#dave was drawn with the help of references

[binx-art]

Did more sprite editing and… ended up slipping dave in here. Couldn’t help myself

[cosmicaura7]

AITA SERIES

Pairings : pedro pascal characters x reader

Genre : f/m, sexual implications, controversial topics, taboo topics, use of R to refer to reader, 

Synopsis : So Reddit, Am I the Asshole…?

Clint Flood (Freaky Tales)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being in love with my boyfriend’s dad?

I know how this sounds. I’m not proud of it. But I also can’t stop thinking about it, so here I am.

I (26F) have been dating J (28M) for almost a year now. He’s a good guy, steady, kind and a little boring but safe. The kind of guy you’re supposed to want to marry. The kind your mom would approve of.

Then there’s his dad. C (mid-50s). A little rough around the edges. Quiet, tall and intense. He’s got these piercing eyes that feel like they can see right through you and this whole ex-military and no-bullshit vibe that makes the air change when he walks into a room.

The first time I met him, I already felt something. But I ignored it, pushed it down. But it’s gotten worse. Every time I visit their family cabin, every time we sit across from each other at dinner, I feel his gaze linger just a little too long. I catch him watching me when he thinks I won’t notice. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look right back. It’s not just lust, either. He actually sees me, listens to me in a way his son never really does. He remembers the small things I say, and even notices when I change my hair. Once, when I was quietly crying in the hallway during a family weekend (long story), he was the one who came out and handed me a glass of water without a word.

I feel so drawn to him. And I know how messed up that is, I’m dating his son after all. There’s no world where this ends well. I haven’t cheated. I haven’t done anything beyond maybe letting my imagination wander and entertaining a few dreams I’ll never admit out loud. But lately, when I’m with J, I just feel off. Like I’m pretending. Like I’m waiting for someone else to walk into the room. Someone who makes my skin burn with just a glance.

So Reddit… AITA for staying in a relationship when my heart might be somewhere else? Am I horrible for wanting a man I can’t have? Or is this just a passing obsession I need to bury deeper?

Dave York (The Equalizer 2)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not acting on feelings for my kids’ babysitter even though she clearly wants me to?

Okay Reddit, I know how this sounds, but hear me out before you jump to “creep” in the comments.

I (41M) am a divorced dad of two daughters, A (10) and M (7). They’re my world. Been raising them mostly solo for the past three years since the split and it hasn’t been easy. Between work, school pickups and dance recitals, I needed help. Enter her (let’s call her R, 26F), the babysitter I hired after a friend’s recommendation.

She’s absolutely incredible. Responsible, patient, smart, funny and grounded. Everything you’d want in a woman. My girls adore her. They draw her pictures, ask for her when they’re sick, even slip up and call her “Mom” sometimes. I figured that would make things easier, someone stable in their lives.

What I didn’t expect was me being the unstable one. Because the problem is, she’s also gorgeous. Like, unfairly so. And lately, I can’t tell if I’m imagining things or if she’s trying to test me. The casual touches, the way she lingers in the kitchen when I come home, the soft voice when she tells me I look tired and should get more sleep, the ridiculously tight tank tops, the lip gloss and the way she looks at me when she doesn’t think I notice.

Part of me, a big part, wants to give in. I’m a man, I’m not oblivious to it. But the other part? The one that tucks my daughters in at night? That part is scared shitless. What if I misread everything? What if this ruins the bond she has with my girls? What if they lose someone they love because their dad couldn’t keep it in his pants?

She’s never said anything outright, never crossed a clear line. But I can feel the tension and I can feel myself getting closer to breaking every day. I want her so badly but I also want what’s best for my kids. I just don’t know if those two things can exist at the same time.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping her at arm’s length when all I want to do is pull her closer?

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with my fake PR girlfriend and not knowing if she actually likes me or is just a better actor than I am?

Okay. Buckle up, internet strangers because I’m spiraling.

I (early 40s M, actor, you’ve probably seen me snort a line or die dramatically in something) was recently paired up with another actor (let’s call her R, 30s F, wildly talented, unfairly hot and intimidatingly cool) to star in this big dramatic slow-burn romance film. Think tortured artists, rainy kisses and completely Oscar bait.

To sell it? The studios and our agents cooked up this genius idea, let’s fake date. Hold hands at events, post blurry selfies on Instagram, give flirty interviews. You know, classic “no, we’re just good friends… wink” PR bait. At first, I laughed. I’ve done this crap before. All the camera flashes, fake kisses, casually mentioning her in interviews, rinse and repeat.

Except it stopped feeling fake. I stopped feeling fake. Somewhere between the shared hotel rooms, the quiet after-parties, the little glances during press junkets, I fell for her. Fully, horrifically and irrevocably. The kind of fall that makes your chest hurt and your ego scream. The worst part? I have no clue if she feels the same. She’s good, man. Oscar-nominee good. She leans into my arm like she means it. Laughs at my dumb jokes like they’re brilliant. Once she looked at me after a long day of shooting and said, “Sometimes I forget this isn’t real.” and I swear to god my soul left my body.

But then the next morning she’ll be cold again. Professional and distant. Like I dreamed the whole thing. Like it’s all just lines from a script I don’t have a copy of. Now I’m sitting here, fully in love with the woman I’m supposed to be pretending to love and I don’t know if I should say anything. What if I ruin everything? What if she is just pretending? What if I’m just another role she nails while I’m over here method acting heartbreak?

So Reddit… AITA for catching real feelings during a fake relationship? Or just an idiot with a crush and no chill?

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not following through with a hit because I fell in love with the target?

Yeah. That title’s a mess. So’s the situation.

I (40M) work in a niche line of work. Let’s just say I solve problems that require extreme discretion and no paper trail. You hire me and the problem disappears. Clean and quiet within a blink of an eye.

A few months ago, I got a high-paying job from a rich smug prick who wanted his ex-wife taken care of. No explanation, just names, photos and a price I couldn’t ignore. I’ve done worse for less so I took it. Her name is R (36F). First time I saw her, she was sitting outside a little bookstore she owns, sipping coffee, talking to some neighborhood kid like she wasn’t marked for death. I kept my distance. Observed and waited for the right time.

Only it never came.

The more I watched, the harder it became to see her as a target. She volunteers at shelters. Leaves snacks out for delivery drivers. She sings in her car when she thinks no one’s watching. She’s light and warm. The kind of woman you protect, not eliminate.

I told myself I was just gathering intel but days turned to weeks. I started memorizing her routines. I learned the way she laughs when she texts her sister, the exact brand of tea she drinks, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. Somewhere along the way, the job stopped being a job. I never made contact, never said a word. But I started feeling and now I’m in too deep. I backed out of the job quietly. Told the client it was unworkable, returned the deposit. He wasn’t happy but I’d rather deal with him than live with the thought of hurting her.

Problem is, I still want her. And I’ve imagined going up to her. Introducing myself as just a guy who walked into her in a random shop. Letting her fall for me without knowing who I really am. But that feels like a lie. I’ve already lied by omission.

So Reddit… AITA for falling for her while stalking her? For not telling her the truth even though every part of me wants to protect her now? Or would telling her everything be the most selfish thing I could do?

Ezra (The Prospect)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my best friend’s brother even though she explicitly told me not to?

So I (F, 27) have been best friends with this girl since we were 7. We grew up together, sleepovers, secrets, teenage rebellion, the whole deal. She’s like a sister to me and we’ve been through everything.

Which means I also grew up around E (M, 34), her older brother. E was the charming, sarcastic, effortlessly cool older brother who’d tease us when we were kids, drive us around when we were teens, and smirk at me in that infuriating way that made me blush harder than I’d like to admit. We always had this… thing. Flirty comments, lingering looks, stupid jokes that only made sense to us. But I never acted on it. My best friend made it very clear and very early on that E was off limits. “It’d be weird.” She said, “Gross. I don’t want my bestie being near my brother like that

Fast forward to last year. I ran into E at a party she dragged me to and it was different. The flirting was heavier. The air was tense. He looked at me like he really saw me. One thing led to another, and… yeah. We started secretly dating. At first, it was light, late-night texting, stolen moments, private dinners. But it grew deeper. He’s thoughtful, steady, makes me laugh and makes me feel safe. He listens. We talk about everything. I think I’ve loved him longer than I’ve even known what love was.

We’ve been together for 5 months now. My best friend doesn’t know. I’ve lied to her face more times than I can count and I hate it. Every time E and I sneak around, a part of me dies a little because I know how betrayed she’ll feel if (when) she finds out.

But here’s the thing, it’s not some casual fling. We’re in love. I want to tell her. We both do. We just don’t know how without blowing up twenty years of friendship. And I can’t stop asking myself, do I owe her that level of loyalty? Or am I allowed to be happy even if it’s messy?

So Reddit… AITA for going behind my best friend’s back and dating her brother, the one person she begged me not to fall for?

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out a woman who used to sleep with my best friend (even though I’ve liked her for years)?

Yeah, I know how this sounds. Buckle up.

I (38M) have this friend, let’s call him Pope, who I’ve known forever. We’ve been through the shit together. The kind of friendship where you’d kill for the guy, no questions asked.

A few years ago, he was hooking up with this woman (let’s call her R, 30F). Nothing serious. Just casual, no-strings. He made that clear to all of us. And she seemed fine with it. They’d hook up after drinks or late nights but it fizzled out naturally. No drama. No breakup. Just life moving on.

Thing is that I liked her, always liked her. Since day one. She’s smart, hilarious, can handle a room full of testosterone like it’s nothing and has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re the only guy in the world. I kept my distance out of respect. You don’t move in on your best friend’s girl even if she was never really his girl. But now, years later, I still haven’t stopped thinking about her. We still talk and hang out sometimes. There’s a spark there, I swear. But I haven’t said a damn thing. Partly because I’m a coward, partly because I don’t want to blow up my friendship with Pope.

I asked him once, hypothetically, how he’d feel if someone dated a girl he’d just “hooked up with.” He shrugged and said, “If it was just a hook-up, I wouldn’t give a shit.” But I don’t know if he actually meant it. And I don’t know if it’s different when it’s one of us, tight-knit, military bond and all.

So Reddit… AITA if I ask her out? Am I a bad friend for wanting a chance with the woman he technically had first, even if it was casual and years ago? Or should I just shut my mouth and keep pretending I don’t care?

Harry Castillo (The Materialists)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to financially support my assistant in a way that might make me her sugar daddy?

Throwaway because, well, obviously.

I (42M) run several successful business firms and have a phenomenal assistant (26F). Let’s call her R. She’s sharp, competent, endlessly patient with my disorganization and frankly the reason this whole damn office runs at all.

Here’s the thing, I’ve noticed she’s been struggling lately. She’s skipping meals, avoiding turning on the office heat even when she’s freezing. I caught her patching a hole in her shoe with tape. She’s proud and never complains, but it’s obvious she’s barely staying afloat. I pay her more than what she deserves for her position but I know life’s expensive, especially in Manhattan. I also know she’s got student loans and takes care of her family. And I hate seeing her like this, it’s been eating at me.

So here’s where I might be the asshole, I’ve been toying with the idea of offering her help. Not a raise (I already gave her one recently). Not a loan (she’d never accept). More like a “no strings attached” arrangement where I’d take care of her rent, groceries or whatever she needs, if she lets me. Yes, I know how that sounds. I’m not trying to be a creep. I’m not expecting anything in return, no paying back, no sexual favors. But there’s no way to make this offer without it sounding like I want to be her sugar daddy.

Truth is… I wouldn’t hate that idea if she was open to something more. She’s beautiful and smart. The kind of woman I’d fall for in another life. But that’s not what this is about. I just want to take care of her and make sure she’s okay. If there’s anything more deserving in living the lavish life, it’s definitely her. 

So Reddit… AITA for even thinking about offering something like that? And if not, how the hell do I go about it without sounding like an old pervert?

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels (Kingsman)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being cold to a woman at work because she reminds me of my dead wife?

I (late 40s, M) work in a high-risk field, let’s just call it federal-level security with a cowboy hat on top. I’m used to staying sharp and staying detached. I’ve had to be, ever since I lost my wife ten years ago. She was my everything. Sweet, sharp-tongued and tough as nails under lace. When she died… I buried my heart with her.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (mid-30s, F). She’s the new secretary at our organization. Handles the logistics, the schedules, the background noise of our chaos. Always has a coffee in hand, always humming something, always looking at the world like it still deserves to be forgiven. The first time I saw her, I froze. She didn’t look exactly like my wife, not quite, but she moved like her, laughed like her and smiled with that same little tilt that used to undo me in an instant. And ever since then, I’ve treated her like she’s done something wrong just by walking into the damn room.

I’m short and dismissive with her, sometimes even rude. I pretend not to hear her when she says good morning. Once or twice, I’ve even corrected her harshly in front of others for mistakes she didn’t make. I know I’m being cruel. She hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve it. But every time she opens her mouth, I hear a ghost. Thing is, she’s never pushed back. She just looks at me with this confused kind of hurt, like she doesn’t understand what she did wrong and the truth is, she didn’t, never did. I did. I’m the one turning grief into anger. I’m the one who never dealt with losing the woman I loved and now I’m taking it out on someone who’s just being kind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about apologizing, about telling her the truth. But I’m afraid if I let her in, I’ll start feeling again. And I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to lose someone twice.

So Reddit… AITA for being a jackass to someone just because she reminds me of someone I lost? Or is this just the only way I know how to cope?

Javi Guttierez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings, only for her to completely ignore it the next day?

This might be a mess so bear with me.

I (M, 33) am a scriptwriter and producer. I’ve worked my way up in this business and I take it seriously. One of the smartest things I ever did was hire her, my assistant (F, 28). Let’s call her R. She’s incredible. Organized, sharp, cool under pressure, has this dry humor that makes me laugh at the worst times and somehow remembers every detail about everyone I ever meet. She makes me better. She makes the job look easy.

And I’ve been in love with her for almost two years.

I know it’s unprofessional. I kept it quiet, never crossed a line, not even a toe near one. Because she deserves respect and I’d rather suffer in silence than make her uncomfortable or jeopardize her career.

But it’s been getting harder lately, especially at industry parties. She turns heads when she walks into a room. Every actor, every big name, they all want a piece of her. And I just stand there, pretending I don’t care. Pretending I’m not dying inside when they make her laugh, when they ask for her number, when she says, “I’m working” and looks away.

Then came this gala. One too many champagne flutes. One too many guys trying to corner her. She looked uncomfortable, kept glancing at me across the room. And something in me snapped. I pulled her away from the crowd, took her to the balcony, and without thinking, I kissed her. Then I told her everything. That I’ve liked her since week one. That I think about her all the time. That it kills me to watch her with anyone else.

And she just ran. Didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked away.

Next morning? It was like it never happened. She showed up, clipboard in hand, rattling off schedules, looking me dead in the eye like she hadn’t fled from my lips ten hours prior. I’ve tried talking to her. I’ve begged for just five minutes of her time. She dodges me, changes subjects, acts like everything is normal, and it’s driving me insane. I feel like I crossed a boundary. But also, I was honest. I never forced anything. I just said how I felt.

So Reddit… AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings after years of silence, even if now she won’t speak to me?

Javier Peña (Narcos)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly rejecting my coworker’s advances even though I’m actually in love with him?

This is going to sound like I’m the world’s biggest idiot, but here goes.

I (29F) work for the government. It's a hard, high-stress job and there���s not a lot of room for vulnerability or, y’know, romance. Which sucks because I’ve been half in love with my colleague, let’s call him J, since the day I met him.

He’s everything you’d want in a man. Confident, charming and dangerous in that bad boy way. He walks into a room and women stare. He talks and people listen. He flirts like it’s breathing. And yeah, he’s got a reputation. Everyone knows he’s been around, probably the most sexually experienced man I’ve ever met.

Me? I’ve never even had sex. Not religious, not traumatized, it just never happened for me. I’ve always been shy and easily intimidated. I was the "shy bunny" in the academy, not the one guys chased after. And when J started flirting with me, like really flirting, I froze.

It’s not like I’m not interested, I am. But every time he makes a move, I panic, I dodge, I pretend that I’m too busy or brush him off with a joke. Because the thought of actually being with him, of taking off my clothes in front of a man like that, makes me want to crawl into a hole. I’m scared I’ll disappoint him. That I’ll be awkward or inexperienced or just not enough. And then I’ll ruin the one good relationship I have on this damn job. He still flirts, still checks in. But I can feel the distance growing. I think he’s starting to think I’m not into him. Or worse, that I’m playing games. I’m not. I just don’t know how to tell him why I keep backing off.

So Reddit… AITA for rejecting him over and over while secretly being in love with him? Should I be honest and risk everything? Or just keep my mouth shut and let him move on to someone who won’t choke up the second he touches her?

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for having feelings for my dad’s best friend, who basically helped raise me?

Okay, so this is going to sound real bad on paper, but hear me out.

I (26F) have known this man, J, since I was a kid. He’s my dad’s best friend, a grumpy rugged Texan who’s been around for every milestone in my life. School plays, birthdays, college move-in day, you name it, J was always there, usually fixing something or standing off to the side with a cup of coffee and his permanent scowl.

Here’s the thing, somewhere in the last year or two, I started not seeing J as just “Dad’s friend.” Like, I’ll walk into the kitchen in my pajamas and he’s fixing the sink with his sleeves rolled up, arms flexing and suddenly I’m thinking things I should probably be arrested for. It’s not just physical. He listens to me, respects me and treats me like a grown woman, not a little girl.

A few nights ago, he stayed over after helping Dad rebuild the deck. I poured him a whiskey after Dad went to bed and we talked for hours. At one point, he brushed my hand and didn’t pull away right away. It was small but it felt like something shifted. Here’s the kicker, I want something to happen. I want him but I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet because 1.) he’s my dad’s best friend, 2.) he’s literally 20+ years older than me, and 3.) I know if my dad ever found out, it’d destroy their friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to sleep with the man who basically helped raise me? I haven’t acted on it yet, but I want to desperately. Am I a terrible person for thinking so?

Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my professor after we hooked up, even though I was the one who pursued him first?

Throwaway for obvious reasons. This is messy and I know it.

So I (22F) am a senior in college, finishing my degree in classical studies. For the past year, I’ve been taking a Roman history seminar taught by Professor M (M, late 30s?). He’s brilliant, sharp-tongued, a little intimidating and, honestly, incredibly attractive in that cold, untouchable kind of way. I’ve had a crush on him since day one.

He’s very professional, like textbook boundary-keeper. Never gave me special treatment, never even hinted at anything, even though I was top of his class and probably tried way too hard to impress him. I figured it would stay one-sided forever. Until a few weeks ago, I went to a bar near campus with friends. And who do I run into? Him. Out of the suit, out of the lecture hall, totally relaxed. He buys me a drink. We talk, like, really talk. He’s charming, funny and flirty. I was shocked. One thing led to another and I ended up at his apartment. We slept together. It was intense, passionate and everything I’d secretly fantasize about.

