#i love earnest art no matter what

[sunniestshark-ocs]

Join her in meditation, or antagonize her into a match? The choice is yours

[lightbulb-warning]

local audhd having idiot has to do something not related to their hyperfixation and fuCKING EXPLODES!!1!!!!!! /j

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on Sonic 3!

On December 10th, 2018, I was on the last day of a trip to Milwaukee. The night before, I'd attended the wedding of one of my best friends, Jake, who I've known since high school. Even though half of us were sick the whole trip, it was a great time. Derek had asked the wedding DJ to play "One Week" as the first request of the night, and proceeded to lip sync the entire song on the dance floor. On that cold winter morning in a hotel room hundreds of miles from home, Derek and I groggily checked Twitter on our phones and saw the shocking news: Paramount had teased the design for Sonic from their upcoming live action film. Even in silhouette, the shape of his face and the realistic curvature of his limbs made him look like a grotesque little homunculus. This movie was going to suck.

Six years later, I've now seen the third entry in what's become a hugely successful Sonic film franchise. It features Keanu Reeves as the voice of Shadow the Hedgehog in a fairly faithful adaptation of his story from Sonic Adventure 2. At the time of writing, it currently sits at a whopping 86% positive rating on Rotten Tomatoes, vying for the title of the best-reviewed theatrically released video game movie of all time. Critics are saying nice things about the emotional journey of Shadow the Hedgehog. Never in a million years did I think I'd see this day.

I, too, have now seen this movie, and... yeah, it's pretty good.

I'm gonna get deep into spoilers here, so I'll just say up front that I liked the movie. It feels like just about the best possible execution of this version of Sonic. But that's also damning it with faint praise, depending on who you ask.

If you're a fan of the games who didn't like the second movie, you probably won't get much out of this one, either, unless you just really love Shadow so much that nothing else in the movie matters to you. It doesn't reinvent the wheel for this film series. It's still got a heaping helping of broad comedy, cheap pop culture references, bad one-liners, and characterization that diverges greatly from the source material. This is not high art, nor is it a direct adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2. If you're the kind of person who hates this portrayal of Sonic and Eggman, or a lore nerd who'll hate that they let Shadow do Chaos Control without an Emerald, then just don't bother with this.

On the other hand, if you did enjoy the last movie, then you'll probably have a fun time here, too. Shadow is very cool. The action is the best it's ever been. There's a bit more focus on characters from the games, and less on human characters invented for the movies—with the exception of Agent Stone, who's in this a lot because everyone likes him. There's a lot of SA2 fanservice. They even play "Live and Learn." It's a fun time! Be sure to stick around through the end credits.

And now, to dig deeper, let's get into the spoilers! I'm gonna jump around a lot and talk about different aspects of the movie, spoiling everything along the way.

Shadow and his reams of lore

Here's the main thing you came for: Shadow is great in this! They really did him justice. Keanu Reeves is extremely solid in the role. He can be a bit flat as an actor sometimes, but I think he did well here. He can be tough and menacing, but he can also be earnest and emotionally vulnerable. Good casting call. Excited at the prospect of seeing more of him in the future.

Really, as a Sonic Lore Nerd I'm most interested in discussing the changes they made to Shadow's backstory. I'm sure there will be many fans upset with the changes, but for the sake of streamlining a complicated backstory that was subject to a bunch of retcons and multiple layers of amnesia and fitting it into a 110-minute movie, I think they generally made smart choices.

For one, Gerald didn't create Shadow using Black Arms DNA, because Gerald didn't create Shadow at all! Instead, Shadow arrived on Earth inside a meteor, and Gerald was merely the prominent GUN scientist who studied him after he was captured. (That meteor does have very strong Black Arms vibes, though, so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of them exploring that stuff in the future.) This simplifies things a lot and allows Shadow to be a direct foil for Sonic, kind of a version of our hero who was treated as a lab rat and lost the only human he considered family instead of finding happiness like Sonic has. Then later Shadow hurts Tom and Sonic wants revenge, and it mirrors Shadow's feelings about Maria, and after they fight they can empathize with each other over this, Shadow sees the error of his ways and helps save the world, yada yada yada. You get it. People predicted 95% of this movie's plot from the trailers, but it's effective.

Likewise, all of the stuff about creating Shadow as the ultimate life form who's immune to all disease to cure Maria's illness is completely cut out. Shadow's still called the ultimate life form, but he's treated as more of an energy source than a genetic research project here, playing off of the stuff about Eggman wanting to harness Sonic's natural Chaos Energy in the movies. The original intent behind the ultimate life form project was always hard to explain in the games and doesn't even come up that much, so I don't blame them for cutting it.

Because Gerald isn't doing genetic experiments and creating artificial life, the Biolizard also doesn't exist. It does, however, appear in an old monster movie Shadow and Maria watch in a montage, with Shadow later commenting that he worries he's a monster like the one he saw in the movie. That's a clever way to include it, I think.

The ARK sort of exists. There was no space colony back in the '70s, all of the events of Shadow's flashbacks just took place at a secret GUN base on Earth. Fair enough for a version of the story ostensibly set in the real world. The big space laser in the third act of the film is obviously supposed to evoke the ARK, but it's referred to as simply the Eclipse Cannon. It's still not a full-blown space colony, just a weapon of mass destruction Gerald designed for GUN in exchange for his release (while also secretly planning to use it to blow up the planet in an act of revenge). I am, however, pleased to report that the Eclipse Cannon still has a giant Eggman face on it.

And as for Maria: I like her in this! She's obviously not going to get a ton of screentime, and she's always going to be a very straightforward character, but she's more playful and lively here. She teases Shadow for being grumpy and plays with him a lot. She feels less like this perfect embodiment of everything good and pure in the world and more like an actual kid. She's still not a complex character, but it works.

And the most important question: do they show a child getting shot and killed by the military? The answer is almost. In the flashback, GUN soldiers chase Maria, Shadow, and Gerald and ready their guns, but the young Commander Walters (who's in his 20s rather than being a kid) grabs them and tries to stop them from firing on a child. In the chaos, a soldier fires, missing Maria but hitting a generator that then blows up and kills Maria. So, y'know, close enough I suppose.

So, yes, many of the details change here, but they captured the gist of Shadow's story from SA2. The emotional core is there. I will say, though, I almost feel like Shadow isn't in this movie as much as I thought he'd be? I think he's used effectively in all of his scenes, and they make room for his backstory, and BOY does he get to kick ass in his fights, but for much of the middle part of the movie he's overshadowed by Ivo and Gerald. Though this might be a compromise to leave more screentime for...

Tails and Knuckles

I'm relieved to report that Tails and Knuckles both get a good amount of cool stuff to do in this! They don't feel like an afterthought.

I was worried that Tails in particular would completely fall by the wayside, since even his debut movie didn't entirely know what to do with him. But he's good here. He pretty much just feels like the Tails from the games at this point, especially since they dropped that fawning admiration he had for Sonic with that running gag of him going "Only Sonic the Hedgehog could do that!" He often chimes in as the one who wants Team Sonic to stick together when Sonic and Knuckles bicker. He particularly gets to shine in the Mission Impossible-inspired heist sequence at the GUN headquarters in London that serves as the climax of the second act, which feels like it was tailor made to let him shine as the tech guy of the team. He also gets several opportunities to swoop in and catch someone for a save in an action scene. He's good in this!

Knuckles is... fine. He's definitely fallen into the role of the comic relief dumb bruiser since joining the good guys, but he's at least a little better than he was in his own streaming show. The jokes lean more into him just being really brash about his strength and skill, rather than him being this archaic warrior who doesn't understand anything about the modern world. He also gets a few more serious bits in the back third of the movie where he gets to shine a little more, so overall it evens out to him being fine. They could've done way worse.

As for the relevance of the Knuckles show: Knuckles is now said to be the guardian of the Master Emerald, like in the games, though with no Angel Island this amounts to him hiding it somewhere for safekeeping. It's eventually revealed that he just gave it to Wade, who gets exactly one scene (sorry, Wade-heads) for a joke about him using the Master Emerald as a hockey puck. So, the miniseries explained why Knuckles has a connection with Wade. That's it! Also I think Knuckles might use the Flames of Disaster a bit in fights, but they never called the technique out by name, so I never really thought about it. So, yeah, the six-episode streaming miniseries about Wade bowling has zero meaningful relevance to the Shadow movie. Who could have seen this coming?

Miscellaneous humans

For that matter, the human supporting cast is MASSIVELY downplayed in this one. Tom and Maddie are there for two key sequences (the beginning of the movie and the GUN HQ heist), but otherwise they disappear for long stretches of the movie. They don't go to Japan in act I, nor do they go to space in act III, and there's no subplot for them during those periods, either. There's nothing like the wedding subplot in Sonic 2 where they'd constantly cut back to Hawaii for comic relief with the humans and only reveal why this was relevant to the plot near the end. (There's also no random dance battle in Siberia.) If a human character is here, it's because they have something to contribute to the plot right away. Most people will probably consider this an improvement, and I'd certainly say it makes for a much tighter script, though I have to remind everyone that I thought the wedding being a GUN sting operation was such a funny twist that I'm a defender of the Hawaii subplot.

On the subject of Tom, something funny I've noticed is that they've just completely downplayed the fact that Tom and Wade are cops. Tom being a cop never comes up once. Wade being a cop only gets referenced via the fact that he's practicing hockey on the roof of the police station in his one scene, but he's not in uniform or anything. They clearly got the memo that we don't want Sonic to hang out with cops.

Here's something else funny: Rachel and Randall got character posters, but they're actually not in the movie! Not technically, anyway. During the heist sequence at GUN HQ, Tom and Maddie use some gadgets Tails invented to holographically disguise themselves as those other characters. But the real Rachel and Randall never show up in the flesh. It's a very odd way to shoehorn the actors into the movie. (Jojo is also absent. They did not give her Amy's role of being the girl who reminds Shadow of Maria. Instead they just let Sonic have the big heart to heart with Shadow that makes him switch sides.)

You know who IS in this movie? Krysten Ritter. Not as the voice of Rouge, as the fandom once hoped, but as a director for GUN. She gets like three scenes and she feels completely checked out the whole time. Can't say I blame her! She's not really a character, just a plot necessity. Commander Walters dies in Japan but gives Sonic one of two keycards needed to activate the Eclipse Cannon, and then Ritter's character assumes Sonic stole it and labels him a bad guy. So that's why they have to break into GUN HQ in the second act instead of just talking things out with them. Still, I am at least relieved that Sonic doesn't work with GUN for most of the movie.

I gotta be honest: when Walters pulled a credit card-shaped object out of his pocket, I thought he was about to give Sonic another Olive Garden gift card as his final act before dying. Part of me wishes that happened.

The supporting human character in this who really gets to shine is Agent Stone, which I'm sure most fans will agree was the correct choice. There's a LOT of Agent Stone in this. He's good. I don't have much to say about him, but he's fun as usual.

But, of course, the ones who steal the show are Jim Carrey, and his costar Jim Carrey.

The Robotniks

I've gone back and forth on whether or not I can actually see movie Robotnik as Robotnik. I think with this third and final entry in the Jim Carrey Robotnik Trilogy, I've landed on... yeah, that's just Jim Carrey playing a Jim Carrey character. He's absolutely having fun with the role, and I enjoyed watching him, but I think a lot of that comes down to the fact that I'm a millennial who grew up watching Jim Carrey movies. If you didn't like him before, this movie will probably be nails on a chalkboard to you, because now there are two of him.

