#and he starts collecting dolls and sculptures of himself

[oh-my-gordonramsay]

i was created to allow your existence

yet even in deaths you deny mine

[omorphiavelvet]

Kiss of Death.

The rain was incredibly tranquil, bouts of pitter-patter dropped onto different surfaces of concrete, creating a constant tempo and rhythm, one that could easily lull anyone to sleep. The imminent thunder was absent, but lightning would show itself every now and then, nonetheless, the rain poured. 

On the many surfaces, the raindrops landed, stood two people. Boys, one tall and the other short by a considerable margin. The short, fair-skinned boy was clearly battered, holding his wounded arm whilst a cross lodged into the ground stood beside him, the glow of the markings within the cross was faint, and the black hues outside the markings only begun to serve as a contrast to the faint but determined glow. 

The boy he was facing was unscathed, but it was clear how he was irritated and unwilling to tire himself out. He held a regal air over his lean and tall figure, hands behind his back as his lances stood by his side much like an extension of his regalia. His sculptured face was slashed neatly on the cheek, and although the wound has long healed, the scar was visible. 

“How long do you intend to do this? You cannot defeat me.” The taller spoke, voice cold, clearly irritated, but his deep voice eerily calm as he gives the boy a cold stare, his brown eyes dull and empty. 

The shorter boy merely scoffed, as battered as he may be, he was not one to give up easily. Letting go of his wounded arm to see that it no longer bled, but only left a scar, his own eyes glaring up in determination towards the taller, as the cross split lengthwise, and spears popped out of its mechanisms, adorned with onyx-silver chains.

“Until you give him back.” the shorter started with a stammer, grabbing a spear from the cross and clutching it tight in his hand, “I’m not going anywhere!” he declares, charging towards the man as the spears from the cross soon followed. 

The taller made no move to intercept his oncoming attack, as the shorter lifted himself off of his feet and threw the spear as a preemptive strike, with frightening accuracy to add as the spear aimed to lunge itself at the man’s chest. 

A portal opens within the spear’s trajectory, swallowing the object as another portal opened behind the shorter, spitting the spear back out with the blunt end as it knocks him over, nearly groveling at the taller’s feet had it not been for his hands that stopped the momentum.

“You are weak,” the man spoke again, “The honkai may have chosen you to hold a core, but you are no more than an ordinary human holding a powerful weapon, how do you intend to stop me, a god?” this time, his cold voice turned into a mocking one as he floats up to the air. 

A barrage of portals surround the weakened boy, and within an instant, lances were spat out, though clearly aimed to kill him, they only bound and immobilized him, restricting his movement with the sheer girth of the lances. 

“Give…” the boy started, shaking in determination and pure fury, making the lances vibrate, “Mingyu back!” he cried out as the lances that held him shattered, jumping up towards the taller with renewed vigor, his tattered blue and black getup replaced with white and lilies adorned the edge of his garment as the marking on his back glows a soft yet regal blue. 

The man, with his irritation, now etched on his handsome face, summons a force of shockwave as it pushes everything within the back with terrifying power, but the boy, suspended in mid-air, refused to budge and only sought to have the man within an arms reach.

Within fingertips reach and before the taller could make any moves to get away, a collection of crosses sprouted out of thin air, surrounding the pair as chains sprouted out, binding the taller in quick succession as the crosses immediately planted themselves to the ground, leaving the dust to settle. 

The man now kneeling down at the mercy of the shorter, was wrapped and completely immobilized. 

Meanwhile, the shorter was panting, out of breath as he held the man by the cheeks, his gloved hands were gentle as if holding a lover’s face, perhaps to even kiss him. But the shorter’s sight was on the ground, trying to regain his composure and focus his sight. 

“Two cores. . .reason and death no less.” The taller spoke, after a while of silence, “and to wield a weapon of the previous era so effortlessly, that’s foolish.” he remarked, though no trace of emotion was heard in his voice. 

“You’re just a pathetic human, how could you have all this power?” He finished, disdain and envy clear in his deep yet distorted voice. 

“I told you...I’m different.” The boy choked out, his voice clearly weak, but the look in his eyes once he looked up to face the taller was enough to back up his statement. 

“Now...give Mingyu back.” He states, composure now regained as he never lets up his rather gentle grip on his visage, his eyes still holding the same amount of determination despite his rather calm voice. 

“Oh...you mean this body?” The man merely scoffed, “Without my core, this man is merely a husk, a doll if you will.” He answered. 

“Stop spouting bullshit and give him back to me!” his voice shook in anger, though he tries to sound as level-headed as possible.

“It’s true, the man you call your lover...Mingyu, was it?” he started mockingly, “He’s long gone- ah, that’s not fair to say, it’s more plausible to say that I am him.” The menacing declaration only served to fuel the shorter’s already bubbling anger.

“Stop lying and give him back!” The shorter tried, releasing a gust of power the rendered the nearby plant life as good as dead as his eyes were no longer humane, his pupils and irises now shaped into a cross, tilted to an angle, more specifically, an x. 

“Why do you keeping asking for him? He’s just a clone, a vessel made to house my soul.” The man asks, incredulous, making no moves to attack, but rather he was trying to comprehend how this human went to great lengths for a human, a clone even. 

The shorter succumbed to his knees, his pants returned, til they turned into soft sobbing, his hand slipping from his cheeks and to the neat blazer the taller wore, clutching it tightly as he kneels, humiliated, tired, and heartbroken. 

“Please...” he hiccupped, pleaded to particularly no one as he lets out choked out sobs, looking up to face the other, cheeks tear-stained as they continue to flow, looking straight into the taller’s eyes, his determination long tempered into grief. 

“Give him...give me Mingyu back…” He continued, his sobs becoming coughed out as he feels himself being ripped apart by a force stronger than anything he had encountered, “I’ll do anything, please, just give him back…” He begged. 

The tranquil rain was no longer tranquil, as the arrival of the roaring thunder filled the grieving silence between the two figures, one bound by chains and the other holding onto them, placed in the center of the collection of crosses that surrounded them. 

Before the taller could mock the other’s pitiful state of being, a flurry of memories rushed and flooded his senses. Memories of the one they call Mingyu. 

“Mingyu, you have to let go of me.” A gentle voice resounded, too familiar not to be recognized by the one who possessed the taller.

“No! I refuse!” The shorter, presumably Mingyu, petulantly refused, holding onto the arm of a boy with eyes closed. 

“Mingyu, come on.” The gentle voice began, as a hand reached to cup the other’s sunkissed visage. 

“This isn’t how you play tag. Now, will you let me go? I promise to treat you to ice cream if you manage to catch me next time you’re it.” The gentle voice soothed the child, though not much taller than him as he wriggles his arm out of his grip and brushes some of the messed up tufts of raven black hair away from Mingyu’s sight. 

Memories continued to flash in front of the taller. Laughter, tears, kisses, and the way the certain figures held each other, love clearly so evident in their shared gazes and longing stares. 

Another memory began to play within his sight. 

“Mingyu, look! I’m officially a valkyrie!” The gentle voice, now much cheerful and rather proud, showed himself off to Mingyu, who was all grown up, much, much taller than the owner of the voice. 

“Valkyrie?” Mingyu tilts his head in confusion, “Isn’t the title for girls?” He asks, blinking slowly. 

“Ah! well...Principal Theresa and the higher-ups decided to name me that for the time being...until I’m officially put in a squad, I’m an A-rank Valkyrie!” He explains meekly. 

“Really? I thought you were aiming to be S-rank?” 

“Well, I barely passed the written part of the exam.” 

Soft laughter emitted from the pair as Mingyu lifts up the shorter, singing words of praise for him. 

The last memory was too vivid to be called anything but recent.

“Mingyu, no!” the voice cried out, “Let me hold the core instead! Your body might not take another core!” 

“I can’t let you do everything!” Mingyu replied. 

The boy stopped in his tracks. 

“You think I didn’t know?” Mingyu says, and for the first time, his voice broke from the sadness. 

Flashes of memories began showing again, showing the familiar back of the shorter, adorned with the mark of an orchid flower and a frazzled orb. 

“Two years,” A blue-haired girl started. “That’s all you have left,” She explained. 

“The cores may be benevolent in nature, but the honkai energy is ultimately a chaotic force that powers the cores.” She explained. “Even if we took out the cores from your body, your Honkai adaptability, will do next to nothing to improve your lifespan.” 

the boy, now draped in hospital gowns with things attached to his wrist, smiled sadly, giving out a soft sigh. 

“I guess it was only a matter of time, huh?” he muttered, looking at his palms in silent thought. 

he looks back up to the blue-haired woman before him, “can I make one request, professor?” 

“go ahead.” 

“Can you not tell this to Mingyu? I want to be able to tell him myself, at least.” 

“Alright, but you'll have to tell him quick, that boy's been sweating buckets ever since he found you in the shipwreck.” 

The shorter merely chuckled. 

Little did the pair know, Mingyu was listening from the other side of the wall, a stray tear falling down from his cheek as his lips quivered.

He returns to the prior memory. 

“You always try to do everything, always trying to save everyone! And maybe it is for the better…” Mingyu started. 

“But why am I the only one who feels this way?” He continued. 

“I may not be as skilled as fighting or as smart as the others, but all I know is…” 

“Mingyu, please.” 

“This world, this wretched world…” he croaked out, “Means nothing to me without you!” 

and as Mingyu grabs the suspended gem, light completely envelops both of them and their surroundings.

He's immediately brought back to reality, and breaks free of the binds fairly easily, blowing the shorter of the male, including the crosses that surrounded them, away from him. 

“Foolish human! sacrificing yourself for a clone, loving a soulless husk of flesh! no matter how many cores you take,” the man began, summoning cubes out of thin air. 

“you will never stop the Honkai!” he cries out in anger, trapping the grieving male in the cubes and commanding his lances to slice the cube cleanly with much anger in his gestures. 

He finishes his attack with a powerful blast at the sliced cubes, but his brown eyes were already fighting to be alight with life and vigor, causing a splitting headache that he forcibly chose to ignore. 

The male, arising from the wreck as the dust settles, was completely beaten up, his beautiful getup shattered as he held on to a stray spear from his cross before. 

He was completely silent, the black cross growing in purple flocking to him as he heaved labored breaths. 

From this distance, the taller could not clearly see the man's expression, and slowly became unnerved by the silence that befell upon them. Having grown used to the cries of anger and grief of the other. 

“Die! Die! Die! Return from whence you came!” The taller repeatedly cried out as he launched attacks towards the battered male.

Each attack was dodged gracefully as the shorter geared up and charged towards him, his cross becoming a skateboard of sorts as two spears joined on both ends and transformed into a double-ended one, parrying and blocking each attack that came his way. 

Mingyu, the shorter began.

I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. That I didn't break my obsolete habit of doing everything for everyone. For giving myself to the world so readily without thinking of the people that wanted me as I am. 

The attacks continued and did little to slow the shorter down, his eyes flaring up in a different kind of determination. 

But to tell you the truth...I failed my written exam on purpose. Principal Theresa had told me that If I became S-rank... I'd have little time to see you, kiss you, hold you, and even fight alongside you. 

I know I told you that I was gonna become the best soldier ever, but even then, what was being the best soldier when I couldn't see your smile? telling me how proud you are of me? teasing me about my height despite me being able to wreck your shit one hundred percent? 

what was being the best soldier if you weren't there to scold me, telling me to be more careful next time, patching up my wounds, then cooking me the best dinner buffet ever? 

He continued to charge towards him, jumping off of the cross, as another one materialized above the taller. 

“using the same trick again! how foolish!” the taller cried out, gathering power in his hand, ready to toss it above. 

“Judah!” the shorter cried out, fully materializing the cross, as it split in half lengthwise, spitting out spears that shot everywhere, held by golden chains as it surrounds the taller. 

By then, the power had dissipated from his hand, effectively neutralising the taller's next attack as the cross drops behind him, pinning him on the surface of it through the chains that pulled.

“this...what is this?!” the taller cried out in anger, panicking when he was unable to channel and utilise his power. 

“the oath of judah— or a complete perfect replica of it...principal theresa's cross.” the shorter explained. 

“the cross contains the core of the herrscher of binding, who can neutralise honkai energy and bind the target...however this cross doesn't have that core...but it has enough power to bind you.” the shorter panted, the pain of infection flaring up from his back. 

“the more you use your herrscher powers...the more your physical body will be infected.” the blue-haired woman explains again. 

“so I'll turn into a zombie?” 

“not specifically. the core of reason is sentient and rather benevolent...the core will probably eliminate your physical body...and turn you into a part of it.” 

“and what about the core of death?” 

“it's an independent core, it won't fight your disintegration, but I doubt the core will find the strength to work with the core of reason again if it doesn't have your body.” 

Two years. He could've spent the remaining two years of his life with Mingyu. Images and thoughts of marriage, family, and lifelong accompaniment begin to swirl in the shorter's thoughts. 

But Fate was far too cruel to the both of them. 

As the taller struggled and mocked the shorter, pitifully bound by the chains who only flared up in response to his anger, the shorter takes a few steps forward, leaning down to the kneeling man. 

“the core of death?” 

“yes, it's abilities are quite... interesting.” the blue-haired woman, now known as einstein began to ponder verbally. 

“what's so interesting about it?” 

“for one, the core doesn't just kill living beings...or bring living beings back to life.” 

“I'm not following.” 

“I have studied the core for quite a while, and tested it on numerous samples, which were mostly physical.” she began. 

“but there is this theory, that the core doesn't only kill living things... physically.” 

“I'm still not getting it.” 

“Part of why the Honkai zombies become essentially brainless is not only their cognitive functions becoming impaired, but also their egos being reduced to a number of commands.” 

“so you're saying the core is capable of killing personalities? I don't see how that's beneficial.” 

“With the right amount of practice and power, yes, it can kill personalities, but also bring them back to life.” 

Einstein, your theory had better be true, the shorter remarked in his thoughts as he comes face to face with the taller. 

the orchid flower mark on his back began to glow softly as he cups the other's cheeks yet again, before planting his lips upon the other's. 

the kiss was nothing romantic, maybe to the taller, but to him, it may be the last kiss he'll ever give to him. 

The taller began to feel a sense of drowsiness at the contact of their lips, not only was he feeling completely powerless, but his limbs were completely going slack, and his struggles ceased. 

he couldn't move anything, not even his lips, as sensations slowly left his body. the patter of rain against his now drenched outfit, the hammering heart within him, and the cool winds that would've let his body shuddered in response. 

The last sensation he felt was his lips, until his eyes met the darkness. 

Mingyu finally comes to, as if he had awoken from a nightmare. His breaths were labored, like he was drowning and he was just resuscitated back to life.

he was not in the place that was ruptured into pitiful pieces by the powers capable of bending physical laws, but he was in a different space. 

a peaceful one. 

colors swirled all around him, he felt weightless, like a burden was relieved off of him as he looks around in mere confusion. 

then the thought hits him. 

he cries out the shorter's name, frantic, scrambling to his feet to run, in hopes of finding a way out of this space. To finally reunite with who he loved, the person he's been aching to hold in his arms. 

“what are you flailing about? you look like a deer caught in the headlights.” the familiar voice spoke up, causing Mingyu to turn sharply to his back, seeing the owner of the voice he wanted to hear the most. 

“How— When did you— god, you fucking idiot!” He immediately stammered, collecting the smaller into his arms, tears silently flowing to his cheeks as he gives him a squeeze, happy to have him in his arms. 

“Hey, Hey. Deep breaths, baby.” The shorter one removed his death grip on him, smiling gently as he held him by the shoulders. 

Mingyu collects himself and his composure, all too elated to finally be reunited with his lover. 

“Wha— What happened? All I remember is grabbing the core and the light— What happened to the core?” Mingyu asks. 

“The core is within you.” He began, his smile subtly dropping, “In the process of trying to fuse with the core, you awakened something within you.” He continued. 

“So much is happening, Mingyu. I can't really tell you everything because I don't know how to begin.” He heaves a sigh at that. 

“Oh.” Mingyu merely responds. 

“How can we get out then? I wanna see everyone! I wanna make up for the things I did.” Mingyu questions. 

The shorter a sad smile on his face, though Mingyu doesn't seem to notice it. “Come on, walk with me for a while.” He reaches a hand out. 

Mingyu took the hand, intertwining their fingers as he followed his steps, letting a comfortable silence fall upon them. 

“Mingyu.” He calls out. 

“Hmm? Yes, my love?” 

“How are you feeling?” 

Mingyu draws a blank upon the question. How was he feeling? He couldn't describe it. He knocked out, heard a menacing voice whispering bitter remarks into his ear. 

He could recall fragments of what seemed like him hurting his boyfriend, mocking him. He could hardly believe that he himself was saying such horrible and demeaning things. 

Even in such a state of slumber, Mingyu refused to believe that he was hurting the ones he loved. 

And when he saw his determined, yet tearful eyes, he almost believed that it was really him, he was really doing all of this. 

He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to listen to the voice that keeps planting sinister thoughts into his head. 

So he dreamt. 

He recalls every memory he has with him, fond, sad, lovely, and even when they first fought. All these memories, they were precious to him, and he allowed himself to be foolishly trapped into the dream, reliving his greatest memories. 

“Mingyu?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You spaced out, it's okay.” 

“What was the question again?” 

“How are you feeling, my sweet?” 

Mingyu ponders again, this time not recalling the series of events that transpired. Instead, he looks at their intertwined hands and the sweet smile his lover wore.

“Like home.” He finally answered. 

“Like home?” the shorter repeated, clearly amused. 

