portending another huge tragedy... not a fan of it.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What are your opinions on Casstim?

i LOVE CassTim. i've actually written a CassTim fic that's mostly just fluff and smut, but i have a lot of ideas/thoughts about them that play with the more complicated aspects of them.

i'm of the opinion that Tim and Cass were a potential romance that DC left the door open for before Tim got adopted by Bruce. (and tbh, even after he got adopted there were certain interactions in Red Robin (2009) that felt romantically implied) a lot of their interactions have implied feelings on both sides so of all Batcest ships, i think this one has a *lot* of genuine canon backing despite it being one of the most underrated ships of the fandom.

the dynamic between Cass and Tim is really interesting to me because Tim doesn't want to be Batman in any capacity and thinks that goal is actually incredibly unhealthy and unachievable, whereas to Cass it's the thing she strives for the most and if anything she wants to be even more than that. (Batgirl (2000) #59 actually has a really interesting discussion about that and that whole post-War Games arc is fun for understanding how Tim and Cass feel about each other) so a lot of their interactions clash because of that and they can't always see eye to eye on what vigilante justice and Batman's vision should look like. their relationship with each other is always going to be dependant on their relationship with Bruce first, as well as the Batman mantle as a whole. so for them to love each other (which, they do without a doubt, romantic or not) they have to accept where they don't agree with each other.

there's such a gentleness to CassTim, i think? not because i think Cass (or Tim tbh) is gentle, but i think for the exact opposite reason. there is this fullness and drivenness in the way she loves and her undying devotion to them. she would do anything to protect her loved ones. and when you combine that with Tim, who's pretty self-sacrificial at his worst, you have some interesting conflict because they're both too-willing to die for the other. their lives are defined by violence, *especially* Cass', so for her to finally let herself be loved and protected by someone else as much as she loves others is something that simply makes me feral.

they've both been trained by Shiva, which i don't think gets explored enough because it's fun for exploring the way they fight and think in a fight being potentially similar. Cass is *far* smarter than anyone gives her credit for being, and has detective skills on par with Tim, in my opinion. they balance each other out in a lot of ways. they're two people who have *chosen* this fight more than a lot of the rest of the Batfamily. being Batgirl is so important to Cass and it's something she chose because of her desperate want to be good. and Tim chose to be Robin because he knew Gotham and Bruce needed that. while they don't always agree on it, i would argue Cass and Tim understand the nuances of the Batman mantle and what it represents deeper than almost anyone else. because of that i'm particularly interested in a future CassTim, where Cass becomes Batman and Tim is in a weird limbo where he wants to stop being a vigilante but can't seem to quite let go of the life and how they end up meeting in the middle of that. i think it could be really fun with a lot of complicated arguments between them that end in a slow burn romance.

idk man this is baseless rambling, but tldr i love them so dearly and there's so much that can be explored between them. also, i think TimKonCass should be a thing. i like KonCass more than most people do (why do y'all hate this ship it's so good pls hear me out-) and i think as a complicated weird throuple they'd be fun.

[tapakah0]

(Continuation because I don't trust tumblr tags) #Oscar... pointing at her neck with the weapon like this... *sigh* eather he is a very good actor or can adapt very quickly #TRUST POINTS FROM ECLIPTICA HELL FEGEFJEGJEYGWYGWD #HE JUST WANTED TO HELP #THE PREVIOUS NEVER WANTED TO HELP AND WE EAT THEM AHAHAGGASHGSA FUNNY YEAH? # *cough* Ma'am... take room... you seem to enjoy his physical company... #OH WHAT AN OFFER HUH #YEHA HDFEMFAWHGDMA MAXAZAANABA I KNEW HE GUESSED THAT WARD IS NOT COMING BACK AHAHGAHGAAHGSA DEAR SCULPTOR YOU F***ED UP YOU TOOK THE SMARTER ONE IN THE BASIC WAY BUT WE HAVE A SOCIALLY SMARTER ONE AND THIIIIIIS IS A REAL DISASTER AHGADHGDHDGHGHAGSDH #DEAR OSCAR CONGRATS YOU ARE *SHAKING HIM* YOU EVIL DEVIL LITTLE DEMON WITH ONE BRAIN CELL THAT HAS 1000 BRAINCELLS ITSELF AND ALL OF THEM ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR TACTICS AND SOCIAL NEGOTIATION

Part 11 ‘-‘

I have a feeling Shepherd and Ward would get along really well... you know, if you put them in the au where everything is the same, but there is peace and harmony in the whole galaxy

Previous

Masterpost

[hauntingblue]

Ennies Lobby 3.0. yes that's happening I have too much to yap about

Omg look at these freaks

Franky is so real.... look at him....

Omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have teared up so many times just bc luffy smiles with meaning at some point. insane btw.

MY GOOOOOOOD!!!!!! AAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHH

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The neutrality of it all....

I forgor about aokiji revealing that he was friends with Saul and that he was protecting her because of it... the "live life and prove to me that ohara is still alive"... damn reminds me of garp saying to ace that he would find out if it was wrong for him to be born. "I don't know if it was right or wrong for saul to let you live" yeah that's it. But anyways all this happened because aokiji was loyal to his friend and now we know that he didn't even kill him!! So why is he with blackbeard?? I can't shake it!!!

I can't do it.... I can't.....

Luffy and franky talking about how mich they like the ship while he's chasing his speedos bottomless through the city 😭😭 it's so sweet actually... Franky only has one pair of speedos... thats why he ran thru the city to get them I get it now

"If you don't mind being a little rough I'm wiling to help" robin you freaky girl. But truly that is one of many robin and luffy's autistic communication moments they just know. Also if robin stopped crushing his balls but everyone could see the hands being there that means that she was just holding them for a while while he wept. Normal things here.

Franky blaming himself all this time... 🥺🥺

And he just takes his trunks and walks to the ship without putting them on akdjaosnso alpha moment while saying a melancholic goodbye to your family... crazy

What.... what is he doing

Luffy's fake ass laughing and saying how usopp will do great on his own.... I am seeing you cold sweat

This shit has always been so funny to me.... luffy definitely suffers from nepotism

Usopp asking if they don't know he's sniper king skdbjs no, they (luffy) don't know akdjaons

Look at these wet little beasts omg. Matching icons akdhaksjks

DADAN MENTION????? IN THE ACE VS BLACKBEARD CHAPTER????? AAAAAAAAHHHHH

Face card and pose unmatched as of yet. Look at the evidence.

I am killing myself now. Goodbye.

But I'm already dead!! Yohohoho... Anyways water seven and enies lobby is done.... I am scared (thriller bark) of what is coming you have no idea. Also!! Luffy nearly dying after hia battle with lucci starts the domino effect of luffy being barely strong enough to save everyone until it climaxes in sabaody and then culminates in marineford which is crazy to me btw. Luffy's evolution until then is about how no matter how strong he is it would never be enough. Insane. I don't know what else to say. I love you robin and franky. ACE STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. nvm it's too late already. AAAAAHHHHHH

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[azelletown]

im so glad this series got big and now i finally get to read it but also this is going to destroy me by the end of it huh

chapter 38 absolutely fucked me up, this shit is just real, i've been in situations and arguments exactly like this (minus the dragon sister and all) where i've lost what i thought were friendships because i had finally failed one too many social awareness checks

especially these panels had me pause and take a second

like, laios' point of view of their friendship was so nice and sureau, instead of being honest, bottled it up because he applied his assumptions of social awareness onto laios who then couldn't have ever known something was wrong

harmless examples of things i used to do and can talk about here: in middle school i would tap my fingers onto my desk to the rhythm of whatever song was in my head, and at the end of the 4 entire years we spent together, one of my friends lashes out at me about how i'm annoying everyone with it, and then more of my friends and other classmates would start telling me and scolding me about that and all the other habits i had that were annoying them as if those were things i were doing to purposefully piss people off. i even had a teacher yell at me seemingly out of nowhere because i'd lay head on my desk in her class and she apparently always took it as me being rude and "falling asleep" ??? in highschool i mispronounced a guy's name for 2 years until he called me a dick for it even though he never told me how to pronounce it correctly!!!!! i would also stare a lot, all the time, but again people only told me after so much time had passed that they just got mad at me

it got so bad that i started to minmax most of my social interactions, and i still do it with most of my IRLs to this day

i was literally hit with the Laios to Kabru Pipeline

Anyways this manga is peak, the show is also peak, go read/watch the neurodivergent dnd lesbian cooking show, i feel like im going to have a LOT to say about kabru in the future chapters

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[tpwrtrmnky]

lockdown

[ID 1: Three-panel comic, first out of four, with crudely drawn stick people.