Ivo's arc here leans very heavily into the fact that he grew up as an orphan and never knew his family, a thing offhandedly mentioned in the first movie that's never been a thing for any other version of the character. Here, he learns that he has a living grandfather who's also a mad scientist, and it feels like a hole in his heart has been filled. It certainly makes sense for a place to take this version of the character, and it fits with the movie's themes of finding and losing family, but the cartoonish, childlike affection Ivo feels towards Gerald and all the scenes of them frolicking and dancing together have basically nothing to do with the characters from the games. He's a fun villain for this movie, but he's overwhelmingly used as comic relief this time rather than as a serious threat. He doesn't particularly feel like Sega's Dr. Ivo Robotnik, the arch nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog who'd take over the world with an army of robots and a fleet of airships in the span of a day if Sonic wasn't around to stop him. He's a guy who lives in a big crab robot and has some drones. He has more in common with Carrey's depictions of the Grinch or the Riddler or Count Olaf than Dr. Eggman. Though he does, at least, finally get his outfit from the games by the end of the movie. So that's something. And also he's in a fat suit now. They only make jokes at the expense of his weight a little. Hooray...?

Gerald, meanwhile, is... largely the same character as movie Eggman, but older, so they can make jokes about him having saggy flesh and smelling funny and needing dentures. (Also, his voice kind of sounds like Homer Simpson sometimes?) To his credit, Carrey absolutely nails the handful of more serious scenes Gerald gets, whether it's Maria's death or his sinister turn when he reveals that he actually wants to destroy the Earth. But then it's right back to goofs about there being two of the same guy. Even the final battle features a lot of slapstick shenanigans with the two Robotniks fighting each other. I was able to enjoy the absurdity of it all, but if the humor doesn't land for you the dual Jim Carrey schtick is a hell of a lot of the movie. I wouldn't be surprised if there was more Gerald than Shadow in the movie, when you go and tally up their screentime. I was able to enjoy the sheer absurdity of it, but your mileage will vary.

I will, however, say that the split screen stuff they do with the two Carreys is EXTREMELY impressive, from a filmmaking perspective. They were absolutely flexing with their ability to pull the effect off. They don't rely on cheap tricks like cutting a lot, or having shot/reverse shot scenes where you're looking at the back of a body double's head. Instead they have a lot of long takes where the two Robotniks are talking to each other, you can see both of their faces, and they'll even hug and touch each other a lot, and the whole time the conversation maintains a natural pace like it really is two actors playing off of each other. It's really well done. It's an incredibly silly idea, but boy did they commit to it.

Sonic

I've hardly said anything about Sonic himself in all of this. It's his movie, isn't it! Well... I don't know, he's fine.

I feel like movie Sonic is a known quantity at this point, and either you like this take on the character or you don't. There was some speculation early on that this was supposed to be a younger Sonic who would grow into being the character we know from the games and comics, the one who's still got lots of quips but is also kind of aloof and cool, a free spirit who goes where the wind takes him, a figure the other characters look up to. And... no, that didn't happen. Once again he gets more serious as the stakes are raised, and he's totally badass when he goes Super, but the rest of the time he's still a little goober with tons of generic one-liners who learns schmaltzy lessons about the importance of family. He's still constantly going to undercut the tension of most scenes by cracking a pop culture reference that will make the average American parent go "haha I've heard of that." I don't think they're ever gonna change that. I think this just what the writers think Sonic is like.

And, again, for what it is, it's fine. He's a little annoying. You already know how you feel about movie Sonic. This third entry won't change that. But they do, at least, have him say "Talk about low budget flights, no food or movies... I'm outta here!" before jumping out of a helicopter. As my thoughts on the climax will show, I am not immune to fanservice.

The climax

God, the climax is SOOOOO fucking good. It's fantastic. Easily the best action these movies have ever done.

Rather than saving Super Shadow for the team-up with Sonic at the end, they have both of them go Super to fight each other first, and they just go full DBZ with it, fighting across the entire planet. It absolutely rules. I think this is the new coolest fight the two of them have had in anything ever. And then they have to stop the Eclipse Cannon together, and sure, there's no Biolizard. But Gerald DOES release a swarm of GUN Hunter robots, and the ensuing space battle turns into some Gundam shit. It's good! It's so good!!! The movie's flaws kind of melt away for me here when I'm watching Super Shadow take out an army of robots with Chaos Spears on the big screen. What a timeline we're living in.

And yes, they play "Live and Learn." They had to. They knew the assignment. They actually play a slight remix, but it's still got the original vocals, so it's perfectly recognizable. Actually, the tune of the song is used as a leitmotif for Shadow throughout the movie, first introduced via an acoustic guitar version played by Maria, and I really love that. I've been begging these movies to use more music from the games the whole time, and I'm glad they finally did so here. (They also use the traditional level clear jingle early in the film, and Eggman's theme from SA2 is very briefly used as a ringtone.)

... Anyway, uh, meanwhile Eggman, Tails, and Knuckles straight up just kill Gerald to save the world? They unceremoniously knock him into an energy field at the end of their slapstick fight aboard the Eclipse Cannon and he disintegrates like he hit a bugzapper. It's over in an instant. It's not graphic or anything, but it's, like... I didn't expect them to show it, or for it to be such a casual murder! Eggman has one quip about it and then immediately moves on.

Shortly after this, Eggman and Shadow sacrifice themselves to stop the Eclipse Cannon. Shadow's sacrifice doesn't stick, obviously (he's revealed to be alive by the end of the second stinger—pretend to be shocked), but Eggman's probably dead dead. I seriously doubt Jim Carrey's gonna come out of retirement for these movies again. His final moments before the big explosion are also SO dragged out and belabored. He has a dramatic final line like ten times in a row. It really just feels like the series saying goodbye to Carrey. And, again, it feels like a fitting enough end for this Eggman's arc, but it's an odd adaptation of the character from the games.

And so, that's what we're left with. This is far from Sonic Adventure 2: The Movie. It's not that, though there are many, many references made to that game in particular. It's a sequel to the film Sonic the Hedgehog 2 that has a similar tone and style, but Shadow and Gerald are in it, and Shadow gets some really cool fights, and there's a liiiiiittle more focus on stuff from the games than last time, and the script's a little tighter. If that sounds fun to you, you will have fun with this. I know I did. If it doesn't, you're probably better off waiting for them to inevitably do an animated reboot whenever this live action series runs out of steam.

It hasn't quite run out of steam yet, though...

The post-credits scenes, and the future

One of the big questions going into this was: what's next? How do they top a Shadow movie with heavy Sonic Adventure 2 overtones, in terms of hype for the fans? How do you fill Eggman's shoes after Carrey retires, for real this time? There are still more fan favorite rival characters to get through, but how many movies in a row can they introduce a furry foe for Sonic who inevitably turns good and helps him stop a larger threat by the end? And when the hell are we gonna see the girls?

Well, we now have our answer, and it's one I'm cautiously excited for: a whole army of Metal Sonics, and Amy!

Yes, Amy! Finally!! It's an absolute crime that we've gone three whole movies and a streaming miniseries without including the female lead of the series. I've complained about this ad nauseum (and also the fact that they cut Rouge from the story). But at least now they're finally doing something about it.

But now the question is, how will they characterize Amy? Sega's struggled with her for years, and there's a million different directions you can take her. Her one scene here has her smashing a bunch of Metal Sonics and wearing a cloak for the sake of a dramatic reveal, which gives her the vibes of a mysterious, badass action girl. This is, of course, completely different from how Sonic and Amy met in the games. What will her personality be like? She doesn't speak here, so who will they get to play her? Where did she come from? Will she even have a crush on Sonic? All of these have yet to be determined. So, like, I'm hyped to finally see Amy, a character who should've been in the movies from the start, but they could so easily end up playing it safe with an incredibly boring girlboss version of Amy who's no fun at all. We'll have to wait and see.

(My prediction: they're going to try to cast either Zendaya or Ariana as Amy.)

Metal Sonic, likewise, is very exciting, and he looks perfect. He looks just like the design from the games. But the question is: what will they do with this army of Metals? Will they be lead by one main Metal Sonic, perhaps Neo Metal Sonic, who gets to be a proper bad guy? Will they take some cues from Sonic CD, Heroes, and the OVA, or do something completely original? Where did they come from? Were they activated as a failsafe after Eggman died? Did they and Amy come from some sort of bad future, riffing on Sonic CD's time travel? Will they explore the fact that Metal wants to be the one and only Sonic? Or will they just be an army of disposable robot grunts for Sonic and friends to mow down like it's a Dynasty Warriors game, while some other villain takes center stage?

It could go so many different ways, and some prospects are more exciting than others. I mean, the Knuckles show had endless possibilities for what it could do with him, and none of the options on my bingo card were "Pachacamac's ghost tells him to help Wade win a bowling tournament." And while I'm a sicko who thinks it's funny that the Knuckles show is what it is, forgive me for keeping my hype about Amy and Metal Sonic in check here until we learn more.

Regardless of what they do, it'll still be hard to top the hype of Shadow, and it'll be hard to fill Jim Carrey's shoes for general audiences. So despite this clear statement of intent, I have no idea what the future of this film franchise holds. But regardless of what they do, I can say one thing for certain: the kids in my theater were hyped as hell for it. They popped off over Metal Sonic, and they were screaming their heads off with excitement over Amy. I heard a teenage girl on the opposite end of my row of seats say "finally!" over Amy's reveal, verbalizing my exact thoughts. She also said that this movie was "peak," though it diverged from the games, and she hoped they'd do a movie with Silver and Blaze someday.

The kids are gonna be okay.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

dye this space red

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike's a pretty sensitive guy, emotionally and otherwise, and there's a theory you'd love to test on his thighs

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, smut, pwp, marking, biting, hickeys, hair pulling, rough foreplay, thigh riding, touch-free orgasm

word count: 1.3k

You're convinced that Mike's thighs taste sweeter than the rest of him. They're softer than his stubbled jaw or the hard planes of his chest—a milkier shade peppered with barely-there freckles and sparse smatterings of hair. Thick and sweet, and begging to be bitten.

Or maybe it's the way he reacts when you're between them that's so delicious. His typically deep, monotone voice takes on a higher pitch the longer you suck, bite, and cover them in loving bruises, increasing in volume until it cracks.

Every harsh nibble is followed by a soothing swipe of your tongue and a gentle kiss until he's marked up to your liking and painfully hard, whimpering as he desperately bucks into thin air.

Sometimes you think he'd be able cum like that if you paced him just right. If you entertained his moaned instructions and let him guide you by the hair to where he needed you most, he'd probably cum untouched, longer and harder than he would even at his own hand.

So tonight, you test your theory.

He's fresh out of the shower with the fluffiest, towel-dried curls when you sit him on the edge of the bed and sink to your knees, smiling softly at the earnest anticipation on his tired face. Even after all this time, he still somehow manages to look so grateful every time you touch him.

Every groan and hitched breath sounds thankful, but he rarely asks for what he needs, always so eager to be your good boy and accept what he's given. But right now, you're encouraging him to take control. You want him to push and pull you to every spot that brings him closer to quaking with his impending release.

To see his cock pulse against his stomach, coating him in thick, heady spurts without ever being touched, would be your prize. You're so sure you can get him there, but you need him to show you how. 

Taking his broad hands in yours, you bury his fingers in your hair and encourage him to pull you down, slightly lower and to the side of where he's already stiffening with interest. Your lips press into his warm, damp skin, and he inhales sharply, his fingers tugging tightly at your strands.

"Show me where it feels good," you murmur, licking away a stray droplet of water he missed when he was drying off. "I know you like it here...," you swirl your finger around a sensitive spot next to his knee, "...and definitely here," his leg hair tickles as you trail over to a patch of skin an inch or two away from his balls.

His lips part around a gasp, and he tugs your head back to his knee, holding you close. He's careful with his guidance, but his restraint is dwindling—quickly.

"H-here," he chokes out, massaging soothing patterns into your scalp, though you're not sure if that's for his benefit or yours. "Start here."

So, he's using you to tease himself. At the realization, your pussy dribbles uncomfortably down your thighs, and you clench around nothing in an attempt to dull the ache. It doesn't work, but it also doesn't matter. He's what matters tonight.