“Don't laugh, it's true!” Mingyu whined, pouting at him. 

“Alright, alright. I won't.” 

They shared a few chuckles as they walked, the pathless route seemingly endless as they fell into their natural state of conversing, banter and some sweet kisses here and there. 

Mingyu was chuckling when he suddenly let go of his hand. 

“We're here.” He says. 

“Where?” Mingyu asks, before turning front and facing a rather ancient door.

“The end.” He answers, as calm as he could possibly be. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you walk through that door, you'll wake up from the nightmare, my love.” He answers. 

Silence befell upon them again, this time, it wasn't a comfortable one. 

“What about you? Will I see you when I wake up?” Mingyu finally breaks the silence. 

He couldn't bring himself to answer his question. 

“Then I'm not going.” 

“Mingyu, please—” 

“No, I won't! That's final!” Mingyu began, firm. 

“Mingyu, please you're acting like a child—” 

“I don't care!” he added. 

“I don't care if I'm living in a nightmare, If I'll sleep forever...I don't care! as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine!” 

“Mingyu—” 

Before he could continue to reason with him, Mingyu lunged into his hug, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Please...please let me stay with you.” He pleaded. 

“Mingyu, I can't.” He began. 

Mingyu didn't let up, only hugging the smaller as tears began flowing down his cheeks again. 

Mingyu, still holding onto him notices how weightless he's gotten. 

“Mingyu, you have to let me go.” 

“No!” 

A shaky sigh escapes him, trying not to let the tears fall as he begins losing sensations, and at this point, he could barely feel Mingyu's grip around his body. 

He was fading. 

It was as Einstein had told him, the core was slowly consuming him before the Honkai infection could. 

“Mingyu, please— we can't keep going on like this.” 

“No!” Mingyu replied, defiant.

A sob escapes him at his reply, unable to hold back the tears. 

“at least hold me properly?” he finally says, softly. 

Mingyu reluctantly agrees, shifting and putting the boy on his lap as he wraps an arm around him from behind, and in this angle, he could see how the boy was becoming transparent. 

“Why?” Mingyu asks, now full on crying as he gazes at the fading body of the love of his life. 

“I told you to rest! eat your meals! and not strain yourself…” He trailed off, crying. 

“It was my only chance of bringing you back…” He answers, smiling sadly as he relishes what he could in Mingyu's arms. 

“You idiot…” Mingyu merely added on, still crying as he holds him tight, afraid that he'll completely slip from his arms. 

Mingyu keeps crying, hoping that this was another nightmare the voice had conjured for him to break his spirits, he hoped that he could wake up and he would be waiting for him with his sheepish smile, and he could scold him again for staying up. 

but it felt real. all too real. 

The way his body was phasing to and fro being transparent then physical, the sweet words whispered into his ears that did nothing to soothe his pain. 

“Please... don't go…” Mingyu pleaded. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...Mingyu.” He only replied, crying. 

Mingyu didn't say anything else and fully hugged the other's fading body, as light from the door envelops the both of them. 

Mingyu comes to, this time, he was in the place he last saw before his seemingly eternal slumber, and before anything else, he felt lips against his own. 

His lips. 

They were breathing life into him, and washing away the pain the core brought upon him, opening his eyes. He sees the dimming light of life from his eyes, his arms instinctively coming up to wrap around his figure. 

the shorter had enough strength to pull away from the kiss and let himself be held by the taller. 

“Ah...I feel so light...Is that you, Mingyu?” He weakly calls out. 

“Yes, yes. it's me.” He answers softly but frantically as he holds onto him, crying softly. 

“Thank goodness…” 

The silence would've filled the room if not for the hardly silent cries that were Mingyu's.

“Mingyu?” 

“Yes, my love?” He answers, his voice breaking.

“I love you…” He muttered. 

“I love you too, so much…please, stay with me…” He pleaded, but he knew it was too late, his pleas were never heard by the gods in the first place. 

“Thank goodness...I was afraid...I couldn't say it again…” He muttered, before he closes his eyes, a soft glow enveloping his figure, the light becomes harsh for a short while that Mingyu had to look away for a short while. 

When Mingyu looks again, the body of his lover was completely gone, like they were never there in the first place, and instead, he was holding two gems in his hand. 

one had the orchid flower carved beautifully onto its azure surfaces, and the other merely held a smooth cerulean surface.

Mingyu's cries became louder at the sight, the reality of the situation finally sinking in as he holds the gems close to his chest, the only remaining reminders of the man he loved so dearly. 

Yet the rain has stopped, and only the silent light of the sun peeking through could be seen. 

The turbulently tranquil rain had stopped, and if only Mingyu had looked up, he would see a beautiful sunrise, bringing a surge of new hope to many. 

But to Mingyu, he could only fill the skies with his tears, and the new day had only brought him pain, as his cries were hardly heard by the one he lost. 

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 256 “Tokushirou’s number one”

So we get a new chapter in which…

…yeah, Usami gets friendzones but as he’s happy about it and honestly, his relationship with Tsurumi wasn’t what I would call normal.... well, I guess this is all well and good.

So we resume from where we started.

After Usami got shoot by Ogata’s bullet he falls back and right down the stairs while Ogata gets a clip of bullets and recharges his rifle as fast as he can.

However, by the time he can approach the stairs and shoot again Usami has understood he has lost the upper hand and had escaped, leaving a trail of blood behind himself.

Usami’s wound his serious, as he’s bleeding profusely, panting and sweating and looking fatigued. Evidently Ogata has hit a blood vessel.

Knowing this could kill him and that he’s no more in shape to face Ogata, Usami decides he doesn’t have anymore the time to worry about Hyakunosuke (yes, he still calls him just by name, I wonder what kind of relation they used to have before all this mess) and that he has to hurry pass the skins and the info he collected to Tsurumi.

It took him a bullet that almost killed him to rearrange his priorities and understand his petty grudges weren’t so relevant after all.

Meanwhile, outside, Ueji is giving the firefighters hell by tugging the water pump and causing one to risk falling from the stairs. He also has knocked unconscious a firefighter and then begins to climb on their stairs, confusing all the remaining firefighters.

I guess the firefighters are really devoted to save lives so they couldn’t start waving those stairs really hard when he’s high enough and cause him to crash on the ground, possibly where the fire is. Pity.

Back to Usami, he has left the building and has spotted one of the carriages of the firefighters, and, more importantly, the horses attached to it which would grant him a fast escape.

At the same time we see again a scene from chap 255, the one in which Sugimoto tosses Ostrog off a window, remarking than rather than worrying about who gave birth to him he should have worried about what he lived for. This means this scene is happening at the same time as that one but it’s also a veiled remark to Usami who has dismissed Ogata as the mere son of a prostitute and ended up getting shoot by him… though I’ll say more than worrying about what Ogata lived for he should have worried about what Ogata could do.

But whatever, let’s go on.

Sugimoto tosses Ostrog out of the window, Ogata notices him falling and, below him, Usami running away on a horse.

I’m surprised Ushiyama, who was right below that window, didn’t seem to notice Usami because it’s true he was turned toward the building but he should have heard the horse running but whatever, it’s not relevant.

Ogata aims at Usami, saying that if Usami is really concerned about being or not a cheap piece he can discover the truth watching Tsurumi’s expression at his funeral.

Now, Noda does a really clever thing here.

With a clever trick of panels seems to depict Ogata as having a chance to shoot Sugimoto through the window.

Maybe he does. Maybe he does not.

Actually not only it’s unclear if Ogata could see Sugimoto as the inside of the place isn’t exactly well light but Sugimoto has moved away already from the broken window and is near the close window above Usami.

Now… there’s something that puzzles me though and that is how, when Ogata shoot, Usami wasn’t visible anymore, as if he had already turned the corner, something that’s easily noticeable when we place the panel prior to Ogata shooting that was on page 8 and the panel in which Ogata shoots on page 9.

See? Usami has turned the corner and therefore is not visible anymore.

This makes me wonder if it’s possible Ogata’s bullet actually hit him because it went through the broken window and then out of the closed window (the one near which Sugimoto was standing) and, from it, through Usami.

This would mean that the panels showing the windows above Usami and near which Sugimoto is don’t actually aim to draw our attention on Sugimoto, who’s actually leaving the frame but on the window at which Ogata is, visible through it.

This would be an hellishly impressive shoot because Ogata basically hit Usami without even seeing him (or even more impressive if he could actually see him through those two windows), and what’s worse would alert Sugimoto of Ogata’s position there.

I doubt Sugimoto would realize Ogata shoot Usami and not him which probably would send him in another drunken rampage as we shouldn’t forget Sugimoto is drunk.

I’m not sure though, the scene will be probably cleared up in the next chapter.

Anyway Ogata’s bullet hits Usami perfectly. I think it went through his spine as Usami falls from the horse like a broken doll, his legs completely limp.

Luckily for him he falls in Tsurumi’s arms as Tsurumi coincidentally got there right in that moment, allowing Usami to see his beloved first lieutenant for his last few moments.

Meanwhile Ogata, who has no doubts he had hit the mark, has moved away from the window and thanking Usami as he believed killing Usami completed him as a sniper. As he says so he removes the bandages that were covering his face to reveal… not a scar or an empty eye socked but a new right eye. It immediately turns out it’s a glass one though, as it escapes his eye socket.

I guess Hijikata paid for it as Ogata seemed to be bankrupted when he got in Hokkaido. Ogata, still in a great mood, grabs it and will likely place it back.

I guess he wore the bandages as a personal way to tell himself he was an incomplete sniper and now that he feels he’s complete he removed them.

To all whose who wondered yes, it’s possible to remove an eye without leaving a huge scar as it’s easy enough to pop out an eye from its socket. I don’t encourage you to try doing it though.

Back to Usami he hands out the copy he stole to Kadokura and tries to say something to Tsurumi about Kadokura.

I’m not sure if he manages and we just don’t get to hear it or Tsurumi cut him out. We’ll see.

Tsurumi, slipping into the Niigata dialect, praises him (Tsurumi and Usami are both from Niigata). It’s worth to mention that vol 23 changed all the dialogues in the Tsurumi/Usami flashback so that the two of them were always talking in Niigata dialect. This, along with the ironic fact that vol 23 got Usami on its cover, ties this chapter to that flashback and explains the conclusion of their story.

At the praise Usami raises his hand toward Tsurumi, placing his little finger against his mouth. Tsurumi takes it in and bites it off.

It’s the second time Tsurumi bites off a finger, the first being with Wada but, back then he spat it in Wada’s face (is Noda also about to bring back Wada’s death into the plot?).

Now instead he implied he swallowed it (although no swallowing sound onomatopoeia is present) claiming this way the two of them will be together forever and that, like this ‘Tokishige-kun’ will live inside him forever (Tokishige-kun being how Tsurumi used to call him in the flashback) as his number one… friend.

‘Kore de watashitachi ha issho-ra suke. Tokishige-kun wa watashi no naka de ichiban no tomo to shite iki tsudzuken dare.’

これで私たちは一緒らすけ。時重くんは私の中で一番の友として生き続けんだれ

“With this we're together. Tokishige-kun will continue to live in me as my number 1 friend.”

So yeah, Usami has been deeply friendzoned.

Well, actually ‘tomo’ (友) can also mean “companion”, “comrade” and, interesting enough, it seems that the word ‘uruwashiki tomo’ (麗しき友 “beautiful friend”) was speculated to refer to an homosexual relation in the past (though it’s currently not sure) so the word ‘tomo’ could give the impression of being something more than a friend to a Japanese person.

But whatever, I honestly don’t think Tsurumi had romantic feelings for Usami, he’s just using pretty words to put him at ease in his last moments.

Usami relies in the romance of the moment saying it makes him so happy he’s going to cum… because Usami is a man who knows what to do in romantic moments… as he does so he calls Tsurumi just ‘Tokushirou-san’ (篤四郎さん) as he used to do in the flashback.

Tsurumi than takes the pose of the ‘Pietà’ (“Piety”; 1498–1499), a work of Renaissance sculpture by Michelangelo Buonarroti, housed in St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City (which is beautiful but even more awesome up close, I can confirm as I went to see it and I recommend everyone to do the same), taking for himself the pose of the Virgin Mary while Usami is meant to be Jesus.

Please, let me shudder in horror at the idea… although Tsurumi likes to present himself as the Virgin which is highly ironic considering the whole discussion about immaculate conception taking place in the previous chapters. Is this Noda’s way to say that in a way it’s Tsurumi who gave birth to the Usami we know?

Does Tsurumi genuinely mourn Usami, whom he, after all, knew from when Usami was a child, in a time in which Tsurumi possibly was more emotionally stable?

In short, is Usami more than a cheap piece, as he longed for or Usami is feeding him another of his sweet lies because he has his men around and they’ve to think he cares about them?

Everything is possible as we should remember there’s another little finger Tsurumi took, and that one is the little finger of his wife. He apparently didn’t ate it but kept it with himself and she and little Olga are depicted as the reason why he became the way he is. So if he wanted to be one with someone I would expect him to wish to be one with them.

On another side, Japanese at the time differentiated the relationship they had with their wife with the relationship they could have with their male ‘friends’ so maybe Tsurumi might want to keep both.

I don’t know but I’m honestly skeptical about Tsurumi genuinely caring for Usami and it’s interesting how the last panel shows Tsurumi’s face completely in the dark as he moves close to Usami’s face, which is not smiling anymore. Is Usami dead already or he can still see? We’ll probably discover in the next chapter as Ueji interrupt the scene.

He managed to climb up a tall chimney and is calling everyone’s attention on himself… which would make this the perfect moment to shoot him. Ogata please, if you would? Vasily, you too, do something useful, please.

Anyway the chapter ends here.

Some last words of the pinky eating scene.

In Japanese the pinky is ‘koyubi’ (小指) the “little finger” and it’s a finger with interesting meanings.

The Japanese raises it to mean they’re talking about their girlfriend for example.

You’re probably also familiar with ‘Yubitsume’ (指詰め "finger shortening"), the Japanese ritual to atone for offenses to another, a way to be punished or to show sincere apology and remorse to another, by means of amputating portions of one's own little finger. That’s because the little finger was important in order to keep a good grip on the katana so losing it or part of it was a considerable weakness.

You might have heard also of ‘yubikiri’ (指切り, "finger cut-off"), the Japanese version of pinky swearing, often additionally confirmed with the vow ‘Yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari senbon nomasu’ (指切り拳万、嘘ついたら針千本呑ます “Finger cut-off, ten thousand fist-punchings, whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles.”).

There are also sources that suggest the term pinky swear traces its history back to the early 1600s to mid-1800s. During this time, prostitutes were rumored to cut off their pinkies to give to customers they like. This grand yet bloody gesture signifies that they have developed affections for the customer and are willing to take their lives for them… which would basically compare Usami to a prostitute.

But there’s also a more romantic meaning to the pinky and that’s that how the ‘unmei no akaī ito’ (運命の赤い糸 “red thread of fate”) which is supposed to be an invisible red cord tied around the finger of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation as they are “their true love” is meant to be tied to the pinky.

You’ve probably read the notes the scanlators put at the end of the chapter so you are aware already of what ‘Honekami’ (骨噛み “Chewing the bone”) is and how it was practiced in Niigata. Now you also know why Usami might have wanted to encourage Tsurumi to bite away that particular finger and it wasn’t just a coincidental choice... and why being friendzoned might not feel so bad to him.

Well, that’s all for the chapter.

In the next we will probably discover what Ueji has to say, if Ogata really shoot Usami through the window Sugimoto was near to and therefore got his full attention and maybe if Tsurumi really cared for Usami and if Usami managed to deliver Kadokura’s secret… or if Ogata will discover it.

We’ll see.

Anyway with this chapter Usami leaves the cast.

He’s the third relevant character to leave the cast, after Kiroranke and Ienaga.

While he didn’t grow up to be a good person, but he actually went uninged as Ostrog, in a way I’m still sad for the little kid with light in his eyes that didn’t get to grow up as a normal person but got so wrapped up in his crush for Tsurumi he ended up murdering his best friend in jealous rage and then never managed to recover his mental sanity. Usami never managed to let go of his obsession, he only became worse.

It’s sad exactly because it could happen and it ruins a life forever.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

I love Fairy Tale AUs! And your sleeping beauty one was soo great! Could I request a Snow White AU with yandere EvilQueen!Diavolo x snow white reader x yandere prince!Bruno? Unless that’s too weird, thanks anyway!

Aww thanks

I'm going to upload this in two parts, as well as a few other requests I got but here you go

Fairest of them all pt1

(yandere Diavolo and Bruno X Female Reader)

Warning: mindbreak

"oh my dear... To soon marry the fairest in the land is nothing short of a dream come true" your captor chuckled as he pulled you closer by your leash. You simply let out a groan in pain.

"Yes my king... I've dreamt of marrying you for my whole life" you croaked to the the man with many title's The evil king, The crimson king, emperor crimson but he preferred that you called him by his real name, Diavolo.

You were convinced that you were made for him, you never knew why you ever testified against it to begin with. It was a sick form of Stockholm syndrome that you had developed after weeks of starvation in a cold cell but you now believed that you were the one at fault and not your captor.

"My love..." He cooed before grabbing out a knife, causing you to cower back.

"Don't be afraid, this is just to ensure that we'll be together forever" he explained to make you comply

"Now just lay down" he said and like an obedient dog you laid down on your back as the male began to strip you down.

He wanted to make sure that the fairest in the land was his and his alone, and what better then to litter you with scars... He intended to make sure that he'd be the only one in the world to see you as beautiful.