Panel 1: The sky is blue and peaceful, with some clouds. Someone says "Ah..."

Panel 2: An orange person with dog ears is laying on the grass.

Orangepup Dogsaturated: "Despite the weirdness, it's nice here.

I think... I'm enjoying my fate as an orangepup dogastur-"

They are interrupted by barking.

Orange: "Huh?"

Panel 3: A green person with dog ears and a tail, who is holding a gun, stands over Orange. There is a tree in the background and some windmills on top of a hill in the distance. The barking continues.

Green: "Comrade Hot Pink is sounding the alarm. Come quick. We're going on lockdown."

Orange: "Huh? What are we-"

Green: "No time. Now."

ID 2: Three panel comic continuing from above.

Panel 1: Orange is led by Green down some stairs from outside.

Orange: "What's going on? Expository doctrine please?"

Green: "It's too dangerous. Safety first, explanation after."

Panel 2: Green shuts a vault door as Orange and a blue person with dog ears and sunglasses, as well as some sort of bandolier and a walkie-talkie, watches. The room is a plain beige with a simple ceiling light.

Green: "There."

Orange: "ok can someone explain now"

Blue: "Allow me."

Panel 3: Zoom in on Blue, who looks down dramatically.

Blue: "You must understand, young Orange. As much as we wish to trust you, there are circumstances where safety for the commune comes first.

We are aware that you have certain... Rhetorical susceptibilities, and so could not risk having you make contact with them."

Orange: "Who? Who are they?"

Blue: "One who destroys discourse."

End ID 2, begin ID 3.

Three panels once again.

Panel 1: A split view of a loft and the bunker. A hot pink person with fluffy ears is speaking on the walkie-talkie, while an onyx-colored person with dog ears and long claws is aiming a rifle out the window.

Hot Pink: "Comrade Blue. Onyx is ready. Do we have majority ethical consent?"

Blue: "Take the shot. If we later vote against, I will take accountability for the decision myself."

Orange: "What"

Panel 2: A view of Onyx staring down the scope of the rifle from outside of the window, as Blue narrates.

"You must understand, Orangepup Dogsaturated.

There are many who despise us. Many who would do anything to see us destroyed."

Panel 3: The narration continues from a view from the outskirts of the farm area. A mountain is in the distance, and a pair of grayscale legs are in the foreground, framed by some tree trunks.

"The horrific lesson we have learned...

Is that there is no low that outsiders can be trusted not to sink to.

And the danger of this interloper lies in their ability to provide others with all the excuses they need to justify their hatred."

Interloper: "I..."

End ID 3, begin ID 4. You know what this image is by now.

Panel 1: The Most Illiterate Person Alive, a grayscale individual wearing a book on their head, emerges from the woods, saying: "I am the most illiterate person ali-"

They are cut off by a view of Onyx pulling the trigger, which results in a view of the bullet going straight through the head of the most illiterate person alive, emerging in a shower of gore.

This continues to be a crudely drawn stick people comic.

Panel 2: Inside the barn loft, Hot Pink and Onyx are contacting the others.

Hot Pink: "Comrade Blue, we've confirmed a direct hit! Target eliminated!"

Onyx: "Wait. There's movement."

The Most Illiterate Person Alive: "Holy.

Fucking.

Shitfuck."

Panel 3: A front view of The Most Illiterate Person Alive, blood seeping out of the hole in the front of their face. They are framed in darkness and surrounded by a menacing red glow.

The Most Illiterate Person Alive: "I cannot believe"

The text color is inverted and changes to a more hostile font.

"You actually thought that you had any chance of killing me?"

End ID.]

Start - Previous - Next

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!

Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:

I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?

Sir,

You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.

Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.