We talked the next morning. He made it very clear that he hadn’t planned it, that it was wrong in theory, but neither of us wanted to stop. So we kept seeing each otherecretly. Always professional on campus. No PDA. No weird behavior in class. It’s all strictly off the clock.

And honestly? I’m happy. I care about him. I think he cares about me too. But lately, some classmates have started joking that he favors me, not knowing anything is happening, and it’s making me feel paranoid. I’m terrified of ruining his reputation, of jeopardizing his career or mine. 

So Reddit… AITA for crossing that line with him? Or are we just two adults trying to be careful about something real in a setting that doesn’t make room for it?

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for feeling blindsided that my neighbor, who babysits my daughter and I might be falling for, has a kid I didn’t know about?

Hey Reddit, this might sound like a midlife crisis-in-the-making but I really need some outside perspective.

I (M, 39) am a single dad. My daughter, also M (F, 8), is the best part of my life. I work a demanding job, and for the past year or so, my neighbor (F, 35), let’s call her R, has been babysitting M when I’m away. She’s kind, dependable and just gets my daughter in a way that instantly puts me at ease.

More than that, she gets me. We’ve grown close. Coffee on porches. Passing each other in the hall. Sometimes we talk until midnight over paper takeout boxes and M’s school projects. I always chalked it up to neighborly chemistry, nothing more. But lately, I’ve caught myself looking at her differently, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same. My daughter doesn’t help. Every other night it’s, “Daddy, she has a crush on you.” Or “I think she’d be a great mom someday, like, to me.” Kids, right?

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I figured if she felt something, she’d say something or maybe I’d grow the courage to bring it up myself. But then, this weekend, a car pulls up in her driveway. I look out the window and I see a man step out, not threatening, just there. And then a little boy hops out of the back seat and runs into R’s arms.

My heart dropped. Turns out she has a kid, a son. From a previous marriage, she’s divorced. None of this was ever mentioned in all our conversations and now I feel off? Confused. A little betrayed? I know that sounds unfair, she’s not obligated to tell me her life story. But after all these quiet, close nights and tender moments and hearing from my daughter that she might have feelings for me, why didn’t she ever tell me about her son? I haven’t said anything. I don’t want to make her feel guilty. She still babysits my daughter. But I can’t stop replaying it all. Did she keep it from me on purpose? Was I just a fool for thinking we had something? Or am I just overwhelmed because I wanted her to be part of our little family and didn’t realize she already had one of her own?

So Reddit… AITA for feeling a little heartbroken and distant after finding out my neighbor has a son she never told me about?

Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not telling my best friend that I’m secretly dating the man she just asked me to help her get with?

I (F, 30s) have been dating a coworker of mine, let’s call him M (late 30s, thoughtful, charming, ridiculously handsome) for over three years. We met working in the same department (federal law enforcement, so discretion is basically part of the uniform), and from the start, we kept it quiet. No PDA at work, no romantic texts on company phones, nothing that could put us under scrutiny. It was just easier that way, completely private and ours.

Fast-forward to now, we’ve built a whole life together in the shadows. We take trips, spend weekends at each other’s apartments, and talk about buying a house someday. The real deal.

Here’s the problem, my best friend, who also works in our agency, pulled me aside a few days ago and told me she has a huge crush on M. She said she’s had a thing for him for months but didn’t know how to approach it. And then she asked if I could help set her up with him, talk her up, ease her in, “put in a good word.” She has no idea I’m with him. We’ve never told anyone. And the worst part? She was genuinely excited when she told me, like school girl giddy level. She said, “I really think he could be the one.”

Now I feel sick. I didn’t know what to say. I kind of froze, gave a weird laugh and changed the subject. But now she keeps asking about it. And I feel like I’m betraying both of them, M, by not protecting our relationship and her, by hiding something huge.

M says we can go public. That he’s fine with it if I am but then what? I tell her I’ve been with the guy she’s secretly pining over for years and just didn’t say anything? Won’t she feel humiliated? Betrayed? I’m terrified it’ll destroy our friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling my best friend I’m already with the guy she wants? And if not, what the hell do I do now?

Max Philips (Bloodsucking Bastards)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to quit because my boss won’t turn me into a vampire even though I’m literally the top performer?

I (24F) started an internship at a mid-size sales company a few months ago. I was just trying to get some experience and a paycheck. I didn’t expect, you know, vampires to be a part of that experience.

The office rumor (that everyone knows is true) is that M (mid-30s? ageless? hot in a soul-sucking Wall Street vampire sort of way) is the boss who handpicks the best employees to “promote” aka turn them into vampires. It’s a reward. Eternal life, endless energy, better insurance and apparently a coffee tolerance that doesn’t make your hands shake. Thing is, I’ve crushed the sales board for three months straight. Like, no competition. The next closest guy is 42 calls behind and cries during lunch. I stayed up late. I meet quotas no one else touches. My neck is basically exposed at this point, figuratively and literally.

And yet nothing. No shadowy invite. No creepy-but-glamorous “let’s talk in my office with the lights off.” M just gives me these weird once-overs in the elevator and says things like, “Good work, kid,” like I’m still in high school. Meanwhile, last month’s top performer (D, who sells like he’s reading from a cereal box) got “promoted” after one good week.

I tried asking. M just smiled, that smug fanged GQ smile and said, “It’s not just about the numbers.” Which… okay? What is it about then? Charm? Blood type? Being less annoying during meetings? Now I’m spiraling. Like am I not vampire material? Am I too ambitious? Not attractive enough? Too human? Every day I walk past the break room and see the cool undead crowd sipping their crimson smoothies and laughing at inside jokes about graveyards and their never ending orgies, and I feel like the nerd no one wants at the slumber party.

I’m starting to hate him. Not just because he won’t bite me but because I wanted it. I earned it. And now I’m stuck here, mortal, exhausted and drinking stale coffee while wondering if I’m not enough.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to quit my job because my boss won’t make me a vampire? Or am I just taking professional rejection way too personally?

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even though I’m afraid of messing up his life again?

So, I (M, early 40s) am a single dad to the best kid on the planet, A (9M). Sweet, brilliant and too good for me honestly. His mom and I split a few years ago and I’ve been doing the whole daddy CEO redemption arc thing ever since. Trying to be a good man. Trying to keep the chaos in check. Trying not to completely screw this kid up.

Enter her. My son’s teacher. Let’s call her R (30s F). She’s sunshine in human form. Whip-smart, patient and warm. She talks to A like he’s the most important person in the room, and hell, she talks to me like I’m not just a walking Wall Street headline. I’ve been smitten since parent-teacher night. Every time I drop A off or pick him up, I try to be charming, likeable, funny, confident. You know, my usual moves.

And I fail miserably. Every. Single. Time.

She doesn’t laugh at my stupid money jokes, she gives me this look when I bring her overpriced coffee like she knows I googled “gifts teachers love.” Once, I tried to compliment her and said, “You’re doing really admirable work wrangling a room full of small people.” I sounded like I was describing a livestock auction. Still, she smiles. She’s kind and I think, maybe, she likes me back? Or at least doesn’t hate me. Which, for me, is progress.

Here’s the problem, I’ve been thinking about asking her out. Just coffee, something simple. But I keep stopping myself because of A. He adores her. I mean, glows when he talks about her. I don’t want to confuse him. I don’t want him to feel weird if she becomes something more to me than “Ms. R.”

But lately, he’s been drawing pictures of the three of us. Me, him and her. He says stuff like, “Ms. R would make a good mom.” Or, “Ms. R always makes me feel safe.” And I can’t help but wonder, is he already hoping for something more?

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even if it risks changing something sacred in his life? Or should I just keep pretending this isn’t killing me a little more every time I see her?

Lucien De Leon (The Uninvited)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not being able to look at my best friend the same after I saw her camming and moaning my name?

Yeah. I know how that sounds. But please let me explain before you judge.

I (M, 29) have been best friends with R (F, 28) since we were kids. Grew up in the same neighborhood, went through awkward teen years together, cried on each other’s shoulders during breakups, shared popcorn during horror movie marathons, the whole “platonic soulmates” deal. Everyone always assumed we’d end up together but we never crossed the line. Mostly because I never had the guts.

Truth is, I’ve been in love with her since high school. She’s funny, brilliant, completely unfiltered and has this laugh that makes me feel like everything’s okay. I never told her because I didn’t want to lose what we had.

Then last week, I was up late, bored, scrolling whatever and I ended up on a cam site. Just clicking around, not expecting anything.

And there she was.

On camera. 

In the most sinful lingerie I’ve ever seen and looking gorgeous as ever. And at first I froze. I thought, “No way. That can’t be her.” But it was 100% her. The mole on her hip, the way she chews her lip when nervous, her voice. 

And then she moaned my name. Not in passing. Not like in a roleplay type of way. My actual real name. I exited so fast I nearly dropped my phone. I haven’t told her. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop picturing it. Her, saying my name, like that. And now every time we hang out, it’s like a war in my head, part of me still wanting to protect her, the other part completely wrecked by desire and curiosity. I feel like I’ve violated something, even though she’s the one streaming it publicly. I feel like a creep but also kind of hopeful? Like maybe she feels something for me, too? I don’t know what to do. I can’t unsee it and I don’t know if I should talk to her, confess, or bury it forever.

So Reddit… AITA for not being able to treat my best friend the same now that I’ve seen her in that way, even if she doesn’t know I know?

Oberyn Martell (Game of Throne)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with the enemy and not telling her I originally used her to get revenge on her family?

I (41M) come from a family with blood in the streets and revenge in its bones. We’ve been at war with another family, let’s call them the Ls, for decades. The kind of feud where you don’t just destroy businesses, you burn bloodlines.

A while back, I met her. Let’s call her R (32F) and is the youngest from that said family. She walked into a neutral club downtown like she owned it, and every man in the room turned to look. So did I. At first, I saw an opportunity. I’m not proud of it but I’ll be honest, I wanted to get close to her to hurt her family. Seduce her. Use her. Break her heart. Maybe learn a few secrets along the way. That was the plan.

Except, it didn’t go that way.

She didn’t fall easily. She’s not some porcelain princess. She challenged me, even mocked me. Didn’t take any of my shit. And somehow, in all that fire and venom, I started wanting her. Not as a pawn. As a person. As mine. We've been seeing each other in secret for almost a year now. Behind closed doors, it’s real. It’s not a game. I bring her flowers. She brings me peace. She’s the only one who touches me like I’m a man, not a monster. And gods help me, I think I’d burn down my whole empire just to keep her safe.

But I haven’t told her the truth. That I used her at first. That I lied when I said I just "ran into her." That I walked into her life with a knife hidden behind my back and only dropped it once I realized I didn’t want to hurt her, I wanted to keep her. Now I’m stuck. If I tell her the truth, I risk losing her forever. If I don’t, I’m living a lie. Every time I touch her, I wonder if she’d still look at me the same if she knew what I was when this started.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling her? For falling in love with the one woman I was supposed to destroy?

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to say yes when my boss’s daughter asked me to get her pregnant to avoid sleeping with her fiancé?

I know how that title sounds. Believe me, I’ve lost sleep over it.

I (late 30s M), am an ex-military, currently working in private security. I was hired by a very rich, very controlling man to be his daughter’s bodyguard. Let’s call her R (mid-20s, beautiful, clever, and way too good for this world or for me).

R’s family is old-money, traditional and practically treats her like a business asset. A few months ago, they arranged for her to marry some stiff in a suit who’s more in love with her father’s power than with her. She doesn't love him, she’s made that clear. And now her family is pushing for kids. Like, very soon. Like, contracts signed and wedding night kind of pressure.

I’ve seen the way she looks after long meetings. Like she’s drowning. I’ve heard her cry in her room when she thinks no one’s listening. But I didn’t expect what she asked me. She pulled me aside yesterday. Calm, serious and no games. She said she couldn’t go through with letting a stranger own her body. That if she had to have a child, she wanted to choose the father. Someone she trusted. Someone she felt safe with. Someone like me. She said she wouldn’t expect anything else. No strings. No relationship. Just this one thing. And god help me, I want to say yes.

Because I’ve been falling for her since day one. Quietly. From the shadows. I was hired to protect her, not touch her, but every time I see her, I want to pull her away from all of this. From her family. From the cold fiancé. From the life she never chose.

But if I say yes, am I crossing a line? Taking advantage of her desperation? If I say no, I keep things clean, professional but I leave her alone in something that clearly terrifies her.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to say yes when she asked me to give her something real in a life full of things she never chose?

Reed Richards (Fantastic 4)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly arguing with my scientific rival, even though I might actually be in love with her?

Let me start by saying I’m not great with emotions. Equations? Fine. Quantum mechanics? My playground. Human connection? That’s where I fall apart.

I (40M) work in advanced theoretical physics, and I’m fairly well-known in my field. A few years ago, a new name started popping up in peer-reviewed journals. Let’s call her R (34F). She’s brilliant, bold and completely unapologetic. And somehow, infuriatingly, smarter than me in areas I used to dominate.

We met at a symposium and things escalated. What began as subtle jabs turned into full-blown intellectual warfare. Debates in front of panels. Arguments in laboratories. Petty rebuttals in published work. To everyone else, we’re rivals, frenemies at best, sworn enemies at worst.

But here’s the part no one knows, I don’t hate her at all.

In fact, I admire her more than anyone I’ve ever met. She challenges me. She keeps me on my toes. And, God help me, she’s gorgeous when she’s yelling at me about my “antiquated entropy model.” I’ve even found myself intentionally provoking her just to see the fire in her eyes. The problem? I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’ve spent so long acting like she’s my nemesis that I don’t know how to flip the script. I can’t just say, “Hey, I know I’ve spent the last three years criticizing your work in front of Nobel committees, but want to grab dinner sometime?”

She probably does hate me. Or worse, she sees me as a childish competitor who can’t handle being challenged by a woman. And maybe that’s not entirely wrong.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping up the act? For pretending to hate her when in reality I can’t stop thinking about her? I don’t even know if she’d take me seriously if I tried to be honest now. Or is it too late to change the rules of the game?

Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for developing feelings for a witness in a murder case even though I’m the lead investigator and she’s the victim’s wife?

I know how it sounds. I hate that I’m even writing this. But here we are.

I (M, 40s) work in law enforcement, been doing it a long time. I’ve seen the worst of people. I’ve interviewed killers with no soul behind their eyes, and families so broken by grief I had to go sit in my car afterward and just breathe.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (30s F). She was the wife of the man we found shot dead in their home. Brutal scene. She was there too, barely alive when we arrived. Beaten, bloodied and she fought like hell to survive. We think she wasn’t supposed to make it. Suspect must’ve thought she was dead when he fled.

We put her into a protective program while we sort this out. There’s still a threat, still pieces missing. And since I’m the lead on the case, I’ve been around a lot.

It started small, making sure she felt safe. Bringing her updates. Listening when she needed to talk about the past. Her husband wasn’t exactly Prince Charming. There’s a lot to unpack there. And somewhere along the line, I started seeing her as more than a witness. More than a case file. She’s sharp and resilient. The kind of woman who makes you want to be softer just standing near her. And she smiles at me, like she’s grateful I’m there, like she trusts me.

But here’s the thing: her husband just died violently. No matter how their marriage was, he’s gone and I’m the man investigating it. I’m supposed to be objective, professional. And I am, I swear I am. But I can’t lie to myself anymore and pretend I’m not catching feelings I shouldn’t. I haven’t acted on anything. I’d never cross that line. But the way she looks at me sometimes, I wonder if she feels it too.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting something with a woman who’s still technically grieving her dead husband, while I’m supposed to be the one protecting her?

[homestuckreplay]

Evolution of Homestuck’s Art Style, Pages 1-1550

[page 1, 1434]

Since Act 4 began, I’ve been blown away by the visual difference between this and the earlier comic – there’s been a big shift in style, and huge increase in the use of color. So, re-reading and just looking at the art style, here’s an overview of the changes so far.

[a short one – 2.8k words below the cut + some very beautiful panels. I was limited to 30 images in a post, so would recommend looking up page references for the ones tumblr wouldn't let me include <3]

[page 4, 16]

Act 1 mostly uses sprite art and clean, tidy images; the white background is the dominant color in most panels. Where John is drawn freehand, he’s drawn as close to his sprite as possible, with a thick black outline and blocky shapes. This is often done to give him a more complex pose or facial expression than a sprite would allow (for example, p.16). John’s house is relatively tidy, filled with discrete items that it’s easy to move around and manipulate to create new panels – these are mostly either imported photographs rendered in black and white, or line drawings similar to John’s sprite. Occasional items are drawn in color – some due to their importance (Sburb logos) but some due more to common sense (blood capsules).

John’s captchalogue and strife systems are colored overlays on panels that are still mostly black and white. Full color panels show up when John (or Rose) uses a computer, showing their desktop background, or when John looks or goes outside and observes his neighborhood. Here, his near monochrome, thick-lined sprite stands out against the lineless background (the car and mailbox help soften this for now).

[page 195, 246]

Over the next few acts, Homestuck will develop an art style typified by its lack of outlines and straights, abundance of curves and swirls, use of patterned blocks of solid color to create light and depth effects, and emphasis on motion. Act 1 has the earliest steps towards this – my favorite is page 195, where John looks through his telescope and sees the meteor heading towards him. These styles of sky, clouds, wind, and small animated elements that don’t dominate the panel are all still common techniques in Act 4. The final shot of the meteor cloud in the End of Act 1 flash animation (p.246) – which is almost entirely full color outdoors shots – is another great example.

Act 1 is definitely not dull or colorless, and there's a real charm to its style, but it is overall functional. Panels are designed to give information, show the results of commands, and communicate a change of state from the previous panel – it’s unlikely someone would look at them just for aesthetic value. Act 1 has the closest to an ‘adventure game’ look, as lots of John’s items look like they should be clicked on for more information, and rooms are often rendered in an isometric style. In a narrative comic, this also makes John feel boxed in and stifled by the imposing walls and lack of color. His world is stark, monotonous, and cut-and-paste, somewhere he has been placed instead of somewhere he naturally belongs.

[page 312, 363]

Act 2 stays primarily monochrome, but panels are busier on average. Dave’s room (p.312) has so much going on in comparison to John’s (p.4) that in a video game, it’d be hard to know what to click on first. John’s room has become much busier now that it’s been looted and smeared by imps, which makes it harder to keep the art consistent between different panels and angles. Like John and Rose, Dave’s computer, house exterior, and inventory systems are shown in color. Dave’s living room is monochrome but has a fair amount of color through his brothers’ puppets, while John’s now has imps in harlequin outfits, build grist, and Nannasprite.