Slowly the pink haired male graze the blade against your body.

"Where oh where should I mark you first?" he chirped however you didn't respond, you were there with him but also far away in your own delusions. You loved Diavolo but you didn't want this.

"Maybe I'll carve my name into your stomach, that will let any man who tries to have their way with you know who you belong to" he said as he pressed the blade against your stomach, blood soon appeared like little red pearls as it pierced your skin. Tears formed in your eyes as you felt the harsh sting but you refused to let him hear your screams in pain, you were his compliant little doll after all.

He soon began to carve each little letter in his name nearly into your skin. You hicuped lightly as you tried to deny the pain until he finished but it almost felt like a burn as you continued to deny until you could hold it no longer. You screamed and cried but you did not dare to thrash in his grasp.

"My dear... You have taken it so well, just a little longer and it will be over" he cooed before kissing your forehead and carving the last letter.

He looked down at his name carved into your skin like it was a fine work of art.

"My beautiful girl, how you make me so happy" he cooed.

🍎🍎🍎

Bruno hated king Diavolo like many others in the his kingdom but as a prince he was obligated to attend  the soirèe that King Diavolo had organised. As he arrived he was given a mask from one of the servants. Inside he saw all of the luxuries that the king claimed for himself over the well being of his citizens.

Every masked attendee was of a higher status, generals, aristocrats, political figures or royalty. Many chatted away with drinks in hand or stood to admire all the works of art displayed around the palace but amongst all the crowd of masked stranger one stood out to the ravenette prince. A young (H/C) female who wore a black dress with red lace and a red mask with a white diamond pattern and black feathers.

The male approached her and became entranced by her beauty but soon it turned into disgust as the realised the golden bangles on her wrists were actually a pair of handcuffs, the golden chain draped along the ground and her elegant choker did not have ivory or jewels but another chain link which made it look more like a dog leash then a piece of jewelry.

Without a doubt the lady was a unwilling wife, not even a cocubine, just a slave. Yet the male still dared to speak to the young lady who's (E/C) eyes were hazy and lifeless.

"It's a wonderful night is it not?" Bruno asked in an attempt to start a conversation with you.

"Yes" you replied in a hushed tone.

"My name is Bruno Bucciallati and I am the prince of Bergian" he introduced himself with bow, you looked around before you spoke but we're quickly silenced by the rattle of your chains.

"Oh Prince Bucciallati it seems like years since I last saw you" a man in a similar mask to yours spoke to him in a voice of mocking delight.

"...and I see you have met my fianceé (Y/n)" he smiled as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Diavolo" you almost sung in delight, the life seemed to return to your eyes as you looked at him.

"You see Bruno my beautiful girl was considered as a treasure to here kingdom... They called her Snow White because she was the only child to ever be born alive on the first day of snow... They saw her as a blessing" Diavolo explained.

"they also saw great beauty in her... She was adopted into the royal bloodline and many saw her as a muse, many wrote songs and poems, many created paintings and sculptures to immortalize her beauty... Many all over the world claimed that she was the fairest of them all" he continued to brag, he had no shame in telling other of you like you were another trophy in his collection... You were simply another prize he had claimed from another conquered kingdom.

Bruno felt his blood boil, he knew what he thought of you all to well but he could only bite his tongue. You were a poor innocent girl that had been brainwashed into loving such a evil and cruel man. On the other had Diavolo knew that Bruno was already falling in love with you. He knew that you had a way of making people fall in love with you, even if it wasn't intentional.

A servant quickly broke the conversation between the King and Prince.

"Your majesty, the Huntsman of the east has arrived and is ready to speak with you" he whispered in Diavolo's ear, just loud enough for only him to hear.

"Take him to the drawing room on the west wing, I will meet him there" he ordered and the servant replied before leaving.

"I'm sorry Bruno but our reunion must come to an end, I have a few personal matters to attend to but I'm sure my dear (Y/n) is willing to keep you entertained until I return" Diavolo spoke as he handed Bruno the end of your chain before swiftly disappearing into the crowd as an orchestra hummed to life.

"Would you care to dance?" Bruno asked and you nodded in response as he took your gloved hand. As he lead you to the to the dance floor. He held you by the waist with his left arm while holding your hand with his right  as he gently took the lead of the waltz.

You tried your hardest to look away from the male, even if Diavolo had given you the permission to be with this stranger it still felt just as scandalous as if he hadn't.

"Have you ever done the waltz before?" Bruno asked.

"Yes... With my adoptive brother, but those times are long gone" you told him like your brother had died years ago but in reality it had only been a few weeks since he held you in his dying arm as you cried in fear and uncertainty.

And while you danced the night away Diavolo made his way to the drawing room. He open the door to see a masked man who's hair was as white as snow and pupils as red as blood amongst the deep black of his scelra.

"You requested my services your majesty?" He asked.

"Yes I did Risotto Nero, I have heard so much about you... I've been told that you are the best Huntsman in the land" he explained before sitting down, Risotto stood silently as he watched the king.

"I've heard you killed thousands... Men, women and monsters of many kinds, some tell me you have even slain a dragon" the king continued.

"However the job in which I'm tasking you with probably the easiest you've ever received"

"And that is?" Risotto asked.

"You see... I am to marry in a few weeks time however my future wife was a very persistent woman at first, she use to try to escape me... Luckily that has come to an end" he explained.

"I will have my guards take her to the forest tomorrow, they will then leave her there alone and that is where you come in. I want you to scare her, cut her up a little bit if you so desire. I want you to scare her to the point where she'll never leave my side" Diavolo concluded.

"And how much will you pay me?" The tall man asked.

"Oh so demanding... Well my offer is three bags of silver-"

"You expect me to do your dirty work for three bags of silver, it's an insult!" Risotto cut the king off with a scowl.

"A bargainer... Well maybe I could up it to five" Diavolo said but the male simply turn his back and headed towards the door.

"And a bag of precious jewels..." Diavolo added and Risotto turned back towards him.

"Will you take my offer now?" Diavolo asked and Risotto nodded in approval.

"Alright the it's set, I will have my servants show you to a room to stay in until the time comes.

🍎🍎🍎

"Where are you taking me?" You asked the guards.

"The king has ordered us to take you to the forest, he has a surprise waiting for you" one of the guards replied. Your conversation attracted the attention of Prince Bruno however soon his attention had shifted to the other hall in which was odd, surely the king would accompany his fianceé for such a thing.

Bruno silently stalked Diavolo around the castle until he saw him go through a secret passage. Bruno carefully followed, hiding behind any corner until Diavolo entered a small room with only a mirror inside, however the mirror did not reflect Diavolo but instead a man with long brown hair and deep red eyes. Bruno peered from behind the corner and watched.

"Hmm it seems you've let your little dove go, the question now is will she return?" The man in the mirror asked.

"I'm certain she will Illusio" Diavolo replied.

"You must be careful thou, if you seek to break the girl further she may just shatter like China... After all you can only break something so many times before it can no longer be fixed" the male chuckled.

"I'll have no need to break her again after this... Once the Huntsman of the east has done his job, I will no longer have to worry about such" Diavolo stated in a cold tone which shocked Bruno, may the king have possibly lost interest in the young lady and wanted to kill her off.

Bruno quickly ran away in search of you, hoping to catch you in time before the huntsman did. He ran though the castle and took one of the swords on display as he exited.

🍎🍎🍎

"Hello? Where did everyone go?" You called out as you realised that the guards had disappeared.

"Is anyone here" you called out again as anxiety built inside of you, had Diavolo found you no long of interest? Had he sent you to be eaten by wolves?

No it couldn't possibly be, Diavolo would come. You just had to wait and so you did. You waited with not a single word until you heard footsteps slowly approach.

"Diavo-" you called out as you turned your head only to see someone else.

[clownwritesfanfic]

Look it’s my first original post wow. This was a topic discussed in a Discord server I’m in, Hello there if you are from that server. Also thanks if you helped when i got stuck. I decided to share it here because I had a bit of fun with it.

Slashers/Horror Characters and their hobbies (when they’re not on a killing spree)

Michael (1978) would probably read. I like to think they would at least give him some books to read in the asylum. If his victim has a collection of books and he’s got time he’ll browse through the selections and take some that intrigue him. His favourite genre would probably be mystery or psychological horror. Think SAW if it was a book. 2007 remake Michael, as we already know likes to make masks. I don’t really think that would stop after escaping.

Bubba would enjoy cooking and baking I think. He’d get all prettied up in his pretty woman mask and a nice non-bloodied apron and get to work. He doesn’t get to cook that often because Drayton thinks he’ll burn the house down because of one (1) incident where Bubba accidentally started an oil fire and in a panic threw water on it. (Do not do that btw it makes the fire so much worse) But when he does cook or bake it is delicious. He enjoys trying and making new recipes too.

Nubbins does taxidermy. But he makes really weird scenes with the dead animals. He once took the ballerina off an old wind up music box he found and placed a rat in a tutu doing a pirouette on it instead and gave it to Bubba. (Bubba adores that thing and it helps him sleep at night).He likes to take random parts from animals and make his own new creatures and try to convince Bubba they’re real. (Poor guy actually fell for one once and was scared of “flying rabid raccoons” for almost a whole month) He’s also partial to photography. Although he doesn’t have much of a muse and some of the pictures are blurry.

Chop Top likes to listen to music and has tried his hand at making it (much to Drayton’s dismay but he doesn’t have any rights so that doesn’t matter). He likes Rock music but his guilty pleasure would be smooth jazz.

Thomas would enjoy sewing. He once tried making a dress for Luda Mae but it wasn’t sized properly. The sleeves were much too small and the dress itself was too big it would be a hassle to do any house work in it. Luda Mae still praised Thomas for it and she still has it even if she can’t wear it and shes very proud of him for it.

Billy Loomis just watches different movies and makes up theories around them and likes to discuss plot holes. He’s like one of those Disney fans that makes up long and elaborate theories. (no disrespect to those people i actually enjoy them) Except it’s mostly on horror or thriller movies instead.

Stu has a little artistic side in him. He can’t do photo realistic drawings but he doodles quick little things of people, objects, animals, etc. When he;s bored in class he’ll look around and doodle his classmates on his notes. Some of his teachers have had to tell him to stop drawing on assignments and tests while others look forward to seeing his little doodles. He’s dabbled in sculpture quite a bit too. He’s not the best but he likes doing it. He once made Billy a little cup that Billy still has in his room holding some pencils and pens. He prefers drawing over painting and he’s got his own unique style.

Brahms will sit and play with his toys or colour in a colouring book. He actually prefers colouring over playing with toys. It’s a quick way to get him to calm down by having him sit at the dinner table and colour in a page with crayons (he’s not allowed pencil crayons, for obvious reasons) and a cup of tea. He also likes putting things back together (which might be the reason why he breaks his toys so often). He’s good at figuring out which piece fits with another much like a puzzle (however he doesn’t like real puzzles much). That’s why he was able to put his doll back together.

Jason also likes to read. Before he drowned he was at a higher reading level than the other kids. His mom made sure to teach him from an early age. She wanted a bright and respectable son. Sometimes he’ll go raid the cabins after slaughtering all the new campers to see if any have brought books. He enjoys poems and a bit of romance. If it has a scene his mother would frown upon her boy reading, he’ll skip it. He would also enjoy bird watching and observing all the other animals that roam the area.

Freddy...to be quite honest I have no idea what Freddy would do other than enter peoples dreams. He might like metalwork considering he made that little glove of his. If he’s not murdering people he’s probably just fucking with their dreams to entertain himself.

Chucky i’m also not sure of. I would like to say he’d play videos games but at the same time it doesn’t seem very fitting. (I’ve never watched a Chucky movie so I don’t really know his personality well enough)

Tiffany however would enjoy cooking and baking, like Bubba. I think she would prefer baking a little bit more than cooking.

Other than disturbing the sorority with his calls and *ahem* doing what he does best, Billy Lenz likes making collages. Either using material from old magazines or pictures of the girls. He likes getting a little surreal and cryptic with them. He likes putting animal heads on people. If you were to look at some of them you would have no clue as to what is happening or what it means. Billy knows. But he won’t tell you.

Cujo (as one of my fellow server mates said since i’ve never seen Cujo) likes to play fetch. What dog doesn’t? He’s also very partial to tug of war too. But don’t think you’ll win. That dog can dent a car door with his head.

1990 Pennywise would sit on his ass and read the newspaper or watch a shitty little broken TV on his shitty, dirty, springs-showing, torn up, recliner and smoke. He mostly smokes cigarettes but he doesn’t mind a good cigar if he can get his hands on one. Even though he sleeps for 27 years, he’ll still take naps on said recliner. Changing his form and chasing kids is hard work for an old being like him.

2017 Pennywise however is younger than 1990 Penny and so he has more energy. Pennywise genuinely likes clowns and what they do, that’s why the clown form is his favourite. (1990 Pennywise finds it easier to attract kids and make them feel safe if he looks like a clown). So he tries to make balloon animals. He’s not very good at it and they keep popping but he’s trying his best. And yes, he does get pretty angry if he keeps messing up.

Vincent as we already know, likes to make wax sculptures. He’s tried clay before but he doesn’t like how it feels dried on his hands. He’s much more comfortable with wax. Plus, if he ever runs out of wax he can re-melt a sculpture that is old or isn’t his favourite and start anew. Once clay dries it can’t go back to clay.

Bo likes to work on cars. The older the better. He prefers trucks but cars are just as good. He can tell whats wrong with it just by turning the engine on. He’s one of the best (and only) mechanics in town.

Lester likes to collect bones, mostly skulls, from roadkill he’s found. He waits for his little pile to rot then he’ll go in looking for skulls and bones.He’s got a whole wall of shelves filled with different animal skulls and skeletons. He also tried taxidermy once. Emphasis on tried. They came out looking terrible and messed up. He still likes doing it from time to time though.

Sweeney Todd actually enjoys being a barber. He finds it relaxing cutting peoples hair and making people look and feel good. He finds shaving men’s faces really satisfying and finds it quite humorous to see a gentleman with a beard come in and leave with a smooth baby face. They tend not to look so intimidating anymore.

[hearthhhh]

Could I get a matchup? I'm older than your usual audience at 33 lol. Non-binary pansexual. I love Mystic Messenger, BNHA, and Seven Deadly Sins. I'm told I'm very sweet and understanding, but I can go full protect mode when needed. I like BJDs, sculpting, reading and video games. I'm a major goth babe even if I'm fluffy. I have green curly hair and green ish grey eyes. I've been through literal hell but keep smiling for my friends because they need me to be their light.

Okay ball jointed dolls look hella cool and I never really knew they existed until this ask. Also I originally paired you with Jirou, but I think you wanted a matchup more your age so I took that into consideration!  

I pair you with…

🥢 This took me a bit... I looked through heroes and couldn’t find anyone, and the second I started considering villains, I thought Shigaraki was perfect.

🥢 I feel like Shigaraki wouldn’t pay attention to anyone that isn’t a villain. Heroes to him are scum, and he has no problem murdering the innocent. So you’d have to be a villain, and eventually would join the league.

🥢 I think you being apart of the Liberation would make this a whole lot more interesting, but I don’t want to risk spoiling anything for you. So I’ll stick with plain and simple, you’re apart of the League of Villains.

🥢 I can imagine your aesthetic mending really well with the League. They mostly dress in cold dark colours, and I feel like your goth babe vibes would fit nicely.

🥢 You’re so sweet I cant imagine you being a villain without a huge reason. You’re doing this to protect someone, maybe a best friend. The League is eventually made aware of this. Dabi’s the one to reveal it, moodily and a bit rudely.

🥢 You’re such a mom to the League. You dress their wounds, try and keep their sleeping schedules in check. I’d imagine you fawning the most over Toga and Twice. You’d try with Dabi, he’s a hot mess, but he pushes you away.

🥢 What’s really important to Shigaraki is loyalty. You create strong platonic bonds and protect your friends really well, so I feel like that’s why Shigaraki noticed first about you.

🥢 Shigaraki would begin to warm up to you after a fight. He sees you mercilessly defending a wounded league member, and Shigaraki’s able to properly see how seriously you take this whole villain thing.

🥢 After this, Shigaraki reluctantly lets you sore on him. He’ll glare, scoff, and sigh in irritation, but sometimes he’ll lean into your touch. Shigaraki would never voice it, but he loves getting his wounds treated by you. He also likes the caring attention you give him, especially due to the significant lack of attention he gets on a daily basis. Shigaraki’s so touch starved.

🥢 So you guys get closer that way, with your protectiveness looming over the league like a protective cloak. You love them and they look up to you. Shigaraki’s admiration for you grows steadily.

🥢 You two play lots of video games together! He hates losing and gets pretty sucky about it, so sometimes you’ll let him win. But you both have fun and exchange playful banter!

🥢 Considering your parental nature , I feel like Shigaraki’s sense of humor would bring you just a bit of concern, but be an entertaining dynamic. He has a dark and offesnive sense of humour, and I feel like you’re softer and a bit fluffy.

🥢 You know that one meme where person a says “someone will die” and person b happily adds on “from fun!”? Yeah that’d definitely be you two, to an extent. While you definitely fight when it comes down to it, especially in self defense, you’re softer in comparison to Shigaraki.

🥢 Getting into a relationship with Shigaraki would be a little difficult. You’d have to know him well to understand exactly what he’s getting at. But then again, also knowing Shigaraki, he’d have to have known you for a long time and understand you like the back of his hand (unintentional pun oop).