"Okay, baby. I've got you," you reassure him, meeting his eyes as you suck delicately to ease him into it, then a little harder to leave your first mark.

You swear you can feel the capillaries bursting against your tongue and painting his skin in rich reds and purples. The sweetest canvas for your selfishly possessive art. His hips jerk reflexively, and you can't help but smile after you finish soothing the fresh bruise.

A glance up at his lap tells you he's fully hard now and leaking tempting drops of precum you're not allowed to taste. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in concentration, so you nip at him to pull his attention back to you.

"I'm sorry, I just...god, you feel good," he mumbles apologetically, tugging you inward and a smidge lower. "A little harder here, then—," he winces, his cock suddenly twitching, and you wonder if just thinking about it is getting him closer. "—shit. Then, work your way in."

You nod, kissing his skin wetly before doing as he asks, and his response is almost immediate. The further in you get, the rougher he is with his guidance, struggling not to yank you from place to place with his tensing fingers. He bucks clear off the bed when you lick a broad, curved line that grazes the underside of his thigh and has to hold you in place tighter to keep you from toppling backward.

As his cock bounces off his stomach and lands in a sticky pool of precum, he whimpers louder than he should with Abby playing just down the hall, and you give him a sharp warning slap next to a particularly abused patch of skin. It only makes it worse.

He outright groans, unable to keep himself from rocking upward steadily like he's imagining you bouncing on his lap.

"Do that again. Harder, do it harder," he grits out, and the demand sends another wave of heat crashing through you.

You fall into a rhythm: bite, slap; suck, then a harder slap. His abs tense and relax in time with each rough motion, and you can hear him muttering something dark and incoherent above you repeatedly. Wait, no—no, he's saying fuck over and over like it's the only word he knows anymore. 

By now, he's littered with teeth marks and damp bruises, his tender skin tinged a pretty, rosy red, and his legs are trembling on either side of your head just like you wanted. There's a shuddered breath above you, and then he's dragging you to his favorite spot, a not-yet-tainted point just south and to the left of his balls.

"M'so close," he whimpers, sounding like he's on the verge of tears. "Babe, use your mouth. Now, ngh—now."

Bracing your hands on his thighs as well as you can with how frantically he's bucking his hips, you latch on exactly where he told you to, leeching with more suction than you have all night. Then, his fingers abruptly tense in your hair so hard it hurts.

"M'cumming...fuck—fuck, m'fucking cumming," he moans as it slams into him, and you peer up just in time.

His head lolls back, jaw dropping as the veins in his cock visibly pulse and he cums across his stomach and chest. He continues to buck into the air, simultaneously grinding into your mouth, and only slows once he's totally drained and twitching with aftershocks.

"Well, shit," he breathes out, heaving as he releases his grip to pet your tender scalp. "That was new."

You laugh, leaning up to kiss his softening length.

"Mm, but I knew you could do it," you grin, getting up from the floor and kissing his lips next. 

He sighs contentedly into your mouth, coaxing it open to brush your tongue with his, and you melt into him, still a little shaky on your feet. 

"C'mere," he mumbles against your lips. He splays his hands across your waist and leads you to straddle his leg. "Pretty sure my thigh owes you one."

Looping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you part from him and bury your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your whines, letting him guide your slick core up and down his leg. His five o'clock shadow is scratchy yet grounding against your ear as he works you to your peak.

"You sound so damn sweet right now, you know that?"

thanks for reading!

(divider by @saradika <3)

[solxamber]

Hello! Can I please request some (HI3) Su or Kevin Kaslana × gn Reader? I am desperate for these men's attention and loveeee and there's still little content of them bc they're MEN

Kevin Kaslana, Su x reader (separate)

i hope you like it <3

Kevin Kaslana

The day starts with the unmistakable scent of… smoke?

You roll out of bed, eyes still heavy with sleep, and stumble your way to the kitchen. The sight that greets you is both terrifying and, somehow, endearing. Kevin Kaslana—legendary hero, the man who could probably fight a god and win—stands in front of the stove, holding a spatula like it’s a sword, fighting an invisible enemy. Except that enemy isn’t invisible at all; it’s the charred remains of what was probably once eggs.

“Kevin?” you ask, cautiously. “Are you… making breakfast?”

Kevin, with his signature stoic expression, looks up at you, his blue eyes alight with what could only be described as misplaced confidence. “Yes. Sit down. I wanted to make something special for you.”

You glance at the table, where a plate of pancakes—if you can even call them that—sit proudly. They’re oddly shaped, resembling abstract art more than anything edible. One has a suspiciously black ring around it, as though it was scorched in some breakfast-related battle.

Kevin, in all his earnest glory, beams. “I followed the recipe exactly.”

Oh no.

He approaches you with a plate in hand, the eggs…well, the crispy yellow-grey matter, and those "pancakes" sit like fallen soldiers on a battlefield. You can't help but blink back tears—whether from love or sheer horror, you’re not sure. Still, you sit down, heart full of affection for this man who could literally conquer worlds but was taken down by basic breakfast foods.

You pick up your fork, praying silently to whatever cosmic beings might be listening, and take a bite of the eggs first. They crunch. Eggs are not supposed to crunch.

Kevin’s eyes are on you, filled with hope. “How is it?” he asks, voice soft.

You nod, swallowing the egg with a Herculean effort. “It’s… perfect,” you lie, because you love him. Because despite the fact that your teeth are struggling to make sense of what’s in your mouth, you’d eat burnt eggs for him any day.

Next, you tackle the pancake. This might be your biggest challenge yet. You stab your fork into it, and it fights back. You break off a piece and chew—slowly, carefully. You think, at one point, you might have cracked a tooth.

And yet, you smile through it all. Tears welling in your eyes. “It’s amazing, Kevin. You’re amazing.”

Kevin, ever the hero, takes a seat across from you, completely oblivious to the carnage on your plate. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll make breakfast more often.”

Your soul leaves your body for a moment. More often? You’d rather face a thousand Honkai Beasts than go through this breakfast nightmare again, but you simply nod because… well, you love him.

And love means sacrifice, even if that sacrifice is your taste buds.

Su

Living with Su was like living in a Zen garden. Every day felt like you were being gently guided toward inner peace, whether you asked for it or not.

Today, though, was different. Su had decided it was cleaning day.

You sat on the couch, buried under a blanket and scrolling mindlessly through your phone, while Su moved through the apartment like a breeze of calm efficiency. Armed with a feather duster, he approached the bookshelf like he was about to perform a sacred ritual. He wiped every surface with such gentleness that it made you feel like a heathen for how you usually did it: with a wet rag and a lot of impatience.

"You're really into this, huh?" you asked, glancing at him over the top of your phone. He was now rearranging the plants in the corner, positioning them so they could “better absorb the morning sunlight.”

He gave you that serene smile, the one that felt like a warm hug to your soul and also made you feel like you should be meditating more. "A tidy space promotes a tidy mind."

“Right, of course,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around you as though shielding yourself from his overly serene aura. “And here I thought we were just trying to find that sock I lost.”

Su, always in tune with the subtleties of the universe, of course already had the sock in his hand—folded neatly, as if it were a rare artifact. “This one?”

You stared at it, blinking. "That’s it? How did you—"

"I found it under the couch. It was stuck in the farthest corner," he said simply, as if retrieving lost items from the void was just part of his daily routine.

You let out a sigh of wonder. "You're like some kind of cleaning magician."

He chuckled softly, a rare sound, and moved on to the next task with the calm determination of a monk on a pilgrimage. Now he was folding laundry, and you felt a twinge of guilt watching him work so quietly, so efficiently.

Finally, you tossed the blanket aside, standing up dramatically. "Alright, alright! I’ll help!"

But the moment you grabbed a towel to fold, Su gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "There’s no rush," he said softly. "Sit. Relax."

You blinked. "Relax? While you do everything? I’ll feel like a horrible person!"

He smiled, his eyes half-lidded in that eternally calm way of his. "There’s balance in everything. Today, your role is to rest. Tomorrow, you’ll find your own tasks."

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly, already half-sitting back down.

“Positive,” he said, moving onto folding another perfectly aligned piece of laundry. “Besides, I enjoy this.”

You watched him for a moment, biting your lip. "You enjoy folding laundry?"

"It gives me time to think," he said, as if he were discussing the secrets of the cosmos. "It’s a form of meditation."

Right. Of course it was.

You sat back down, watching as Su continued his cleaning and folding. The air around him seemed to hum with tranquility, making you feel oddly relaxed despite the fact that he was doing all the work.

And then, to your surprise, he paused, turning to you with a faint smile. “Maybe next time, you can teach me your way of folding.”

You snorted, picturing the chaotic heap of mismatched clothes that passed as "folded" when you were in charge. “Trust me, you don’t want to learn my way.”

But Su just smiled, his eyes soft. “I think I’d enjoy learning anything from you.”

And somehow, in that simple, serene moment, your heart felt like it was being tucked neatly into a drawer, folded perfectly with the same care Su gave to everything in his life���including you.

i've only read elysia fics because i'm deeply in love with her but i see that there's a lack of fics in hi3 and i'm gonna fill that void myself now

Masterlist

[prythiansprincess]

Hey! I love your work! I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader fic where reader doesn’t know a lot about males and so az (maybe he already has a thing for reader) offers to give her lessons? The more NSFW the better 😉

innocence.

author's note: sorry for being m.i.a. please accept this as my apology gift. largely inspired by this song. you can't tell me that az doesn't have the biggest corrpution kink 😏

it started out innocently enough.

one winter evening after a particularly rowdy wine night, you and azriel laid in a heap at the house of wind, giggling at nothing as the warmth of the alcohol lowered your inhibitions and loosened your lips.

"never?" azriel asked incredulously, his brows creasing in the most adorable way. "you've truly never kissed anyone?"

you pouted, crossing your arms. thanks to cassian and his big mouth, the shadowsinger now knew the true extent of your naivete. growing up in the high priestess's temple in the dawn court, you had devoted much of your life to duty and training, which left little to no room for encounters with the opposite sex.

it never bothered you before. until you moved to the night court and met the shadowsinger. azriel was beyond gorgeous and smart and funny and probably well-versed in the art of seduction, which is more than you could say for your inexperienced self.

"don't tease, az." you groaned, covering your face behind your hands. as if that would hide the flush spreading through your cheeks. "i'm already mortified enough as it is."

"hey," azriel said softly as he gently grabbed your wrists. "it's nothing to be embarrassed about, love."

"you're just saying that to be nice."

the shadowsinger shook his head. "i torture people for a living," he deadpanned. "i am not nice."

you chuckled, which brought a smile to azriel's handsome face. "besides, practice makes perfect. i've seen you go from not knowing how to hold a sword to perfecting the eight point attack in a matter of weeks. kissing should be a piece of cake compared to that."

"kissing and fighting aren't the same thing."

azriel smirked. "it is, if you're doing it right. all it takes is a good teacher." the tips of your ears reddened. “and we all know how fast of a learner you are.”

you snorted. "somehow i doubt that nesta would be into the idea of letting me borrow her mate for lessons." a little frown formed on your face. "or maybe she would. you never know with those two."

the idea formed in azriel's mind before he could think better of it. the shadowsinger hated that he thought of it in the first place, but fuck. you were both a little tipsy and a tiny bit reckless and he'd been crushing on you for far too long and maybe tonight was the night he finally did something about it.