Rose is unique among the kids for never being placed on a white background. When she’s first introduced, her room is shown in pale gray to indicate that it’s getting dark in her house. This color is unobtrusive, close to white, and doesn’t feel like it makes the panels more complex. As a wildfire creeps closer, the sky around Rose tints red – a slight burgundy on page 398, and a more dangerous wine red on page 985. The mausoleum is also gray, with a soft lineless background unlike other indoor spaces. Rose is the first beta kid to leave her house entirely and go to a secondary location, heading down to the Skaianet Laboratory on page 840 – a much more visually complex area in which she’s shown against a green background until she goes back to the fire. If there’s any examples of her in a white space, I missed them!

[page 444, 665]

The kids are still drawn close to their sprite style, with occasional variation. Dave’s sprite is shaded in red and yellow on page 444 to represent the ‘sick heat’ he’s trapped in, and he’s shown in red silhouette as he steps onto the roof on page 665. In ‘WV: Ascend’ (p.757), every frame is full color and more detailed than most previous panels, and the kids’ and guardians’ sprites stand out as the only cut and pasted element. The landscapes are changing faster than the characters, which creates a feeling of unfamiliarity and their struggle to keep up with their new circumstances.

[page 248, 558]

The Wayward Vagabond’s panels immediately look different from the kids’. Page 248 is easily the most complex still image up to that point, with the greatest color diversity (four shades in the sky, one in the city, and I think as many as eight in the sand). It’s very different from the blocky blue sky at John’s house. WV has a sprite too, but his is full color, meaning that when he’s drawn freehand he’s drawn without an outline. This makes him feel ‘part’ of the background instead of pasted on top of it, merged with his landscape while the kids are at odds with theirs. The 100-page Wayward Vagabond point of view section is the first extended sequence of full color panels, but by this point they’ve shown up enough that it doesn’t feel jarring.

Act 2 has the first panel where the art itself blows me away. Page 558, with its fiery boat sailing into the sunset, goes harder than any panel that’s come before it entirely in service of the Vaulthalla pun.

[page 760, 840]

Act 3 introduces Jade in the typical sprite style and monochrome interior, but she appears in her windowed garden atrium, so at least half of her first panel is in full color. The exterior of her house is more colorful and prominent than any kid before her, with various colors of clouds and plants; the same is true of her computer, which surrounds her in three-dimensional spinning colors instead of being a two-dimensional screen. Jade’s room is the biggest and messiest yet, as in just two acts the comic is already feeling limited by its ‘character stuck in a room’ format.

[page 225, 986]

This act shows the art style in transition, with even more color and complexity introduced into what are technically indoor panels of the kids, and more excuses found to draw in the softer, lineless style. On page 840, the tunnel Rose walks through is sketched like a sky, when an act earlier it might have been made of simpler, blockier shapes. Page 986 shows a very similar view to page 225, and the new version isn't necessarily more complex but it is more Homestuck, with increased texture and definition in the clouds and a fire moving through layered lines of color.

Just like in Act 2, ‘Years in the future…’ pages lead the charge with the changing art style. Pages 924, 1005 and 1035 provide lush post-apocalyptic landscapes with a beauty that isn’t seen on present-day Earth – even Jade’s island on page 1080, clearly designed to be visually interesting, doesn’t have quite the liveliness and definition of the post-apocalyptic pages (in my opinion).

[page 1051, 1147]

Act 3 also introduces the aesthetic vertical page. Previously, vertical pages are used occasionally for their aspect ratio, showing a book or the entirety of John’s house. Page 1051’s art isn’t giving information or showing a changed state, but stands out as an impressive visual and a pause for breath in between panels that do give information. Page 1147 is similar, and I believe it’s also the first time a beta kid is drawn in the lineless style (with detail to their form, not just a silhouette). This page comes right before the end of act flash, showing the final form the art has now achieved.

[page

Besides the monochrome sprite art associated with the kids’ houses and the lineless style associated with the outdoors, Act 3 introduces a couple more styles. One is the scribble style, first introduced with WV’s Can Town fantasies and murals, and then scattered throughout Jade and the exiles’ scenes in Act 3. Some panels in this style are explicitly intended to be drawn or imagined by an in-universe character, while other times they represent a strong emotion or sudden interruption.

The other new style is the color-adjusted jpeg, seen in Prospit (p.1029) and the dark kingdom (p.886), where the background is composed of externally-sourced images that have been manipulated and recolored. The over-saturation of a single color makes the location recognizable without need for its own distinctive art style – Prospit is entirely gold or yellow, the dark kingdom is entirely purple, and the Felt’s mansion is entirely green.

[page 1236, 1337]

The Intermission is made almost exclusively in this style, which adds a lot of detail to backgrounds while sacrificing some distinctiveness. While sprite art is used, the sprites themselves are entirely black or green, so they complement their environment the same way John complements his Act 1 house. By using images of a mansion’s interior as panel backgrounds, the Intermission is arguably more ‘realistic-looking’ than the representational art and medieval castles of the Acts, which ties into its grittier and more grounded tone.

With its goal of a fast production pace in advance of a more complex Act 4, there aren’t many artistic standout pages in the Intermission. A rare exception are the pre-city wasteland panels, such as page 1236, which blend the jpeg technique (for the stars and planets) with a lineless alien landscape of pleasantly rolling dunes. Pages 1188 and 1337 also blend these styles, but this is the extent of the lineless panels until Slick enters the safe.

[page 1358, 1407]

Act 4 introduces the Land of Wind and Shade (LOWAS) and the Land of Light and Rain (LOLAR), two planets with distinct designs in the lineless style where John and Rose’s scenes now exclusively take place. Both are stunning – LOWAS is mostly dark blue with gray clouds, and a focus on bioluminescence through its mushrooms and fireflies, while LOLAR is mostly white landmasses amid a sea of pastel blue, pink and yellow. Since Act 1, Homestuck has taken care to set its animated pages primarily outside the kids’ houses, with the notable exception of page 253’s walkaround. This is likely because color makes flash pages more interesting to watch and easier to interpret – but character or plot developments have still been the focus. Page 1407, which introduces LOLAR, is the first flash with a primarily aesthetic function.

[page 1446, 1457]

In Act 4, panels that might have been standouts in previous acts are now commonplace, such as John answering messages on page 1391-2. Use of brown and yellow keeps the exiles’ pages visually distinct from John and Rose’s, but they’re no longer a clear upgrade. This helps the comic skip back and forth between John, Rose and the exiles without a narrative transition, as the art change is less jarring. Pages that take place in Dave’s monochrome room are now the outliers, while Rose and John’s sprites (and Dad’s car) really feel like relics of previous acts. Even with John’s new full-color suit and Rose’s land including a lot of white, their stark lines and lack of shading don’t merge well with their landscapes and always become the focal point when these sprites are used.

As such, there’s more examples of John and Rose in a lineless style, which feels long overdue and catches them up with changes that have already happened. Fully lineless panels tend to be very well composed with clear artistic intent; easy to interpret and pleasing to look at. They often represent movement even when not animated, so work well for transitioning to or away from a character. Sprite panels, on the other hand, have much lazier composition. Messes don’t get cleaned up, and panels show irrelevant objects often half-inside the panel and half-outside, so even when they’re communicating clearly they’re often less pleasant to look at – I find this true of AR’s introduction in Act 3 (p.1100-1111) and all the Dave and Jade scenes in Act 4. Page 1446, for example, features the first prototyping of Dave’s sprite, but it’s hard to focus on the crow-sword’s move through the room with so much else in the way (in contrast with page 185, where the harlequin doll is clearly in focus for its prototyping).

[page 39, 1523]

As a final comparison to illustrate this change, let’s look at page 39 side by side with page 1523. In both cases, a character is typing in Pesterchum. The reader has already seen the kid’s location and nearby possessions, so the images do nothing more than illustrate that the character is on their computer, while the meat of the page is in the Pesterlog.

On page 39, this is situated between two John panels where he takes different actions (assigns Hammerkind and captchalogues a book), so page 39’s image feels necessary to the sequence. On page 1523, this is immediately followed up by another image of Rose, still on her computer, and one that feels far more dynamic. Rose gets a facial expression and sitting position that give her some character, the close-up shot feels intimate for an important conversation, and the background is still present through the ocean behind Rose and the shading from her umbrella. So while there’s nothing wrong with page 1523 (which does successfully re-establish Rose after some pages away from her) or with the sprite style in general, the upgrades to other areas of the art do make the sprite pages feel weaker by comparison.

[page 1524]

Whether intended or otherwise, the kids’ houses being the only monochrome, heavily outlined spaces while all other locations are full color and mostly lineless, is really evocative of the comic’s title. The first full-color panel is John’s desktop on page 24 featuring the Slimer background he made himself, and later his computer becomes a gateway to the Medium where he can access a whole world of color designed just for him. In contrast to being ‘stuck’ in defined dimensions and copied images, the kids are entering a world of beauty, motion and art for its own sake. The exiles’ panels introducing the lineless style and the kids’ following reflects the exiles guiding the kids into the Medium and towards their eventual quests. LOWAS and LOLAR’s fantastical designs add a sense of magic to the story, bringing it away from games and technology and towards more esoteric, unknowable forces. Their unique designs compared to the kids’ similar-styled houses recalls Rose and gallowsCalibrator’s mentions of Sburb’s ‘flexible mythological framework’ (p.440) or ‘HYP3R FL3XIBL3 MYTHOLOGY’ (p.1524), which apparently extends to the level of art style.

Personally, I think the swirling, lineless art style Homestuck has developed is very pretty, but does take away the ‘point and click game’ feeling of Act 1. It’s interesting that the art style develops alongside the reader-command format – Act 1 is almost entirely reader commands, while Acts 2 and 3 mix reader commands with author-driven exile commands and ==> pages, and Act 4 has already seen the reader suggestion boxes close for good. I think the question of ‘is Homestuck a game?’ is still relevant, but needs a different answer in Act 4 compared to Act 1. The level design of LOWAS, LOLAR, Prospit and the dark kingdom is excellent, but they’re for running around and fighting, not standing still and clicking. The genre has changed, and the characters’ roles in the game are being reconfigured alongside the players’ and narrators’ roles.

So, how will Homestuck’s art develop from here? My guess is that there will be a decrease in GIFs and an increase in still images, as the new style is likely harder to animate and better at conveying motion without animation. Act 4 is setting up to bring Dave and Jade into the Medium as quickly as possible, at which point there will be five planets (including post-apocalyptic Earth) each with their own distinctive designs. Once this happens, there will be no need for scenes inside the kids’ houses, and the comic will be able to eliminate the kids’ sprites altogether (or at least re-design them with more color and fewer stark lines, more similar to the trolls’, exiles’ or Felt members’ sprites). Dave and Jade’s sprites being prototyped may further affect the Medium, perhaps affecting the light and dark kingdoms as planets as well as just their agents. Finally, I think there will be a focus on how the kids’ actions physically change the landscape of their planets, as this has already been the case with their modifications to their houses.

[page 1395]

[grazi-your-rockette-queen]

write about female reader getting oral from dave mustaine and she holds his hands and dave can't help but think of it as the cutest thing! thank you

this is perfectttt

he wanted to give his baby a little treat after a long week, so he’s got you sitting at the end of the bed with your panties around your ankles, and you can feel his hot breath barely hitting where your whining for full contact.

“please davie?” he doesn’t make you beg too much, hes super focused on making you feel the best he can. he smiles up at you and turns his focus from your face to your wet pussy, and strokes two fingers through your lips, collecting your arousal and tasting it on his fingers before diving in head first, making you gasp and sigh instantly. he kept his hands on your thighs so he had a good grip to pull you back when you started to get really whiny and squirmy. your eyes shut tightly and your whiny moans became higher and more drawn out. your hands started to grasp around at the sheets, but you weren’t satisfied with the grip you had at them, so you moved your hands to dave’s soft hair, and then his hands, desperately tugging at his fingers that remained resting on top of your plush thighs. he looked up at you at the motion you made, and his immediate reaction was to smile against your heat, he couldn’t help but find it cute, but it also turned him on even more, seeing your small hands claw at his large hands, the expression on your face as well. that all combined with the pretty noises you were letting escape from your lips and the taste of your slick was enough to have his own eyes rolling back in his head. suddenly, you felt the familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching quickly, words of warning barely being spoken in between breathy moans before you snapped and came intensely, coating the lower half of dave’s face as he hummed against you. you were still clutching onto his hand the best you could as you shakily rode through your high, eventually relaxing enough to realize that his own warm hand was now wrapped around yours firmly, he was soothingly rubbing over the back of your hand with his thumb. you were breathing heavily still once you opened your eyes and regained focus, looking down at dave who was smiling sweetly at you.

“you were holding onto my hand the whole time, baby.”

“i don’t wanna let go of it now either.” you laughed shyly as he got up from the ground to join you on the bed, refusing to let go of your hand. he kissed you softly and went to grab you water and a little washcloth to help clean you up.

“and you made a little bit of a mess.” he teased you, referring to the sheets you’d soaked with your cum, you blushed after noticing the mess.

[secretkryptoniteangel]

favorite brightly-colored homestuck Aspect?

Okay, for this, looking at the aspect wheel, i'm going to include the following aspects: Mind, Hope, Breath, Life, Light, Time.

These are all fairly saturated, though i did remove space since in the god tier robes, the primary colour is black. Life was tenuous, since it is mostly beige and browney grey, but the bright green clinches it in.

SO, upfront, Aradia Megido is my favourite character and i love Dave and Damara, so that's going to be a big bias in this :D

So let's rule a few out!

Mind; Whilst i like the shenanigens of Terezi, i've never been overly enamoured with her, i think she has cool stuff going on and is an interesting character, but i've never been drawn to her. Latula is fine i guess, she's a sk8ter girl who i will see later girl!

Hope: Before i settled on Void as my aspect, i was hopebound! This gives us Eridan, who i did like in murderstuck as someone having gone completely off the rails, but it also gave us booty shorts bulgeless Jake, and like, give the guy a break. We also got Cronus who i can't remember much of. This is disqualified by default as its characters reference h*rry p*tter, which, please get over anyone who still stands by it, hope this helps <3

Life: I'm ruling this one out since there are more interesting characters, as mentioned in another post, i love the Peixes but i don't think Feferi was given enough time to be her own character! or the comic is just 8k+ pages long and it gets lost in it, who knows. and Jane is alright, but she's not the life of the alpha kids party! the Lalonde holds that title.

Breath: John (the June) Egbert is the standout here, I like Tavros, especially his victory dance in the great sands of irrelevance in the void, but that's about it. Do not get me wrong, The young man who stood in his room after 13 years of life will always have a special place for me.

That leaves Light and Time! and what a showdown it is!

Light has a lot of good points, namely Rose Lalonde, my second favourite character. What she did to that Ogre was fucked up and we love her for it. Additionally we have the Serkets! Vriska i really believe was a much better character pre-retcon, where she got to grow and be her own person and *feel* things rather than being a vessel for the plot and having her worst traits confirmed to be correct by divine (john the june) intervention. Aranea i really enjoyed the arc, ending with Game Over, and how fucked up she got everything whilst believing she could Mary Sue the timeline back to health and away from the literal god of double death, not your best thought out plan but i like the initiative!.

Time has some major factors for it. Aradia Megido. This alone could propel it to the top and destroy any competition. HOWEVER, for the sake of fairness, i will talk about them. So, Dave, is a really good character, partially for the slow realisation a lot of us had about his homelife. Initially i was thinking, it's just a comic, of course this guy lives in a pseudo ninja training place. But hindsight is powerful. He is also a very fun character and a blast to write sometimes! He's definitely a lot of the glue that help the beta kids together, his inane ramblings being a definite high point. Damara is an interesting one, since we see a decent amount of her pre and post scratch self, the latter having an exceptionally subpar time in the hands of the infamous doctor. I think if her pre-scratch self had more time to hang out with the beta kids, she's be a much more appreciated character, since as far as i remember, she was very nice to people who hadn't hurt her!

This round goes to Time! as was expected from the disclaimer, and from the volume i wrote about them despite not really writing anything about Aradia. I mean what is there to say? She's unbeatable

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

It's a highway to hell but, oh the things we do for love (5)

This fic is a Greek mythology au. This fic includes: betrayal, attempted human sacrifice, violence, choking, character death, cursing, forced marriage, mentions of nightmares, references to Greek mythology, enemies to lovers, and manipulation.

Tagging: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @greep215

Chapter 5

The next few days were challenging to say the least.  You kept your word and ensured that Minthe stayed as far away from Dave, Abigail, and Thanatos as much as possible.   In your time with Minthe, you had hoped that you would find out about her past actions in the underworld but she remained frustratingly tight lipped about what had occurred.

Instead, she constantly rambled on about what the underworld would look like after her marriage to Hades and the adjustments that she would make.  It was very hard to resist the temptation to point out that technically Hades was already married.  To you.  You had made the mistake once of asking her why she would want to make changes to the underworld when it was functioning in such a sophisticated manner already.

Minthe turned her nose up at your question and she loudly complained about mortals lacking the necessary understanding regarding matters of the gods and immortals.  Evidently, she was partially aware of the circumstances that had brought you to the underworld.  Abigail’s words swirled around in your brain about the longer that you stayed in the underworld, the more like a goddess you’d become.

Speaking of Abigail, you missed the bubbly nine-year-old’s company.  You hoped that she was coping okay with Thanatos and Dave for company particularly during mealtimes when they would eat together in one of their rooms.  Hades didn’t seem to be bothered by their choice; in fact, you had the strangest feeling that the god had suggested it himself.  The picture that she had drawn and given you remained in your pocket and occasionally, you would rest your hand atop the pocket and tap it to reassure yourself that the picture was still there and remind yourself who you were doing this for.

Even if you weren’t the one to end up with Hades, you hoped that Abigail, Dave, and Thanatos had someone much better than Minthe looking after them and ruling alongside their king.  They deserved that.

On the fourth day of Minthe’s stay in the Underworld, it appeared as if she had accepted you being around.  You weren’t sure how to feel about that but thankfully, the steady stream of improvement ideas for the underworld that poured from her lips distracted you from your thoughts and feelings.

That was until you heard a “psst” coming from behind you.  Minthe was so wrapped up in her monologue and walking to her destination that she didn’t notice you pausing and searching for the source of the noise.

Abigail peeked out from behind a column, “Is she gone?”

You looked over your shoulder.  While Minthe was out of sight, you could still hear her talking to herself.   It wouldn’t be too hard to catch up with her.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

The goddess ran over to you and hugged your legs, “I miss you!  Dave’s quieter than usual and Thanatos is back to being mean.”  Abigail pouted.

Your heart ached.  “It’s just for a bit longer,” you tried to reassure her.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

Abigail cocked her head to the side and released your legs, “Can I show Hades the picture that I gave you?”

“Of course,” you fished the picture out of your pocket and handed it to her.  She examined it happily and then looked up at you with a contemplative expression that had more than a tinge of longing and sadness in it.