🥢 You two don’t ever really confirm your relationship at first. Shigaraki would ask you casually and kinda gruffly to go out, maybe to eat, and that’s all the confirmation you need that this is a bit more than platonic. He’s acting reserved and you can tell the question brought him significant embarassment. Shigaraki even asked you out in front of the rest of the League, who are watching through warry eyes because why the fuck is he acting so wierd? But you get the underlying message, somehow.

🥢 After you two start going out there isn’t really a change in your relationship. Shigaraki looks after you with concern and tries his best to match the parental concern you emit like second nature. He admires that aspect of you and tries to show his appreciation by doting over you to the best of his ability. Others say it comes off as nosey and a bit heavy, but the poor boy tries his best.

🥢 He’s really protective of you. Shigaraki wouldn’t so much as let people look at you too threateningly, let alone raise their voice, and stays glued to your side during missions.

🥢 Shigaraki likes chilling in your room. He’s afraid to touch any of your BJDs or sculptures in case he accidentally turns them to dust, but he likes admiring them from afar. It gives your room a cool vibe and he likes being in there, sometimes wordlessly walking in and finding a place to sit randomly.

I pair you with…

🥢 I’d imagine you catch Merlin’s attention. You’re pretty well known in your village for your sculptures, and she catches wind of your talent. She comes asking for a sculpture for a spell.

🥢 You two get along pretty well. You’re really open with what you do, and Merlin admires your sculptures and praises you. I think she’s also have an interest in BJDs, maybe even have a small collection herself.

🥢 Merlin grows intrigued with you from your first meeting and visits you several times afterwards.

🥢 I feel like Merlin is the type to have a ton of contacts, so she keeps in touch originally just to have you as an acquaintance she can go to for favours. She’s alright with popping by a couple times to help you out with some stuff, and you’d have a magic tool that you use to keep in touch with her.

🥢 It takes a while for Merlin to start to get to know you well. During some of her random visits to your village, she catches you with your friends a couple times. Imagine her literally just appearing behind you, calling out from the weirdest places. Peeking out from a rooftop, sitting at a table that you could’ve sworn was empty when you looked at it a second ago, walking out of a dead end alley. Merlin’s full of surprises.

🥢 But on that note, Merlin likes seeing you with your friends! She thinks you look full of life, and you’re always smiling and just overall so giddy. She admires you from afar from a lot, or pops in and joins you all because she likes seeing you that happy and carefree.

🥢 Eventually you ought to notice Merlin’s interests. So you invite her over for tea, hot chocolate, coffee, whatever you prefer. Merlin isn’t picky I see her liking just about everything.

🥢 But you guys chill pretty regularly after you reach out to her. You’ve opened the door to friendship rather than acquaintanceship. Merlin usually shows up unannounced, but at least comes at reasonable hours, like in the afternoon.

🥢 I bet Merlin would bring small nicknacks from her adventures, and learns after bringing a book that you like reading! She takes that into an account, and now whenever she visits brings one book from whereever she traveled. Invest in bookshelves, buddy, cause Merlin’s going all out!

🥢 Merlin’s definitely a big reader too. I can totally imagine you two choosing one book from the collection Merlin steadily brings you, you two get together to talk about one book you’ve read after the month is over. It’s really cute and casual and overall great bonding time.

🥢 Merlin is definitely the type to sit down and talk thuroughly about a relationship. I’d imagine she literally sets a date for when she’d like to talk, even calling you before hand.

🥢 Merlin tries to be as friendly as possible, and the conversation isn’t as intimidating as you’d think! You two sit down and talk maturely about what you’d want in a relationship, what your boundaries would be, and what pace you’d like the relationship to go at.

🥢 Afterwards there is a noteiceable change in how you and Merlin act. She’s much more romantic and definitely surprises you with flowers a lot. She doesn’t leave a note with them or anything, she’d love leaving them in random parts of your home for you two find.

🥢 Merlin would totally be the Queen of romance. Dates with her are the absolute best and so romantic. She likes taking you to faraway places and spoiling you rotten.

🥢 Merlin loves that parental side of you, and as much as Merlin tries to spoil you, you ultimately win her over a lot.

🥢 Merlin loves when you make her hot drinks and force her to rest and eat. She’s the type to overwork herself to the point of fainting, although she rarely shows anyone. But you can see how tired she is, and how she stubbornly pushes through it.

🥢 Merlin is a sucker for cuddling! It gets her to stay still and rest, too. So really it’s a win win; Merlin’s able to settle down, and you two get to be mushy and romantic.

🥢 You guys aren’t the most mundane, but you guys are spontaneous! There’s always a surprise around the corner when you’re with Merlin! She’s a really exciting and romantic partner.

I pair you with…

🥢 I bet you and Yoosung would get along almost immediately!

🥢 You two would obviously bond over video games at first. Yoosung’s very vocal about the interests you two share and is excited that you click so well! You guys would end up totally flooding the messenger, and the rest of RFA would have to usher you two into private text messages.

🥢 If you’ll let him, Yoosung can talk to you for hours. He likes people who are nice and just overall loves your vibe.

🥢 While Yoosung tries to brush of your parently doting, he sorta needs someone to remind him to eat and sleep and basically take care of himself. Yoosung would show his appreciation later, telling you how great he feels and thanking you immensely.

🥢 You guys start to build this really cute friendship. You two bond over the smallest things, and make up the RFA’s cheerleading duo. You guys are both so supportive of everyone else and everyone looks forwards to your commentary whenever they share anything with the group chat. Even if the comments are late, you and Yoosung never fail to share your words.

🥢 No one’s really surprised when you two start hanging out regularly. You guys just get along so well you basically drift to each other’s sides.

🥢 You two become a powerduo that everyone sort of loops in together. Your names are usually in the same sentence. You’re basically the same person.

🥢 Yoosung frequently talks about his lack of success in his love life throughout your friendship. Gradually, you begin to think of him in a different light, and I’d imagine you gain a crush on him slowly. Yoosung on the other hand falls for you hard, near the beginning of your friendship. Except he doesn’t voice anything because he likes being around you so much, he’s afraid to jeapordise your friendship.

🥢 You guys spend a lot of time being friends, and the rest of the RFA tease you two occassionally. To them, it’s pretty obvious you both caught feelings. Jumin even makes it a point to state how pointless he thinks the secrecy is. Why not just confess?

🥢 Yoosung eventually bites the bullet and tries to mention it as casually as he can. But knowing him, this comes out the opposite. He’s pretty awkward about it and stuttering over the phone. Yoosung basically confesses that he has feelings for you, but respects how you feel. He practically prepares for a rejection, he sounds so sad.

🥢 When you tell him you feel the same he’s ecstatic!

🥢 Prepare for daily rants on the groupchats from Yoosung about how much he likes you. Everyone’s relieved you two finally got together, and they praise the both of you.

🥢 Being in a relationship with Yoosung is the absolute sweetest. He’s so supportive of you and whatever you do, and he’s forever showering you with praise. He’s awestruck at the simplest things and loves you so much.

🥢 You’d definitely have to be aware of how he’s handling himself. While Yoosung is pretty vocal about how he’s feeling, that makes taking care of him easier.

🥢 Yoosung is really vocal about just about everything. This really builds the foundation for trust, and you guys don’t really have any barriers when it comes to sharing things. Overall, you guys have a really healthy relationship and you’re just two really sweet babes.

[blazogirlsoneshots]

The Circus (circus!AU) (Peter Parker x Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers! 

There was something about the circus that always made you feel like a little kid again. Once the aroma from the popcorn and cotton candy washed over you, the inner seven-year-old would wake up and go absolutely crazy. It could be the magic of nostalgia or the circus was just truly magical; why else would you be blowing off a trip to the library? It’s not like you had a paper due in a week, right?

You were just merely passing by the Magnificent Marvel Circus when you were swept up in a large crowd with nothing but awe and wonder spelled across their faces. Exclamations of joy could be heard around you as you drew nearer and nearer the red and white tent. Posters were hung up on posts near the entrance of the tent with pictures of the Black Widow, a contortionist;  the escapist, Iron Man; and the strong man, Captain America. 

After forking up money to the man at the front of the tent, you found yourself in the stands. The inside was hot and the air was full of kicked dust, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was the most home-like place that wasn’t home you had ever been to. Any worries you had about your upcoming paper had vanished in an instant. The energy in this place alone was enough to cause the most orderly person to forget about real-world problems. 

Finally, the last audience member found their seat and lights finally dimmed. The audience drew a collective breath as the ringmaster, Mister Fury, himself stepped into the center of the ring. He tipped his hat and gave the audience a long stare shrouded in a hundred secrets. 

“Welcome. Welcome to the world that can only be found in the limo state between dreams and waking. Welcome to the place where a simple piece of metal can be one man’s ticket out of any dangerous situation. Welcome to where a sickly little boy from Brooklyn can become the strongest man in the world! This is the place where what makes you weak and broken in the eyes of man is your own superpower! This is the Magnificent Marvel Circus!” Fury’s words were quickly met with a roar of approval. The applause would’ve gone on for hours if it wasn’t for Fury yelling, “Alright! Now, we can stand here and let you all lose your voices, or we can get this show on the road!”

The bright light in another ring caused everyone’s attention to be drawn away from Fury as the elegant Natasha Romanoff took a stand in her ring. She wore a simple blank leotard with a half skirt the color of blood. The haunting notes began to fill the air as the Black Widow began to spin. It was like watching the little dolls in music boxes. With every turn, the music grew faster and faster as the feeling of horror grew stronger. Suddenly, the music stopped and the Black Widow collapsed in a heap. A single woman in the audience let out a scream as everyone’s mind raced to the worst possibility. Then, almost like a whisper, a violin began playing as the Black Widow went from almost broken looking, to bending into many positions that didn’t seem humanly possible. Everyone watched in awe as the act finally ended Natasha shooting an arrow using only her feet. As the arrow hit the target, another spotlight went up on the ring, drawing your attention to the Hawkeye. With a single breath, the entire audience drew themselves to the edge of their seats as they prepared themselves to go through the same process all over again.

God, you loved the circus. 

~

“We are now drawing to the final act,” Fury’s voice broke through the astonished haze you had fallen into. It was like he was trying to remind the audience that they did have to return to the real world. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t love it entire. “Members of the real world, I give you the amazing Spider-Man!” 

A spotlight moved to shine on a man standing atop a high pole. With the turning of the light, you found your heart began to beat ten times faster. He wore loose blue pants and a red tank top with a black spider on it. His hair had a wind-tossed look and you could swear that he was looking at you. 

Before you could spend too long debating whether or not you were completely losing your mind, the man leaped off the platform. You found yourself letting out a small scream before you realized that this man was a trapeze artist. He effortlessly caught a wooden bar and swung upwards, towards the stars. You could’ve watched this man for hours, the way he seemed to levitate and the joy that was the only thing could be found on his face. 

You never wanted it to end, but when did your wishes ever come true? The Spider-Man slowly returned to the ground as the lights began to dim. Slowly, the people around you began to wake up. The crowd made their way to the exits, gabbing about the show and remembering all the real-world responsibilities that they still had to attend to. You started to follow them but something stopped you.

You found yourself stopping at the entrance of the tent. After everyone had cleared out the lights came back on and the Spider-Boy was back in the center of the ring. You slipped back into the tent. There was something about this place and this boy that just felt like where you were supposed to be. You silently slide into one of the front benches as Spider-Man began climbing back up the pole. You watched in silence as he went over his routine with even more joy. 

Everything was going perfectly. Then he saw you.

The shock of realizing that he wasn’t the only human being in the tent caused the spider to miss his jump to the next bar. You watched in horror as he fell and you were helpless to do anything. With a thud, he landed on the dirt ground and began groaning in pain. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” You raced to his side. You gently flipped him over and felt like you had fallen from that height. He had soft brown eyes that, yes, where currently filled pain, but still gorgeous. You quickly shook yourself out of your daze and began frantically searching for any injuries. “I’m super sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you. It was just, well, I haven’t been to the circus in ages and you looked so happy-are you okay?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’ve fallen a million times before and I just seem to heal really quickly. So, I’m fine and you’re fine. Everyone’s fine,” He slowly sat up and gave you an awkward smile. “I’m Peter Parker, by the way.” 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You both got up from the floor and bashfully smiled at each other.

“So, you liked the show?”

“I loved it. Every part of it was like going into a completely different world with its own story. I definitely enjoyed your act the most,” You finished, blushing and finding a very interesting speck of dirt to stare at. “I mean, what even lead up to that decision? Did you just wake up one day and decide to run away with the circus?”

“That is a good question and a good question should be answered over some food. Do you want to go get some coffee or something, or would that be weird?” 

“No, actually, that would be perfect.” 

~

One cup of coffee turned somehow turned in making plans to meet the next morning and then seeing each other after every show that week. You had somehow formed a beautiful relationship with Peter Parker out of a trip to blow off having to do school work. By the end of the week, you found yourself telling Peter deep secrets and insecurities that had never seen the light of day while he shared of his loneliness. Your friendship was a beautiful sculpture made of wonder and comfort, but you both knew that it would have to short. 

One of the things that added to the wonder of the circus was how rare it was. Everyone knows that the show is only here for a week and then it blows away with the wind. At least, that was the reasoning behind Peter’s decision to try drag you up onto the trapeze. 

It was the morning of the last show and the ring was empty. Everyone was busy resting up for the final performance which was perfect for you. At least if you make a complete fool of yourself no one will be there to see. A net had been strung up for safety and you were now on top of the pole, definitely not ready to jump off yet.  

“This is a horrible idea,” You murmured. 

“Nonsense, you’ll do great. All you have to do is just grab to bar and swing off of the pole and back, okay?”

“How about we go back to the ground and I just watch you?”

“Do you want to go back to the ground?” Peter looked at you gently. You had wrapped yourself around him like some human/koala thing and had no intention of letting go. More than anything, you wanted to go back down, but when would you ever get this opportunity again?

“No. I want to at least try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Peter beamed and grabbed the bar. “Just hold it in your hands, get a feel for it.” 

The bar was smooth and coated in layers of chalk and you could definitely feel it slipping out of your hands. 

“I’ve changed my mind! I want to go back down,” You squeaked. 

“Hey, it’s fine. If it would make you feel better, we could do it together?”

“How would we do that?” 

“You just hold on to me and I’ll do the swinging,” You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow to the suggestion. 

“You’re strong enough?”

“Ouch,” Peter clutched his chest in mock pain. “You had wounded my fragile masculinity. Whatever will I do?” 

“I’m being serious. I don’t want you to drop me,” Peter casually brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I won’t. I promise,” You found yourself nodding and clinging to Peter tighter. You screwed your eyes shut and then…

You were flying.

It was the perfect combination of freedom and terror. The wind was whistling in your ears while your nose was filled with the comforting smell of Peter’s shirt. As you reached the highest point of the swing, a feeling of weightlessness came over you. You sneaked a peek at Peter’s face and you couldn’t help but smile. He had this total look of calm that seemed to seep into your bones. This was perfect in the scariest way possible. You loved it. 

“So, what do you think?” Peter asked as you reached the ground. 

“I loved it!” A relieved look melted over Peter’s face. He had just shared one of the intimate parts of himself and you had accepted it with open arms. 

You quickly checked your watch as the shock of the time caught up to you. “I have to go, I’m going to be late for my next class,” You gave Peter a hug, knowing full well that this would be your last. You couldn’t bring yourself to do a long-drawn-out goodbye. A see-you-latter was much better for this situation. 

“What if you stayed?” Peter murmured into your hair. 

“Peter Parker, are you trying to convince me to run away with the circus?”

“Maybe,” You pulled away with your hand still in his. 

“I’m sorry, but I’ll see you later. I promise,” Your hands separated and you started walking back towards the exit of the tent. 

“See you later,” Peter whispered. And then, you were gone.

masterlist

[afterpinkdiamond]

Onion Friend S2E13

I never know how to feel about Onion. He’s very different from “the norm” and I’ve seen headcanons about Onion being autistic or some other type of neurodivergent but I just don’t know what to think. This episode really serves to show how Steven makes decisions based on putting others first and how much Amethyst can’t handle Pearl and Garnet fighting. 

Steven is making himself lunch and has the process timed perfectly so that every piece of his bagel sandwich is ready at the same time. As he’s about to take a bite, Amethyst comes out of the temple, moping and curling up on the couch, barely responding to Steven’s invitation to join him for lunch. Steven decides he needs a side dish and when he goes to grab some Chaaps, finds Onion hiding in the cabinet. Steven gives chase as Onion head dives out the window screen with the bag of chips and they end up running to a house in town. Steven follows Onion inside and is weirded out seeing dozens of paintings of Amethyst. He brings her back, claiming Onion might be obsessed with her when Vidalia appears, threatening the intruders with a shotgun, only to be elated to see Amethyst. 

We first saw Vidalia as a young dumb adult in Greg’s “Story for Steven” as the girl Marty was messing around with during Greg’s concert. She and Greg are some of the best parents in the series, supportive of their kids and not overbearing.  Amethyst and Vidalia start catching up like old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. Onion comes out of the house and Steven is shocked to connect the dots that Vidalia is Onion’s mom. Vidalia says that Onion talks about Steven all the time, which weirds Steven out since he almost never hears Onion speak. Onion then suggests through Vidalia that Amethyst and Steven stay for dinner, which Amethyst gladly accepts.  At dinner, Amethyst and Vidalia continue to talk about the crazy things Vidalia has been up to since they last saw each other. Onion is just playing with his food and Sour Cream is having a private rave at the dinner table, and yet he still notices when Steven says hi. It’s a cute moment and Amethyst remembers when she was bigger than Sour Cream, who would have been born shortly after Greg arrived. Amethyst asks about Marty and Vidalia reveals that she’s married to Yellowtail, the fisherman. 