"i could teach you."

you stilled. “what?”

azriel shrugged and put on his most nonchalant expression even though his inner monologue was currently pure turmoil. “i could teach you how to kiss.” he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to yours. “it might help to practice with someone you’re comfortable with.”

you cocked your head, weighing his words. “you’re…actually serious about this.”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“well, wouldn’t it make things weird? you’re my best friend. best friends don’t just kiss.”

you had him there. azriel certainly had never offered this unique service to any of his friends before. “i don’t think it’s weird. i think it makes perfect sense. in fact, it’s weird that we’re not kissing right now. best friends kiss all the time,” the shadowsinger deadpanned.

you snorted. “so you and cassian are just having heated little makeout sessions behind me and nesta’s back?”

azriel winked. “i won’t tell if you don’t.”

that earned an earnest little giggle out of you. then you were quiet again, lost in the pros and cons.

pro: you really wanted to kiss azriel.

con: you really wanted to kiss azriel.

what if you were horrible at it? what if you had bad breath? what if you accidentally bit him? what if azriel figured out that you had a pathetic little crush on him and he doesn’t return the feelings and your friendship implodes then you’d have to move back to the dawn court and adopt a bunch of cats just like thesan always teased you about when you were children—

“you’re spiraling.”

you crossed your arms. “am not.”

azriel rolled his eyes fondly. “i can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” his expression softened as he turned over on the couch, his chin perched in one hand. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. i just…” the bob of an adam’s apple. “i just wanted your first kiss to be with someone who genuinely cares about you.”

that turned your insides into mush. “oh.”

the shadowsinger’s cheeks reddened. “never mind, it sounds silly now that i’ve said it out loud.”

“it’s not,” you said, sitting cross legged on the sofa. “it’s not stupid, az. it’s really sweet, actually.”

your heart hammered inside of your chest as you faced azriel. his hazel eyes glowed golden under the faelights and a warm flush colored his cheeks a rosy tone. from this close, you could make out the constellations of freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks, its traitorous little trail stopping just above his cupid’s bow. you couldn’t help it. your gaze went straight to his lips. they looked soft, sensual, and perfectly kissable. you wondered if he’d taste like sweet wine.

“y/n?” azriel murmured softly.

“hmm?”

“you’re staring.”

your cheeks reddened and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of azriel’s mouth. “you’re the one who brought up kissing,” you countered, raising a brow. “now i can’t stop staring at your stupid lips.”

the shadowsinger’s smirk grew wider. “my stupid lips,” he repeated. “that you want to kiss.”

“no,” you blurted. azriel raised a knowing brow. “yes. maybe.” you shifted awkwardly. “what if i’m terrible at it? what if i accidentally miss? what if i don’t know where to put my hands? oh my gods, what if i accidentally bite you?”

to his credit, there wasn’t an ounce of judgement on azriel’s face. he’d witnessed your outbursts enough times that he wasn’t even fazed by it. the shadowsinger grabbed your hand and traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “one, no one’s first kiss is great. at best, it’s weird and awkward because you’re just trying to figure it out. that’s kind of the point. two, you won’t miss. just follow my lead. three, the neck or waist are generally safe spots to place your hands.” azriel demonstrated by wrapping your arms around his neck. “lastly, i don’t mind if you bite me. in fact, i might enjoy it.” he gave you a cheeky wink that helped dissipate the rest of your anxious worries.

you chuckled softly. leave it to azriel to make you laugh mid freak out. the shadowsinger smiled and cauldron fucking boil you, the sight of it pretty much sealed your fate.

“so,” you murmured, toying with the loose curls at the nape of azriel’s neck. “what now?”

“that’s entirely up to you, love.”

you blinked. once, twice. the smell of cedar and starkissed night. freckles and rosy cheeks. warm, golden eyes that melted your insides like honey. scarred hands that caressed the side of your face with heartbreaking gentleness.

“kiss me, azriel.”

the shadowsinger did not need to be told twice. he tilted your chin, brushing his nose against yours for a brief moment. azriel took a deep breath like he was savoring the moment, like his entire life had been leading up to this. then he kissed you.

his lips were as soft as freshly plucked rose petals and as sweet as the wine that still coated your tongue. they pressed against yours, gentle and exploring as azriel cupped your cheek. you leaned into him and your fingers found purchase in his silky, dark locks as azriel deepened the kiss. his arm snaked across your back as he pulled you into his lap, his mouth never once leaving yours. the sweet innocent pecks did not stay innocent for long.

the shadowsinger groaned as you nestled into him. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t pressed against him, but still you wanted more. your hands moves of their own accord and slipped underneath azriel’s cream sweater. his skin felt like a warm summer day despite the fact that it was currently the dead of winter.

“fuck,” azriel growled into your neck.

you pulled away, startled. it didn’t even occur to you that your fingers were as cold as icicles. “shit. sorry, az i didn’t think—“

you slipped your hands out of his sweater, but azriel caught you by the wrist. “no,” he grunted, his voice dark and low and dangerous. “no, don’t stop.”

it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. even hotter still with the way azriel tugged you to him as though he’d rather die than have you stop touching him. you greedily obliged, taking the lead this time. azriel cursed under his breath as you kissed him again, tangling his curls between your fingers. there was something intoxicating about him—his taste, his touch, his kiss. you couldn’t get enough.

when you finally came up for breath, the shadowsinger looked at you as though he’d been starving for centuries and you’d only really begun to scratch the surface of his hunger. azriel wanted to devour you.

but tonight, he’d settle for a kiss. except, it was anything but.

azriel was fucked.

he blinked, drinking in your lust added gaze and flushed cheeks. you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and it was all he could do to reel himself in. “are…are all first kisses like that?” your voice was hoarse from disuse and utterly sexy.

“no,” azriel answered honestly. “i’ve never had a kiss like that.”

your grin brought out a set of dimples that azriel had long ago deemed as his greatest weaknesses. “and i’ve never had a first kiss, period.”

and you never will again, azriel thought. not if he could help it.

“does that feel good, love?” azriel asked as he pressed a kiss against your collar bone.

you whimpered as his lips trailed between the valley of your breasts. since that first kiss, you and azriel hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other. over the last few weeks, the apprehension you felt about your inexperience slowly started to feel like a blessing in disguise. azriel said you were a fast learner, but only because he was such a great teacher.

“gods,” you breathed, clutching the sheets as azriel continued his descent.

“you can just call me az, you know.”

you rolled your eyes at the cheeky male below you. from this angle, he certainly looked like a god. his hair was a tousled mess, dark curls tangled from where you ran your fingers through it. sweat dripped down his shirtless torso, his golden brown skin glowing in the afternoon light. you were vaguely aware that the sun as setting over the horizon, which meant that the rest of your friends would be arriving for dinner, but neither one of you seemed to care.

during the past few weeks, you and azriel continued your lessons. first base was easy enough to master. the two of you put in plenty of hours sneaking off to make out in azriel’s room, the wine cellar, the training pits, and even in feyre’s art studio at the river house once when things really got desperate. it was a wonder that your friends hadn’t caught you yet. there had been several close calls with cassian. mostly because the male was a nosy busybody.

second base took a little more work. you were terrified at first. you and azriel had been making out in your bed for what seemed like hours before you finally mustered up the courage to slip your hand into his trousers. the shadowsinger made a sound that was half growl and half purr and for a split second you were afraid that you’d hurt him. when you voiced your fears, azriel was quick to reassure you.

“i’m not in pain, love.” azriel said, his voice strained and breathy. “trust me, i feel the complete opposite.”

“tell me how to make you feel good, az.”

the string of curse words that fell from his lips were so filthy that it made you blush. the shadowsinger guided your hand over his cock and you nearly gasped at the impressive length. azriel was hot and hard beneath your touch, his wings flexing as you grasped him in your hand.

“loosen your grip, love.” azriel adjusted your hand, motioning for your fingers to relax and mold against him. you mimicked his movement, eliciting a low rumble out of the shadowsinger. the competitive part of you awakened, eager to make azriel groan like that again. you gazed up at azriel through your lashes with determination. “gods, don’t look at me like that y/n or this lesson will be over before it’s even started.”

heat erupted in your core, but you shook the desire away. this was about azriel. you wanted to make him come undone for once instead of the other way around. “show me, az.” you said. “i want to see how you touch yourself.”

“cauldron boil me,” azriel muttered under his breath. “you’re going to be the death of me, y/n.”

you watched as he gripped himself and pumped at a steady pace. he slowed down the movements for you and you studied each flick of his wrist as though you’d be tested on it later. as sinful as it was, there was something heavenly about watching azriel stroke himself. your hands itched to touch him. once you felt confident enough, azriel let you take over.

azriel’s eyes rolled back as you pumped his shaft, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest. his heavy breathing filled the room and it quickly became your favorite sound in the world.

you felt a strange rush of power witnessing azriel in such a vulnerable state. his lids were heavy with lust, golden eyes barely visible from the ring of onyx swallowing up his irises. you thought he looked pretty like this, his head tilted back against your headboard while his lips parted to release a shallow breath every now and then.

"you have no idea how good that feels, love." azriel grunted. you tightened your grip, spreading the bead of precum over his tip. your little improvisation was met with a moan that seeped into your bones.

"how good, az?" you teased.

those long lashes of his kissed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered close. "fucking amazing," azriel declared. "keep going, love. don't stop, please. gods—"

"you can just call me y/n, you know."

azriel growled in response before pulling you in for a heated kiss. his hips thrust up to match your pace as his tongue parted your lips. he swallowed your moans, devouring you like his life depended on it.

“just like that, love.” azriel said in appreciation. “you’re doing such a good job, y/n.”

the praise affected you more than you thought it would. you were always seeking positive feedback when it came to your work, especially in training, but this was something else. it only encouraged you to keep going at a faster pace until azriel was coming undone in your hands. the sight of him losing control would forever be etched in your mind.

the more azriel gave, the more you craved. not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. the whole thing may have started as a practical way to tackle sex, but as time went on, it started to evolve into something else entirely.

until the lessons weren’t really just lessons anymore.

if you had to pinpoint the moment when everything changed, it would have been a few days after winter solstice. azriel had been away for a mission and was unable to make it home for the festivities. throughout the night, you kept finding yourself fidgeting and glancing at the empty seat beside you. at one point during dinner, cassian squeezed your hand and smiled sadly.

“i’m sure he misses you too, y/n.”

the gravity of those words hit you full force when you found azriel standing in the doorway of your flat. he was still dressed in his combat leathers and dark circles formed underneath his eyes as though he’d flown nonstop from wherever he was to get back home. before you could stop yourself, you rushed at him and nearly knocked him into the street from the force of your hug.

“i know, love.” azriel murmured softly into your hair. “i missed you, too.”

one bath and two cups of hot chocolate later, you found yourself curled up on the sofa as snow fell softly against the windowpane. you set your drink down on the table and turned to face azriel.

“so, i was thinking…”

the corner of azriel’s mouth quirked. “that’s never good.”

you tossed a pillow at him and rolled your eyes. “i was thinking that maybe it’s my turn to teach you a lesson, for once.”

the shadowsinger looked intrigued by that. “oh yeah? and what do you want to teach me, love?”

“i’m going to teach you how to sleep, az.” you pointedly stared at his bruised eyes, which only made him chuckle in amusement. “because judging from those bags underneath your eyes, you’re no expert in the matter.”

“i don’t get a say in this, do i?” shadows peered over his shoulders as though they too yearned for rest.

“nope,” you said cheerfully, dragging him off the couch and into your bedroom.

azriel let you bully him into getting underneath the covers. he tucked his wings to the side as he faced you. “what’s so great about this thing you call sleep, then? seems pretty boring to me.”

“well if you’d let me demonstrate,” you said impatiently before tugging him towards you. azriel chuckled and scooted closer. “i’ll have you know i’m a world class cuddler.”

“yeah? prove it then, love.” azriel teased.

the shadowsinger watched in amusement as you bossed him around. first you made him lie on his stomach and then pulled him to your chest. as much as he enjoyed teasing the absolute hell out of you, he couldn’t help but murmur in satisfaction as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. even his shadows seemed to enjoy bathing in your warmth and breathing in your jasmine shampoo.

“mmm,” az mumbled sleepily. for the first time in gods knew how long, he felt warm and safe and content. “you’re bossy as hell, but comfy too.”