“Will we see you soon?”

“I hope so.”  You replied and unwilling to end the conversation on a sad note, you forced a smile.  “Go show Hades the picture.  You did such a good job with it.”

“Okay.”  Abigail said quietly before dashing away.

“If anyone is listening, please help me to remove Minthe from the underworld as soon as possible.”

You weren’t sure if any deity from any pantheon was listening to your plea but you hoped that someone heard it and that they granted you enough patience or at the very least tolerance for the rest of Minthe’s stay, however long that may be.

You started walking in the direction that you had last seen her travelling in.  It wasn’t hard to catch up to her due to the fact that you heard her before you saw her.  What did surprise you was that she had stopped in front of an archway that led to the gardens of the Underworld.

Silently, the both of you stepped through the archway and into the garden.  Your first thought was that ‘garden’ was not an appropriate way to describe the area and scenery in front of you.  If you were to use the word forest instead, that would be a better choice to describe it but it still wouldn’t come close to describe the magnificence and magnitude of the plant life in front of you.

It was as if every imaginable plant was inside this very space.  You spotted plants that had grown in your neighbour’s garden, trees that looked like they were thousands of years old, plants that you swore belonged under the sea and yet, here they were flourishing in the Underworld with no visible water around them and succulents from every desert around the world.

“I see that you appreciate the gardens.”  Minthe observed.  It took a few seconds for you to realise that she was actually talking to you.

You let out a low chuckle, “Truthfully, the word ‘garden’ doesn’t seem to be the best fit for this wonder.”

“I know what you mean.  The king cultivated this garden himself and believe it or not, there used to be many older plants here.  They were a gift from Lady Demeter herself as a thank you to Hades for ruling the Underworld so efficiently.”

“Were?  What happened to them?”

“I destroyed them.”

“What did you say?!” You demanded in disbelief.

“I destroyed them,” Minthe replied nonchalantly, studying her nails as if destroying plants from the Goddess of Harvest and Agriculture was a normal thing to do.

“How could you do something like that?  Those plants were a gift from your patron!  If anything, you should have--”

“I?  I should not have had to share the attention of the God of the Underworld with some immobile plants!  Between the plants and me, I was the more important gift and I was more connected to my patron than they would ever be!”

“Even if you didn’t like them, you should have respected the fact that Hades did and left the plants alone!  It was not your place to change something that was part of the god’s realm!  You were a guest!”

There was no mistaking the fury in your tone.  Now you had a deeper understanding of why Abigail, Dave, and Thanatos didn’t want Minthe around. 

“We’re not talking about the plants anymore, are we?” Minthe remarked snidely, invading your personal space.

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but when you thought about it, some of your words about the plants could apply to Abigail, Dave, and Thanatos as well.

“Don’t try and change the subject.”  You warned.

“Why?  When I’m Queen of the Underworld, I’ll be able to make all the changes that I want.”

“You really think that your changes are going to be unchallenged?  Hades is the King of the Underworld and even with your marriage, that will not change.”

“My changes will include,” Minthe continued loudly, obviously ignoring your words, “ensuring that those three minor gods and goddess find a new home away from here.  They can live on Earth for all I care.”

“You can’t do that!” You burst out, “This is their home!  They have more right to be here than you do!  Hades is their king.”

“HADES IS MY KING!” Minthe shrieked.

“Oh yeah?!” You challenged at the same volume, “If he truly belongs to you, then why don’t you ever address him by his other name?  His human one?  Is it because you don’t know it?  Or is it because you place more importance on his status as a god and the king of the underworld?”

Minthe’s hands shot out and she pushed you in the chest.  Caught off guard, you staggered backwards.

“I will not have my subjects speak to me in that tone in my garden!”  She seethed.

Your heart pounded and heat rushed through your veins.  Your memory reminded you of the promises you had made to Abigail and a foreign power welled up inside of you.  It grew stronger by the second and it commanded you to let it free.

You clenched your jaw as Minthe moved towards you.  Her arms were still outstretched and it was clear that she wanted to shove you again with more force until you yielded and accepted her as the Queen of the Underworld.

You had no intentions of doing that.

“You speak about being Demeter’s true disciple.”

“I am.”  Minthe gritted out.

It felt like the power was bubbling under your skin; you couldn’t hold it back for much longer.

“No you’re not.  Not yet.  You will have nothing but time to understand what it really means to be a disciple.”

“What are you going to do to me?  I am a nymph, beloved of a goddess and you,” Minthe scornfully looked you up and down, “you are simply a mortal that was traded by two witches for more power.  You are nothing.”

Your restraint snapped.

All you could focus on were the taste of Minthe’s bitter words and you wished that she had the capacity to leave a refreshing taste but you knew that was impossible as she would never change or grow as she was.

Minthe let out a terrified screech and through your haze of anger, you noticed her body rapidly shrinking and developing a greenish tinge at the same time.  You drew yourself up to your full height as the tinge became more and more pronounced and Minthe’s hands and feet became leaves while her torso thinned out and became a stalk.

By now, you definitely knew what was happening to her and it appeared that she did as well.

“Stop.  Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

“The time for words and pleas has passed.”  Your voice was cold.

In a matter of heartbeats, where Minthe once stood there was now a green plant that gave off a pleasant, distinctly fresh smell and stood at approximately sixty centimetres.

You thought that the rush of power that had flooded your veins would leave as quickly as it had come but it did not.  The power simply retreated deep into your body and you knew it would remain there until you called on it once again.

Shock and fear overtook you in the next instant as the enormity of what you had done sunk in.  Your heart sped up and your breathing turned shallow.

“I killed a guest in Hades’ realm.  A guest that was sent here by another powerful entity.  What do I do?  Do I run?  If I run, what happens then?  I’d be on the run from two gods!  Unless I ran to another pantheon….. But even then, it’s not guaranteed that they will provide me with asylum.  They could return me to Hades or Demeter if it suited them and I’d be in worse trouble.”

A stone settled in your stomach as you recalled what had happened in the cave when you tried to walk out of the exit.  You and Hades were physically unable to be separated on Earth and having a furious Hades on your tail wasn’t an appealing idea in the slightest.

“That rules out escaping from the underworld which leaves me only one option.  I hope Hades is in a merciful mood and makes my death quick.”

[crowdvscritic]

round up // DECEMBER 24 + JANUARY 25: CROWD vs. CRITIC vs. CHRISTMAS!

Well, that’s a wrap…on 2024, and on SO IT’S A SHOW!

After 8 years and 7 seasons filled with 200-ish pop culture references, Kyla and I celebrated our love for Gilmore Girls with one last pop culture reference and a lap down memory lane. Though it’s a bittersweet goodbye (unless, you know, Gilmore Girls returns with another revival season), I'm grateful for every minute we podcasted together. And the best way to keep from crying because it's over? Laugh because you're watching His Girl Friday! Listen to our final episode (or, you know, our whole series) on Spotify, Apple, or any other podcast platform. You can also browse our episode history on our Tumblr.

Though that was the biggest pop culture moment for me this winter, it wasn’t the only memorable one. Between discovering new holiday favorites to finally getting to watch some of the best films of 2024, there was so much to recommend I had to revisit the same format I used in 2020 and 2023: Crowd vs. Critic vs. Christmas! In addition to my top five Crowd-Pleasers and Critic Picks, I rounded up five Christmas Treats that may become annual traditions. But if holiday recommendations coming after Groundhog Day feels too weird for you, don’t miss my top film picks of 2024, many of which we’ll be discussing through the Oscars next month. 

December + January Crowd-Pleasers

1. Double Binge - Old People Solving Crimes: Only Murders in the Building Season 4 + A Man on the Inside (2024)

Only Murders in the Building isn’t slowing down on the jokes four seasons in, and that's helping green light projects like Ted Danson’s new Netflix sitcom. In a perfect world, his private detective activities in a nursing home would be 22-episode series order with holiday storylines, bottle episodes, and inconsequential subplots, but I’m grateful for any opportunities for legends like Danson and Mike Schur to make television.

2. Moana 2 (2024)

While it’s not as polished as Moana, this sequel is a lot of fun. Watch my review for KMOV. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10 

3. Behind the Screens by Inaki Aliste Lizarralde with Neal E. Fischer (2023)

This illustrated coffee table book imagines detailed floor plans of your favorite TV sets, including Friends, Gilmore Girls, The Golden Girls, and Mary Tyler Moore. A perfect housewarming gift!

4. SNL Round Up

Before SNL 50, catch up on these sketches…

"Gladiator II: The Musical" (5008 with Paul Mescal) - This is a smidge saucier than I prefer, but the concept is perfection

"Mall Santas" (5009 with Chris Rock)

"Weekend Update: A Bald Man on a U.K. Court Harassment Ruling" (5009)

"Five-Timers Club Cold Open" (5010 with Martin Short)

"Stand-Up Monologue" (5011 with Dave Chappelle)

"Immigrant Dad Talk Show 2" (5011)

“Monologue” (5012 with Timothée Chalamet)

"Weekend Update: Andrew Dismukes and His Puppet Dad on Crazy Families” (5012)

5. You’re Cordially Invited (2025)

Speaking of SNL, Will Ferrell is still one of the funniest people alive, and that’s still on display in this new family-focused rom-com on Prime with Reese Witherspoon. Catch my review on KMOV. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10 

December + January Critic Picks

1. Best of 2024

In 2024, the films that aligned with my taste tended to orbit the same questions. What does justice look like? How do we navigate generational conflict? And can institutions be saved in spite of their flawed systems? I’m drawn to stories with a clear point of view and characters who make strong choices, but I have little interest in preaching or provocation for its own merit. There were certainly more than 10 films that reflected those qualifications, so alongside each of my top 10 films, I’m recommending an honorable mention for a double feature. Read all of my picks for 2024 at ZekeFilm.

2. An Experiment in Criticism by C.S. Lewis (1961)

Lewis’s book pulled together many of the ideas I had on my mind as I was writing my Best of 2024 piece. Though keeping up with his many dense literary references kept me on my toes, I’m grateful this 20th century thought leader took his time to walk us through how he assessed art.

3. The Good Half (2024)

Stories about mopey writers + Nick Jonas = a very specific Venn diagram of my interests. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10

4. Blitz (2024)

I’m surprised this Steve McQueen World War II bildungsroman didn’t make more of an Awards Season splash given its tight script and high production values. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

5. Double Feature - Written by Nora Ephron: Heartburn (1986) + My Blue Heaven (1990)

In 2025 I am working way through the films Nora Ephron wrote and/or directed I've missed, and this double feature was a great way to kick the project off. Heartburn (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10) recounts Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson’s marriage of cynical writers from pasta-seduction-meet-cute to fixer-upper-house-turned-possible-homewrecker. My Blue Heaven (8.5/10 // 7/10) forces a cartoonish mobster (Steve Martin) into witness protection, but it may be the mild-mannered agent (Rick Moranis) protecting him and small town he’s hiding in at greater risk because of his antics. 

MORE WINTER CRITIC PICKS // To its credit, I was never once bored in Megalopolis (2024)! // Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story (2024) is moving celebrity documentary even if you don’t have a deep connection with Reeve // I will never watch The Substance (2024) again because, frankly, I just can’t hack the needles and body horror, but its insight into how women’s bodies are discussed and viewed has stayed with me

Christmas Treats

1. Ski Party (1965)

Is Frankie Avalon’s cross-dressing holiday the silliest of all the snowy films I watched this year? Definitely, but it’s hard to complain when James Brown makes a musical cameo. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 6/10

2. By the Light of the Silvery Moon (1953)

This early Doris Day role brings the Meet Me in St. Louis vibes. Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 8/10

3. Holiday Seasoning by Jimmy Fallon (2024)

The radio-safe hits are pretty standard, but I would take a whole album of comedy duets like “Hallmark Movie” (with Cara Delevigne), “One Glove” (with Will Ferrell), and “New Year’s Eve Polka” (with “Weird Al” Yankovic).

4. Hot Frosty (2024)

This silly Netflix rom-com is a pretty perfect execution of a Hallmark movie for people who don’t like Hallmark movies. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 6/10

5. Do You LIke Apples Christmas Movie Draft

I stopped by the Do You Like Apples podcast to discuss and draft our all-time favorite Christmas movies. While the voting for the best lineup has closed, I think we all know who won… Listen to the episode.

Also in December + January…

I took a deeper dive into a film I recommended in my November 2024 Round Up, Nickel Boys. Though the Academy has shown plenty of love toward films focusing on the mid-century struggle against Jim Crow (even awarding one Best Picture), Nickel Boys looks and feels nothing like them. Read my full review for ZekeFilm.

I'm updating my watchlist in real time on Letterboxd, where you can find a full lineup of everything I watched to celebrate the Christmas season from November to January.

Photo credits: Behind the Screens, C.S. Lewis, Jimmy Fallon, Do You Like Apples. All others IMDb.com.

[angioislas]

Morning, Noon And Night Club (1937) - Popeye the Sailor

Director: Dave Fleischer

Technique:

This traditional animation was shot in black and white, runed for 7:51 minutes. The animation was hand drawn and was shot in a spherical format in a 1.37 : 1 aspect radio.

Representation:

The animation depicts how Popeye and Olivita are going to give a show at Wimpy´s cafe a popular nightspot. But encounter a problem when Bluto´s advances on Olivita are shutdown making him jealous, making him sabotage the dance and brawl with Popeye, trading hits until Popeye is given spinach by Olivita making him super strong helping him defeat Bluto with ease.

Reception:

The short movie was originally shown in USA theaters and seems to have been well received but there isn´t that much information on that part.

I found the short really entertaining from the very start when I saw Bluto punch a poster just for the sake of it. I like how Bluto is depicted and his relationship with Popeye and Olivita, just starting fights whenever he feels like it and getting what he deserves for it.

I was able to watch the episode on YouTube.

References and sources:

(43) Apache Dance in Popeye the Sailor - Morning, Noon and Night Club (1937) - YouTube

Synopsis for the Theatrical Cartoon Morning, Noon And Night Club (bcdb.com)

Morning, Noon and Nightclub (1937) - The Internet Animation Database (intanibase.com)

Morning, Noon and Night Club (Corto 1937) - IMDb

[foli-vora]

my girl

A/N: look, I don’t even fucking know. I saw the reference picture and my mind just went absolutely feral. What started out as what could be a simple threesome, soon turned into this—whatever the fuck this is. I refuse to apologise. I enjoyed this ride and will now throw this out into the abyss like a grenade and run back to the safety of my blankets, ashamed to ever return.

This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writers Wednesday ❤️ such an incredible idea! Thank you for letting me join in!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: this is straight up filth. FILTH. SMUT 18+ NO MINORS!! Swearing, alcohol, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lactation kink—not everyone’s cup of tea, I get it... dirty talk, Dave’s a bastard and Frankie’s a pussy eating king—both things we know by now. Um, enjoy, I guess?

+

“Fuck.”

You laugh lightly, head falling back onto Dave’s shoulder as Frankie drops his cards to the table with a drawn out sigh.

“You can’t lie for shit, Morales.”

He shoots a half hearted glare at Dave, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, York.”

You snort quietly, fingers intertwining with the hand resting comfortably on your thigh. “It’s not a good thing, either. Drink up.”

“Two against one is hardly fair.”

Dave grins, momentarily pressing against your back to reach for his own beer before reclining comfortably back in the chair, pulling you tighter against him as he goes. “You say that like she’s a threat—she’s as hopeless as you.”

“Rude.”

The sun still warms your shoulders as it starts it’s descent below the heavy tree line behind your property, the bright summer glow fading into something softer, more relaxing, and you eye the mess of paper plates, cups and random toys strewn about in the yard—the leftover destruction of your sons first birthday.

Dave’s fingers softly pinch your chin and return your focus to the table and the drinking game currently taking place, coaxing another beer into your hands while he kisses softly below your ear. “Stop looking at it—we’ll do it in the morning.”

“Yeah, when I’m long gone.” Frankie mutters, grinning at you before tipping his head back and polishing off another can while Dave laughs quietly.

He liked Dave. The guy was strange sometimes, what with his out of town work and mysterious friends that made the hairs on the back of Frankie’s neck stand, but Dave was a good guy... adored the absolute hell out of you and that’s all that mattered. He served, too, but unlike Frankie choosing to retire, he took up an opportunity with the CIA. Not too shabby.

Frankie’s checking in with his babysitter a little while later, having lost again, when he hears a little moan. His eyes move towards the sound before he can help it.

What the fuck?

Frankie shifts in his seat, not looking straight at the pair of you in fear of fucking flat out moaning. He chalks it up to just not being with someone for a while but wow. He could see you from the corner of his eye, see Dave’s hands and the way they move to squeeze and pinch at your tits as his mouth practically devours yours. You’re complete putty in his hands, melting into his lap and taking whatever he gives you hungrily.

Maybe he should go.

Fuck. Did you just whimper?

Jesus. He needs to leave now.

“I’ll head off... give you two some space—”

Dave’s low voice stops his rise from the chair, his ass hanging awkwardly over the seat as eyes that match his in colour and depth zero in on him from across the table. “What’s the rush, Morales?”

“No rush. I just don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not. Sit down. Have another beer.”

Say no. Say no.

“Sure.”

He resettles in the chair, immediately reaching for another can as wonders why he suddenly feels so fucking studied under Dave’s watchful gaze.

“So how long have you wanted to fuck my wife?”

You blink in shock, “David!”

Frankie just about chokes. Beer spills from his lips and he hacks a cough in surprise, sleeve catching the drops of liquid that fall from his chin. Fuck. Fucking shit. What the fuck is he meant to do? He’s gonna get his ass kicked, and if he’s being honest with himself, he fucking deserves it.

He should’ve fucking left.

“Man, I swear—” He swears what? He can tell by the way Dave’s looking at him that the man already knows. He’s not angry—not even a little bit. He’s just... smug. And curious. What kind of fucking game is this guy playing?

“Oh god, Frankie, I’m so sorry—please ignore him. David, what’s the fucking matter with you?!”

You bristle when he blatantly ignores you, instead raising a brow in challenge at Frankie. “Am I wrong?”

Frankie works his jaw, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to work out Dave’s play. He doesn’t seem to be looking for a fight. Doesn’t seem to be doing it out of spite or wanting to upset you. He has no idea how to act, what to fucking say.

Dave nods, grinning. “Thought as much.”

His hand cups your chest, squeezing the flesh softly, and you squirm in his touch, cheeks flooding with embarrassment for your friend as Frankie swallows uncomfortably, eyes immediately finding the crushed cans on the table. “Dave—”

“He doesn’t mind—do you, Morales?”

You watch in slight surprise as Frankie’s eyes flutter to your chest, watching the way Dave handles you roughly before they’re moving away again, almost shy.

“It’s alright. You can watch. Can’t he, honey?”

And then Frankie’s looking at you, eyes unsure and questioning but burning with something that has a thrill running along your spine. You nod quietly, heart beating unsteadily as Frankie’s eyes widen slightly, body squirming in the chair.