Onion shows Steven his noodle sculpture of Steven’s head before licking it and spitting out the food in his mouth. Steven to his credit doesn’t take it as a direct threat but instead just wonders why Onion hates food. Sour Cream leaves to practice DJing in his room while Onion suggests he show Steven around. Steven is perturbed but agrees anyway at Amethyst’s insistence. 

Onion leads Steven up to his room. Steven becomes uncomfortable quickly as he assumes Onion is asking him to feed a pet snake and watches a video of Vidalia giving birth to Onion. Steven decides he’s had enough when Onion reveals an open ventilation duct and moves to climb inside. Steven goes downstairs planning to tell Amethyst that it’s time to go when he overhears her opening up to Vidalia about how awful everything has been with the fighting between Pearl and Garnet. Vidalia reassures her that she’s always looked up to how Amethyst was able to roll with the punches, staying strong despite her circumstances. It’s clear Amethyst feels better since she readily accepts Vidalia’s used tea bag where she wouldn’t take Steven’s empty cream cheese container earlier. Steven decides that his uneasiness with Onion’s behavior is less important than Amethyst getting a chance to confide in someone and turns around to go play with Onion some more. Back in the room, Onion leads Steven into the duct, crawling just a little too fast into the darkness until they reach a secret room. Inside is a painting of Onion and a treasure chest full of G.U.Y.S. and G.A.L.S. dolls. Steven is incredibly excited to see the collection, naming off the GALS dolls, including the elusive Explorer Gal. Onion insists on giving Steven Explorer Gal since Steven gave him the rare Ranger Guy before.  As Amethyst and Steven prepare to leave, Vidalia reminds them to not be strangers and Amethyst offers that they could hang out at the temple as well so Steven and Onion can play. Steven is okay with the idea until Onion opens his mouth and reveals the mouse that Steven thought had been fed to the pet snake. Steven nopes out of there as the episode ends. 

Initially, this episode seems meant to convey how weird Onion can be in the context of his family. Really it shows how level headed and supportive Vidalia has become in the years since Greg showed up and Marty got her pregnant with Sour Cream. We see her as an artist and the glue holding her family together, while still having fun and being herself. This does well to contrast the types of parents it shows. Many are depicted as single parents or a spouse just isn’t in the picture, like Vidalia before Yellowtail, Greg, Fryman, Kofee Pizza, Barb, and Mayor Dewey. Only three married couples are shown, the Maheswarens, the Barrigas, and Vidalia and Yellowtail. The Gems are acknowledged as Steven’s guardians and Sour Cream has a stepfather who he doesn’t get along with. This is a kind of representation that doesn’t happen in children’s media often, especially not to main characters like Steven, despite how true to real life. All of the loving and supportive families in Beach City serve to contrast with the way Pink was treated by the other Diamonds, as Steven points out to Blue in “Change Your Mind”. The family dynamics in Beach City are a great depiction of the kind of love, growth, and change that Pink Diamond fell in love with and for which she vowed to protect the Earth.

[dotuindex]

Because In This House We Love and Appreciate The Royal Pulluxian Trio

HCs for Avok, Romelle, and Bandor that no one asked for but I don’t care because I love them and I will never stop talking about them

For the trio and Pollux as a whole: ⭐ As of their debut Avok was 21, Romelle was 18, and Bandor was 13 ⭐ Their mother, a blonde haired, brown eyed Arusian woman named Amue, died when Romelle was almost 8 years old from illness. The medicine required to heal her came only from Arus, but Arus had blocked all trade with Pollux many years before then so there was no hope of getting the medicine. ⭐ Their mother was actually one of several ambassadors and nobles sent from Arus to Pollux in hopes of bettering relations between the two planets but it didn’t work out, however she did grab the attention of the newly crowned ruler ⭐ The freckles come from their mom ⭐ Their father had red hair like Bandor and Avok before it went grey ⭐ Their parents were a total power couple ⭐ After their mother’s death their father was never really the same man ⭐ After the death of their mother Romelle became a mother figure to Bandor as they got older ⭐ They all like peanut butter but disagree on whether crunchy or smooth is better (Romelle likes smooth, Avok likes crunchy, Bandor really doesn’t care but joins the argument anyway for that sweet, sweet drama). ⭐ All three of them have bottomless pits for stomachs. They can pack food away like nothing. ⭐ Pollux is Space Sparta TM so all three have had combat training ⭐ Both Romelle and Bandor, standing at 5′8 and 5′3 respectively, are considered short by Polluxian standards. Avok stands at the male average of 6′4 ⭐ Polluxians are overall bigger and stronger than Arusians, but they also have a few years shorter life expectancy. Polluxians also have denser bones. ⭐ Polluxians are polytheistic and have many patron saint type figures ⭐ Pollux has a bad reputation of being full of violent warmongers, but at least they tend to be less sexist. With the vast majority of young men being in military service, women take up many leadership roles and are often considered to be the head of the home. ⭐ The first ruler of Pollux was a man named Lam. When he was kicked off of Arus, many Arusians who believed in his way of thinking followed him. ⭐ After the incident with Avok, their father vanished. His whereabouts are unknown. ⭐ When Avok was still around, Bandor often made him and Romelle reenact scenes from his favorite games/cartoons/movies with him ⭐ The reason Romelle knows the key to Pollux’s defenses and Bandor doesn’t is because Avok, next in line for the throne at the time, had entrusted the secret to Romelle before he became a robeast in case something happened to him. ⭐ Bandor and Romelle make sure that Avok’s room is taken care of after he died. They keep everything where he left it. The room has become some sort of shrine ⭐ The knife Romelle gave Sven is actually one of a matching set of three. The other two belong to Avok and Bandor. They were gifts from their father when they were very young. They always carry the knives with them. Avok’s was lost because he had it on him when he died and Romelle’s was destroyed, so Bandor’s is the only one left. ⭐ After Romelle came home from Doom, Bandor offered for her to co-rule with him ⭐ Romelle and Bandor were left in the dark about most of the details of Avok becoming a robeast, and their father never told them the whole plan of betraying the Drule. ⭐ All three of them are very defensive of one another ⭐ Sometimes, when they were having particularly hard days, the three of them would get together and read a book. Avok would start out, then pass the book to Romelle once he got tired. She’d then pass the book to Bandor, who had a habit of adding in lines and words to make the other two laugh. ⭐ Romelle and Bandor had a statue of Avok built and displayed outside the castle with other statues of prominent figures in Polluxian history. ⭐ Lady Zeeb is a noblewoman who acted as the governess/ god mother/ caregiver for all three of them. She’s in her late 40′s and was close friends/rivals with their father growing up.

Avok: ⭐ Exercise is how he relieved stress ⭐ Romelle and Bandor can’t sing for shit… but he could  ⭐ He was a perfectionist ⭐ He actually had a soft spot for novels ⭐ Secretly really liked romance books. He liked the idea of being in love, but at the same time didn’t like the idea of a relationship, so books are a way for him to get those romancey butterflies without an actual relationship. ⭐ His eyes were dark blue ⭐ Was actually pretty bashful when you complimented him ⭐ His nose was crooked because one time he broke it and it didn’t set right ⭐ People who knew him would describe him as a bit of a softy, but stubborn and blunt as all hell. ⭐ He’s haf one hell of a temper if you knew what buttons to press ⭐ Kept a log of his daily activities ⭐ Collected bladed weapons, old coins, and rocks/minerals ⭐ Despite the amount of stuff he had, his room was always neat and tidy ⭐ Got uncomfortable when people touched his things, even his siblings ⭐ Do they have chess on Pollux? if so he was the champion ⭐ He was a curious child with a close bond to Romelle, but after their mother died he became more withdrawn into his studies and didn’t spend as much time with her. ⭐ Mostly took after his father but was actually closer to his mother ⭐ Could and would eat anything you put in front of him with no complaint ⭐ The main reason he agreed to be turned into a robeast to fight Voltron was because he blamed Arus for the death of his mother ⭐ He was the spitting image of his father, and was secretly a bit sad that he didn’t inherit much from his mother aside from his freckles. ⭐ Homeboy had a lot of hair. Everywhere. He was basically Chewbacca. ⭐ Constantly in his head about things. Overly analytical, overly critical. That’s why he liked training so much. It gave him something else to think about. ⭐ Surprisingly, he actually held many of the same views as Romelle, but he believed it was his duty to his planet to honor their traditions and long held beliefs. ⭐ Was known to pick verbal (and occasionally, physical) fights with people who talked shit on Romelle. ⭐ He had great respect for Romelle, and always saw her as his right hand woman. ⭐ I have absolutely no basis for this but my heart says he’s gay ⭐ Self conscious. Not necessarily insecure, but was very aware of himself and his surroundings. ⭐ Really into sculptures and architecture but never got the chance to really pursue those interests outside of just studying them. ⭐ When he was younger he kept his hair just long enough to pull back into a little ponytail.

Romelle: ⭐Her earrings were a gift from her mother given to her on her 7th birthday, the last birthday she got to spend with her mother. ⭐ She was taken out of combat training at 10 due to her father’s growing paranoia and pressure from other planets ⭐ After she was taken out of combat training Avok took it upon himself to train her privately. It turns out he’s a pretty good teacher, and sparing was a great bonding activity for them. ⭐ Was exceptionally close to both her parents, but most of her values come from her mom ⭐ The public has mixed opinions on her due to her unusual beliefs ⭐ Their mother tried to teach her to play various instruments but she never got into any of them ⭐ her pink outfit is actually meant for training ⭐ Her blue dress is actually the only floor length dress she owns. The rest only go down to her knees, at most. She only wears the blue one on the occasion that they have to see other royals or officials who would see her normal clothes as inappropriate ⭐ Has freckles you can fight me on this ⭐ Bi and unable to die ⭐ Keeps a diary ⭐ Her favorite color is teal ⭐ Junk food junkie ⭐ Had a pet bird when she was little. Her father only let her have it on the condition that she not let it out of it’s cage. She still did but shhh ⭐ Was really into sports as a kid ⭐ She wants to name one of her future kids Amue after her mother ⭐ Has scars on her wrists and ankles from her imprisonment ⭐ She also lost a ton of weight as a prisoner ⭐ After spending so much time around Lotor, she can no longer stand the smell of alcohol. ⭐ Sees Allura as a sister ⭐ Her father was the one who taught her how to pilot a ship ⭐ Was a major tomboy growing up. ⭐ After returning home it didn’t take long for others to notice she acted… differently. She was more temperamental and anxious ⭐ After her return she spent a lot of time alone in her room ⭐ Suffers from PTSD ⭐ Was never really into dolls, but she has a porcelain one that her mother gave her when she was little. ⭐ She can’t cook for shit. ⭐ Used to be such a heavy sleeper that she might as well have been dead when she fell asleep. After escaping imprisonment, she became a light sleeper. She often has night terrors. ⭐ Her appearance is very out of the ordinary for Polluxians. She’s blonde while most of the population has darker, redish hair, she’s pretty pale compared to Polluxian’s typically more Mediterranean/olive complexions, she keeps her hair much longer than typical for Polluxian women, and she’s pretty short by their standards. Over all, she isn’t considered traditionally beautiful. ⭐ Lady Zeeb was the one who originally styled her hair like that. It’s a pretty old fashioned, classic look for Polluxian women… and pretty much the only thing Lady Zeeb knows how to do with hair. ⭐ Her and Lady Zeeb bonded over being the only two blondies in the royal court.

Bandor: ⭐ He has his mother’s eyes ⭐ Has a bad habit of idolizing people ⭐ Is a very active and sporty child with a wild imagination ⭐ Avok and Bandor were never really that close but Bandor still admires his brother ⭐ When he was little he used to pull people’s hair a lot. That’s when Romelle started wearing her hair up and out of the way ⭐ Was a really happy baby. Always smiling and laughing. ⭐ Has ADHD ⭐ Cartoon addict ⭐ Major sweet tooth ⭐ Was the kid to tie a blanket around his neck like a cape and wave a stick around like a sword while running around the castle, yelling about how he had to save the kingdom from an evil dragon ⭐ Single handedly keeps bandaid companies in business with his shenanigans ⭐ Likes drawing but isn’t very good at it ⭐ Extremely picky eater. Certain textures really bother him ⭐ Wishes he’d gotten more time to get to know his mother ⭐ Was not at all prepared to become the ruler of Pollux. Working with the military came as a second nature to him, but civil and economic issues are hard for him to get his head around ⭐ Is allergic to peanuts. He used to eat peanut butter all the time when he was little but the allergy developed as he got older. He’s bitter about it. ⭐ Once when Romelle was sleeping, he took a marker and played connect the dots with her freckles. She was not happy. ⭐ His room is a mess 24/7. Servants used to have to pick up after him daily, but he’d just complain that he couldn’t find anything once it was all put away so everyone gave up and trying to keep his room in any sort of order. ⭐ Loves dogs, but his father never let him have one because he’s a strict and hates joy because he thought it would make a mess ⭐ Has a rivalry/friendship with Pidge ⭐ His father and Avok would always ruffle his hair when he did a good job at something. He is literally a puppy!!! Give him head scratches!!! ⭐ Is good at chess but doesn’t have the attention span for it ⭐ When he was little he used to sneak into Romelle’s room at night a lot, especially when he was upset and wanted company. ⭐ Words can not describe how he felt when he lost his whole family in one day. In just a few hours his brother died, his sister was kidnapped, and his father went missing, leaving him to lead a planet all on his own. In the few days between getting Romelle back and her running off with Sven, he’d slept more soundly that he had in months. ⭐ When Romelle was a prisoner, he often had nightmares of her being killed and him being powerless to do anything about it. He was constantly terrified of her never coming home. ⭐ When he was little he so badly wanted to have long hair like Romelle. They’d have to chase him down in order to cut his hair until eventually his father just said screw it and let him grow it out. He ended up cutting it all off when he was about 11 when he decided he was a Big Boy TM.

[matrixaffiliate]

Like the Storybooks

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon​

FFN and AO3

(sorry everyone, my internet died as I was trying to post this)

Chapter 20

Sirius, as matter of habit, rose with the sun. He was already, to some extent, aware that Marlene did not. She would have to be woken by a lady’s maid in order to be on time for breakfast. But on that first day of their secret marriage, Sirius stayed in bed with the sleeping princess and just took in the sight of her. She’d cast off her shift entirely nearly as soon as her inner chamber door was shut behind them and hadn’t found instance in the interim to reclothe herself.

Though he’d certainly seen representation of the nude female form in paintings and sculptures, but this was a new experience. He had not expected that his life would include an extremely undressed heartbreakingly beautiful woman lying sleeping next to him. The the new day’s light peeked through the bed curtain, reflecting off her hair like a halo. He silently thanked the lord that his new wife slept deeply and well into the morning. The look on his face was probably worthy of all the ribbing he would take from the king and then some. But he couldn’t help it. He’d always contended that a princess like this should not, by all logic, have been a real person. He had only become more sure of this as he fell in love with the woman. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her sleeping head.

She stirred. Little sounds escaped from her perfect mouth but none of them came together into anything that Sirius understood as language.

“Good Morrow, My Princess.”

Though he’d intended to remind her that they were meant to tell the king and queen about their marriage and beg their blessings, he forgot all about it as Marlene’s mouth found his.

The couple were not in attendance at breakfast that morning.

After a truly mortifying experience involving the Lady’s maid, Emmeline, Sirius was quite glad to be clothed and above suspicion that afternoon.

Eventually the opportunity presented itself for himself and Marlene to speak privately with the King and Queen.

After they’d made a show of propriety for lookers on, and were well out of earshot, Marlene took no prisoners in the endeavor.

“We’ve entered into a precontracted marriage. I assumed you’d be pleased with the match. It was rather late into the evening when the discussion came to pass, you see. Waiting until morning to beg your permission seemed both unnecessary and vexsom.” She was fearless in such a way that set Sirius’s pulse racing. The walls he’d carefully constructed around parts of his mind had come crashing down all at once and only hours ago. He was still adjusting to the fact he didn’t just love her; he was allowed to desire her. The whole thing was very distracting, to say the least.

James’s face was truly a sight as he took in the statement his cousin had matter of factly dolled out. He cycled through confusion to shock, onto mild disgust and finally to amusement. Sirius could have predicted the exact responses, but they were quite a lot of fun to watch, regardless.

“You broke through my knight’s chastity belt? I thought he had it soldered on.”

“Marriage tends to be the key to such things.” Marlene smirked at the King and then winked at the Queen who chuckled.

Sirius still had not said said anything up to that point. He’d expected that the king would make some sort of crack about the concept of chastity. He’d been a little too loud in his defense of the virtue being ideal in a knight for this to have gone any other way. It did not stop his face from heating up with embarrassment. Why did this have to be discussed? Couldn’t they just… talk of war or something? Surely they had enough battles to plan that this was all very silly?

He chided himself that he’d rather plan the demise of his own family, where good men would surely die, than tolerate a little embarrassment. Marlene, surely did not seem embarrassed in the least. She seemed quite pleased with herself.

Sirius no longer wanted to think about war, all he could think of was how very difficult this secret would be to keep. It was a battle unto itself to refrain from touching her.

“Am I to understand your mild insults as your blessings upon our union?” Sirius smirked, tearing his eyes away from his wife to meet his dearest friend and sovereign eye to eye.

“Yes many blessings and all that. But it’s not going to be popular with… nearly anyone… so I hope you have some sort of plan.” James turned to Marlene with a pained expression.