“i know, you stubborn giant bat baby.”

the shadowsinger snorted. “giant bat baby?”

you rolled your eyes fondly. “shut up and cuddle, az.”

azriel burrowed himself further until his body heat warmed every inch of your skin. “that’s the good stuff,” he declared, brushing a soft kiss against your collarbone.

“told you i was good,” you said with a smile. azriel couldn’t even argue. with your hands massaging his scalp and your legs intertwined with his, the shadowsinger would’ve agree to anything you said.

“the best,” he hummed against your skin.

this was dangerous territory. with your other lessons, it was easy to shove aside your feelings because pleasure made it hard to think about anything else. but with azriel laying on your chest and clinging onto you like this meant something more…you could no longer avoid that pesky voice of doubt.

you were in love with azriel.

you had been for a long time.

shit.

“y/n?” azriel asked, cutting through the turmoil of your thoughts. his wings draped over the sides of your bed, relaxed and at ease.

“yeah?”

his golden eyes found yours in the dark. for a second, he stared at you like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. the shadowsinger opened his mouth like he was going to say something important, but he gave a tiny shake of his head and smiled.

“good night, love.”

in that moment, you knew azriel had your heart in the palm of his hand. “good night, az.”

azriel knew it was only a matter of time before these lessons came back to bite him on the ass.

he had been so eager that first night. mostly because he'd had a crush on you for so long and it was finally time to do something about it. the shadowsinger knew that he probably should've just told you how he felt, but he didn't want to shatter this delicate thing between you.

after all, these were just lessons. for all he knew, he was just your practice partner. it wasn't really all that different from sparring. except your weapons where your lips and your hands and your fucking smile that made his heart skip a beat every time you so much as grinned at him from across the room.

gods, he was so fucked.

the reality of it didn't fully hit him until that disastrous spring night.

the two of you had perfected third base eons ago. azriel knew how to make you cum with his mouth using a combination of expert tongue flicks and help from his shadows. nothing brought him joy like your shaking legs greedily wrapping around him as he ate your pussy like a man starved.

azriel thought he found the key to happiness until you returned the favor and went down on him.

finding restraint was hard. reeling his desire in while you knelt before him with your lips wrapped around his cock was nearly impossible.

"like this?" you asked, licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. azriel thought he was going to come right then and there when you looked up at him through your lashes, determination burning in your gaze.

you had always been intense. azriel knew that much from months of training together, but he didn't expect you to approach sex with the same competitiveness. you put your all into everything you did, which is what made azriel fall for you in the first place. he just didn't think you'd take the same approach when it came to sucking his dick. not that he was complaining.

in fact, all he could really do was moan.

the shadowsinger attempted to pull it together long enough to utter a coherent sentence. he had to at least attempt to say something helpful. you were putting your trust in him. he liked knowing that he'd been your first everything. now he just had to muster up the courage to tell you that he also intended to be the last.

he tried. he really did.

that night in his room. laying in bed with your legs tangled together. the soft spring breeze billowing through your curtains. azriel watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned towards him.

"so, what now?" you asked.

azriel's brows furrowed with confusion. "what do you mean, love?"

you tilted your head, biting down on your bottom lip as you mulled over what to say next. it was one of your many little quirks that azriel adored. "i mean, what happens now? we've pretty much covered all the bases. except for one."

sex. you hadn't had sex yet. azriel knew this would come up sooner or later, but he had hoped it would be the latter. while it was easy to pretend that the lessons were just lessons to him, azriel couldn't do that with sex. it had always been hard for him to separate his feelings from the physical act and as much as he wanted to make sure that your first experience would be with someone who loved you, it wouldn't be fair to have sex without telling you the truth.

"i don't think that would be a good idea." as soon as the words left his mouth, azriel knew it was the wrong thing to say. he could tell that much from the look on your face. "i just mean, we shouldn't rush into anything."

"rush?" you asked incredulously. "azriel, we've spent the last three months doing anything and everything under the sun except sex."

"and it's been great," azriel said, trying to reel the conversation back in. "the lessons. trusting each other. but i just think you should take a step back and consider if you're truly ready."

that intense gaze he loved so much suddenly felt like the sweltering sun that azriel couldn't wait to shy away from. "you were my first kiss, az. my first everything. i think i've made it pretty clear on where i stand." you paused for a second, scanning his face. "oh my gods. i didn't even think to ask if you wanted this."

you were up before the absurdity of that statement could sink into azriel. if he wanted this? he'd never wanted anything more in his entire life.

"they were just lessons," you murmured to yourself while gathering your clothes. “how could i be so stupid?”

"y/n, please." azriel pleaded, not entirely believing what he was hearing. he nearly tripped over his own bedsheets as he followed you across the room.

“no, az. i’m sorry, i thought—“ your eyes brimmed with tears. the sight broke his fucking heart. “it’s not your fault. i just assumed—“

“that i’m in love with you?” azriel asked, gently gripping your wrists. you froze, wide eyes pinning azriel in place. “because i am, you know. i’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. this past few months, it’s killed me to pretend that whatever this is between us is just lessons.”

your gaze softened. “why didn’t you ever say anything?”

azriel chuckled bitterly. “because i’m a coward. i was scared that you might not feel the same way, so i settled for whatever scraps you were willing to give me.”

tears filled your eyes again and azriel was scared he’d fucked it up again, but you wiped your cheeks and cupped his face. “you deserve more than that, azriel.”

“i know, love.” he bowed his head. “and you deserve more than just lessons. that’s why i don’t want to have sex. not unless you know what this means to me. if we do this, there will be no one else. not today, not ever. i may be your first, but i also intend to be your last. if you’ll let me.”

a stray tear fell down your cheek, but it was a happy one this time. “if you haven’t noticed, i’m totally crazy about you, az. i think i’ve been in love with you longer than i wanted to admit.”

“can’t blame you,” the shadowsinger said. “i’m totally lovable.”

you smacked him in the chest, but azriel only laughed before he kissed you. really kissed you. it felt like you were floating on air.

gods, you loved him. you really did.

you smiled into the kiss. “i love you, az.”

the shadowsinger kissed the tip of your nose. “i love you too, y/n.”

“so…no more lessons, right?”

azriel shook his head and scooped you into his arms. “no more lessons. i want the real thing this time.”

[see-arcane]

Cards with the Count

Thinking about how Jonathan is trying to pass the time during Vampire Hell Staycation with all the books in the library (a guaranteed Dracula Zone), no stationery (bastard), and a finite amount of secret pen ink and secret diary pages left at his disposal (shit). Reading and writing and art are all out. What’s left?

I like to think, in this order:

1)    He remembers that he has a pack of playing cards in the general luggage Dracula didn’t snatch. A gift Lucy had bestowed on him and Mina, a pack apiece, as she insisted that it was the best way to pass an hour in dreary company that wasn’t to do with gossip or politics.

2)    He doesn’t normally play, if only because he doesn’t have the coin to meet any real gambling stranger at a table. Just a ‘for fun’ thing.

3)    Fuck it. Solitaire. Card towers. It’s something to keep his mind off the…everything.

4)    He gets exactly one (1) day/evening of peace with this. Then:

5)    “Whatever are you up to, my friend?” 

(He didn’t even use the door to give Jonathan time to hide the pack. Misted in. No shadow to give him away. Fantastic.) Jonathan staples his smile back in place and rattles off something apologetic, so sorry, was he keeping the Count waiting? Let him just put this away, he wouldn’t be interested—

6)    Smash cut to the library. The cards are now unofficially confiscated/a staple of the Dracula Zone, alongside the fancy crystal chessboard the Count loves to crush him with on a semi-regular basis. Jonathan is walking him through the rules of sundry card games. Unsurprisingly, he latches onto the concept of American poker readily. The game is a soup of similar European predecessors that light up his eyes with recognition—primero, poque, brelan—sewn together with England’s game of brag into a medley of the initial rules, both written and unwritten.

7)    “A game of skill, then?”

“Skill, acting, and luck.”

Dracula grins as he produces a ransom of gold coins to use as chips. Jonathan deals. 

(What are the extra rules here? Does he throw every hand? Does he play in earnest and inevitably lose anyway? Does it even matter? It isn’t chess, after all. Not a proper strategy game. Cards happen. Guesswork happens. A winner and loser every turn. What does it matter?)

8)    Jonathan realizes two dozen hands later that what matters is, apparently, his face. One that, likewise apparently, cannot be read by the Count in this game. Out of those two dozen hands, Jonathan has won eighteen. Of those eighteen, his hand was the clear dud for nine. Through it all, Dracula’s eyes keep jumping from his own hand to Jonathan’s tired gaze. When Jonathan wins the twenty-fifth hand and the mountain of gold on his side of the table risks toppling off the edge, Dracula bites out a word Jonathan is sure is too caustic to have a spot in the lost polyglot dictionary.

9)    “You have a gift for schooling your face, my friend.” Every word is an icicle; each as sharp as the canines jutting out of the rictus grin.

“I don’t,” Jonathan says. 

And it’s true. Now he’s schooling his face—first lesson of anyone destined for the realm of serving others—but in the game, he’s barely thinking of anything else beyond the ticking of the clock. To punctuate this, he slides the heap of gold back to Dracula’s side of the table. 

“This is only a game for the fun of it. In a game with stakes, there would be something worth playing and worrying for. When you get to England,” his face is very, very schooled as he says this, “you’ll find a much more varied competition at gambling tables. The players who really train their expressions can do so with fortunes at stake, while novices reveal every victory or loss plainly on their face.”

10) Dracula considers this. And smiles.

11) “Ah, then there must be stakes before we can play the game properly. Still, you have won the bulk of these rounds, my friend—” his hand seems like it wants to be strangling something when it drums atop the gold heap, “—and done me the charity of not taking your rightful winnings.” He throws down his cards. Ace and deuce of spades. “I shall have to speak with the kitchen about producing a stand-in prize.” 

He leaves. Jonathan doesn’t blink when he hears the door lock behind him. A card pyramid is erected.

12) Paprika hendl for supper. As excellent as he remembers. Huzzah.

13) The next time he’s herded into the library, he sees what looks suspiciously like his travel paraphernalia flimsily hidden behind a bit of drapery. Dracula is shuffling the deck.

14) “A true prize on the table this time, my friend. I know you are one to appreciate the splendor of our beautiful country, just as I know it is, for your own safety, quite impossible to go exploring alone in the wild. Too many wolves about. But if you win the majority tonight, I shall see to it that my driver takes a leave from his own many errands to escort you beyond the castle for a time, if you so wish.”

“…And if I lose the majority?” He can’t help it: “I’m sure there’s little from me you’d be interested in.”

Dracula grins.

“We shall think of something, I’m certain. Here. Deal.”

15) As expected, Jonathan’s face isn’t effortlessly unreadable in its misery anymore. He has something to play for, even if his trust in Dracula’s dangling carrot on the stick is nigh nonexistent. He loses more. He struggles more. He worries more…

16) …But the wins and losses remain surprisingly even. On into the dawn they play, matching victory for victory. Even the Count seems puzzled. Jonathan is just tired. He was never going to win. The ‘driver’ will fall to some mysterious ailment, his possessions will disappear the moment he’s sent out of the room ahead of the Count. To Hell with it.

17) “I forfeit. We remain tied, so neither has to lose.” A sour smile curls. “Besides, I have kept you up too late again.”

“One more.”

“We can say you won—,”

Dracula gives him a Look.

Jonathan sits again. Plays again.

Wins again.

Dracula hisses several words the polyglot dictionary would be scandalized to translate. Jonathan feels the first genuine smile he’s wanted to make in a month and a half try to creep up on his lips, and stifles it.

18) Dracula turns over his cards and thumbs though the deck as if looking for a conspirator. He even scowls at Jonathan’s forearms, both bare through the whole game as he’d rolled up his sleeves. Still grumbling, his thumbnail finally hooks a card that makes a cloud pass over his face.