But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

[mytheoristavenue]

BES Mizu x Reader - Tranquility

Summary: One evening, two odd fellows walk into your father's inn, requesting keep.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Reader believes Mizu is male, comfort, angst, use of he/him and she/ her pronouns for Mizu depending on POV

Humming gently, you busied your hands, bustling about the front room of your father's humble inn, dusting, polishing, sweeping- anything to pass the time. With your back turned, you hardly noticed the pair of men that wandered in, ducking under the curtain entrance.

"Welcome in!" you chirped over your shoulder, hearing footsteps approach the counter. Hurrying over and behind it, you turned to face them with a warm grin. "Good afternoon, sirs. How may I be of service?"

"We need a room," the shorter one said. He was significantly more slender than his companion and wore looser clothing and a wide kasa that obscured his face. "Two beds."

You nodded obediently. "Of course sir, and for how many nights?"

"One." He answered sternly, angling his head even deeper down.

"Alright," you processed his answer, making note of it. "And will you be requiring meals or would you prefer to dine elsewhere?"

"Here is fine," he replied, digging into a pocket to retrieve a sachel of currency. "Two dinners and two breakfasts. How much?" You quickly added up the total for the stay and four meals and told him what the charge was. To your surprise, he dropped even more in front of you. "I like my privacy, other than meal service, make sure no one disturbs me."

"Of course, sir!" you nodded profusely, swiftly making sure their payment was in the right place, before coming out from behind the counter. "Allow me to escort you to your room!"

-----

Now alone and behind closed doors, the pair of travelers began laying down their luggage, stretching from the relief of no longer having to carry their belongings on their backs. "Ringo," Mizu said suddenly, leaning her sword against a nearby wall as she sat down. "Go out and get us some more provisions, it'll be a while before we get to another village after we leave. Take this," Glancing up at her apprentice, she handed over a list of supplies and the same sachel of gold she'd paid with moments ago. "I'm going to rest while you're out, so try not to disturb me when you get back."

"Yes, master!" The man said seriously, a bit too much so as he saluted her before leaving. The samurai simply rolled her eyes at his unknowingly silly gesture and sighed.

It wasn't long into her quiet time that she was distracted by the softest knock on the wood frame of the door. "Service," your gentle voice called from the other side. Scoffing, Mizu called back, granting you permission to enter.

-----

You smiled when you heard the gentleman call back 'Enter.', sliding the panel away and lifting a tray from the floor before carrying it into the room. "Your meal tonight will be soba, but it won't be ready for a good while. I thought I'd bring you and your companion some refreshments in the meantime. Complementary, of course."

"Do all your guests get treated to free refreshments before dinner?" he asked, suspiciously, sitting cross-legged at a table in the center of the room.

"Well..." you blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you fell to your knees beside him. "Not exactly. Your meal will come with tea and sake, but I wanted to show my appreciation for..."

"You wanted to earn the extra money I gave you." he deduced. "I gave you that in exchange for leaving me alone so, admittedly, you aren't doing a very good job of earning it so far. I'd prefer you to respect my wishes than to bother me with special treatment."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and rejection. "I-I'm sorry," you sputtered, reclaiming the few things you'd set on the table in preparation to return the tray to the kitchen. "I'll just take this back, didn't mean to offend."

"Wait, you can stay." The mysterious man sighed, bringing his hand up and pressing his palm to the top of his kasa, removing it. Underneath it was silky midnight hair, tied back in a taught bun, with a rogue strand that framed his face. Though, most striking about his appearance, were his glasses. They were round and petite with an onyx frame and amber lenses. Noticing your attention, his eyes darted towards you. "Haven't you ever been told that staring is impolite?"

Shaking your head furiously, cheeks once again aglow, you returned to your current task. "Deepest apologies! I was only observing your glasses, they are-"

You could feel his glare on you intensify even with your gaze away. "They're what?"

"P-Pretty..." you muttered truthfully, instantly regretting using such a feminine adjective to describe something a man wore. "They're a nice color is all..."

The man shifted backward, seemingly surprised by your compliments, and for just a moment, his harsh demeanor faltered a bit. "Well...thank you," he muttered bashfully before clearing his throat and darting back into his shell upon noticing that you were beginning to pour a cup of sake. "Just tea," he corrected sternly. "I don't drink."