“If—if you want to.”

He exhales softly, now watching with rapt attention as Dave brings both hands up, undoing each button of your dress until your modest cotton bra is on show, nipples poking through and straining against the fabric. He feels the air leave his lungs the second Dave pulls at the cups, spilling your tits out to the open air and his wandering gaze. He can’t help but make a noise at the sight of them, cock hardening to the point of discomfort as Dave massages them softly, your eyes rolling a little as he pinches at your nipples.

Frankie stiffens in the chair, breath catching and stomach dropping.

Fucking shit—

Dave hums lowly in appreciation, feeling a warm dribble across his thumb and fingers as you squirm from the familiar tingle in your breasts. “She’s trying to stop and dry it up, but it takes a while, doesn’t it, honey? Not that I care—more for me in the long run.”

Frankie almost whines. Fucking whines. He catches it just before it falls from his throat, close to embarrassment. Dave knows—the bastard. You look so good. So fucking good. Fuck, there’s so much—

“Have a taste.”

You moan softly at the idea, and Dave hushes you softly as he presses a kiss to your throat.

Frankie eyes the milk that falls from your nipple before glancing up and meeting Dave’s gaze, lips pursing in thought despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans. What was the ulterior motive here? Was it a test? Was he just looking for a reason to knock him out? Does he even care?

Dave watches him, expression unwavering, almost teasing as he coaxes more milk from your tits and runs his fingers through the warm stream sliding down your skin.

“What’s the catch?” Frankie eventually asks, voice hoarse, and Dave grins.

“No catch.”

Did he get up too fast? By the way Dave laughs at him, he probably did. He doesn’t care. He can’t get around the stupid fucking glass table quick enough.

Frankie drops to his knees in front of you, attention completely focused on the way Dave squeezes gently at your nipple and draws more milk from your tit.

He wants to double check. He knows Dave would never push you to do something you didn’t want to, but there’s been a bit of alcohol involved, and even though he knows your tolerance level is much higher than a few beers, hell—even tequila doesn’t bring you down, checking doesn’t hurt. “Are you—”

You nod, “It’s okay, Frankie.”

“Go on.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Frankie’s lip attach to you the second Dave opens his mouth, his tongue running immediately over your nipple and groaning when the taste of your milk sinks into his taste buds. So fucking sweet. You whine into Dave’s ear when Frankie increases his pressure, greedy for more as you flood his mouth, and your stomach tightens at Dave’s low hum.

“Feel good, honey?” He asks quietly, other hand cupping and rolling your free nipple in his hand as Frankie moans softly against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair so different to Dave’s clean shaven face, but no less pleasant.

“S-so good—”

Dave’s fingers gently pinch at the hem of your dress, sliding it up along your thighs and pooling it above your waist before coaxing your thighs open a little more, Frankie immediately moving into the free space as soon as he could. Dave pulls your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds with a low groan.

“You’re so fucking wet. Do you like him sucking on your tits?”

You whine quietly, hips arching into the two fingers that swirl around your entrance before they slide in and curl against your hot walls. He moves slowly, dragging them almost lazily in and out of your pussy as he feels more of your arousal coat his hand.

“Yeah, you do like it—so does he. Do you think he can hear how wet you are, baby? Do you think he can hear my fingers move in this greedy little cunt?”

Frankie groans. Loudly. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. He can hear it. It’s driving him fucking mad. He wants to look, wants to watch how your face moves as Dave finds that spot deep along your walls, but he can’t pull away from you. Not yet. If this is the only chance he gets to do this, then he’s taking it and fucking running.

Dave’s gentle as he pulls his fingers from you, swirling his slick soaked fingers around and over your nipple before coaxing Frankie to the other side. The obscene groan that vibrates against your chest sends flutters through your entire body as Frankie laps at your skin with a ravenous frenzy, tongue smoothing over every bit of wet skin he could find before latching onto your nipple without abandon.

Dave picks up on it immediately. “Easy. You hurt her, I hurt you.”

A tongue smoothes over your nipple in silent apology, and your fingers run through the flattened curls of Frankie’s hat hair in acceptance, his face nuzzling against your skin as you bring him closer. Dave’s fingers return to your pussy, leisurely circling your clit, swollen and throbbing from lack of attention.

“Do you want to cum, honey?”

The needy whine that leaves your mouth has him cooing into the side of your face, fingers picking up speed and pressure at the desperate little buck of your hips.

“Maybe if you ask Francisco nicely, he’ll eat this pretty pussy until you cum.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Is he serious?

Frankie shudders against you, cock straining so fucking hard against his jeans he almost wants to cry. He’d beg if he has to. If that tiny little taster Dave gave him was anything to go by, you’d drive him fucking wild.

“P-please Frankie—”

Dave tuts lowly in your ear, “‘Please Frankie’—you can do better than that. He can’t hear you.”

“Fuck. Please—”

“Please what?”

“Please eat my pussy—please—”

Dave winds his fingers into Frankie’s hair and tugs sharply, the other man detaching from your tit with a wet smack of his lips. He eyes the small trail of milk sliding into Frankie’s beard and scoffs quietly, “Messy.”

Frankie’s already flushed cheeks darken even further, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is how fucking stunning you look, legs spread and face morphed in ecstasy as Dave rubs over your clit with a shadow of a smirk—the man knew he drove you crazy.

God, so fucking wet—

You’re dripping. He can see it. He watches the way your entrance flutters, pussy clenching hungrily around nothing as Dave slows his movements.

“Well? You heard her.” He parts your folds, baring you in all your slick fucking glory, and Frankie all but fucking loses his god damn mind. He dives in, uncaring that Dave’s fingers are there and his tongues probably running over them more than he cares to count. Dave doesn’t seem to mind.

The cry that falls from your lips has Frankie pressing forward, mouth pressing greedily against you as his tongue works at your pussy, lapping at your weeping entrance before lathing attention to your clit, tightening his lips around the nerve and letting his tongue massage over it.

“Oh fuck, Frankie—”

Dave hums, curved nose trailing softly along the side of your face as you thrash in his arms, bucking into the mouth that all but fucking devours your pussy. His tries to ignore the way you shift on his lap, the way your ass drags so fucking nicely over his hard cock straining under you, tries to ignore the delicious fucking sounds coming from both you and Frankie, but he can only endure so much.

He bites into your shoulder, eyes tightening as he fights off the waves of tempting bliss tingling at the base of his spine. Not yet. He wants more.

“Come on, baby. He’s been so good—cum on his mouth. Give it to him.”

Your body thrums with waves of electricity at Dave’s words, each swipe of Frankie’s tongue driving you further and further until you’re stiffening, Dave cooing quiet praises and quickly slapping a firm hand over your mouth as you find your peak, crying out and shaking in his arms as Frankie holds onto your thighs, tongue burying itself in your fluttering pussy to take everything you give him.

Your cries turn into whines, and soon you’re squirming, trying to get away from Frankie’s mouth. He takes the message before Dave can intervene, pulling away with a shaky exhale and desperately trying not to blow his load in his fucking jeans. He had a feeling Dave would never let him live it down, but it was so fucking hard not to. You were wrecked.

He watches you come down from your high from the floor between your thighs, heart hammering as Dave softly runs his fingers along your skin, voice almost silent as he murmurs in your ear. Dark eyes are soon on him and Frankie briefly worries he’s overstepping his welcome, until Dave speaks.

“That’s what you get when you lose, Morales. Imagine what you’ll get if you win. Deal ‘em.” Dave nods to the cards on the table, acting like he didn’t have you still trembling in his arms with your tits out, and dress bunched around your hips with your pussy still spread and quivering.

Frankie swallows, nodding silently and moving back to his seat, reaching for the cards with a sudden urge to win and wipe that fucking smirk off of Dave’s face.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @mouthymandalorianalso @frannyzooey @wyn-dixie @intu-witch-tion @amneris21 @mad-girl-without-a-box @pinguinstudiert @sergeantbannerbarnes @betterthanbucky @kat-r-in @starlightmornings @randomness501 @antisocialthat70sshow @buttercup--bee @sleep-tight1 @spideysimpossiblegirl @greeneyedblondie44 @hope-for-the-best-98 @bunniwarrior @fangirl-316 @acourtofsnakes @leaiorganas @princess76179​ @mamacitapascal @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @lv7867​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @julesorwhatever​

[masterwords]

barely balancing

Summary: 5 times Hotch didn't eat (for reasons) and one time he did. More or less.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (not in every story, but a few)

Warnings: food is central to the story, there is also some vomit, canon references to the chili incident in "Lucky", hospital, Foyet stabbing references, references to MCD (Emily's faked death)

Words: 5.6k

Notes: For @eldrai who requested this scenario and I'm so sorry it took me two months to come up with SOMETHING for you. <;3 "Five times Character A went hungry, plus one time Character B treated them to dinner." As is usually the case with me, this prompt is loosely interpreted at best. Anyway, it's dark in some places and soft and sad and sweet in others...it's all over the place really.

Read on AO3: barely balancing

**

(1)

A free Saturday afternoon is the real treat, but to make it even sweeter Hotch decided to take Jack out for a walk around the neighborhood. Balmy summer afternoons make him itch to be outside. It feels like the only time he gets to spend outside anymore is walking through disposal sites, and today he wants to be as far from that as he can.

His apartment, still in boxes, feels cramped and too small. He's got Jack for the evening, so he takes his son's little hand in his and they walk down the sidewalk with no real destination in mind. The park sounds nice, at least for a while, maybe they'll find a restaurant with outdoor seating before Haley comes and picks Jack up. Neither of them wants to be in his sad little apartment, Jack won't sleep there, he just cries for Haley. The divorce has been cruel to each of them.

When Jack whines that his apartment is boring, that's not really what he means but he doesn't have the right words to say what he actually wants to. It isn't mommy's house, that's what Jack really means and it's so new that Hotch means it too. He misses his house; he misses his family...coming home to people that love him. He's just doing his best not to think about things out of his control or he'll ruin the few good hours he has with his son.

The song of the ice cream truck makes Jack's heart race. He hears it in his neighborhood every day and sometimes Haley gives him a dollar and lets him run out to the sidewalk to get an ice cream sandwich. His sticky chocolate fingers and vanilla ice cream dribble are worth the trouble. The truck doesn't come through Hotch's neighborhood often, not a lot of kids, too many busy streets, but he'll park his truck in the parking lot at the park and sit with that music blaring for twenty minutes.

“You want to get something?” he asks, and Jack bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

Hotch lets him pick anything he wants, and he's instantly drawn to a treat that is bright pink and laden with rock-solid bubble-gum spheres. It looks a little like off-brand Pink Panther, and Hotch can't help but wonder if kids these days even know who that is. It looks like a toothache on a stick. “One Pink Panther and one fudge pop.” He's hot and ice cream doesn't sound too bad; he hasn't had anything but coffee yet today. He doesn't eat much these days unless Jack is around, won't cook for just himself. He's not there yet. Dave tells him it'll get easier to be on his own, but he's never done that before, not really...he's living in this sort of stasis like he's on a case and his apartment is just another hotel room. The permanence of it hasn't set in yet.

Walking through the grass, he unwraps Jack's frozen treat for him before opening his own. It happens almost immediately. Jack takes the stick and gets one solid lick in before his attention is drawn to the squeal of the chains on the swing set. He turns his head and the toe of his shoe catches on a tree root, that's all it takes. Hotch watches the catastrophe in slow motion unable to do anything to stop it. Pink Panther is flying through the air as the boy lands on his hands and knees. He's okay, it's a small trip into thick, soft grass, but Jack's tears seem to fall before the ice cream even lands. And then it's all bright pink bubblegum flavored mess all over the grass. It starts melting right before his eyes. With a sigh, he looks at his own treat, barely even unwrapped and untouched. If he was being honest, he never really expected to eat it anyway.

“Jack?” he asks, crouching beside his sobbing son and placing one hand on the little boy's back. “Here buddy. Have mine.”

(2)

He can't eat on cases.

Of course, he understands that sometimes he has to. Living requires eating, he knows, so he'll find a vending machine and grab a bag of salty crunchy pretzels and a bottle of water. Just enough to get him through. But if he's at the police station, he's got to be on his game and eating makes him comfortable and tired. He finds it difficult to stay sharp...he enjoys good food too much. It doesn't seem to affect the rest of the team the way it does him. JJ and Derek will be on their game with pizza and soda in their hands, Dave can solve a whole case while eating a meatball sub, but Hotch runs better with only coffee fueling him. Something about his relationship to food just throws him off.

This case is no exception. Something about it is turning his stomach and he's barely even drinking coffee. He's existing on the calories provided by a handful of Tums chased by a gulp of Pepto Bismol. Derek and Dave are locked in a battle of wills over Derek's distrust of the church and he's one step shy of stepping in on Derek's behalf and making Dave back off...except Derek doesn't seem to want that.

Not yet, anyway. They're still figuring each other out. It's new.

“Derek,” Hotch says quietly when they have a second alone. There is something tense between them now and it's crushing him, he needs it to stop. “You don't have to talk to the pastor if you're uncomfortable with it. I can do it.”

“Naw, it's not like that...” he starts, searching Hotch's tired eyes for recognition. It's a power thing now. Derek can't let Rossi push him around, he can't let Rossi win. It's not about Hotch. “I got it. Thanks though.”

He's sick to his stomach by the time the search party is in the woods and the smell of the chili makes him feel worse. He's never liked chili with its greasy heavy meatiness, the bold spices, the thick beans that he used to tell Sean were beetles. That was mean of him, he knows it now (and he knew it then) but it's still funny. Sometimes he'll remind Sean of it over Thanksgiving dinner or in a birthday card.

“Hotch, you want a bowl?” JJ is holding a steaming styrofoam bowl of chili. It's almost tempting, it looks so warm, and his hands are blocks of ice. But he knows he'll end up sick in the restroom if he does, he's already on the verge, so he shakes his head.

“No thank you, JJ,” he says quietly, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with his tie and settling against his twisting stomach. He just wants to go home. He'd take a hotel bed, or even a shower. Not the woods, not a search party.

“I haven't seen you eat in two days.” She approaches him and offers him her bowl; she hasn't eaten any yet. She's practically pushing it at him. “You have to eat something.”

“I will.” He grabs a two pack of saltines from the table and puts them into his pocket, waving them at her to make sure she sees he's got them. He'll eat them later. With a shrug, she digs in while visiting with Derek and Emily who have their own bowls. Hotch wanders into the woods to get away from the smell and sends Sean a quick text with only a picture of a beetle he finds on a fallen log. Feels appropriate.

By the time they've solved this case, he won't just be thinking about beetles in his chili anymore. And if Sean ever finds out, he'll never hear the end of it. (Sean does find out via Derek later, and he makes everyone chili at their mother's house for Halloween. Hotch doesn't eat any. Derek...well...he's shockingly resilient.)

(3)

The ICU is cold, and shockingly quiet as visiting hours come to an end. It's usually a hub of commotion, patients coding or being carted in and out for surgery, but tonight there isn't much commotion. Not many patients. Derek is sitting beside Hotch arguing in hushed whispers with Emily about how to divide up the caseload with Hotch and Reid both out for who knows how long. He's barely awake, floating somewhere in a medicated stupor. Lashes flutter against his cheek as he tries to drag his eyes open, to tell them to stop arguing but he can't seem to claw his way to the surface. Derek knows how to do most of Hotch's job, he's filled in briefly before, and they'll just make Dave take on the real heavy lifting but Emily's drowning in consults and she doesn't want to take on Hotch's too.

“There's only three of us, Em,” Derek pleads. “You're gonna have to take on more. That's just how it is.”

“There are other teams, can't we give them some?”

"We will give them what we can, but there are some things we can't pass on."

Derek rolls his eyes at her stubbornness but the worst of it is that she's right. They're overloaded even with a full team, and it isn't like JJ and Garcia can do what they do. They're offering to do what they can, go above and beyond...Garcia can do some of JJ's job so JJ can help with some of their work, she knows enough to be dangerous.

They step out into the hall when the nurses come in to do their rounds, check Hotch's vitals. He's cold, his temperature has fallen in the last hour and they both know it isn't because the room is cold. They don't talk about that, but both of their attentions to that number and remember hearing the reason. It'll probably never leave them. “He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor had told them quietly. That was a no-brainer until it really sunk in what she was saying. “It's going to take some time.”

The nurse leaves a box of apple juice and a little container of red jell-o behind with stern instructions to Derek that he needs to get one of them down Hotch's throat, she doesn't care which one, or they'll have to start intervention. "I'll do what I can, but no promises...he's a stubborn ass..." he says that with love and the nurse nods, understanding that he means they'll need to start something in his IV. She's ready to make the order, walking away with little confidence.

“I can't watch that again,” Emily says, grabbing her purse. “I can't watch him cry over apple juice again.” She's got nerves of steel, but she's seen this man stare down the worst unsubs without flinching and how is she supposed to reconcile that with him throwing apple juice up into a little pink kidney shaped basin with tears in his eyes? She doesn't know him that well yet and this is a hell of a way to do it. Besides, Derek is better equipped, she figures. They have their reasons, and she isn't going to pry...but she can leave knowing Hotch is in good hands.

Derek offers her a sad smile and a nod. “I get it. Go get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning. I'll bring you coffee.”

“Make it a triple or I quit.”

Hotch is awake when he comes back into the room. “Hey you.”

“Emily...” he rasps through desert dry lips. His tongue feels like parchment paper. Licking his lips takes more effort than it's worth, there isn't any wet to share.

“I told her to go get some sleep. She's mean when she's tired.”

Hotch nods and his eyelids start to fall heavy again. “No, no, no not yet baby...” Derek whispers that last part and Hotch tries to open his eyes again. Tries to keep them open but they're too heavy. “They want you to try some more apple juice...or maybe some jell-o?”

Derek grabs for the jell-o first but Hotch shakes his head. Well, it's not really a shake, it's more of a twitch and he lets it fall to one side at least in as close to a shake as he can muster. “No,” he says, his fingers twitching at his sides. Derek nods. He's not going to push, not now. Any other time and he's the one shoving Hotch up against a wall and forcing him to make the right choice but he's out of his depths here, there is too much hurt and Hotch has lost too much autonomy as it is. He won't do that to him now. His vulnerability is painful for both of them. “Can't.”

“Okay. That's cool, I knew you'd be stingy about it being red. I'll eat it, I'm starving...how 'bout you just take one sip of that juice for me? One little sip to wet those beautiful lips for me? There's a kiss in it for you if you do...” He's not going to force Hotch to eat anything, but he's not above a little bribery.

Hotch tries, but it goes about as well as Derek expects, and he ends up holding that damn pink bucket with his hand on the back of Hotch's neck to keep him upright. “It's okay, it's okay,” he whispers, his voice changing tone from joking casual to worried and quiet. “We'll try again tomorrow. No worries baby. I'll kiss you anyway...”