19) “What. Is this?”

Jonathan looks.

“Oh, that’s just a Joker.”

“Joker?”

“Yes, I thought I’d taken him out. He’s not a usable card in this game, but he’s sometimes used as a trump or wild card in others. That is, he’s there to turn the tide for whoever gets to play him.”

Jonathan reaches for the card to tuck it back in the box. Dracula pulls it out of reach, walks to the fireplace, and flicks it into the flames.

“Say what you will, but I recognize a symbol of sabotage when I see it. It should not be in the deck at all!” Still watching the little harlequin turn to cinders, he flaps his other hand at Jonathan. “Go rest, my friend. Take that infernal game with you. It is not a respectable pastime for men of our like.”

20) Jonathan gathers up the deck, gives his travel kit a last mournful look, and leaves for his bedroom, knowing not to ask after the walk in the forest as he goes. In his bed, he empties the deck into his hand again and thinks on four things.

Skill.

Acting.

Luck.

And…

21) He turns the deck’s neglected second Joker over in his fingers, the impish face seeming to hold a secret in its grin.

22) When he wakes next, he isn’t surprised to find the deck has been stolen. It doesn’t trouble him. Somehow, it even produces a tired grin on his face. It nearly matches the painted thing hidden, wild and powerful, in the pages of his journal.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

ive always been curious on what is your actual otp for marika? we all know she deserves all the love and flowers in the world but if you were to pick or have one, who is her endgame for you?

sorry for this random question i have always loved your art and lore dumps! truly so insightful and makes me appreciate more of elden ring’s family story, no matter how broken they may be 🥹

haha it's not a random question at all don't worry ! thank you for the sweet message!

well tbh i don't really know who i like as endgame for Marika? i think the only real otp i have in Elden Ring is Malenia/Gwynevere, as in i always think of them in pair and do not ship them with anyone else. but Marika falls into another category where i just want to see her happy? so i can consume pretty much every kind of relationships as long as she's there and treated well (the only character i read OC x canon fics of...)

i'd say im actually more partial to her family connection with her kids and her sisters and mothers pre-godhood (i've been toying with the idea of Rakshasa being her overprotective older sister for a while now arghhh so many things to draw), but if i have to pick in her romantic ones, it's hard to choose an endgame tbh. i think Godfrey has the first love sweethearts, Rellana has the pure & earnest yearning, Rennala has the complicate situationship, Radagon has the love/hate entanglement.

in my other fandom i only like one relationship and fixate my whole being into it, Elden Ring is the first time im doing this much... it's crazy 😭😭

[lady-lamb21]

My Body, My Period

a messy, personal essay from a messy English major in her senior year.

hopefully another woman reading this knows what I'm talking about

<3

CW: mentions of body dysmorphia, religion, menstruation/bleeding, and SA

—

When I was a child, I sleepwalked out of bed to the landing at the top of our stairs in the middle of the night. My dad was at the bottom, likely having gotten up for a midnight snack because people who go to bed at 7 pm are undoubtedly going to bed hungry. He looked up at me, perplexed, and asked what I was doing, and like a suicidal bird with a broken wing, I stretched my arms out wide and fell forwards, leaping to a weird, unprompted death. My dad caught me, as is apparent by my ability to be alive and writing this, and when I think back on it now, I don't think about how lucky I was that my dad was there to catch me. I think, instead, “I wish I were still light enough to be caught.”

I write about things that matter to me—things with an importance to me that I hate to admit out loud—when I'm on my period. My period makes me think about what I believe in, and how nothing it all feels. I want to believe in witchcraft, but not in the way that other white girls you meet at house shows believe in it. I want a coven of women, all taller than I, with wild hair and long, yellowish nails, that will comb my hair back as I expel whatever concoction they’ve brewed for me to make me fall out of love with my best guy friend. I want to sit in a circle with them around candles that don’t smell like anything but dust and fire, and cut each other's hands, kissing the cuts and wearing our newly red lips as badges of pride in our sisterhood. But I don’t believe in any of that. It’s only a fantasy that stems from my love for women who look beautiful even when big. I don’t believe in god most of the time, and actively roll my eyes whenever I stumble across an earnest millennial proudly displaying their pastel portrait of a weeping jesus on the internet (“everybody hates my christian art”), as if i wasn’t going to bed in 2012 praying to a higher power that I always pictured wearing a blue button up shirt that I would get a solo in Holly And The Ivy in the christmas eve service. I don't believe in god until I think about the death of my mother and one day never seeing her again, and then suddenly everything shifts. I imagine the man in the button up shirt standing in a wide open field. It's 70 degrees and sunny with plenty of pockets of shade and my first dog Maggie, who died of a tumor, runs circles around my second dog Ollie, who lived a long happy life. My mother is there with the body she had in her 20s and hair down to her ankles and she’s sketching portraits of my brother and I as babies like she loved to do. That heaven is something to be earned, and I have no doubt in my mind that my mother will have paid her dues, ever the good episcopalian, but I lie awake at night fearful that I will not be so lucky—I have not feared god more than the scale, and therefore I will be fated for some forever darkness, lost in a space in which I slowly forget my mother’s voice but never forget the number, up to the decimal.

The scale is the greatest equalizer. It tells me all my justifications were nothing but—that I didn't truly deserve fast food just because I woke up bleeding. I didn't truly deserve to sit on my bed all day and watch other people watch movies I like on YouTube until the sun went down just because I woke up in pain. Periods are the third strongest things in the world, second only to the uteruses that shed for them, those of which are second only to the brains and hearts attached to those uteruses that decide every day not to kill themselves, to end the pain and suffering. 

I once got in an argument with a Lyft driver about periods, which I think he thought was flirting which was weird because he had a girlfriend and it was an argument about periods. He told me women are insane on their periods, that he grew up with sisters and knows better than to “mess” with a woman on the rag. I asked him if he’d ever woken up, looked in the mirror and not recognized his reflection. If he’d ever stared into the face of something horrible and ugly and massive. If he’d ever felt like his intestines were being scrambled by two chainsaws, like a hellish salad. If he’d ever sat down on a plush chair and experienced a sensation akin to shoving a large ice pick up his rectum. If he’d ever spent a week convinced that everyone who loves him absolutely despised him, and he didn’t know why but he did know that it was all his fault. If he wept for a grief he’d sworn had already long been dealt with. He technically didn’t answer, but he laughed, short, sharp and very loudly, so in a way he did. 

My body is about men. As I get older, I fight tooth and nail to make it about women, so maybe someday it won’t be about anything at all. I think about men when I fall asleep. My AC is on full blast, and I shiver under the covers. I think about my body, and how maybe men would like it that I get cold. I didn’t used to get cold, or maybe I did but I can't remember it. When I was at my biggest, everything was hot and tight and itchy and uncomfortable. I would've given anything to shiver and huddle close to another person's body fat. I was the space heater to huddle close to. I was the friend to ask for advice. I was a fat girl in a movie. Fat girls in movies are only beautiful when men don’t want to be rude. My first boyfriend was skinny as a rail, and he would huddle close to me. Now in our 20s, he’s even skinnier. His partner looks like a Pinterest page, and he’s so happy, and I’m happy for him. But my body still revolves around him. My body revolves around my dad complimenting my face and how it’s slimmer than it was. It revolves around male professors reading my writing and a guy on the bus across from me. It revolves around men I love, men I’m indifferent to, and men I want nothing to do with. My body is mine like a punishment is mine—given to me by another out of spiteful justice. 

My body and my period are one and the same at the gynecologist. My gynecologist is a man, which stuns all my friends, but makes sense to me for some reason. He’s older and doesn’t care about anything that creepy older men care about, so I only panic for a moment when he puts two fingers inside of me. When he removed my old IUD, we chatted about my major and if I had any internships lined up for the summer yet. When I told him I wanted to get off the pill, he told me I shouldn’t be taking anything I didn’t like, and I pretended to agree. Right after the election, I was more afraid of rape than I’d ever been in my life, not for the torture of it, but for the aftermath. I want to be a mom, I want to be a single mom, but I want it to be planned. I want to be 35, with a sperm donor and a circus nursery I paint with my best friend. I want to watch my baby grow, and fill a notebook with all the things I wish my parents had done differently, so when the time comes, I know how to do them. When he inserted my new IUD, my 2025 administration IUD, it hurt more than anything I'd ever felt. It felt like rape. He was so apologetic, and the female nurse was so apologetic and held my hand gently and stroked the back of it with her thumb. My body is mine like a punishment is mine. I prepare it for a fate I work tirelessly to avoid. 

When I go to sleep tonight, I'll feel the way my pelvis aches and my menstrual underwear expands with blood. The IUD makes me bleed more, makes my muscles ache more. I’ll feel everything wrong with my body—the way my stomach pours out onto the bed on my side, the way my thighs touch even though they have to. I'll feel the way I would feel to a man and I’ll remember to shiver. I'll tell myself, so as to finally fall asleep, that it will all feel smaller in the morning, and in my mind, I spread my arms out wide and fall forwards, leaping to a weird, unprompted dream.

[kiraridertime03]

We need to free the Weasel

A brief discussion about the way that Creature Commandos uses politics in its narratives.

Spoilers for it and everything else James Gun DC up to this point though, below the cut.

Also, it is a busy post, content warnings for discussions of white supremacists and cops, as it is necessary.

With the release of the trailer of James Gunn's Superman film, hype for his grand DC Universe has kicked into high gear, and for good reason. That trailer, no matter the quality of the final film, is a goddamn work of art. A piece of film that understands Superman better over the course of 2 minutes and 20 seconds than Zack Snyder did over the course of 3 overlong movies. That mixed with his solid back catalogue of Superhero films. However, slightly more obscurely, this universe has already started with the animated series Creature Commandos, and especially with the fourth episode, which released hours before Superman's trailer, shows the kind of skill and thought Gunn and co. are putting into this new universe.

At its front, Creature Commandos feels very... blunt, in a lot of ways. It's like The Suicide Squad but with Creatures! It's big and raunchy, being an animated series with blood and swearing and sex and whatnot. And, when it comes with its politics, some of the early villain's mooks are a bunch of weird incels, and one of the main characters constantly advocates for killing Nazis. It is a work that immediately shows its hand, making the type who would decry the wokeness of modern movies and games or whatever. However, with these early examples, it can feel like a bit too much, maybe. I love it, don't get me wrong, I'm the type to really enjoy blunt earnestness. Though, given the more comedic approach that many of these elements take in the early episodes, it can feel a bit like it's only there for the bit.

Where the series really starts to excel, though, is when it starts integrating its flashback segments. As a whole, even outside the point of this post, the flashbacks feel like a wonderful decision. A way of fleshing out our characters while giving each episode a distinct feel, justifying the series as, well, a series rather than just one long movie. However, here, I want to discuss some of its political ideas, and how they integrate. Because, for these, they integrate more thematically, being an undertone to each character's own story.

For the bride, her story is centered around this idea of the objectification of women. I mean, it makes sense. She was literally made to simply be the bride of Frankenstein, an object of his affection. However, as she gained her own independence, the masculine figure who feels he is owed her hand in marriage breaks out into a rage, harming her and the person she actually loves. This story is what gives her the cynical edge she gains in the series proper, giving her an interesting, sympathetic story while using the elements of said story to say something about how many men perceive woman. A strong enough parable that acts as an undercurrent for her character.