You straightened at his comment, pausing for a moment. "Apologies," you nodded, setting the vessel back down on the tray to remind yourself to take it back with you when you leave. "I don't believe I've ever served a man who didn't prefer sake." you mused with a small smile.

"I'm not other men," he answered shortly.

"Yes, you're entirely different..." you sighed with glowing cheeks, pouring his tea. "You're a true and honorable gentleman, I can tell."

For the first time since the pair had come in, the traveler smiled- smirked even. It was a cocky look that sent a shiver down your spine when you glanced up and his found sharp amber eyes staring back. "You're quite forward for a service girl, aren't you?"

Your eyes blew wide at his comment and your cheeks caught fire which spread even to the tips of your ears. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak so freely!" Somehow in your anxious haste, you'd lost your grasp on the tea kettle in your hand, and you quickly lunged forward to catch it, luckily saving it before it could spill- or worse, shatter.

Unfortunately, your cheer for victory was incredibly short-lived by the hiss of your guest, who had begun tugging his clothes away from his body. Stream rose from his torso and you went pale. It seemed that, in your rush to catch the kettle, you'd reached over the table and knocked the freshly poured cup of hot tea into the poor man's stomach.

Without a second thought, you immediately crawled over, pulling a handkerchief from the chest of your kosode and began dabbing at his chest and stomach, profusely apologizing all while. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, rigid an no longer wriggling form the discomfort of the steaming liquid coating his skin. To his horror, in your haste, you began to tug at his sleeves, pulling them off his shoulders slightly.

"I'm so very sorry, sir!" you cried, beginning to disrobe him. "I'm so clumsy! I swear I'll make this right, let me just-" you continued, untying his belt, his protests completely lost on you in your panicked state. "I'll take your clothes and launder them, free of charge! A-And I'll get you a full refund on your stay!"

"N-no, please," the man began to tremble, breath caught in his throat as you inched him closer and closer to nudity. "It's fine, all's forgiven, there's no need to-" His hands felt heavy as he tied to pry you away, and by the time he'd gathered the ability to calm himself, you'd already stopped. You were entirely frozen as the fabric of his shirt felt from your hand.

"I-I..." you sputtered, unsure of what to say, or even if to speak at all. You'd rather just stay frozen.

"I-I appreciate the offer to launder my clothes, but please," the traveler gave an exacerbated sigh, "Let me undress myself."

You slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact as he gripped his garment closed and gingerly traced the hem of it and where it fell on his chest. Suddenly, out of his peripheral, he watched you lift something off the floor, setting the object in his lap. Then he realized, you weren't looking at his body. Glancing down, he noticed his glasses, folded neatly and resting in the creased crotch of his baggy pants.

"Get out." he snapped, finally putting himself into gear. "I will leave my clothes outside my door for you to wash. Have them back to me as soon as possible. And yes, you will be refunding my stay." he seethed as you instantly jumped up and hurried out of the room.

-----

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mizu stressed, pacing the room, and tugging at her hair. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her clothes were ruined, she'd at least have to wash them in some creek somewhere. But then, what about Ringo? She could leave him, but knowing him, he'd find her and lecture her about the importance of facing your problems instead of running from them. She'd forced you out before she'd had a chance to read your reaction, but then again, she'd never experienced a good one. You were probably on your way to tell someone- or worse, inform authorities on her whereabouts.

Even worse, she could her her chest bindings beginning to soak with tea, creating a terrible moist feeling between her breasts. She'd have to change the bandages, lest her skin begin to chafe. With every odd stacked against her leaving, she decided to stay. You only knew of her eye color, after all. At least you hadn't figured out all of her secrets.

All she had to do was keep her body hidden and charm you into not telling about her eyes, she could do this. You were tripping all over yourself over one snarky comment, surly she could convince you to keep quiet, right?

I hope you guys enjoyed this, there will be a part two coming (hopefully) soon, which I will link in this post when it is finished! Please like, comment, and reblog if you like this, it really helps encourage me to continue, and with this being a fandom for me to write for, it helps a lot to know what y'all interact with most!

[riririnnnn]

More random things in Blue Lock I find endearing:

-> Telepathy

There is something really sweet about knowing someone so well that you don't even need to verbally speak to them. The above panel is just so heartwarming—I really want what they have.