He does, once Hotch is all cleaned up, because that was sort of mean of him to try and bribe a kiss out of someone who he knows can't control whether he can hold something down. Sometimes the jokes just don't land.

Another hit to the morphine button and Hotch is back asleep. They let Derek stay at night given the nature of Hotch's arrival at the hospital, the staff don't want to deal with Foyet should he decide to pop around to check on his project. The nurse brings him a few extra jell-o cups and a voucher for him to get breakfast at the cafeteria in the morning.

(4)

When Penelope brings in donuts, it usually means bad news. She's always trying to soften the blow. Another case, something bad coming down from Strauss or the Director, more work. Hotch knows, though, that this time it's because of Emily. They've all been struggling; she's been gone a week and they've been going through the motions. Her desk is still the way she left it. Not a single thing has been moved, not even one single pen. It's like a shrine, now.

But Penelope brings in a box of huge fluffy donuts and sets them right there on Emily's desk, daring everyone to come and really notice that she isn't there. Because it's breaking her heart the way everybody is just pretending things are normal.

Derek won't touch them. He won't even look at her desk. He's still too angry at himself for allowing it to happen so he avoids the whole area as often as possible. “Sorry, baby girl, I'm not hungry. I gotta get to the Academy.” It's a legitimate excuse, but beside the point. She's not happy with him and he doesn't seem to care.

Dave stops and visits with her. They talk about Emily with smiles and tears in their eyes, and Dave takes a maple bar happily. That's the fee, she figures. She'll perch herself in Emily's chair and make them all talk about her. Remember her and her smile and her laugh and how she always had the perfect sarcastic remark.

Hotch almost walks by. It isn't that he doesn't want to talk about Emily, he just doesn't want a donut. But he can see that Penelope just really really wants to talk about Emily, she grieves out loud, so he figures he'll stop and share a funny story or two. He tells her about the car ride with Emily his first morning back after Foyet. It's something dark that he figures he can lighten up. No one really talks about that time. “She was so bossy,” he says with a sad smile. It's hard for him to say was when he knows it's a lie, that she's still out there breathing, but he's trying to tread water here. “She put my seat belt on for me. Can you believe that? She even checked to make sure it was tight enough.”

Penelope has tears in her eyes. “She was such a mom...” That makes Hotch laugh. He's never thought of Emily that way. More like a wine aunt at best, but the way she treated him that morning was very motherly. He'll give Penelope that.

“She insisted on opening the car door for me, too.” Penelope blows her nose and lets out a sad chuckle.

“Why?”

He shrugs and takes the donut she hands him. Blueberry, his favorite. “Thank you Penelope.” He can't say more or it'll kill him, his chest already feels unbearably tight. The lie is suffocating him and it's only been a week. He passes through the breakroom with his donut, what he really needs is some coffee, and he finds Spencer standing there staring at the cream and sugar with a dazed look on his face.

“Reid?” he asks, coming up beside the other man. He wants to ask if Spencer is okay but that's a silly thing to ask right now of anyone who works on this floor. None of them are okay.

“You know, it's funny,” Spencer says without looking up. His voice sounds haunted. “I want to talk about her. I do. But it's just...it's...”

Hotch nods. “I know. You will, when you're ready.”

“Everyone else seems ready now. Look at Garcia out there, look at everyone exchanging stories for donuts...even you did it.” It's a little more pointed than he means it, but he doesn't take it back.

Hotch looks at the donut in his hand, at the napkin collecting flecks of sugary glaze, and his chest feels tighter. “Here,” he says, handing it to Spencer. A sad little peace offering.

“No, those are...I didn't earn it.” It's a funny way to put it, but Hotch supposes it's true. They come with a fee, and he paid his fee. But he doesn't want it and he knows how much Spencer loves sweets. He looks like he could use a little win. This isnt helping Hotch's guilt, it's making it worse, but he has no idea what to do. This entire situation is new and it's huge and he's going to drown he just knows it. The grief is painted on the walls and he can't escape it.

Right now, though, a donut will put a temporary stop to the bleeding.

“You're right, but I did. When you're ready to talk about her, come pay me back. Okay?”

Spencer smiles. It's weak and still unbearably sad, but he smiles anyway. “Thank you, Hotch.” Spencer loves blueberry donuts and Hotch wasn't hungry anyway.

(5)

Sitting in the backseat has never agreed with Hotch. His uncle used to throw him and all of his cousins into the bed of his pick-up and head up the mountain to collect firewood. Up the bumpy, winding logging roads he and his cousins would be thrown from one end to the other, struggling for something to hang onto before they flew right out. He hated it. Absolutely hated it. By the time they arrived at their destination he was bruised all over and throwing up over the side of the truck. No one else seemed to mind as much as he did.

And then there was his mother who drove too fast and yelled at everyone who got in her way while he slid around in the backseat. “You don't need a seat belt,” she'd say while he tried to find the second strap of the lap belt. It was usually hidden beneath the bench seat and his arm was not quite long enough to fish it out. “Just hold onto the door handle. We're not going far.” There were times he would just huddle himself up on the floor, tucked in so the sharp curves wouldn't fling him to the other side.

“Jason,” he calls from the back seat, desperate. He doesn't usually make noise from the back seat, figures they'll get where they're going before anything becomes an emergency but this drive is a little too long and too fast and too bumpy. “I need you to stop. Please.”

“We're almost there Hotch!” Jason isn't paying attention to the sudden gray wash over Hotch's face, but Derek is. He sees it even in the low light. “Can't stop now, we're in pursuit.”

They're not, at least not like that. They could afford the few seconds it would take for him to spill out of the car door and gag onto the shoulder of the road. Jason is just impatient, he doesn't want to chance it and under other circumstances Hotch wouldn't blame him but he's definitely going to be sick whether Jason stops the car or not.

“Please, Jason,” he pleads quietly.

“Two minutes, Hotch! Put your head between your knees!”

“Hey, uh...I don't think he's got two minutes, man...we are way past putting his head between his knees unless you just want him to ralph all over his shoes.” Derek finally chimes in, staring at Hotch in horror. He's pretty sure he's about to be puked on. It's gonna look like that scene in 'Stand By Me', he's pretty sure. Maybe 'Problem Child'. It's about to get gross. “Hotch, hey...” he puts his hand on Hotch's shoulder and is met with a look of pure desperation. Finally, after realizing that Jason is definitely not going to pull the car over, Derek shrugs out of his FBI windbreaker and hands it to Hotch. It's all he's got; they don't have anything else. “Use that.”

There isn't anything else Hotch can do. He presses his face into the jacket, into the smell of Derek that almost makes him feel better and creates a sort of barrier. It doesn't take long before he's losing everything he's eaten that day into the slick lining of Derek's coat. At least it's contained. Derek rolls down his window to let some fresh air into the car and Jason mutters something about two minutes again before doing the same. The officer in the front seat can't help letting out a small laugh before following suit. Soon the whole car is filled with wind and the smell of the mountain, and Hotch has his face buried miserably inside of Derek's soiled jacket.

It's dumped straight in a trashcan on the property when they pull up, there is no saving it. “Hotch, stay here. Keep an eye out.” That's Jason, always helpful. Ignore what happened and move on.

“I'm fine, Jason,” he says once his feet are on solid ground, but Jason won't hear his argument so he stays. The world is still all wobbly and he's definitely not fine but he will be soon. He keeps his gun in his hand while he breathes through the last of the nausea, and he listens to the sound of Derek making the arrest. He's not quiet. It echoes through the still mountain night, scatters the crickets and the birds in the trees nearby.

“Who wants pizza?” Jason asks, once they have their unsub in the police car and the three of them are on their own. “My treat.”

Hotch groans and Derek laughs at the sound of his misery. Derek is definitely in the mood for pizza and says so with a little too much excitement. He's always so full of adrenaline after a take down and it's usually contagious, Hotch can't help but feel his energy...except this time. He's still reeling, and he owes Derek a new jacket. All he wants to do is lay down.

“No, thank you,” Hotch says finally before swiping the keys from Gideon's hand. He's not messing around. He'd rather walk than sit in that backseat again. “But I am driving back.”

(+1)

Pakistan is hot.

Not just hot, it's fucking hot, excuse his French. And that's not really the problem as much as that it's also dry. He's exhausted, he's thirsty all the time, his skin is itchy beneath the beard he hasn't been able to shave and to top it all off...he's lonely.

Really lonely. The kind of lonely that he feels even when he's talking to another person. The problem is just that they're not his people. And yeah, that's kind of silly. Anyone can be his people and he's surrounded by a lot of really interesting sorts who have big stories to tell. Stories that can rival the things he's seen and that takes a lot. He's had to prove himself once or twice around a table full of men and beers during down time. He wasn't often the sort who felt the need, but here, it was almost necessary in order for them to take him seriously.

“Nine times?” one man asked, horrified. “In your own home?!”

That had about sealed it. He was worth listening to. But that wasn't how he wanted to gain their respect, so he tried day after day to give them other reasons. Up before dawn, working beside them, even in the trenches when they needed extras. They'd seen a man who would hole up in a tent with a computer and a phone and a certain level of self-importance, but what they got was a man who would come up alongside them and ask what they needed.

Unfortunately, that sort of work ethic that bordered on manic came at a price. He missed meals in order to help out, missed more in order to do his own job, and missed yet more in order to keep in touch with his family back home. By his rough estimate, he's slept about two and a half hours in the last 4 days. The sand is starting to warp and shape shift in front of his eyes. He feels like he's in an old timey movie and he's looking for some oasis in the desert but he's really about to start drinking sand in a mirage.

He's changed his clothes twice already today, sweating through the heavy cotton and dense canvas almost immediately.

These guys don't want to learn hostage negotiation, they don't want to learn interrogation tactics, they want to do something. They crave action. Hotch understands, he's a Field Agent, he loves to get in there. Hell, he's a menace with a rifle and more than a few of the guys had heard about him but that isn't what he's here for he has to tell them. He can't go out and fire weapons at empty barrels to kill the time. He's filling in for Strauss and she isn't that...she's a teacher, she's a suit who gives orders and that's what he has to be, too. He can empathize though, so he tries to make it interesting. All the while his thoughts are consumed with his team back home, Emily out in the world somewhere alone, Jack and Jessica and Derek. His family.

He's amassed most of those two (and some change) hours of sleep by burying his head in his arms at a table and setting an alarm on his phone for fifteen minutes. Just enough to shock his senses and piggy back it with coffee. Until he can't wake up. Until one of his students tells someone, and a doctor is waking him up with smelling salts like he'd passed out and telling him he needs to go back to his tent and sleep. In his bed.

And eat. They say that, too. They've been keeping track. “We keep logs of who eats and who doesn't at meal time. You'd be surprised how many people can't or won't take the time until they pass out...can't have that happening out there, Agent. Eat a meal and sleep for at least six hours. That's an order.”

The doctor outranks him, so he doesn't argue. But he stands in the walkway that leads between buildings and tents and to his exhausted eyes, everything looks identical and beige. He's lost. Utterly lost. In a place he's walked every square inch of over the last two months. He's finally got time to eat at a time that they're serving food, and even though it was 10am and they said there was chili (of all things) in the mess tent, he was actually willing. He hasn't been able to stomach chili in years, not since Dennis Feylin and Tracy Lambert, but he'd eat just about anything put in front of him right now.

Except he's just lost. He takes a step and stumbles a little, his legs are about to give out. All of the adrenaline from working nonstop is wearing off after his time in the medic's tent and he's about to crash hard, right there, in the sand.

“Agent Hotchner? Sir?” A young man approaches him from the side and he blinks himself back to some sort of reality. Something that feels wrong but looks right. He raises his chin and furrows his brow. He can always put on his best face. Hell, he profiled his own attack from a hospital bed once upon a time. This is easy.

“Yes?”

“A package for you, sir. Here. Are you lost?”

“No, I'm fine. Thank you for the package.”

Something in him clicks with the box in his hand, and his feet move without being told. Quickly, down the corridors between tents until he reaches his own. Immediately he falls onto his bed. It's not even graceful, he just collapses there staring at the package still in his lap and wondering with some uncertainty whether he has the strength to even open it. He almost decides not to until he sees the address label. He knows that handwriting. It's Derek, a care package probably from he and Jess and Jack. Sending it through official channels means it arrives sooner. His fingers tremble as he peels at the tape, tearing it off in long strips and wishing he had the steadiness to use his knife. He wouldn't chance that, not with the tremor in his hands.

A quick glance at his clock tells him he has to make this fast if he's going to get six hours of sleep. Inside is a huge bag of banana chips, his favorite peanut butter protein bars, freeze dried apples and raspberries, dried mango and raisins. And a pile of single serve oatmeal cups, no flavor, no sweetener, simply oats...just add water. All of his favorites.

He doesn't mean to cry, but he does. He's overjoyed, not just at the fact that he's holding food in his hands right now but that he doesn't have to leave his room. He doesn't have to eat chili. The streak continues.

He's got a bottle of water beside his bed and he doesn't even care that it isn't cold, he's going to drink it with a protein bar and some banana chips and he's going to love it more than anything he's ever eaten. He's that hungry.

And it's only 7pm back in Virginia, so while he tears into his sticky protein bar he waits for his laptop to boot up. It's not fast but where does he have to be? He's on ordered rest. He's got time to eat dinner with his family. They're having chicken pot pie, one of his favorites, and he would probably have killed for a bite of it...Jess cooks like a southern grandma, and that means everything is incredible and filling. Stick to your ribs stuff. He could live for a week on just one slice and he's salivating looking at it. Still, his meal suits him just fine. It's filling his belly and Jack and Derek are making him laugh while Jessica pokes at him about how thin he looks. “You look sick. I'm going to send you more food,” she insists and Derek winks at him playfully just out of her line of sight. She's a worrier, it's what she does, and Derek can see what she means but he doesn't want to make Hotch feel bad. He doesn't want to worry Jack. They'll deal with this when he's back home. Only a few more months.

“I still think you look good,” he says, leaning closer to the camera until his face takes up the whole screen. Until Hotch can see every pore in his perfectly clear skin. “The beard is a nice touch. I wanna scrattttch it." He wiggles his fingers in demonstration and Hotch smiles a little sheepishly.

“I don't have a razor,” Hotch replies quietly, popping another banana chip into his mouth. “It's itchy.” He doesn't have a lot of time, they have strict limits, but he's making the most of it just watching the chaos of his family around the dinner table and pretending he's right there with them. Tonight he is.

And by the time his limit has been reached, he feels full enough to get some real sleep. Six hours, alarm set.

[uncpanda]

Kissing in the Rain

Prompt 4: Running through the rain, ends in a kiss.

Warnings: none, I think. There is a hostage situation, so just in case, I’m putting that.

Requested by: ANON 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader 

You take a deep breath as you step out of the club. It’s your first breath of fresh air in hours. And breathing in air that isn’t tinged with the smell of sweat, smoke, or booze may just be your new favorite thing. And oh. . . the moment a breeze hits your warm skin you smile. 

You’d never been a big club person. In college you had preferred hanging out with friends, or in cafes, or in bookstores. And when you, Emily, and JJ had been tasked with going undercover tonight you hadn’t been thrilled. JJ and Emily on the other hand had taken it as a chance at reliving their “youth.” You had rolled your eyes at that. Neither of them were old, but they were older than you and apparently in their eyes that made them senior citizens. 

You and Spencer had exchanged knowing looks, and then you had shot Hotch a mock glare. Your boss, field partner, best friend, and secret crush, had rolled his eyes, but you had caught the momentary amused smile before it disappeared. Aaron hadn’t been big on clubs in college either. 

And so, you had spent the night observing the club all while listening to Derek in your ear telling you to dance, or about a guy who was ready to hit on you. Spencer had sprouted off facts about pheromones and musk and that had devolved into facts about STD’s that had him and Morgan bickering. 

Hotch had wonderfully shushed them up and sent them to patrol the perimeter. Then Dave had started telling stories of his youth and dating when he was young. By the fourth hour of undercover work, you’d been ready to tear the ear piece out and stomp on it. Finally, when you couldn’t take it any more you asked for help. 

Nearly under your breath you had called his name, “Hotch.” 

“Here.” His tone sounded amused. 

“Make them stop. Please. Before I turn into the unsub.” 

There was definitely a chuckle on the other end of the line, before he stated, “I’ve got your six.” 

You caught the unsub at nearly two am. Or at least he had made his appearance at two am. From there it had turned into a hostage situation with a civilian. That was when Hotch had come into the club, dressed in jeans and a black button up, with his sleeves rolled up. You’d spent the entire night surrounded by good looking men, but Hotch looked better than all of them. 

You’d had to force yourself to focus, and had stood there for nearly an hour with your gun drawn while Hotch talked him down. And the moment he had let the girl go and dropped the knife, Morgan had gone in and cuffed him. That was when you had made your escape. 

“You okay?” 

You looked over your shoulder and smiled as Hotch stepped out of the club. You let your shoulders relax, “I’m just really happy to be out of that place.” 

You watched as he leaned against the brick wall, “I know it was outside of your comfort zone, but you did a really good job tonight. You found him before anyone else.” 

Your lips quirk, “I really wanted to get out of there.” 

A clap of thunder and a rather rough breeze startles you out of the conversation. You look up at the sky and find the clouds rolling in, but you don’t move to go back inside. You’d rather stand in the coming rain. 

You feel fingers on your arm and turn to find Aaron closer. And you just barely hold back your wince at your mental screw up. You only refer to him as Hotch. You’re afraid that referring to him as Aaron will make you screw up and suddenly spill your soul to him. 

“You looked really good tonight, by the way.” 

You nearly melt on the spot, but you settle for a smile, “Thank you. That’s sweet.” 

He takes a step closer, and your eyes go a little wide. You and Hotch regularly invaded each other’s personal space, usually for him to lay a hand on your shoulder or nudge you. And you will occasionally lean your head on his shoulder or settle a hand on his upper arm. 

But this is different. Very different. And when his hands settle on your hips you feel a shudder go down your spine, and before you can stop yourself you step into his body. It’s a bold move for you, but it makes a small smile appear on his face. 

And then he’s bending down and you’re reaching up, and your lips meet. It’s a hesitant peck at first, and then there’s more urgency as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. They’re broad and steady, and you can’t help but curl your fingers into the material of his shirt.

When you pull away, you don’t meet his eyes. And then he says your name, and you look up and meet his gaze. You see it then, the fact that he’s been feeling the exact same things you’ve been feeling. You know you’ll have to talk about it, and you’re just about to ask him what this means, when you feel the first rain drop, and then another, and then the sky just seems to open up on the two of you. 

You’re surprised when he doesn’t pull you back towards the club but towards the surveillance van. He gets the door open, and gets you inside first before climbing in too. And despite the short amount of time you spent in the rain you’re both drenched, and your clothes are clinging to you. And that is an excellent look on Aaron. 