Then, we get to G.I. Robot's episode, a real tear-jerker of a thing about a silly robot character, the exact thing to set my brain off in all sorts of ways. Much of this story is designed to set up his tragic past, so that we can feel catharsis once he gets his big moment, then feel the tragedy when he gets brutally murdered. However, it again is saying a lot of complex things. Many have discussed the PTSD angle for GI, which I do see, however, in GI's story specifically, I see the way that the American state treats veterans. Like, think about it. This being who was forged and created for the purpose of making war, goes to war, then once the war is over, they are, best, used for spectacle on live TV (Where they are unable to properly adjust to the tone of peacetime, accusing the audience of being Nazis themselves), studied not to help them, but to make the next generation of soldiers even more efficient at their goal of warcraft, then thrown to the side when they are no longer useful. The man selling GI to the collector literally says he slipped through the cracks. It, again, is a wonderful metaphor that takes advantage of what GI is, and uses it to emphasize these issues in a more literal way. It is a lot easier to show a robot who was programmed in a specific way weird the room out than the rocky adjustments a veteran may have to go through. It then, also, shows the kinds of people who really benefit from this warcraft, those it appeals to. The collector who buys GI turns out to be a part of a White Supremacist group in America, a group of people who gladly use Nazi iconography, identify with it, and gladly push it. Those also happen to be the types who want to buy old war memorabilia. Obviously, not all war collectors are Nazis. But these are people who see this kind of might makes right ideology that America so often employs with its military, and latch onto it. GI, rightfully, finds this appaling, and kills them on sight. It is this wonderful moment from this delightfully twisted series.

However, even that could be seen as a tad blunt. Again, GI is very clear with his words, he doesn't hide much. So, where I see this series going from good to great is with Weasel's flashback segments. This begins when a lawyer, a member of a nonprofit, demands she see Weasel, as she is putting on a case for him. In essence, she states that, at least to her and her organization, he was unjustly prosecuted. To both Rick Flag and us, this seems absurd, as we have a lot of predisposed biases towards Weasel. You see, he is one of the few pre-existing characters in this cast. Weasel was previously seen in James Gunn's The Suicide Squad, though only briefly. There, as a member of the Decoy Team, he makes weird, gross noises, they make a joke about him having killed 27 kids, then have him promptly drown before the mission even starts (Though, in the post credit, it turns out he survived, because that's even funnier). Even if you hadn't seen that film (Which you should if you haven't), they reestablish all that in this series in the first few episodes, portraying him as a stupid, vulgar, violent creature who isn't worthy of rights. However, expertly, this is all a front.

In the flashbacks, we learn that Weasel only interacted with about 8 kids, a bunch of students left at an after school program. Contrary to what we had been told, he really just played around with the kids, chasing around a ball. They eventually get inside the school and, while messing with stuff they shouldn't have, start a small fire. However, some antics are afoot. While he is playing around, an old senile man sees this and, rather than asking about what's going on, decides to run back to his home, call the cops about what is a clear, if odd, misunderstanding, then grab his gun to try to take things into his own hands. And, as he does, shakily trying to shoot Weasel, he makes the problem of the small fire worse, shooting a gas canister behind them, turning the small fire into a school-destroying explosion and fire. Then, the cops show up. Many of the kids are already dead, seemingly, but one survived. So, as he pulls her out of the wreckage, what do the cops do? They start shooting. Throughout this whole sequence, the cops do nothing but shoot and get in the way of things. It all culminates in the final shots, where Weasel has dropped the kid after being shot. And, instead of either of them going to get the kid, they both pin Weasel down, try to pull him out. This leaves the young girl to be crushed.

This is a massive tragedy, a game of tragic misudnerstandings that gets kids killed. However, again, it does this by hiding its politics into a genuinely moving character based story to make them more effective. It is a story, in part, about our predisposed biases. I mean, the narrative literally sets this up. Characters around Weasel say things about him without him being able to have a say. Because he's a Weasel. Then, our characters make judgments based on what they believe and what they've heard from secondhand sources over what they actually see. Even when Weasel is his most violent (taking down Circe in episode 3), he does it to protect his teammates, and he doesn't actually kill her. In his backstory, characters make rash decisions based on their misinformed judgments in hopes of "protecting the kids," when all they are actually doing is harming them. They get 8 kids killed all because Weasel is a little freaky.

Then there's the cops themselves. It so masterfully uses showing rather than telling. The most it tells us is of the trail at the start, and again, this is moreso used as setup, playing into our dispositions. However, when it is time to actually depict the injustices, it shuts the fuck up. It doesn't just say that cops are bad with a couple of clear shitheads and moves on. It shows how cops are bad. Their only answer to this situation is violence. They don't actually serve their community, in this instance the children stuck in the fire, their only answer is to start shooting things. Because they have no other answer than state sanctioned violence. And they did this all with an episode about FUCKING WEASEL!

Now, imagine what they can do with Superman. It doesn't even have to be political, like these previous examples. However, to me, this shows that he can do what, to me, some of the best storytellers do. They weave every element of their story together with deliberate choices that strengthen each other. If anything, more than any well edited trailer, it is that that excites me about everything James is working on. Of course, he is doing this with a team, but James is the type to surround himself with smart people who understand these things inside and out. That one David Corenswet quote about the shorts proves that to me in shades. That's what gives me hope about these works. That they will be movies and shows that mean things. Which seems like a low bar, but hey, so many fail at it that it's kind of impressive.

[artdcnaldson]

okay so in the role reversal…is patrick with tashi? not to make everything reader insert but here me out

cus lets just say shes on her own doing her own coaching, staying away from both boys to focus on that and maybe patrick is with reader (like his wife?) and maybe thats how art gets back into his life. just like getting in through his wife

maybe shes in a complete different industry and he “runs into” her into an event and is like “i used to know tour husband!” and really he just wants to get back into their lives and everything is just messy and does this make any sense? if you like it, I could give you more thoughts but idk idk

OHHHHHHH love a mess <3

In a reader insert I think Tashi is still coaching Patrick, but I don’t think they’d get married, yk? I think you’re a little younger, maybe you met when you played mixed doubles together, had a fiery affair that eventually ends in you pregnant. He’s on the world’s stage, you want to keep it, so he marries you in a quick ceremony. It really was a shotgun wedding, but magazines covering it called it intimate, chic, that planning took you over a year. Tashi was good with the press, in making things look better.

Tashi is an established part of your relationship. You know Patrick needs her, needs you too, but in different ways. And maybe that’s why you’re unhappy, you know? He has so much passion with Tashi, they really love each other in their own way. And you think Patrick loves you too, you know he does. But you also know that lately you’ve just been a mother.

So when Art approaches you at a mid-level tournament you’re playing, you play into his hand. He’s ranked in the high 200s, and he’s good, but he’s not as great as he used to be, back when he was being coached by Tashi. But he’s still so handsome, so nice.

He invites you to lunch, and you nod. Your daughter is home with the nanny, you have a solid few hours before you need to be back. It’s nowhere expensive, and you enjoy it. It’s a Panera off the interstate and no one really bothers you, not anymore. Patrick’s always the one that draws attention. A bad boy in a gentleman’s sport.

“I used to play with Patrick,” Art says, dropping it not-so-casually in a relatively surface level conversation.

You nod. “I know. I watched your matches. You two played beautifully together.”

He has a double serving of Mac and Cheese that you’d kill for. Literally. But it’s firmly off your list of acceptable foods. He notices you staring and a grin quirks at his lips. “You want some?”

You hesitate, then nod. “God, yeah,” you say, stealing a single noodle with your fork. You moan at the taste, a smile playing at your lips. “I miss pasta. I miss real food, but this baby weight is so stubborn. Two years and it’s still not falling off.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this, why you’re opening up to him like he’s an old friend of yours and not just some guy in your husband’s past. It feels easy though, and he seemed to care about what you had to say. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted the compliment.

Right on cue, Art takes the bait. He gives you an earnest once over, brows furrowed. “You look good,” he says. “You don’t look like a mom. Not now, definitely not on the court.”

And your cheeks heat up at the words, just like he wanted. You were pretty, and young, and you were so, so unhappy. He could tell, he could see it in you like a mirror. You need someone to see you again, to rescue you from a sham marriage and a tail spinning career and say none of it matters, even if it does.

And he needs Patrick and Tashi. He’d take their love or their ire. Whichever is easier. And there you are, smiling at him across from him, asking if you can call him again sometime, that it’s nice to have a friend with so much in common.

He could get their attention easily. He could weasel his way in through you, get exactly what he wants. Feel the heat of their attention like a spotlight directly shining on his face.

You’d make it so, so easy.

[recreationalfanfics]

NO BECAUSE CONSIDER A YANDERE! FEMME FATALE.

Would be in the same universe as my Yandere! Adventurer but idk, I really love women right now.

- Yandere Femme Fatale whose job is to seduce and kill, when she gets hired to take you out however; she can't do it. You're too sweet and earnest, not to mention absolutely adorable with how flustered you get when she flirts with you.

- Yandere Femme Fatale who breaks into your room at night when you're asleep, admiring you peacefully and cupping your face gently as she sighs lovingly. She's never felt romance, only lust and bloodlust, but something about you makes her feel so soft and free. When you wake up, you wonder why there's a lipstick mark on your cheek or your neck.

- Yandere Femme Fatale who, unlike the Yandere Adventurer, won't have to rely on kidnapping. She's spent years perfecting her art of acting, of being the ideal woman her target wants her to be, and she can easily do that with you♡

- Yandere Femme Fatale whose so pretty that it lulls you into a false sense of security. After all, she's got such a sweet smile and such pretty eyes that you can't help but feel squirmy and small under her gaze.

- Yandere Femme Fatale whose just a lovesick puppy around you. Clinging to your arm, sitting a bit too close for comfort at times, loving to play with your hair and letting you rest your head on her chest.

- Yandere Femme Fatale catches everyone's eyes but hers are glued on you. Who is stopped by men and women when she's trying to stalk you, trying to ask her put on a date, so she just subtly poisons them and catching them, pretending they randomly fainted and letting other people take care of it. Dammit! That idiot made her lose you!

- Yandere Femme Fatale who has a brief romantic history with Yandere Adventurer, who is VERY shocked when his ex is starting to hang around his darling but quickly gets all bitter and mad. He pulls her aside to threaten her but she just smiles gleefully at him, after all, she didn't know he had his sights set on you but now, you're somehow even more enticing than before.

- Yandere Femme Fatale who worries about what you think of her and her passionate history. Whose worried that no matter how pretty she looks, you won't be able to get passed that. She'll track them all down and kill them all if it bothers you so much! They don't mean anything to her now that she has you! She just didn't know you were her soulmate back then!

- Yandere Femme Fatale who loves to buy you outfits and dress you up♡ Sometimes the outfits are a bit of a tight squeeze but she assures you that it's supposed to be like that. Who suggests a little fashion show so she can see you wearing all the outfits she thought would look AMAZING on you.

- Yandere Femme Fatale who'd briefly team up with Yandere Adventurer if it was for your best interest, after all, she wouldn't want anything to happen to you! But, just like always, she backstabs him. The way she fantasizes about comforting you, holding you in her arms and loving you til you forgot about him...only for her mood to be dulled when he survives because OF COURSE HE WOULD.

- Yandere Femme Fatale whose always been a selfish lover but not to you, whatever you need she will give it! Her soul, her heart, her body, her blood! Anything you could ever possibly want, just tell her and she'll give it to you!♡ And if you ever want anyone dead, don't even HESITAITE to ask!

[vintagetvstars]

Wayne Rogers Vs. Alejandro Rey

Propaganda

Wayne Rogers - (M*A*S*H, Stagecoach West, City of Angels) - "He just had this warmth and gentleness to him that made him sooo attractive no matter at what age..." Full text propaganda below the cut.