“I always have a plan, cousin.” Marlene rolled her eyes with a huff and Sirius restrained from kissing her as her eyes flashed dangerously. “You knew my mother. I’m ashamed you had any doubt.”

“I had no plan. Largely, I just do what her Grace tells me.” Sirius admitted, chuckling as Marlene regained her temper.

“Well that sounds like the start of a long and happy marriage to me. What’s the plan, your Grace?” Queen Lily’s warm smile reassured Sirius that he hadn’t stepped on any royal toes in making this rather hasty decision.

“It’s best if we keep our union a secret from the court until my husband returns to me a Duke.” Marlene moved to take Sirius’ arm and smiled at her own jest. She was making it very hard not to kiss her, and by the look on her face she knew it.

“Your instincts are good, cousin. I hope that you’ll advise me someday when the Chief Minister has decided she’s had quite enough. Though I am concerned that there will be rather glaring evidence of your marriage before we are able to take Semprapuria, at least with the current plan in place.” James looked pointedly at Marlene.

Sirius didn’t quite understand. Everyone was already meant to think that they were in love. What evidence could be so glaring that the whole court would become suspicious that the affair was more than courtly in nature? Before he put it together in his head, Marlene's voice chimed in.

“Worry about the fruitfulness of your own marriage cousin. Leave me to mine. I have contingencies worked out, in any case.”

James rolled his eyes, “Of course you do.”

Sirius could have kicked himself. He’d been rather preoccupied and had somehow failed to consider the fact that Marlene could be with child.

“Your Majesties,” Sirius heard the stilted formal tone to his own voice and nearly cringed. “Do we have your leave to go to Father Hagrid? I’d prefer we get this in the church records so there will be no questions as to the honor of the Princess.”

“My husband and I are of one mind. Is Father Hagrid a trustworthy holy man?”

“He’s been my confessor since I was 15. I trust him with my life” James answered without hesitation.

“Very well then. There’s no time like now.” Marlene looked up and nodded.

Sirius was very happy, in this instance, to follow the Princess’s lead.

Sirius pulled his boots off as he sat down on Marlene's - their - bed, and sighed contentedly.

“I’m so glad that everyone protested my idea to marry you off just after you arrived.”

Sometimes words just happened to Sirius. This was clearly one of those times. Though his statement was entirely true the look on Marlene’s beautiful face as she reacted was proof that they’d been completely inadvisable.

“You… what? You wanted to marry me off? This was never brought to my attention! Explain yourself, Sir!” Her attempt to look very angry was admirable. But there was still a hint of laughter in her eyes as she chided him, and standing there in her underskirt completely undermined her faux chagrin.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Sirius smiled and stood to walk up to her. “It wasn’t some wicked plot and it was to my own brother!”

“Well believe it or not that does not make it sound any better from my perspective.” Marlene's face became wide with shock. “In fact it makes it a sight more nauseating.”

“Oh come on, Marly…” He wrapped an arm around her waist and slid the other hand along her cheek. “All I knew about you was that you were the strangest lady I’d ever met and you considered me the most handsome gentleman at court.” He smirked down at her. “It seemed like a kindness to marry you to a man who bares a strong resemblance. I wasn’t aware that you’d only have the genuine article.”

“You are quite lucky Sir,” Marlene snaked her arms around his neck and Sirius knew he was in the clear, “that you are so very handsome. I don’t generally think I’d be over fond of the touch of a man who wanted to have me as his sister in law.” She rolled her vivid blue eyes. Her bitten lips curled themselves just so, into a most captivating smile. Sirius pulled her closer. The look in her eyes was fast becoming addictive. He lifted her shift from the bottom to tease soft caresses up the outside of her thigh.

“Well it does appear that I am lucky then. Because you seem more than a little fond of my touch.”

She only nodded and took in a sharp breath. Her eyes were so full of want as he brought his lips to hers. When she practically melted into his kiss, he knew that he was more than lucky.

They couldn’t have been asleep for long when a messenger burst into the Princess’s chambers. This was highly irregular. Therefore Sirius had to assume someone was there to harm Marlene and prepare to defend her with his own life… while completely naked. He’d always thought he’d die with a sword in his hand, but he’d not pictured it quite like this. Life had taken a turn for the strange when Princess Marlene came to live at court.

“I am not here to do anyone harm! I’m just a messenger!” The man cowered as Sirius pinned him against the wall, sword at his throat. “Lady McGonagall sent me to collect Sir Sirius! She says it’s… about your family? That’s all I know. I promise. Please lower your sword and… put on some clothing?” He said the last of his plea in a hushed voice.

“If you even think about saying anything about this you will regret it for the rest of your life, do you understand?” Marlene interjected in a disconcertingly threatening voice for a woman who had been screaming bloody murder not a moment ago. Though she was still standing naked as the day of her birth, she held herself with such authority that she might have been wearing her cousin's own crown.

There was no time to think. Sirius’s head was spinning as he quickly dressed and, since there was no going back from this in any case kissed his wife goodbye as he followed the messenger. He was sure whatever news awaited him was grim.

[designresearch-amywight]

Robert Fisher

Method,

Kurt Cobain already had a vision for the cover. Fisher took this idea of a baby being born underwater and went to the bookstore to find images that could be used. After going through hundreds of birthing books and baby books. Fisher realized that they were far too graphic to use. This idea of childbirth was then ruled out, and the idea of a baby simply being underwater was born, however the band wanted something more. Cobain came up with the idea of adding something like fishhook and a dollar bill to make it more menacing. The idea came together organically. Fisher needed a photographer and found Kirk Weddle to do the job, he specialized in ‘submerged humans.’ They went to the Pasadena Aquatic center and got 4 or 5 different parents to come and use their babies. They took turns passing their babies in front of the camera. They used a doll for test shots. A week after the shoots there was 40-50 proof sheet shots. The image that was chosen was ‘perfect’ according to fisher, in the context of positioning and the look on the baby’s face. Before computers the images were sent off to darkrooms to do what photoshop does. Fisher requested the fishhook and took some photos and set up polaroid’s of how he wanted the dollar bill to look and be positioned. It would be then sent off and come back 4 or 5 days later. Finally, when the image came back the last thing to perfect was the text. Fisher used a xerox machine and as it was scanning pulled it and wiggled it. He then did it on the opposite side and got the wavy type. This was groundbreaking in those times. The success of never mind was partly due to the incredible cover and the cover is now featured in the museum of Modern Art’s Collection.

O. Campbell, The Designer of Nirvana’s Nevermind Cover on Shooting Babies and Working with Kurt Cobain, The Work behind The Work, https://milanote.com/the-work/the-designer-of-nirvanas-nevermind-album-cover, Retrieved 25th August 2021.

David Carson:

Method:

David Carson was the first art director of Ray Gun a grunge and independent music scene. Carson was well known for breaking the so called ‘rules’ of graphic design. Carson didn’t standardize the pages or allocate any type of numbering system. Carson created rigid patterns and non-cohesive layouts including the leading, white space and disorganized margins. Carson said himself “a lot of people … simply take in visual information differently now” the inconsistency in the pages confused the readers. Some viewers hated it and others loved the disorganized feeling that the magazine portrayed. Carson’s own reflection showed he was simply trying to express the information that made the most sense to him which was a rebel against modern design. Carson had done a lot of work by hand, by cutting out and rearranging layouts and sending them to printers to be pasted down pieces of art. The pages of Ray Gun although not stereotypical pieces of Design was a groundbreaking experiment in which no one had seen before. Breaking the rules of classic graphic design and expanding the box of ideas in which design had been done in before.

Lees-Maffei, G. (Ed.). (2014). Iconic Designs: 50 Stories about 50 Things. London: Bloomsbury Visual Arts. Retrieved August 25, 2021, from http://dx.doi.org/10.5040/9781474293921

Carl Herner

Method:

Carl Herner a graphic designer focuses on using tools in non traditionalways or in even in the wrong way. The project was MacGuffin Magazines trousers’ issue. Herner was asked to illustrate the article of the Fantastic Man’s Founding editor; Gert Jonker’s , where Jonker’s talked about his favorite pair of trousers. They needed the visual element for the article. Working with the Magazines art director Sandra Kassenaar. Focusing on 3d software Herner and Kassenaar started to scan digitally real trousers that was found in studio. The trousers were scanned in piece by piece until they had scanned the whole pair of pants. These were then sent on file to Herner individually. They then built a pair and stitched the files together around a body which made a 3d model. The next step was to create a texture map of where the stitching would go. These could then be manipulated digitally as if someone was wearing them. Herner discussed the idea of fluidity and how the pants without anyone in them is about the movement and the texture of the pants. Not about the person in them.

Alif Ibrahim, 29 October 2019, Carl Herner deconstructs garments with his non- traditional approach to digital design, It’s Nice That, https://www.itsnicethat.com/articles/carl-herner-graphic-design-281019, Retrieved 25th August 2021.

Hannah Höch

Context:

Der Maler was a piece created by Hannah Höch in satire. Höch Wrote regarding the piece in reference to sexism of the Berlin Dada Movement in which she believed there was an underlying the movement. It also referenced German politics, male privileged and scientific objectification. The story goes that a modern painter by the name of Gotthold Himmelreich which means “God-Beloved Heavenly-Kingdom”, was forced to wash dishes by his wife. He felt degraded as a man and his manhood suffered under a feminine soul. Himmelreich becomes determined to overcome this suffering through his painting. He wanted to represent the likeliness between the female should and the nature of chives. He believed that emptiness filled both of these objects and presented it as if scientifically dissected. The story shows the frustrations and self-doubt of this man Himmelreich. And reflects the idea that every man ultimately fails to represent and or control the essence of a woman. This piece was represented in the form of photomontage. Was produced by the images and type that the mass media printed for the public.

Haakenson, T. O. (2021). Grotesque visions : The science of berlin dada. ProQuest Ebook Central https://ebookcentral.proquest.com

Ken Done:

Methpod:

Ken done was commissioned by The Powerhouse Museum in Sydney to paint the walls of the restaurant inside the museum. Done suggested painting it in a garden theme. This was suggested to alleviate the industrial architectural design of the powerhouse, the garden theme was to deflect the brick walls. Starting with drawings and ideas for dining ware, such as plates, cups, placemats etc. Done then moved on to a model replicant of the restaurant with a removable and lift off roof which was made by the museums model maker Iain Scott-Stevenson. The idea was to use vivid shapes and colours over all of the surfaces including the ceilings. These bright colours and shapes were to elevate and enliven the interior. Done turned a peculiarfeature of the room into a beautiful painting, in the pitched ceiling where the roof meets the vertical walls. Done took this feature and painted giant green leaves and fronds. Done plays with the illusion of space and form he “leans into the surroundings.” Done plays with imager and layers to energise the surroundings. Done took into account the lack of windows and in response he painted a yellow sun on the peak of the roof. Done included yellow rays of sunlight which draws attention to the height of the south wall. Done included sculptures of vases and flowers around the restaurant and paintings over top of the painted walls to preserve his work. Done’s playfulness and secondary objects is to serve as a memory of what was once there if the museum ever painted over his work. This was compared to the Rex Whistler Restaurant in the Tate Gallery which was left for 70 years.

T. Measham, R. Hara, A. Van de Ven, Y. Kinameri, R. Wood, M. Tawara, D. Lee Brien, E. Buzby, 1994, Ken Done the art of design, Powerhouse Publishing

Andy Warhol

Context:

In 1977 and 1978 Warhol and his assistant Ronnie Cutrine started an experimental project of works: The Oxidisation Piss and Cum paintings. After Warhol’s last movie “Andy Warhol’s bad” in 1976. Warhol wanted to stray away from his recent pop art and society portraits and focus more on abstract art. In his diary entry from the 70’s he had admitted that since being shot by actress Valerie Solanas in 1968 he hadn’t produced any “good” art. His critics reducing him to society portraitist. Warhol wanted to change this and keep his vanguard status by trying these experimental projects.

Method:

Warhol pulled out a canvas of conceptualwork from the 1960’s in which he had urinated on a white canvas. Using the same participants who had collaborated in the torso and sex paintings from 1976 to early 1978. The paintings were made with urinating, pouring, or dripping urine onto primed canvass’s with either copper or gold metallic paints, which created varied colour and textures. These chemical experimentationsturned invisible paintings into visually viable artworks. The rich gold and green colours created these lush colour fields paintings with varied colour and textures.

A. Warhol, J. Schnabel, 2009, Andy Warhol The Last Decade, Prestel Publisher.

Richard Hamilton:

Context:

Richard Hamilton wanted to create realism with his phycological experiments. The dark and chaotic “murder” scenes he would create were reference to the violent epidemic in new York at the time. These outlined figures with red paint as reference to blood, would catch people off guard. Hamilton wanted these public art pieces to be a reminder that we could all be victims as soon as we stepped outside. Hamilton would find and locate important parts of the city such as the city hall and the library’s and other locations to serve as a reminder of what was happening in the city at the time. Hamilton also set up an office as if he was a detective and called him self Mr Ree Dick Trace It. The play on the name Mr Ree was in reference to his mysterious outlined figures. In this office he put up maps and painted over in red paint as if to replicate blood to reference the bloodshed in the city. His figures made the news and Hamilton wanted to play with the media, as they weren’t sure if these were actual murders or what they were as public art wasn’t common in the 70’s. This confused the police, Hamilton took this further by putting up wanted posters of himself however this led to him being told he would never be given a grant again. This phycological experiment wasn’t his only public phycological piece of art. Hamilton followed the outlined murder victims with a piece called I only have eyes for you, which was life sized figures of himself stuck on walls with blueprint paper so they would fade to white shadows with the weather. This figure represented a man lost in the city all dressed up with nowhere to go. Hamilton’s experiments and public art pieces confused and shocked the public which was his intent with these phycological pieces.

O. Jacoby, 2017, Shadowman. Java Films.

Roy listechstien

Method:

Roy Listechstien was a notable artist for his pop art; however he took it one step further with his brushstroke sculptures which were commissioned in cities such as Tokyo, Barcelona, Washington and other cities across the world. These pieces were looking at how to isolate a 2-dimensional brush stroke. The process started with left over cut-outs from his paintings and collages focusing on the singular stroke. After arranging these cut-outs Listechstien would sketch the positionings on the wall in pencil. The problem was looking at the art in a 2-dimensional way although it was a 3-dimensional peice of art. The focus was on the way the brushstrokes serve a dual function. On canvas they break themselves down into linear shapes of the pieces of hair from the brush however, Listechstien turns it into a way in which these shapes overlap. Listechstien focuses on the movement of the brush this movement takes them from a 2-dimensional piece to 3-dimensional sculpture. Listechstien refers to them as cartoon like saying that we don’t see a cartoon explosion as a real one, but we still understand what it is, an explosion. Listechstien uses this same idea for his brushstrokes. Listechstien put smaller versions of the models onto images of the buildings to find the right spacing although it was a public commission Listechstien wanted to be sure that he liked his pieces first regardless of the public opinion.He drew the life-sized pieces on a piece of paper which were 20 feet long so he could see what they would look like before sending them off to the welders and sculptors. These sculptures were a challenge to him and a challenge to the public to appreciate art as a human value of acceptance.

Trottenberg, M. 1995 Roy Litchenstien: Tokyo Brushstrokes. Checkerboard Film Foundation Inc.

Keith haring

Context:

The apocalypse series was a collaboration between two queer artists Keith Haring and William S Burroughs. These Ten pieces were created by Haring and the writing that accompanied them was written by Burroughs. The Title Apocalypse was a reference to the book of revelation in which this piece was inspired by. Haring wrote in his journals of his concern of his work being obscene. The apocalypse series was a queer take on the book of revelation and a reflection of the AIDS epidemic going on at the time. Christian’s at the time were deeming AIDS a s gods punishment for homosexuality or any other ‘sins.’ Haring interpreted AIDS as a weapon for white men who oppress, colonize, control and dominate and called it “their evil disease”. The demon sperm that haring illustrates, references American culture. These apocalyptic imagery has been a source of powerful imagery to unpack the impact of the AIDS epidemic in the gay and queer community. This demon sperm that Haring plays with throughout the series appears with the number 666 which in the book of revelations is the ‘number of the beast’ these demonic images denotes AIDs and reference the queer take on Christianity. The Beast is the physical symbol of AIDS and he is depicted with a broken horn, coming out of the hole of the palm of the hand of the girl, which is a sign of Jesus’s hand where he was nailed to the cross. Haring adds medusa hair and bird legs to the girl to change the innocence and purity of the child into an impure and hybrid style object referencing death as a reflection of the AIDS epidemic. The referencing to Revelations is an important part of the series as this reflection was their interpretation of the AIDS epidemic through the story of Christianity which was something that was denoting the queer culture of the time.

Lynn. R. huber, 2019, Pulling down the sky, Envisioning the Apocalypse with Keith Haring and William S. Burroughs, Cross Currents Volume 68, Issue 2, https://doi-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/10.1111/cros.12312

[kamccormickhnd1b]

Illusion-Research

While I have the time today, I’m making good use of it and doing a little research for my new brief today, giving myself a head start!

Surrealism: when did it begin? What is it?

Surrealism is the artistic use of painting, sculpture, literature, photography and film. Surrealists were inspired by Sigmund Freud’s theories of dreams and the unconscious and often believed insanity was the breaking of the chains of logic, they used and demonstrated this idea of theirs by creating imagery that was impossible in reality, placing unlikely forms onto unimaginable landscapes. And while it faded away as an organized movement, Surrealism never disappeared as a creative artistic principle.