You meet each other’s eyes again and burst into laughter. And when Aaron pulls you in for another kiss you move eagerly into it, because you know you’ll never want to stop kissing him. 

[superman86to99]

Superman #85 (January 1994)

Cat Grant in... "DARK RETRIBUTION"! Which is like normal retribution, but somehow darker. On the receiving end of Cat's darktribution is Winslow Schott, the Toyman, who suddenly changed his MO from "pestering Superman with wacky robots" to "murdering children" back on Superman #84, with one of his victims being Cat's young son Adam. Now Cat has a gun and intends to sneak it into prison to use it on Toyman. She's also pretty pissed at Superman for taking so long to find Toyman after Adam’s death (to be fair, Superman did lose several days being frozen in time by an S&M demon, as seen in Man of Steel #29).

So how did Superman find Toyman anyway? Basically, by spying on like 25% of Metropolis. After finding out from Inspector Turpin that the kids were killed near the docks, Superman goes there and focuses all of his super-senses to get "a quick glimpse of every person" until he sees a bald, robed man sitting on a giant crib, and goes "hmmm, yeah, that looks like someone who murders children." At first, Superman doesn't understand why Toyman would do such a horrible thing, but then Schott starts talking to his mommy in his head and the answer becomes clear: he watched Psycho too many times (or Dan Jurgens did, anyway).

Immediately after wondering why no one buys his toys, Toyman makes some machine guns spring out of his giant crib. I don't know, man, maybe it's because they're all full of explosives and stuff? Anyway, Toyman throws a bunch of exploding toys at Superman, including a robot duplicate of himself, but of course they do nothing. Superman takes him to jail so he can get the help he needs -- which, according to Cat, is a bullet to the face. Or so it seems, until she gets in front of him, pulls the trigger, and...

PSYCHE! It was one of those classic joke guns I’ve only ever seen in comics! Cat says she DID plan to bring a real gun, but then she saw one of these at a toy store and just couldn't resist. Superman, who was watching the whole thing, tells Cat she could get in trouble for this stunt, but he won't tell anyone because she's already been through enough. Then he asks her if she needs help getting home and she says no, because she wants to be more self-sufficient.

I think that's supposed to be an inspiring ending, but I don't know... Adam's eerie face floating in the background there makes me think she's gonna shave her head and climb into a giant crib any day, too. THE END!

Character-Watch:

Cat did become more self-sufficient after this, though. Up to now, all of her storylines seemed to revolve around other people: her ex-husband, Morgan Edge, José Delgado, Vinnie Edge, and finally Toyman. After this, I feel like there was a clear effort to turn her into a character that works by herself. I actually like what they did with Cat in the coming years, though I still don’t think they had to kill her poor kid to do that -- they could have sent him off to boarding school, or maybe to live with his dad. Or with José Delgado, over at Power of Shazam! I bet Jerry Ordway would have taken good care of him.

Plotline-Watch:

Wait, so can Superman just find anyone in Metropolis any time he wants? Not really: this is part of the ongoing storyline about his powers getting boosted after he came back from the dead, which sounds pretty useful now but is about to get very inconvenient.

Don Sparrow points out: "It is interesting that as Superman tries to capture Schott, he at one point instead captures a robot decoy, particularly knowing what Geoff Johns will retroactively do to this storyline in years to come, in Action Comics #865, as we mentioned in our review of Superman #84." Johns also explained that the robot thought he was hearing his mother's voice due to the real Toyman trying to contact him via radio, which I prefer to the "psycho talks to his dead mom" cliche.

Superman says "I never thought he'd get to the point where he'd KILL anyone -- especially children!" Agreed about the children part but, uh, did Superman already forget that Toyman murdered a whole bunch people on his very first appearance, in Superman #13? Or does Superman not count greedy toy company owners as people? Understandable, I guess.

There's a sequence about Cat starting a fire in a paper basket at the prison to sneak past the metal detector, but why do that if she had a toy gun all long? Other than to prevent smartass readers like us from saying "How did she get the gun into the prison?!" before the plot twist, that is.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patient Patreon patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Dave Shevlin, and Kit! The latest Patreon-only article was about another episode of the 1988 Superman cartoon written by Marv Wolfman, this one co-starring Wonder Woman (to Lois' frustration).

Another Patreon perk is getting to read Don Sparrow's section early, because he usually finishes his side of these posts long before I do (he ALREADY finished the next one, for instance). But now this one can be posted in public! Take it away, Don:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We begin with the cover, and it’s a good one— an ultra tight close up for Cat Grant firing a .38 calibre gun, with the titular Superman soaring in, perhaps too late.  An interesting thing to notice in this issue (and especially on the cover) is that the paper stock that DC used for their comics changed, so slightly more realistic shading was possible.  While it’s nowhere near the sophistication or gloss of the Image Comics stock of the time, there is an attempt at more realistic, airbrushy type shading in the colour.  It works well in places, like the muzzle flash, on on Cat Grant’s cheeks and knuckles, but less so in her hair, where the shadow looks a browny green on my copy.

The interior pages open with a pretty good bit of near-silent storytelling.  We are deftly shown, and not told the story—there are condolence cards and headlines, and the looming presence of a liquor bottle, until we are shown on the next page splash the real heart of the story, a revolver held aloft by Catherine Grant, bereaved mother, with her targeting in her mind the grim visage of the Toyman.

While their first few issues together meshed pretty well, it’s around  this issue that the pencil/inks team of Jurgens and Rubinstein starts to look a little rushed in places.  A few inkers who worked with Jurgens that I’ve spoken to have hinted that his pencils can vary in their level of detail, from very finished  to pretty loose, and in the latter case, it’s up to the inker to embellish where there’s a lack of detail.  Some inkers, like Brett Breeding, really lay down a heavier hand, where there’s quite a bit of actual drawing work in addition to adding value and weight to the lines.  I suspect some of the looseness in the figures, as well as empty  backgrounds reveals that these pencils were less detailed than we often  see from Jurgens.

There’s some weird body language in the tense exchange between Superman and Cat as she angrily confronts him about his lack of progress in capturing her son’s killer—Superman  looks a little too dynamic and pleased with himself for someone ostensibly apologizing. Superman taking flight to hunt down Toyman is classic Jurgens, though.

Another example of art weirdness comes on page 7, where Superman gets filled in on the progress of the Adam Morgan investigation.  Apparently Suicide Slum has some San Francisco-like hills, as that is one very steep sidewalk separating Superman and Turpin from some central-casting looking punks.

The  sequence of Superman concentrating his sight and hearing on the  waterfront area is well-drawn, and it’s always nice to see novel uses of his powers.  Tyler Hoechlin’s Superman does a similar trick quite often on the excellent first season of Superman & Lois.  The full-bleed splash of Superman breaking through the wall to capture Toyman is definitely panel-of-the-week material, as we really feel Superman’s rage and desperation to catch this child-killer.

Pretty much all the pages with Cat Grant confronting Winslow Schott are  well-done and tensely paced.  While sometimes I think the pupil-less  flare of the eye-glasses is a cop-out, it does lend an opaqueness and mystery to what Toyman is thinking.  Speaking of cop-outs, the gag gun twist ending really didn’t work for me.  I was glad that Cat didn’t lower herself to Schott’s level and become a killer, even for revenge, but the prank gun just felt too silly of a tonal shift for a storyline with this much gravitas.  The breakneck denouement that Cat is now depending only on herself didn’t get quite enough breathing room either.

While I appreciated that the ending of this issue avoided an overly simplistic, Death Wish style of justice, this issue extends this troubling but brief era of Superman comics. The casual chalk outlines of  yet two more dead children continues the high body count of the  previous handful of issues, and the tone remains jarring to me.  The issue is also self-aware enough to point out, again, that Schott is  generally an ally of children, and not someone who historically wishes  them harm, but that doesn’t stop the story from going there, in the most  violent of terms. In addition to being a radical change to the Toyman  character, it’s handled in a fashion more glib than we’re used to seeing  in these pages.  The mental health cliché of a matriarchal obsession, a la Norman Bates doesn’t elevate it either.  So, another rare misstep  from Jurgens the writer, in my opinion.   STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I  had thought for sure that Romanove Vodka was a sly reference to a certain Russian Spy turned Marvel superhero, but it turns out there  actually is a Russian Vodka called that, minus the “E”, produced not in Russia, as one might think from the Czarist name, but rather, India.

While it made for an awkward exchange, I was glad that Cat pointed out how  her tragedy more or less sat on the shelf while Superman dealt with the "Spilled Blood" storyline.  A lesser book might not have acknowledged any  time had passed. Though I did find it odd for Superman to opine that he  wanted to find her son’s murderer even more than she wanted him to.  Huh?  How so?

I love the detail that Toyman hears the noise of Superman soaring to capture him, likening it to a train coming.

I  quibble, but there’s so much I don’t understand about the “new” Toyman.  If he’s truly regressing mentally, to an infant-like state, why does he wear this phantom of the opera style long cloak while he sits in his baby crib?  Why not go all the way, and wear footie pajamas, like the lost souls on TLC specials about “adult babies”?

I get that Cat Grant is in steely determination mode, but it seemed a little out of place that she had almost no reaction to the taunting she faced from her child’s killer.  She doesn’t shed a single tear in the entire issue, and no matter how focused she is on vengeance, that doesn’t seem realistic to me. [Max: That's because this is not just retribution, Don. It's dark retribution. We’ve been over this!]

[chiseler]

Hero of Our Nation

I first encountered Roger Ramjet on a Chicago public access station in 1983. It was part of an early morning show apparently aimed at stoner insomniacs. The show came on at five and also included episodes of Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp, that awful Beatles cartoon, and a weather report clarified by some appropriate pop song (“Here Comes the Sun” or “Here Comes the Rain Again”). I was usually up and around that early for some godforsaken reason, and originally started watching on account of Lancelot Link. Always did love that Lancelot Link. But Roger Ramjet was, well, let’s just say it was a revelation.

Roger Ramjet, “ that All-American good guy and devil may care flying fool” (as he compulsively introduces himself) was a none too bright and none too coordinated drug-dependent space age superhero in an ongoing battle against the assorted forces of evil (or more specifically, N.A.S.T.Y.) to preserve the American Way of Life. He was square-jawed, straight-laced, straight-faced, and True Blue if little else, so hyper-patriotic that nearly every time his name is spoken aloud an American flag, a bald eagle, or a rotating ring of stars appears on the screen. After catching one or two episodes, I forgot all about Lancelot Link.

The show was easy to overlook, especially when squeezed between the Beatles and some secret agent chimps with a psychedelic band. The episodes were only five minutes long (maybe seven with the abrasive theme song filling out the opening and closing credits), and were so crudely drawn and animated it might at a glance seem like something a couple of junior high school kids threw together in their basement one weekend. The shows were so primitive they hardly bothered with niceties like “backgrounds” satisfied instead to settle for rudimentary suggestions of a setting. But the writing was so sharp and the voice talent so good what it really felt like, if you paid attention, was a spoof of a ‘40s radio serial like Sky King or Gangbusters, complete with a soap opera organ and illustrated by a handful of jerky drawings scratched out by someone’s kid. People who thought Jay Ward’s Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right were crude when compared with the output from Disney or Warner Brothers had no idea what “crude” meant. 

Looking at it today what it reminds me of more than anything are the paper cutout animations of the earliest episodes of South Park, before they upgraded to Flash. Along with the lo-fi stylistics, the humor was clearly aimed at an adult audience while pretending otherwise.  You may not find any child molestation jokes or crass religious cracks in Roger Ramjet, but for 1965 the lightning-fast humor was pretty hepcat and sophisticated, with undisguised satirical references to the Cold War, Central American turmoil, and the  Vietnam War (“Hey kids, this is Roger Ramjet,” demanding that you stay tuned to this station to see my next adventure,” Roger announces in his commanding superhero baritone. “Or I’ll see to it that all you little rascals are drafted.”) . Mixed in with the topical jokes we also get some highly unlikely name drops, from Noel Coward and Henry Cabot Lodge to James Joyce and bawdy nightclub performer Rusty Warren, as well as film parodies and  literary nods to the likes of Catch-22 and Catcher in the Rye.  It’s also a little less than what you might call racially sensitive by modern standards (consider Mexican revolutionaries The Enchilada Brothers, Beef and Chicken).

While a lot of the more timely jokes might be lost in the murk of the over 50 years since it first aired, there’s plenty of rapid-fire absurdity that’s timeless, from the misspelled title cards punctuating the narration to the self-consciously dumb coked-up adventures.

Bullwinkle aired from ‘61 to ‘64. Roger Ramjet came along a year later and Jay Ward’s influence is undeniable. The difference was Roger Ramjet crammed the equivalent number of bad jokes, references, and plot twists of a typical 8-part Bullwinkle serial into each five-minute episode, both mirroring the rapid-fire screwball dialogue of the ‘30s and the frenetic quick-cut comedy to come along a year or two later in shows like The Monkees and Laugh-In.

The episodes were produced with essentially no budget and were cranked out very quickly by a small team of writers, voiceover artists and animators with solid day jobs in radio and TV. They were all seasoned pros, some dating back to the days of classic radio, who worked on the show after hours as a way of letting off a little steam and tossing around a few cynical, subversive  cultural jabs their day jobs wouldn’t allow. The show was created originally by animator Fred Crippen  (who went on to work on some pretty dreadful crap like the Extreme Ghostbusters  and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and Ken Snyder, an ad exec who moved over into producing cartoons. They brought in a remarkable team of voice talent and comedy writers, including Gene Moss (the voice of Smokey the Bear) Jim Thurmam (who did a lot of kids shows including Sesame Street), Dick Beals (the original voice of Gumby), and the great Gary Owens, a drive-time deejay in LA who would get national recognition soon enough as the on-screen announcer for Laugh-In. Although they would all get specific credits in the end (Crippen as director, Moss as a writer) it was a communal effort, in which everyone contributed to the writing, and everyone, even the executive producer, did a few of the voices. Apart from the regular crew, careful listeners might also catch a few uncredited guest appearances by some surprisingly big names (I’m told Sinatra and Dean Martin appear in an episode, but I’m still looking for that one). Owens was the star, though, as his ability to read the most ridiculous lines in a dramatic deadpan made him the perfect Roger Ramjet. Together they made 156 episodes (about 150 still exist), which were sold directly into syndication in ‘65 as half hour shows, each containing three unconnected adventures. I can’t say as I’m exactly sure who they thought their target audience was at the time, except maybe each other.

Much like William Conrad in Bullwinkle, each show opened with our narrator, Steve Allen alum Dave Ketchum, setting the mood and the scene (“In today’s depressing episode,” he’d begin with dramatic enthusiasm, or maybe it was an “existentialist episode,” “phlegmatic episode,” “rickety episode,”  “hairy episode,” or “ethnic episode”). Then we’re out of the gate at a breakneck pace, with a flurry of gags coming from every direction. “Ramjet rode into Boot Hill,” we’re told,  “where the men were men and the women were men, which can get pretty old after awhile.”

While none of the shows are connected, there are a few recurring characters and locations worth remembering: Roger hails from Lompoc, an actual California town (“where nothing ever happens, and seldom does”) and  takes his orders from General G.I. Brassbottom, a no nonsense military man who “hadn’t had an original idea since he was a civilian.” He’s also assisted by Yank, Doodle, Dan, and Dee, the unusually chubby  kids who make up the American Eagle squadron. Like Roger, all the members of the squadron wear their white jumpsuits and flight helmets at all times (Roger even wears his helmet on dates), and in true superhero sidekick fashion, their primary job is to get Roger out of scrapes and make sure his drugs are handy. 

That’s one little detail more than a few casual viewers have taken umbrage with. Roger, see, is a pretty hapless character most of the time, but he repeatedly saves the world thanks to a little help from his Proton Energy Pills (PEP), which take five seconds to kick in, then give him the strength of 20 A-Bombs for 20 seconds. Modern viewers seem a little uncomfortable with the idea of a superhero gulping amphetamines in order to function, but all I can say is, well, it was a different time, and hey, it worked for Roger and Elvis both.

The proton energy pills come in handy when dealing with his arch-nemesis Noodles Romanoff, the short, trench coat and fedora wearing head of N.A.S.T.Y. (the National Association of Spies, Traitors, and Yahoos). Romanoff may not have a Natasha, but he does have a gang of cronies and thugs who all mumble in unison (save for one, who can’t seem to get the rhythm). 

Along with Romanoff and his gang, Roger also has to contend with some lanky alien robots, the Solenoids (voiced by executive priducer Ken Snyder), and their repeated efforts to invade the planet in assorted ridiculous ways (in one episode, they begin kidnapping all the Miss America contestants, who “were disappearing faster than co-eds at a Dartmouth weekend.”)

When not saving the world, Roger found himself competing with the smarmy hotshot test pilot Lance Crossfire (who sounds an awful lot like burt Lancaster) for the affections of Lotta Love, the fickle Southern belle with a taste for the finer things in life.

Then there are the adventures themselves. Some seem standard superhero fare, but only to a point. Earth is besieged by flying saucer attacks (sort of). Roger’s hometown is terrorized by a werewolf (sort of). Roger plays tennis with a kangaroo, or becomes the first man to surf in space,  or, in a personal favorite, attempts to stop the flow of bootleg comic books into America’s drug stores.

Actually, there’s an interesting moment in that one that revealed just how subtle you could be even with animation this unsophisticated. Okay, so Noodles Romanoff, see, is replacing real comics in drug store racks with bootlegs in which popular superheroes are humiliated, all in an effort to destroy the morale of America’s children. After Brassbottom shows Roger a few examples (the issues include “Superman Gets Beat Up by a Chicken!” and “Ratman Stubs His Toe!”) he explains that if this sort of thing continues, “America’s kids won’t have anyone to look up to except YOU, Ramjet.” Then, for just an instant in that crude and jerky style, Roger cuts his eyes toward the camera, revealing in that moment everything we needed to know, namely that it’s what he’s always wanted.

Thirty years on and that still sticks with me.

In the end, though, the characters and storylines are secondary at best In Roger Ramjet. At heart it’s  a matter of trying to keep up with all the lightning-quick  jokes and wordplay, the non-sequiturs and references. In the five minute span of one cowboy-themed episode I counted nods to at least seven classic Western films, from High Noon to She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and I suspect I missed a few. It really is such a dizzying blur of dialogue and bad puns and cultural references, sometimes, christ, even just references to old jokes that take the form of bad puns (“Waiter, there’s a spy in my soup” or “how many angels can swim in the head of a beer?”), that absurd as it all is, repeated viewings are a necessity to catch everything. It’s a bit like having the complete contents of an issue of MAD magazine jammed onto a single page. It can make your head hurt after a while, but it’s worth it. Whether the density and the pace make it better or worse for stoner viewing is something, I guess, each stoner will need to answer for him or herself. Lots of bright colors, though.