Alejandro Rey - (The Flying Nun) - With its mostly female core cast, The Flying Nun may be an odd property to source a Hot Man from, but look at him. As debonair playboy Carlos Ramirez, Rey had to meet the difficult task of being suave and sexy but also really over the top, continually exasperated, and funny, and he delivered so well. He's hilarious as a foil to Sally Field's earnest Sister Bertrille, Carlos essentially being her combination best friend, low-stakes antagonist, shenanigans victim, and (according to some fans) maybe love interest. Though primarily acting for comedy, Rey's also able to handle scenes that require more warmth and subtlety, and he just looks divine. The eyes and the profile alone are enough to make you forgot the ridiculous late-60s fashions he wears.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Wayne Rogers:

He just had this warmth and gentleness to him that made him sooo attractive no matter at what age. If his good looks and his charming smile (and those curls ahh!) aren't enough to convince you to vote for this nice, funny, 6ft tall man, then let me hit you with some random information What i adore is the duality of this man! First he served his duty in the navy and was about to study law when he accompanied a friend to a theatre play one evening and was so amazed by the art of acting that he decided to achieve an acting career instead. When he wanted to leave MASH after only three seasons -although the contract said for him to stay much longer-, they couldn't do anything about it bc he hadn't even signed it in the first place (there was a paragraph in it that he strongly disagreed with). If that isn't badass idk what is! And later in his career, not only did he act, write and produce all kinds of TV, movie and stage productions but he also started a successful financial business. Also (at least when he was older) he supposedly went for a swim in the sea EVERY morning. Btw when he was still getting started and was financially struggling, he shared a flat in New York and an overcoat for auditions with (also still struggling) colleague Peter Falk

Alejandro Rey:

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

You know, I like you and I've followed you for ages but when I see you posting about how you want ethnic cleansing it kinda grosses me the fuck out

no, actually. i don't know. because i don't know you. you are a complete stranger to me. and i don't care how much you liked me or how disappointed you are. your disapproval means less than nothing to me. what gets your approval is horrific.

you already know that 'from the river to the sea' means 'palestine will be free' you know that it's a call to end the ethnic cleansing of palestinians. you are so drunk on internet juice and brainwashed by the disneyfication of colonialism you think that the ongoing annihilation of innocent people for nearly a century is somehow justifiable and that a slogan representing earnest hope of freedom is an attack on you. you think hoping for people's freedom and safety is threatening to you. you believe that hope is a threat.

you already know all of these things, and you are approaching in bad faith because it's all you know how to do. you want me to post frieren not arguing with a zionist kill yourself image because it will reinforce your victim complex. you want me, someone with absolutely no skin in the game so to speak, to overreact because it's painful subject matter and you'll be able to point to it and say whatever it is you feel like saying that will justify in your heart or to your friends that millions of people should be killed so that some other people can steal their homes, kill their children, desecrate their graves, and piss on their existences.

you want me to tell you to kill yourself so that you can feel better about supporting a genocide. you want me to be toothlessly mean to you online so that you feel better about supporting a genocide.

not that a strangers blog is some important place that you need to seek refuge in, but you will never be welcome here. i will not make you comfortable about your position and i will not allow you to feel peaceful here. you don't get to enter my house and put your feet on my couch and watch my children play and hear me laugh over meals with my loved ones as we share art and tell jokes and talk about our day.

you want me to tell you to kill yourself because you're miserable and cruel and you want to believe you are justified, but you aren't. you never will be. im not going to tell you to kill yourself. i'm telling you, despite your proclivity to the contrary, to get the hell out of my house.

Some Links for Palestine:

One Click to Help

Operation Olive Branch - Google Sheet

UNRWA

eSims for Gaza

[nidianddeepspace]

The Angel of the Cosmos: An LaDS Fan Myth

Art by Kirakanjo

Author's Note: This is a fan-made myth for the game Love and Deepspace, which is based off the art I commissioned from talented artist Kirakanjo. All characters (save for my OCs) belong to Infold/Paper Games. PLEASE DON'T COME FOR ME! Inspiration: The idea that Xavier is an Angel of the Cosmos who creates the stars in the sky.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

---------------------------------------------------------------------- 01 -------------

In Philos, there is a fairy tale that all children here as their parents put them to bed for the night. It is the story of the Angel of Cosmos, the creator of the stars in the sky, who paints the sky with stars day and night, and carries the light of all creation within his wings. If you are lucky, you might see the angel extend his wings before flying through the clouds, the star shining brighter as he passes by in order to gain his attention. There is a saying that if you see the stars when the sun is out, it means in the Angel of Cosmos is full of joy. He is in his home, his domain, bathing the world below in his glorious, celestial light. But is also a tale, spun long ago, the tale of the Angel of Cosmos who fell to the earth and was captured by the cruel king who wished to keep him as a pet. Away from his celestial home, the Angel of Cosmos fell into despair, courting danger to everyone as there was a massive black hole growing in his heart... But this is also the story of a brave princess, who push aside her own insecurities and fears to do the right thing, to save her people from her father's arrogance...and release the man she grew to love, in spite of her of heart's deepest desire...

| The Palace of the Philos Royal Family | In the throne room of the King of Philos, discussions are taking place in earnest. The Eldest Princess of the Royal family has long come of age - and now, in order to cement his might, she must be married off before she is considered to be too old to be useful. The Crown Prince of a Neighboring Country has come to express his interest in Her Royal Highness. His reputation proceeds him - he is known mostly for devilishly handsome looks, but under hushed tones, people whisper about his outward cruelty.

The Eldest Princess doesn't want to marry him.

She doesn't want to marry anyone. She would rather return to the convent she was raised in and continue to learn more about the world around her. The King isn't even her biological father - she is his niece, placed in his care after her parents died at sea. And while she cannot say that she was mistreated during her time here, she is fully aware of her status as a minor burden and a massive liability.

Hence, she must be married off and quickly. She is not at all slender and graceful like the Second Princess - the King's Actual Daughter - is. She is curvy, plump, and well-rounded - the very anti-thesis of feminine virtue. At least that's what the other courtiers say.

But she would rather be alone and untouched, than to be battered by a man who didn't love her.

The Eldest Princess stands with her maid behind a screen, on a balcony that allows them to be privy of the discussions. "It looks like everything will soon be settled, your Highness," the head lady-in-waiting says dreamily. "Finally, you will be properly married!" "Hmph...unfortunately." The Eldest Princess hitches up her skirt, walking away from the spectacle. "Now matter how much I insist that it's unnecessary, they insist upon marrying me off. They say it's good for me, but really, it's so His Majesty doesn't have to marry his daughter off to that rogue." The Eldest Princess storms through the castle corridors, only stopped by the commotion made by a group of guards pushing a mysterious box into one of the lower dungeons. She arches an eye, curious. "What is going on over there?"

"Didn't you hear? The King has brought another treasure home - and he says it's his most prized treasure of all!" "Prized treasure?" The Eldest Princess rolls her eyes. "What is it? Another exotic animal? Or another kingdom's prized treasure?"

"Nothing like that, your Highness." The Lady-in-Waiting leans close, whispering into her ear. "The guards say that the King has captured the Angel of the Cosmos himself!"

"What?! From the fairytales?" A playful grin spreads across the Eldest Princess' face. "I simply *must* see this!" "But your Highness, we'll be punished if we are found in the dungeon - " "Then we simply must be careful. That's all."

The Eldest Princess waits for the cover of night before she and her lady-in-waiting sneak through the halls, wearing black hooded capes in order to blend in with the darkness. The moment they slip into the dungeons, their breaths hitch. The dark, dank prisons, normally covered in shadow, mildew, and despair, shine with an unearthly, celestial light. He sits inside his cell, dressed in paper thin black fabrics, his unbuttoned shirt exposing the various bandages and scars all over his chest. His hair, ruffled and unkempt, is spun of platinum silk. He looks down at his hands, the quiet he exudes almost as deafening as that melancholy he carries in his soul. Yes the light of the heavens and skies still surrounds him, capturing everyone who sees it with the state of its holy aura.

"Gods..." The Eldest Princess says, walking toward the man. The moment his blue eyes look up to meet hers, she feels as if she is swimming in a sea of stars. "He really *is* the Angel of the Cosmos..."

-------------------------- To • Be • Continued --------------------------------------

[kingsmoot]

This is a very stupid thing to come to you as you are a stranger but I am in a very niche fandom in in and I love it but it san old fandom and a ghost town…as a gold fandom we don’t get much content..I am a terrible writer like really bad so but I really love the ships in the fandom..so I put a few prompts into ChatGPT cause I was curious cause my friends day ChatGPT is funny…is it ok to pay the prompts I made in ChatGPT is I say this dc was made in ChatGPT?

hello, anon.

the first thing i will say is very simple. you are a stranger. i am a stranger. you do not need my permission or approval to do anything. but i am assuming that you understand that, and that you still want my thoughts on the matter, rather than my permission. your question seems to be genuine, and you seem to be coming to me (a stranger) in a very earnest way. so i am going to tell you my opinions on this.

no. i do not think that it is ever ok to use chatgpt or other similar generative ai services to generate content. "content" here meaning things like fanfic, fanart, videos of your otp kissing, etc.

my opinion on generative ai is very simple. i am a human being. if a human being cannot do the bare basic minimum of writing something (an email. an essay. a fanfic.) why should i read it? if a human person did not write a length of text, what value could there possibly be in my reading it? i am a person. if a person could not even be bothered to create the text they want me to read, why would i ever want to read it? what would be the point? what could i ever gain from it?

if you (general "you", but also you specifically the anonymous person who wrote this) cannot do the bare minimum basic effort of writing a fanfic, why would anyone read the fanfic that you asked chatgpt to generate for you? what would be the point? if you care so little about your own fandom, if you care so little about your own ship, that you cannot expend the bare minimum effort to write fanfic yourself... why would i read the slop you asked chatgpt to produce for you? what would be the point? you don't care. you don't care so much that you're paying an algorithm money to mash random words together because you cannot string words together yourself. why should i read that? why should i lower myself to reading that? why should anyone?

i will also speak to you being a "terrible writer". i have no way of knowing if this is true. obviously you did not attach a writing sample. but i personally consider myself to be a good fanfic writer. i like writing fanfic. it means a lot to me to be able to successfully emulate the voice of a source text. i think i am very good at that. i work very hard at doing so. i like writing my fake little kissing stories about my fake little people. i was not born with any sort of innate writing ability. i do not have a specific gene that makes me a good writer. when i was younger i was a terrible writer. everyone is. writing is a skill. it is an ability that you can hone. if you want to create fanfic (and it sounds like you do!! it sounds like you do want to create fanfic!! you care about this fandom of yours. you care about your ship!! you want to produce art based on this fandom. you want to produce art based on this ship!!) then the only way to do so is to do it yourself. you are a human being. you have thoughts and ideas. you have an active mind. you have opinions. write these things down. bring them forth.

if you feel like you have great ideas but you do not have the skills to execute these great ideas, then i would like to congratulate you. you have discovered Craft. you are lucky enough that this experience, this feeling of not being good enough to do justice to the ideas that are important to you, will never ever leave you. you will feel this for the rest of your life. and if you are brave (which i think that you are) you will meet this feeling head on. you will challenge yourself. you will think about how the art that you want to create is important to you, and you will strive to create it. you will be met again and again and again with the upper limits of your own skills. you will realize over and over again that you are not yet skilled enough to make the art that you so badly want to make.

so you will try again. you will try over and over and over and over again. you will learn new skills. you will grow. you will write things that you hate, and then you will read them again in three months and you will think "hey this was pretty good!!". you will write things that you love and want to show off, and you will read them again in a year and think "this is so embarrassing. i can't believe i wrote that. i know so much more now. i would do this totally differently if i wrote it today!!"

this is beautiful. this is magical. this is fun and agonizing. this is what it means to create things. this is what it means to value your own time and effort. to value yourself. this is what it means to know that difficult things are worth doing. that you can learn and grow and gain new skills. this is what it means to feel a creative urge and to foster it instead of letting it rot away inside of you and paying an algorithm to generate nonsense garbage for you to get a sliver of instant gratification.

you are better than that. you care. you care about this fandom and this ship and you have ideas about them. i would encourage you to engage in the limitless joy and frustration of creation. you are a human being with ideas. bring them to fruition. you deserve to do that.