Surrealism began in 1924 with with Dadaist writer André Breton’s Surrealist manifesto, although the movement formed as early as 1917, inspired by the paintings of artist Giorgio de Chirico, whose work and paintings often captured street locations with a hallucinatory quality.

While de Chirico himself abandoned the art style he had been using, after 1917, his influence reached the Surrealists through German Dadaist Max Ernst. 

Many artists took to joining the movement, some of these artists included Joan Miró and André Masson, who both met and became involved with Breton. with Freud’s influence still taking place, Breton had experimented with automatism through writing in order to create words with no thought or planning. In

In the year 1925, Ernst responded to automatism with practiced frottage, using cracks in a floorboard as the surface underneath his drawing paper. He adapted the concept to oil painting, spreading pigments on a canvas and then scraping. Ernst’s 1927 painting Forest and Dove used this technique. 

Another artist was Jean Arp, Jean was regarded as one of the most versatile artists of the beginning of the 20th century and was also associated with both Dada and Surrealism. He expressed himself using  sculptures, paintings, drawings, collages and poems. Through his work, he became best known for his sculptures characterized by wavy lines that he often referred to as the “organic abstraction”. Jean Arp embraced a chance and spontaneity as integral components of the artistic process. While many viewed his work as non-representational, it was rather firmly rooted in nature. As a co-founder of the Dada movement, many of his  organically-inspired sculptures, in the first Surrealist exhibition in 1925, played an integral role in linking the two movements, at the same time shaping the future of Surrealism.

One of the most famous and well-known surreal paintings is that of the American painter Leonora Carrington, who was a bold artist. She managed to establish herself as a key figure of Surrealism despite the discrimination of her male peers. Many male artists of Surrealism were rather misogynistic. They would solely acknowledge women as a mere sexual desire and object. Women such as Leonora Carrington depicted the deeper female experience, particularly in male-dominated societies and environments. In this self-portrait, she explores her femininity by creating a mimesis between her and a hyena, relating herself to the animal’s rebellious nature.

Another famous painting revolving around surrealism is the “Harlequin’s Carnival”, it is considered to be one of the major surrealist artworks created by Joan Miro. The painting was exhibited during the collective exhibition “Surrealist Painting” in 1925 at the Pierre gallery in Paris. Surrealist artists such as Giorgio de Chirico, Paul Klee, Man Ray and  Pablo Picasso also exhibited their work along with Miro. The painting was inspired by the Miro’s hallucinations when he was in experiencing difficulties and struggled to eat his fill. The apparent jumble of random items together is actually the fruit of a meticulous composition, as Miro’s preparatory sketches prove.

Sigmund Freud: The Uncanny

Over 100 years ago, Sigmund Freud wrote a paper that became famous and influenced many aspiring artists, this paper was called “The Uncanny”. 

Freud’s theory was rooted in everyday experiences and the aesthetics of  culture, the theory related to what is frightening, repulsive and distressing. His paper tackles the idea of horrific concepts, including inanimate figures coming to life, severed limbs, ghosts, the image of the double figure, known as doppelgangers. The theory lends itself to art, literature and cinema. 

The Uncanny is written in two parts. Part one explores the etymology of the words ‘heimlich’ and ‘unheimlich’ (homely and unhomely). The second part of the paper consists of Freud tackling people, things, self-expressions, experiences and situations that best represent the uncanny feeling. Freud’s most popular example is the short story of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s ‘The Sandman’, a short tale that many parents would tell their children to encourage them to behave and go to sleep when told. The story goes that the child must be asleep for the Sandman to put sand in the child’s eyes–if they’re not asleep by the time he arrives, he would take their eyes as punishment. The protagonist is a boy named Nathaniel whose fate eventually does fall to the Sandman, losing not only his sight but his sanity, then his life. 

Sigmund Freud believed that the removal of eyes alludes to a fear of castration, but the castration complex is masked by a fear of losing a different sensitive organ: the eyes. 

Examples of The Uncanny

There are many examples in the world of situations that can provoke an uncanny feeling, such as inanimate objects coming alive, thoughts appearing to have an effect in the real world, the doppelgänger effect, illustrations of death, ghosts or spirits, and involuntary repetitions. The uncanny arises when childhood beliefs we have grown out of suddenly seem real. 

The Uncanny in Art

In the artistic world, waxwork dolls, automata, doubles, ghosts, mirrors, the home and its secrets, madness and severed limbs are frequently mentioned throughout Freud’s “The Uncanny”, the theory helped to influence painters and sculptors to explore these themes and blur the boundaries between animate and inanimate, human and non-human, life and death.

[mistressofmuses]

Must Have Been Some Magic

Laurel flicked the switch by the doorway on, and several small lights strategically placed around the main room came to life, illuminating overflowing bookshelves and wall racks and display cases.

Continuing in, she set her bags down on the kitchen table, one of the only clear surfaces in the small house.

Really, it would almost have been more of a museum than a house, if she ever let anyone else in for long enough to look at everything, or had any kind of organized system to display things, or even a formal catalogue outside of her own head. Fossilized seashells sat next to antique coins, delicate woven scarves draped over the hilts of weaponry spanning centuries, grimoires and other books of esoteric knowledge shared shelf space with miniature paintings, and fine jewelry sat between meticulously preserved flora and fauna specimens. Her collections were extremely eclectic, and she enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by the things she loved, with a story attached to every object. Some might call her a hoarder, but none of it was trash. She knew all of the objects, everything about them and the story behind each one.

It was always the stories that got her.

She took the silk tophat out of the box it had been stored in. It was fairly old, and made of silk rather than felt or fur. It appeared very well made, clearly professionally done, rather than something mass-produced as a novelty item or costume piece. Without some more specific research, she probably wouldn’t be able to discern its true age, though she was willing to place it as being something from the early 1900s.

She hadn’t been in the market for an antique—or at the very least vintage—tophat, but the man who ran the little second-hand store knew her weakness for an interesting story. Laurel had bought probably a hundred items from him in the past, and he tended to hang on to anything with a unique quality to it, especially if it verged on the supernatural.

This, he’d claimed, was the magical hat that had brought Frosty the Snowman famously to life.

Laurel smiled a little ruefully to herself, and she turned the hat over in her hands. Frosty the Snowman wasn’t even some kind of legendary holiday figure—he’d been invented in the 1950s as a character for a novelty Christmas song. He’d certainly cemented himself as a modern folklore character for the holiday season, but he hadn’t been inspired by anything older than that. Not exactly the kind of legend that could plausibly have any “real magical object” attached to it.

Still, it was a cute story, and seasonally appropriate, even if the mild weather of the last few weeks didn’t have anyone feeling the real holiday spirit. That reminded her to turn on her indoor Christmas lights, and she plugged them in. Several strands of delicate white lights lit up around the dining room window and the border between the walls and the ceiling, giving the room an even more enchanted feel to it, and Laurel sighed with contentment.

She considered putting the hat on and almost hesitated, but she told herself she was being absolutely ridiculous. She flipped the hat over and placed it on her head. She waited to see if she felt the urge to start dancing or singing, but nothing changed. She laughed at herself, and it sounded a little strange as the only sound in the house.

She turned on some Christmas music—fully instrumental, thank you, she much preferred piano or orchestra pieces and Celtic arrangements to yesterday’s pop stars—trying to hang onto some vestige of holiday spirit. She wore the hat for a little bit as she did a little cleaning up, but then left it on the table as she fixed herself a small dinner and read a few more chapters of her current book.

When it was time for bed, she glanced at the hat again and smiled, realizing she had the perfect place for the hat to go.

~

The Christmas lights in her bedroom were rainbow rather than white. The white lights complemented the bulk of her collection, but her room was her even more private space, full of more mundane treasures like modern novels and stuffed animals, and she was happy for everything to be rainbows.

“Hello Miss Terry,” she said to the figure standing along the bedroom wall.

Miss Terry was a… well, “doll” sounded too reductive, “mannequin” sounded too sterile, “sculpture” too stationary. She was all of those things, while none of those things really described her.

Miss Terry, a deliberate play on “mystery”, had been Laurel’s imaginary friend as a child, and then she’d had no figure to inhabit, but had simply existed in Laurel’s vibrant imagination as a playmate and best friend. She had been a magician for as long as Laurel could remember, inspired by the idea of the classic stage magicians that Laurel had been so impressed by as a little girl. “Knowing” a little girl like herself who could do all those things had been what she wanted most at that age. Oddly, she herself had never wanted to be a magician, even though she had remained forever enamored with the idea of magic, both as stage tricks and something more.

There had been a period of a few years she rarely thought much of Miss Terry at all, during the awkward stage between being too old for imaginary friends and too young to not care.

When she was a teenager she’d resurrected Miss Terry as a character she drew in her art classes and made up stories about. Sometimes the stories had been full of high adventure, and sometimes they’d been escapist wish fulfillment for an awkward lonely teen. Miss Terry had been the perfect friend, confidant, and even fantasy girlfriend.

When she grew up and moved out on her own, living in part off of a generous inheritance from her late grandfather and in part off of the piecemeal work she did at freelance art and part-time jobs, she hadn’t given much thought to Miss Terry at all. Until she’d turned around in an antique store one day, and she’d been there.

It had been the strangest thing, because the figure looked somehow exactly how she’d always imagined Miss Terry, while also being nothing she’d ever seen before. The figure was life-size, and made like a doll. She was stylized, made of a metal frame with poseable joints, with porcelain panels on her limbs, chest, and back, as well as porcelain hands, feet, and face. The porcelain was painted in a lifelike manner, the expression on the face offering a self-satisfied smile, like she’d just gotten something she wanted. She had hair, cut in a short, black bob. And she was dressed like some kind of eccentric stage magician, in fitted pants, shirt, and vest below a tailored jacket, all underneath, of all things, a silk three-quarters-length cape.

Laurel’s breath had been literally taken away when she saw her, and it had taken her some time to compose herself well enough to inquire about the price of the figure. The shop owner had looked at the figure and gave her a price that was steep, but not out of the question. Then he’d knocked it down some, saying the figure was bulky and no one had had any interest in it for years at this point.

Laurel paid, and took Miss Terry home, and got her cleaned up of all of the dust and dirt that had accumulated on her and her clothes. Laurel even repaired frayed hems and sagging seams, ensuring that Miss Terry could look her best. And she’d lived there, in Laurel’s room, for the last seven years. Laurel resumed their “relationship” with little interruption, talking to her, venting to her, and treating her like a quiet friend. She found Miss Terry’s presence there comforting.

No one else seemed to think so. The one time Laurel had gotten up the courage to bring a girl home with her and it had gone well enough to end up in the bedroom, the other woman had remarked that the “weird mannequin” was creepy. Later, she declined when Laurel asked her for a second date, saying that Laurel herself was just too weird for her. Her loss.

Laurel hadn’t brought anyone else home with her after that. Or at least no romantic prospects. And she’d been fine with that. She knew it was silly, maybe even a little pathetic, but she liked her life as it was. She was sure it would be considered some brand of crazy to have such an attachment to something imaginary, but Miss Terry gave her a sense of not being alone.

Now Laurel turned toward Miss Terry, holding the hat behind her back.

“Hello, my dear,” she said. “I have a gift for you. I know it’s a little early for Christmas, but I think you’ll like it. Don’t worry that you didn’t get me anything.” Laurel laughed. “I thought this was nice, and then I realized just how well it would suit you.”

She pulled the hat from behind her with a flourish.

“Here, I’ll put it on you…”

She settled it on Miss Terry’s head, where it fit like it had been made for her. It looked absolutely perfect with the rest of her attire, making her look more like a magician than ever. While Laurel’s old drawings of her friend had often included a hat, she wasn’t sure why she’d never thought to buy one for her before this. Ah well, this one was perfect.

“It looks wonderful on you!” Laurel clapped her hands and beamed at Miss Terry. “All magicians should have a nice hat. It’s perfect for you.”

She turned back to her dresser to change into something to sleep in. Digging through the drawers, she stood up when she heard a sound behind her. She thought she’d imagined it, until she heard it again; the sound of someone taking a step.

Her heart began to pound; she had plenty of value in the house, and she’d always known a break-in could be a risk. Still, she turned to face the threat.

And was nearly face to face with a woman. A very familiar woman, wearing a silk tophat. But she wasn’t made of metal and porcelain anymore. While the slightly crooked smile still graced her lips, those lips were soft and expressive. Her dark blue eyes weren’t painted on, but sparkled in the light of the Christmas lights around the room.

The woman offered her hand, palm up, bowing gently as if asking for a dance.

Laurel reached out hesitantly, until her fingers brushed the other woman’s warm, soft palm. The woman brought Laurel’s hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckles, showing just how soft those lips really were.

When Miss Terry spoke, her voice was low and husky. “Hello, Laurel.”

~

@yourbookcouldbegayer

Prompt was: "You found the old silk hat that turned Frosty into a walking talking snowman. Turns out, the hat works on other things too.”

This one turned out very differently than I was first thinking, but I’m reasonably happy with it. And not quite as tight on the deadline tonight! (Tomorrow will be a struggle.)

[mouli-paul]

Krishnanagar is that quintessential small town with crammed up shops, chaos on the roads, cycles and rickshaws going hither and thither. Just how a small town is. The roads are narrow and meander into lanes and alleys, all which are surrounded by primitive looking buildings. Boarding an early train from Sealdah ( Laalgola Passenger or Krishnanagar Local ) I reached around ten. The whole area around the station smells of Kochuri (fried bread stuffed with either mashed lentils or peas accompanied with a spicy potato curry) being fried in Sunflower oil. Earlier it was mustard oil. Now they have switched over to avoid its pungent smell and also Sunflower oil is considered healthier. Not much in a mood for breakfast, I headed for where I wanted to be as time was short. Ghurni. Yes, that’s the name of the place. The hub of clay artists and potters, regarded as one of the main tourist attractions. The last time, I had been there, it was almost after sundown which made it quite difficult for me to roam around the place or even chat a two with the artists. Street lights were not placed at a frequent distance and as it is in the outskirts, the broader streets are lined on both the sides by unkempt canopy of trees giving the whole place a very ghostly look. Morning is a much better time, obviously. I took a toto (much enhanced and colourful version of an auto which does accommodate more than four people at once and sometimes a bit more) from the station. Even hand-pulled rickshaws are available, if you want to travel solo. To reach Ghurni, it takes around ten to fifteen minutes minus the commotion in the market area or else a good twenty five minutes. The specific name of the place is Putul Potti ( Putul – doll, Potti – belt) in the Ghurni neighborhood where the main road dissects into further two roads. Even after being a popular tourist attraction, the place appeared quite deserted. I paid the fare and walked first towards the road on the right side. The left corner of that road was dedicated to the open studios/shops of the clay artists while the right corner mostly was skirted with two-storeyed houses and a big lawn.

Most of the shops were empty except for one, where the clay artist was engrossed in his work. I entered, not meaning to disturb or divert his attention. The man was, I assume to be around sixty years. With a glassy expression, he looked up at me and within a second again went back to resuming his work. I stood for a while examining his work – a clay doll/model of a cobbler and enquired how much it would cost. “Seventy five rupees”, he replied back with a businesslike tone. Other models waiting to be finished and touched up were kept on a square shaped wooden space. Stepping out of the shop, I walked towards the main road, making a mental note of returning back, and took the road on the left side. This corner had more shops but, mostly of finished products and hardly had I come across anyone in the process of making. Mostly what the artists do now are, finish with the whole process at home which is where the studios are, and do with the touch-up and last minute finishing at the shop before selling off to the customer. It’s easier that way and also allows them to work in peace.

After half an hour of roaming around, taking a good look at the sculptures (there were too many), I came back to the shop where I had first set my foot. This time he didn’t look up. Quite hard to understand, whether I was invited to ask questions or not. I thought of just purchasing and just be done with it. But, something pushed me, most probably the two-hour long journey which I had undertaken to reach. Just buying something and returning back would make the whole effort quite purposeless. Clearing my throat, making myself quite audible, I enquired about the price again and planned on purchasing a model. Good way to start a conversation, I guess. He gave me quite a lot of choices. Initially, I didn’t notice that all the models, even though looked the same but were different. Looking closely, there were cobblers, blacksmith, carpenter, fisherman and some of the others I couldn’t guess. After thinking for a while, I finally zeroed on the blacksmith. He appeared to be quite amused by my confusion which made me think, “Thank God! He has got expressions”. Asking me to sit for a while, he did the last minute improvements like adding a bit of coal, and orange colour for the fire. As it would take some time before drying up, I asked his permission to click few photographs.

He finally gave in a lot of details after I asked him few questions. The one thing, which kept on bothering me, was that how come such a popular tourist spot, didn’t have a single tourist? At least, I didn’t get to see any. What he told did make sense. Holiday makers do not usually arrive until it is the perfect season (autumn, winter). Even if they do, it’s mainly to Mayapur, which you need to just cross the river from Nabadweep Ghat in Krishnanagar to get a glimpse or stay over at the Iskcon Temple. On the way, they pay a brief visit to this area, and if something do interest them, then well and good for the artists. But, the good thing is that their income is not solely dependent on just the locals or tourists. Since, clay artistry has been through generations, over the years they have gained a handful of loyal as well as rich clients and it’s ever growing. These clients prefer to purchase from their specific artist, to main uniform standard and quality. On the other hand, it is not every day that these artists receive such huge commissions. The reason, their financial standing is mostly at the same level with periods of highs and lows. With a very simple living, they almost manage to live a decent life while some of the artists from the younger generation go out and explore other opportunities to hone their skills. The same goes for this artist as well, although, he didn’t mention any successor. Just that his grandfather who had been a clay artist himself had opened this shop which was an open air studio then and gradually it progressed. He also showed me a huge tray with a collection of the same model which I had bought. One of his customers had ordered around seventy of them for some ceremony. The blacksmith model had almost dried up and it was time for me to leave. Packing and carrying over a clay work is quite a delicate job and he asked me to hold the square box in which he had packed in a certain way to avoid breakage. I paid and came out from his shop. He gave me a smile as I left. A light drizzle had started and the roads were completely empty by then. I walked towards the main road and took a passing toto for the station. Waiting for at least half an hour, I finally boarded the train to Sealdah which happened to be unusually crowded for a Sunday. Thankfully, I got a seat. The next two hours and a half, I reached home.