In 1965 there was nothing new about making cartoons with adult sensibilities in mind. Betty Boop and Bugs Bunny were made to be shown as short subjects to largely adult audiences. Jay Ward’s cartoons a few decades down the line were near-revolutionary for smuggling hip, subversive political humor into what had become an exclusively child-friendly format. What made Roger Ramjet so radical was it’s blend of ‘30s radio style with mid-’60s cynicism, as well as its foreshadowing of our shrinking attention spans, a hyper-condensed proton pill of comedy and commentary disguised as just another dumb, low-rent superhero cartoon. Although it’s barely remembered today, its influence is still evident in most any subversive animated show you can name, even if they’ve slowed things down a bit.

by Jim Knipfel

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

[movie-magic]

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings Review: Is Among The Best Superhero Origin Films Of All Time!

Marvel Studios may have taken 2020 off due to the pandemic, but its 2021 has proven bigger than ever. Just two months after this summer's espionage-themed Black Widow, the MCU is ready with another solo project: Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. Directed by Destin Daniel Cretton, Shang-Chi introduces a brand new hero to the franchise, and it's already clear he will appear in several more projects down the line. Non-comics fans might not be as familiar with Shang-Chi, so it's a good thing that his first movie is unique, compelling, and emotional. It also just might be one of the best origin stories in the MCU. Bolstered by a star-making performance from Simu Liu, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings gets the MCU's newest hero off to a promising start.

Shang-Chi starts not with the titular hero, but with the other part of the lengthy title: The Ten Rings, an infamous criminal organization previously mentioned in various Iron Man instalments. The group is led by Wenwu (Tony Leung), AKA the Mandarin, the power-hungry wielder of an actual set of ten rings which bestow him with incredible abilities. Wenwu is especially important to this story, because he's Shang-Chi's (Liu) father. In the present day, Shang-Chi has spent the past several years living in America well outside of his father's vicious grasp. However, an attack on a San Francisco bus leads Shang-Chi to realize his past isn't as far behind him as he hoped, sending him on an adventure with his best friend Katy (Awkwafina) to reunite with his estranged family members and confront everything he's been running from.

On the surface, Shang-Chi holds most Marvel's biggest trademarks: quippy one-liners, references to the broader universe, and pulse-pounding action. At the same time, there are plenty of beats that feel like they could fit into a standard domestic drama. Cretton, along with fellow screenwriters Dave Callaham and Andrew Lanham, have structured a good chunk of Shang-Chi to be a family saga wrapped up in a superhero movie. Flashbacks are woven into the present day storyline, offering deeper shades to Shang-Chi, Wenwu, and Xialing (Meng'er Zhang), the badass sister of the title hero. It's a unique structure for a Marvel movie, but it serves the story well. Shang-Chi's family history runs deep, and by actually exploring it through the flashbacks, Cretton, Callaham, and Lanham give the impression that all of these characters have always been a part of the MCU.

By starting Shang-Chi with Wenwu, Cretton immediately sends the message that he won't be like past Marvel villains. The franchise is known for churning out underwhelming bad guys, but Wenwu manages to be among the very best. With a deeply personal goal that resonates with his entire family, the Mandarin is chilling and cruel, yet retains just enough humanity that audiences can feel some sympathy. It helps that Hong Kong icon Leung is the one playing him; with his steely gaze and physicality, he makes Wenwu even more compelling. And yet, Shang-Chi truly does belong to Liu and his new hero. Carrying a heavier backstory than most Marvel heroes, Shang-Chi balances the typical humor of the franchise with his inner demons, and Liu skillfully portrays his conflicted nature. There's no question: Liu is a star, and it'll be quite exciting to see him continue to flourish in the MCU. Shang-Chi features an impressive cast all around, with Zhang and Awkwafina both getting their own moments to shine, be it via action sequences or deeper character moments, these women are far from one-dimensional. Cretton treats both of their personal conflicts with equal respect. Michelle Yeoh, though arriving later in the film, is a welcome presence as a key figure for Shang-Chi and Xialing.

Shang-Chi has a great deal of things working in its favor, from the gorgeous locations (beautifully rendered by production designers Sue Chan and Clint Wallace) to the epic score from Joel P. West. At the same time, it falls into a few traps Marvel movies are often susceptible to. After giving so much time to a conflict rooted in family and grief, Shang-Chi's final battle becomes another CGI fest with world-ending stakes. The movie is far stronger when it keeps the focus on its themes of identity and loyalty, which sometimes get lost in the bombastic action. Make no mistake, Shang-Chi's action scenes truly are the best in the MCU, with the early bus fight and a precarious battle on spindly scaffolding in Macau being standouts. The final fight is thrilling. Additionally, while the women are all fierce and well-developed, Shang-Chi's handling of the hero's mother (Fala Chen) presents mixed results. Her story ultimately follows a tired trope, but she has more dimension than some previous Marvel moms, which helps.

Ultimately, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is a great origin story in a franchise that has more origins than any other. Liu is destined for Marvel greatness, and the two post-credits scenes offer some hints about what lies ahead. MCU fans will find much to enjoy about this new offering, while casual viewers who prefer more personal stories might find themselves drawn to Shang-Chi's struggles. There's been much discussion over whether Shang-Chi should've been made available on Disney+, and indeed that would've ensured more people could see it. However, there's no denying it will make for a thrilling watch on the big screen, so hopefully those who feel safe enough to do so will venture out to see it. After all the delays, this is a movie well worth the wait.

[jinjojess]

超高校級の英雄 V3: Danganstuck Classpects V3

Okay, okay. 

Enough waiting around; let’s get this up and ready to go.

These are obviously just my own opinions on things, and as such are very closely tied to my own personal interpretations of both the V3 characters and also of the classpects themselves. For clarity’s sake, I based the aspect rationalizations from the official lore here, and I used the MSPA wiki for direction with the classes.

Just as a quick note, I used some of the FTE info (which is debatable in its veracity) for some of the assignments. Sorry, gotta work with what I have to work with. Also, if anything is expanded on in Homestuck 2, I have no idea, as I haven’t read it (or the epilogues, for that matter).

Akamatsu Kaede Prince(ss) of Time Derse Dreamer The Land of Sharps and Flats

Going off the canon description of Time, it makes perfect sense for Akamatsu. She’s goal-oriented, wants to skip to the credits, and would rather take a leap of faith than wait things out. To say nothing of the strong associations between Time and music. I went with Prince for her as a class since it’s the destroyer class--Akamatsu very literally destroys both Amami and herself (and her goal of getting everyone out alive) thanks to her own impatience in wanting to stop the one responsible for the killing game. I had her sleep on Derse since she’s supposed to be a bit of a protag subversion in that she hatches a literal murder scheme. Her equivalent of the Beat Mesa is a big metronome. 

I also have an alt land name for her in The Land of Ninths and Eighths to reference the time signature of Claire de Lune (which is 9/8). 

Saihara Shuuichi Page of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Glass and Fingerprints

I considered making Saihara a Rage player at first given how the ultimate conflict is (supposedly going to be) solved in Chapter 6, but the description of Doom players as being commiseraters rather than healers really stuck out to me as appropriate for Saihara. Of all the characters in the game, he’s one of the few that doesn’t actually push anyone to heal, and his ultimate gambit in the 6th trial is to counteract the audience trying to self-medicate with catharsis at their expense. He takes a while to come into his own, which is the signature trait of the Page class, too. As a Doom player, he dreams on both moons, which for reasons I can’t quite articulate just clicks for me. The glass in his land name references not only magnifying glasses but also mirrors, since his is very much a journey of self-reflection.

Amami Rantarou Seer of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sails and Nail Polish

I really like what I came up with here for Amami. Breath is linked pretty strongly to his FTE reveals about how his desire to explore led his sisters to disappear into the ether (and changed his direction in life), and the angst he feels over wanting to reunite with his sisters hints at his trouble with bonds (the Breath inverse Blood’s territory). I incorporated the boat stuff into the theme with the idea of sailing for his world name, while the nail polish is for his sisters and that extra scene with Akamatsu. I went with Seer as the class since Amami Knows Things, and there’s that bit about Seers “having a strategy guide in their head” that I wanted to be a callback to the special map and the fact that he’s the Shogo Kawada of this operation. Prospit as the dream moon just felt right, so there it is.

Iruma Miu Thief of Space Prospit Dreamer The Land of Caulk and Nuts (and Frogs)

I don’t care if you have to have Frogs somewhere in the Space player’s land name, I will stand by that pun! So Space is all about creation and seeing the bigger picture, and to me that jived with how Iruma is an inventor. While Time is deeply linked to music on a conceptual level, Space is linked to nurturing, including growing plants, raising animals, and parenting. The Space and Motherhood parallels fit well with Iruma’s canon aspirations and goals. I went with Thief because Iruma is very much out for Number One, and wants to hog up all the creation ability for her own ends. Prospit dreamer because she’s the type.

Ouma Kokichi Bard of Heart Derse Dreamer The Land of Kings and Horses

There’s a lot you could do with Ouma, and I’m sure that plenty of people peg him as a Void player because of the lying. For me though, I read Ouma has being primarily concerned with his own identity, and how he’s perceived by others. Fractured senses of self are a Heart concept, after all, and it seems that Ouma likes trying on identities to see which one ultimately fits him best. I made him a Bard because they’re unpredictable and all about helping or hurting a session in random turns, but also because Ouma himself is allowing his own identity to be destroyed thanks to his paranoia and inability to let anyone get close to him. He dreams on Derse with all the other schemers, and I went with a name pun for the planet that can also function as a chess reference (ala his bandana and his 5d chess approach to life).

Kiibo Sylph of Mind Derse Dreamer The Land of Shells and Ghosts

Since Sylphs are healers, I wanted to have Kiibo in that role, since he’s usually trying very hard to smooth things over and fix problems. I went with Mind for him for a few reasons: one is that Kiibo’s self-identity is subsumed by his “inner voice” that later turns out to be audience suggestions, meaning that he’s healing things through the choices of others and doesn’t have as much of a Self as it were. Another reason is because I made Naegi a Mind player and Kiibo is clearly meant to be a bit of a callback to him (up to and including the fact that Naegi very much functions as an audience insert in the first game). I made Kiibo a Derse dreamer because he literally hears the whispers of the audience members telling him what to do. The land name was me having a little fun and poking at his aspect a bit.

Gokuhara Gonta Heir of Light Prospit Dreamer The Land of Pins and Wings

Light is all about knowledge, and Gonta has, while specific, quite a lot of knowledge. He likes learning, and is open to new information to re-evaluate what he knows. I made him an Heir since the speculation is that they are subsumed in their aspect, and Gonta is very passively knowledgable. He often offers helpful suggestions based on things he just happens to know, for instance, and what ultimately undoes him is Ouma showing him the “truth” of things, which Gonta doesn’t even think to question. He’s a Prospit dreamer who’s been awake for awhile, unwittingly watching the clouds for signs, and his land name is a reference to pinning butterflies into a collection.

Shinguuji Korekiyo Mage of Light Derse Dreamer The Land of Scrolls and Masks

Meanwhile, on the other end of knowledge for knowledge’s sake, we have the other scholar, Shinguuji. Unlike Gonta, he’s actively out there seeking knowledge, rather than being drawn to it, and his motives are undeniably selfish in nature, so I wanted him to be an active class (I’m assuming Mage is the active counterpart to Seer, shhh). Shinguuji uses his understanding of his field--humans--to progress his own goals and wants. He’s also smart enough to know what pieces of information to share and which to keep hidden behind a convenient zipper. Made him Derse because shemey as all hell, and I went with some general imagery for folklore for the land name.

Chabashira Tenko Knight of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sweat and Flipping

I think we can all agree that Chabashira is probably not a Derse dreamer. Meanwhile, I chose her aspect for a couple of reasons: first, because aikido is generally about evading attacks which strikes me as a windy kinda deal, even if Neo Aikido is a bit different; second, because her central conflict in the game is about learning to let go of a bond she desperately wants to forge with Yumeno (which, again, is a Blood-related matter); and third, because flipping somebody would create a gust of air movement and that image made me laugh. I went with Knight for Chabashira, since the most common interpretation of Knight is that it exploits its aspect, and I think that Chabashira is able to exploit the various currents of influence (especially in Chapter 3) to great success. I also think that she exploits The Breeze to nudge Yumeno’s path out of danger by taking her place in the kagonoko ritual. The land name is the sweat of training in martial arts, and the flipping is not just about said martial arts, but also about being flung off a see-saw.

Toujou Kirumi Knight of Life Derse Dreamer The Land of Sticks and Carrots

Life players are generally known to be trying to fix everybody’s problems, whether they want that to happen or not, and if that doesn’t scream Toujou to you, I don’t know what will. I went with Knight again for the exploitation aspect of it, where Toujou uses her position as authority in the group to further what she believes to be the greater good (hedging my bets here since we don’t know if Knight is active or passive). She’s clearly a Derse dreamer, because even if she wasn’t schemey, she’s droll as fuck. Her land references the two main ways to motivate someone: threats and rewards.

Harukawa Maki Knight of Time Prospit Dreamer The Land of Beans and Demons

I know, I know, but really, if you think about it, HaruMaki and Dave do kind of have a lot in common (and not just the fact that they have red eyes). The part about Time that fits well to me is that a Time player’s life is marked by strife and struggle, which HaruMaki has in spades. Like Akamatsu, she’s impatient and often acts rashly, in an attempt to cut out the middle man or advance what she thinks should be happening. She’s the last of our Knight squad, exploiting Time (or more broadly, destruction/entropy) to try and help out, such as trying to off Ouma or attack the Exisals head on. There’s also a bit on the Wiki that’s speculated that Knights often try to conceal their insecurities by acting tough, which is HaruMaki’s M.O. While she doesn’t have the music theme, assassination is very much about timing. I had her dream on Prospit because she’s not really a plans person, deep down, and her land name is a joke about her name/birthday referencing Setsubun.

HaruMaki doesn’t have a Beat Mesa equivalent, but she does have a tool specifically for causing a Scratch: a huge, unwieldy kantana.

Hoshi Ryouma Prince of Blood Prospit Dreamer The Land of Grass and Clay

Here you go, anon, what you were waiting for. I personally peg Hoshi as a Blood player, through and through. He’s stubborn, values bonds with other people, can lead via inspiration rather than direct command, and feels grounded. I think he’s a Prince thanks to the fact that he ended up destroying the very people who meant so much to him, and in the aftermath continued to push people away and pre-emptively destroy any possible future bonds. He’s a Prospit dreamer because he can see flashes of the future, though he often doesn’t read them correctly. His land is a reference to different types of tennis courts.

Momota Kaito Rouge of Hope Prospit Dreamer The Land of Wishes and Stars

The key part of a Hope player is that they can dream up a better world than the one that exists, and that can definitely be said about Momota. Like Jake, he’s a bit in his own head and immersed in his fantasy version of reality, where he plays the hero and is able to save everyone else. He’s somewhat gullible, to a point, and he’s the most superstitious of the bunch, showing how much stock he can put into the thing he believes. The sheer power of Momota’s belief is infectious, hence why I made him a Rogue--he’s out there trying to impart his sense of belief into those around him, for everyone’s benefit. He dreams on Prospit because of course he does, and I made his land name reflect literal space in conjunction with his talent, and to riff on that inspirational poster about shooting for the moon and landing among the stars.

Yumeno Himiko Heir of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Death and Magic

While most people who played V3 picked up on Saihara being depressed, not everyone has noticed that Yumeno also suffers from the same bleak view of the world. Similarly to Saihara, Yumeno is not a healer, or a doer. She’s here to sigh and complain and tell you that’s rough, buddy. Because of that, I can definitely see her as a Doom player. I made her an Heir, as one who is consumed by their aspect, since Yumeno is very much doom and gloom a lot of the time. She’s also subconsciously drawn to death, as she gets close to both Angie and Chabashira before their untimely demises. It’s through their deaths that she comes more into her own, hence why it’s also part of her land title (I don’t think I have to explain the other part). She dreams on both moons because Doom players are implied to do so.

Yonaga Angie Witch of Hope Derse Dreamer The Land of Prayer and Idols

Like Momota, Angie has intense faith on her side; if Angie thinks it’s true, it’s true. She’s also similarly not looking at the same world as everyone else, instead seeing something slightly different and colored by her own beliefs. However, unlike Momota, Angie is not interested in helping others find their own faith, and would rather use the power of her belief for her own gain. Hence why I made her a Witch, an active class that manipulates its aspect. The other characters may not believe in Angie’s religion, but they sure do believe her when she tells them to sacrifice their autonomy for safety. I put her on Derse since her god could very easily just be a specific horrorterror, and the land name is connected to religion. 

Shirogane Tsumugi Maid of Void Derse Dreamer The Land of Scripts and Swatches

I went through a lot of possible Classpects for Shirogane, including Light, Space, Seer, Heart, etc., but I think that this is what I’m going to settle on. Derse Dreamer because not only is she schemey, she’s listening to whispers of her bosses and the ratings, albeit in a less direct sense than Kiibo (what’s more horrorterror-y than a focus group!). Void as an aspect works well to me, since Shirogane is always going on and on about being plain and forgettable, about how she hides in plain sight, and even her talent is about becoming somebody else rather than herself. She’s also the one who in the end throws the “truth” into question, instead concealing it in favor of ambiguity. I went with Maid since one of the speculated interpretations is one who creates or creates through their aspect: she not only (arguably) erases the casts’ identities and memories, she does this in order to have “blank pages” on which to write the killing game’s drama. Whether Maid is an active or passive class is unknown, but if it’s active it makes sense since she’s using other people for her own gain, and if it’s passive, it could be argued that she’s doing it in service of Team DR or the audience.

Speaking of...

Bonus!

The V3 audience Muse of Space The Land Beyond the 4th Wall

I don’t like assigning Master Classes unless I have a really good reason, and here I think it works. The fans are the epitome of the “wait-and-see” model, and their crime as it were is their general apathy toward the very real subjects of the killing game. They’re all big picture and no important details or nuance. You can’t get much more passive than being an audience member, hence Muse class, yet it’s their desire to recycle the series over and over that leads to the killing game’s very existence (they’re also not too upset about letting the kids’ past lives be sacrificed for this act of creation). The V3 audience is collectively in the real world as opposed to the Medium, hence the “planet” title for them. In the context of an actual Sburb game, they’d likely be Exiles.

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Yeah, no Rage players in V3. I couldn’t find my notes the other night when I got home, so I just went ahead and reworked all of the classpects from there.

The Aspects were fairly easy to assign, but the Classes really had me scratching my head for a good long while. Maybe it’s because it can recontextualize the Aspect elements depending on what it is, or maybe it’s because we don’t have as much information about how Classes work. 

Anyway, whew, that’s it! Hope you enjoyed!