-> Mothers

I'm so happy that Mothers in this Manga actually look like Women who are Mothers to a High School-er and don't just look like High School-ers themselves.

You might say, "Oh, but it's only a few lines on their faces that make them look old!"

...

And that's point—it's easy af to make characters who actually look like Mothers and yet there are so many Mangas out there who fail to do this.

If you know, you know.

-> Hi-five!

Just look at them. Just look. Just. Look. At. Them.

Do I need to say something else?

It's the main reason why I don't want Neru to get out of NEL—I want more of these cuties to interact!!

-> Frenemies in U-20

The above interactions are so wholesome, you know. Like, it's very hard to explain, but the above scenes are just so heartwarming to me.

Rin was trying to cheer up Isagi in his own cold ways!

While considering how Isagi was so adamant on crushing Rin at the start, it's just so precious to see him being the first one to go congratulate Rin for his goal with a freaking HUG! And it just wasn't a normal hug, it was a DIVE-IN!

Boys please resolve your issues.

-> Two Duos

The way Reo looks at Nagi with concern and the way Yukimiya's arm is stretched out to give Isagi some kind of support—everything about this is pure wholesome.

Nagi-Reo was expected, but Yukimiya-Isagi was something unexpected.

Also the way Nagi is just: (O x O)

LOL.

-> Meanwhile this idiot (affectionate)

I hate this Bastard (I love him). He is such a menace. I'll smack him (I'll smooch his forehead). I'll whoop his ass if I get a chance (For real).

Did he just fly down from somewhere though?

Hey there, Chigiri.

-> Ubers PT - 2

You know, if you think over it, then Ubers have the most random ass characters together—

A tyrannical King

A 15 years old weeb

A glam can-be vogue model

A womaniser

A wannabe womaniser

And Lorenzo

and yet they are the team that feels the most family-like.

I adore them so much.

-> Unfaithful gentleman

When the Blue Lock-ers Vs U-20 was happening in the Bowling area, he was the first (and only) one who went to the registration counter—this behaviour just screams, "CAPTAIN!"

But on a second thought, I think his ahh just wanted an excuse to talk with the ladies behind the counter.

I just know he is such a smooth talker that you'll melt like a butter in a hot pan.

Someone get his ass!

-> Trust

It's one of those things that only a handful of people can understand and that is Kaiser trusting Ness to cut his hair.

Further, the way Kaiser opened up about himself feels bittersweet when you think about his backstory.

I hope those theories that revolved around Ness leaving Kaiser for Isagi never comes true.

.

.

.

Part: 1, 2, 4.

[needle-noggins]

(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

[rupeenotruby]

@isasan347 made a post about Fable doing her ssbu stuff in front of Legend and I thought the idea was quite humorous and so I made a comic!

I chose to go with her lightning kick because her three main special moves are just the great fairy spells for OOT which would then belong to Time and her down b isn't very iconic since it is a more recent addition. Lightning kick has been there since the beginning and is the first thing I think of when I think of Zelda in ssb.

I started working on this comic a few weeks ago but had to put it on hold because of my finals. But now they are over and I have finished this! There is a lot I dislike about this comic (namely the dialogue, I didn't really script this out like I should)(If you have a better final punchline you are welcome to edit the panels with it (2nd to last), I changed it so many times and am still not the biggest fan of it). But there is also a lot I like! I actually finished it for one! Yipppe! I'm still figuring out how to draw everyone and wouf! It was a challenge (shoutout to four though he's a real one). I'm probably going to study their clothes a bit more before making another comic though. I'm also still figuring out how to write all these guys so they might be ooc, sorry about that too. Also here's the rough draft if you want to see it(if you zoom in you can see the original ending (maybe)):

Anyways, if you have read this far, I have a favor to ask: You see it has been a while since I have made a comic for human consumption, and I would like some feedback. Is the text big enough? Do you understand what is happening? Anything really bothering you about it? Anything you really like? Etc. Etc. I am open to constructive criticism.

I will take this time to complain about Zelda's horrible heeled-sandal-boots. They are evil and awful and horrible and every other negative thing you can think of. That is all.