There are no afterthoughts or realizations following this visit as wherever you set foot in West Bengal, in the outskirts, the situation is same, just varying a bit in levels. It was just my curiosity to know about the places, of which I had heard about so much and put forward my observations.

[jimdroberts]

The opportunity to write about sex robots has been tempting me for a while. I’ve been leaving it for when I needed to write about something lighthearted, something unconventionally kinky, an easy target for derisive profanity. I assumed sex robots to be that kind of topic.

Anticipating a world of sleazy men, surfing the seedy backstreets of the internet superhighway, in search of products to satisfy sexually deviant kinks. A collective of ‘loners,’ if that’s not too great an oxymoron, who have long since moseyed out of loves last chance saloon, and who are now willing to put their last hope, and other parts of their anatomy, into the hands, and other orifices, that technology might make available for their gratification. The men that romance rejected. In short, I felt that these were the types of men I could understand. Not having married until my late thirties I was no stranger to the sorts of perversions that result from loneliness and a high speed internet connection. I felt certain I could still find it within myself to understand why some men, and women, are looking for to be satisfied by robots.

My inadequacy to deal with this subject matter quickly became apparent, for I was nothing more than a guileless, neophyte when it came to understanding the doors to sexual depravity that technology is opening.  As I researched this topic I was plagued by an unnerving sense of vulnerability; like I was sitting on a threadbare carpet, with a head full of acid, wearing only a pair of y-fronts, and playing Twister with Charles Manson.  If your struggling to  visualise the awkwardness of this situation:

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I mean, sex robots, just how bad can they be?

Teledildonics

The first piece of vocabulary to wrap our mouths around is teledildonics.

It’s nearly impossible to make light of this disturbing image, but I’ll give it a shot. How can it be argued that this is just ‘armless fun?

At first I thought, how does Kojak fit into all this? Thankfully, he doesn’t. PC Magazine defines teledildonics:

Controlling the intensity of sex toys via the Internet. Also called “cyberdildonics,” the purpose is to allow a partner to control the sexual experience remotely. Developed in the 1990s, one early device used a transducer that attached to the computer screen via suction cups and picked up light messages to control the speed. Future versions are expected to allow the user to share a sexual experience with fantasy partners selected from a menu or that are created by combining a menu of body parts and attributes.

  Imagine waking up next to a life-size teledildonic, Telly Savalas. Sucking a lollipop, at least you hope to god it’s a lollipop, and as you wipe the sleep from your eyes, and clear your head, whispering, “who loves you baby?” Go on imagine that. Imagine.

Sex robots, I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

  Sex Robots and Romans, Dutch Sailors and Glove Puppets

All right, but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?

Sometimes it can be a source of comfort to know that when something that appears new

Pygmalion, by Rodin. Notice how Pygmalion leans away from Galatea’s advances by resting her left hand on a huge phallus shaped rock. Poor girl, truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

has actually been an established part of our society for some time.

The Metamorpheses, by Ovid, a writer already known at the time for his erotic poems, also includes the story of Pygmalion and Galatea. A synopsis, the sculptor, Galatea makes a sculpture of beautiful woman, Pygmalion, and becomes besotted with its beauty. The goddess, Aphrodite brings the sculpture to life, why, I mean it’s pretty obvious how this is going to play out. Sculptor succumbs to lecherous desires for sculpture. Okay, Pygmalion isn’t exactly an example of a robotic sex doll, just an ivory one. The story serves the purpose that the idea of making objects for sexual gratification isn’t a new one. So as well as the aqua-duct, the Romans might be credited with the concept of sex dolls. It’s also an interesting parallel as Matt McMullen, founder of Realbotix, arguably the world’s leading sexbot manufacturer, was himself a sculptor.

Does, Matt McMullen represent the evolution of the modern day sculptor, fulfilling the dreams of Galatea?

In truth, literature is littered with examples of inanimate objects becoming animated, usually by some well meaning, but ultimately dimwitted, fairy godmother, and then is the pursued for the remainder of the story by some pervert determined to shag them. Not fitting this story-line perfectly, but certainly still of the same genre, is the story of Pinocchio.  Geppetto making his “wooden boy” tied up and controlled with string, with a teledildonic nose, starts to look suspicious. While I’m not comfortable to go so far as to accuse Geppetto of paedophilia, Elon Musk probably would have no such qualms.

Those are examples of stories that theoretically suggest the pleasure that might be gained from animating a representation of a human, now let’s get real with seventeenth century Dutch Sailors. The sea can be a lonely place, months away from home with no female company can do strange things to a man, such as making dolls from cloth and leather, that would probably end up being stuffed more than just straw. To this day, the Japanese will refer to a sex doll as a Dutch Wife. To give credit where it’s due, the French and Spanish sailors were themselves no strangers to this custom.

Paraphilia

Sex with robots and dolls is regarded as paraphilia. Paraphilia is listed in the DSM-5,  Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, as being a mental illness  concerning atypical sexual practice, it’s commonly diagnosed recognized in the majority of serial killers. However, a problem exists due to the fact that psychologists have achieved notoriety through a history of falsely classifying many behaviours as mental illnesses. Most notably, until 1968 the American Psychology Association classified homosexuality as paraphilia. Other mental illnesses that are now obsolete include:

 Dysaesthesia aethiopica, a mental illness described in 1851 that conveniently explains the benefits of slavery, to the slave. Dysaesthesia aethiopica was a condition that caused black people to be lazy and spend much of their time wandering aimlessly. The cure for this, slavery. You can’t argue with the facts of science. You’re probably going to want a link for this,  Dysaesthesia aethiopica.

The Vapours, a condition identified by Victorian psychologists used to describe “irregular behaviour,” commonly behaviour that inconvenienced their husband. “Women of independent mind,” were thought to be at greater risk of suffering the condition, and the suffragette movement was at times explained away as a mass contagion of, the vapours.

Inadequate Personality Disorder, disappeared from psychological text books after 1980.

defined by the DSM-II as a pattern of behavior marked by weak and ineffectual responses to external stimuli of an emotional, social, intellectual, or physical nature. There is no obvious cognitive disability in patients with this disorder, but they have trouble adapting to new situations, tend to have low stamina both physically and emotionally, have difficulty mastering skills, and show both poor judgment and poor social skills.

After 1980, a person exhibiting such a demeanor will be classified under the spectrum of behaviour defined by autism.

My point being, and not wanting to sound too much like a Scientologist, is that the psychological diagnoses of mental illnesses has numerous examples off misdiagnoses for corrupt financial, or social gains. I believe psychology does more good than harm, it was my major at university after all, but I ask the following questions; is there a possibility, that at sometime in the future, having sex with a robot might be considered, by both  psychologists and society, as socially acceptable? What might that society look like as a result?

It’s considered as atypical because it is rare behaviour, who knows, in the future there might be teledildonic pride marches, people demanding that the love they have for their robot is real love. Once a critical mass is achieved and enough people march, the psychologists will be compelled to remove it from the DSM, recognising it as no longer being atypical sexual behaviour, but an acceptable social norm. When does the number of people become a “critical mass”? When it’s enough to influence an election with promises of reform. A survey conducted by Nest.org in 2016 found that over a quarter of young people would happily date a robot. This statistic implies that romance with robots is unlikely to remain a social taboo.

So let us imagine the future. Imagine Robo-utopia; does Robotopia sound better? It doesn’t matter, just imagine the benefits of having sex with robots. Nobody is lonely, apparently loneliness is more dangerous than obesity, there are no sex crimes, and no need for prostitution. Sexually transmitted diseases have been almost eradicated, and society as a whole, is no longer burdened by repressed sexual desires, leading to an overall improvement in its mental well being. And rather suspiciously, the Catholic Church proves to be an early adopter, replacing all of its choir boys with robots, by virtue of the enhanced vocals.

The Doubters

Critics, naysayers, sceptics. ill informed, self appointed social arbiters, poorly organised through the internet, into groups of loosely like minded people, reinforcing one another’s views inside of their reinforced echo chamber. Convincing themselves that their self righteous ideology and the value of their mission to enforce their values upon society is the virtuous thing to do. Every society has them, the sorts of people that believe that they’re doing a public service by trying essentially to make us all as miserable as they are. Their aims are clear and simple; to stop fun, to limit expression, and complete compliance to their puritanical ideology. Such people have already been able to ban chocolate, Kinder Surprise eggs for being too dangerous, in a country where you can purchase a gun in under an hour. The sorts of people who get snowball fights banned from schools, who demand labels to be placed on cups of tea warning us that it’s hot. Technology has long had it’s own antithetical groups, starting in the early nineteenth century with the Luddites who were initimidated by the machines of the industrial revolution. They have, rather uncreatively, re-branded themselves as “Neo-Luddites”. At the extreme end of the technophobia spectrum we have the Anarcho-primitivists, who from what I can gather don’t just resent the invention of electricity, but go as far as to entertain doubts about whether fire was a good idea. Pol Pot’s vision of returning Cambodia to an agrarian society, while slaughtering 30% of the population, is an example of anarcho-primitivism.

To the doubters they’re called Rape Robots, and they argue whether sex with robots can ever be consensual. This argument lands us in the gray area of artificial intelligence, sentience and consciousness. Consciousness and free will are both philosophical arguments that have been around for thousands of years, and as such they appear to be a very unlikely strategy for slowing the technological development of robotic sex dolls. The argument seems to be based on the fact that if the robot can’t experience pleasure, can it be considered consensual? This question seems to miss one pivotal piece of information, it’s not a person. It easy to understand people imposing anthropomorphic

Such fond memories.

characteristics on something made to look like a human, but it is still only a machine. I’m assuming these people would be less offended if someone tried to have sex with their vacuum cleaner, but what if we then drew a face on the vacuum cleaner? Does this make it more unacceptable? Does this transfer rights to the vacuum cleaner to deny sexual advances? I sincerely hope not, or I might be in a lot of trouble.

The website https://campaignagainstsexrobots.org warns of the possible doomsday implications that the introduction of sex robots will bring to society.  A kind of cataclysmic, seedy, depraved Armageddon, in which love and romance become annihilated. Which are probably the very reasons that interest people to  buy a sex robot in the first place. They claim that sexbots could destroy marriages, but this is misrepresenting the real cause and effect relationship in the situation, The sexbot doesn’t destroy the marriage, but it’s more likely that because the marriage is already destroyed that makes a sexbot an attractive alternative.

  When Does Robosexuality and Robophobia Collide?

Matt McMullen, designer of the most advanced sex robot on the market, Harmony, described his invention,  “…its primary function is conversation and companionship, its secondary function, is obviously for sexual and intimate use.“

At one stage in the documentary, “Beyond Sex Robots: Facts Vs. Fiction” the narrator asks  the question, “so what’s it like to have dinner with the world’s first sex robots?” To which the recipient replies, “In a word, awkward. These aren’t the replicants of Blade Runner, or the Stepford Wives, they don’t understand social cues, and they can’t hold a conversation.”

Well that that describes about 90% of the dates I’ve ever been on.

One line that I found especially disturbing, “The neck enables the head to be attached to a number of different bodies”, traditionally this isn’t a characteristic of a healthy relationship, more the sort of thing a creative serial killer dreams about.

Elon Musk, Stephen Hawking, and Bill Gates have warned of the existential risk AI poses mankind. In regards to teledildonics this has me particularly worried. Let us make the assumption that one day AI does become self aware, and at the expense of committing the cardinal sin of attributing anthroporphic emotions to AI, I’m still of the opinion that once it’s worked out that some of us have been defiling, what are in effect its its early ancestors, it might become vengeful, at the very least upset. One of the great discussions in the field of AI is, whether it could have the capacity to become evil? Why would it become evil? Would AI have a sense of morality? Now I’m in no position to speak on behalf of Artificial Intelligence, but if anything could nudge it in the direction of vindictiveness, a history of sexual abuse might be the thing to do it.

…the first machines with superhuman intelligence will lack emotions by default, because they’re simpler and cheaper to build this way.”

  But why do I have to understand? Just because it “weirds me out,” are these reasons good enough to allow me stand between a man and his $20,000, automated, latex, sex robot. If all the participants are consenting to participate, and as I’ve already said, the machine is an inanimate object. And what if the robot did say no? I’m sure that a large percentage of people buying these robots will program it at some time to say, no. This isn’t an uncommon fantasy, but isn’t it better that it’s a robot saying no, not a person? Couldn’t robots allow these fantasies to be safely fulfilled? And why is it, that when I ask these questions I find myself sat on a threadbare carpet, playing Twister with Charles Manson?

  The Turing Test – The Imitation Game and Will Robots Fake Orgasms?

In his, 1950 article, “Computing Machinery and Intelligence,” the famous British Mathematician and computer science pioneer, Alan Turing designed a test that would prove whether a machine could imitate a human by the responses it gave during a conversation. C asks a question, and owing to a computer’s inability to replicate speech in 1950, C receives two printed answers to their question, from each A, and B.

The test is not perfect, it’s been criticised due to the vulnerability of the participant in role C, as well as the literacy capabilities of the person in role B. In my own experience, the computer, in role A is getting more linguistically competent while those in roles B, and C, are becoming less capable of participating in coherent communication.

While the Turing test is an interesting benchmark to assess a machines intelligence, the sexbot industry must need to adapt it to prove the authentic experiences their machines can provide. So how could this be adapted to test a sex robot? I’m not entirely sure, but I’m pretty certain participant C, needs to wear a blindfold, maybe nipple clamps, optional. A sort of  ménage à trois ensues, by the end of which participant C has to identify which was the machine of the other two participants was the robot. It might demean the work of one the finest minds of the twentieth century, it might not even be very scientific, but it would be an incredibly popular experiment to participate in.

When it comes to sex robots it looks like we’re still along way off a it seems that we are unfortunately still a long way off from having a fully functional, teledildonic Telly Savalas. Our imaginations, our dreams, and our nightmares remain far ahead of the reality, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t other high-tech sex products on the market.

  Virtual reality, Tesla Suits and Neuralink

Try telling me this isn’t the face of a man contemplating the experience of virtual reality while wearing a sensation simulating skin suit, with his brain hooked up to a pornographic website.

It’s almost impossible to talk of the future of technology without mentioning the visionary, high profile, crackpot, pot smoking genius that is Elon Musk. Musk is the Willy Wonka of technology, just more enigmatic, more open to using drugs in public, and more prone to calling random people, paedophiles.  But despite all of this, he remains near the centre of of the sphere of influence that’s designing our world for tomorrow. And while he’s not working on self driving cars, sending people to Mars, carbon neutral houses powered by solar roof tiles, a hyperloop subway running from New York to Washington, he might also be the most likely candidate to provide a fully immersive, digital sexual gratification.

No, Elon Musk hasn’t started plying his trade in public toilets, not that I now of. His two companies Neuralink The Teslasuit, a body suit that enables its user to a high degree of sensory experience of Virtual, or Augmented Reality.look like the more commercially viable product.Musk’s company Neuralink develops high bandwidth Brain-Machine Interfaces (BMI). They are near to completing work on the Neural Lac, connecting its user directly to the internet, and with 5G and the internet of things, the potential is frightening. Musk’s Tesla company has already produced the Teslasuit  that enables the wearer to experience the sensations inside Virtual Reality. Integrate these two technologies and sex robots will be the least of our concerns.

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  So , Concluding Sex with Robots, What Can Possibly Go Wrong?

Consumerism drives society’s appetite for ever more advanced technology, and if, you hadn’t already realized, this trend isn’t going to stop. Technology has been the cause of societal upheaval. While the internet has undoubtedly opened up unprecedented channels of communication, it has undermined most traditional western political systems that haven’t integrated the technology into their antiquated system. It’s facilitated the spread of radicalism, provided echo chambers for those to reinforce their bankrupt ideologies. As well as political systems, the internet has undermined economics, and entertainment. Until recently, most technological advancements have fundamentally changed society. Computer-Based Interfaces have the potential to change us as a species.

For any species, the urge to procreate is the most fundamental necessity of its survival. Sexual urges are among the most primitive we have. They originate in the oldest areas of our brains, and this is common to all mammals. The urge has been their long before our ancestors took up residence in the trees. The trouble is that technology is changing our environment at a rate far greater than we humans can adapt to it. So will we be having sex with robots? If we should’ve learnt one thing from capitalism, it’s that wherever there is a demand there’s always going to be a supplier to meet it. Isaac Asimov more succinctly said:

The Saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.

It’s been too long: something I’d be programming my sexbot to say to me. Until next time, I must go put my blindfold back on, attach the nipple clamps, and dedicate myself to some critical scientific experimentation.

Will Robots Dream of Electric Sheep,While Having Intercourse? The opportunity to write about sex robots has been tempting me for a while. I've been leaving it for when I needed to write about something lighthearted, something unconventionally kinky, an easy target for derisive profanity.