#goes to show you how bad the lack of shiny indicator is though because I was looking down on her from on top of a rock

[adobe-outdesign]

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Found my first shiny in SV today! This is Canary!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

[anchorshots]

a... all aboard the certainty express, next stop rokkenjima???? 

like... that’s where this has to be going, right??? riGHT????

um. anyways.

i really would not want to be going up against ooishi when he gets serious and starts playing dirty. how he managed to dump all the trash at the hojo residence without anyone noticing is beyond me, but  d a m n  s i r  that was some smooth handling of the cws case to keep teppei in hinamizawa. i’m guessing his game plan is to stake out the hojo residence and see if anyone shows up to off them? but what’s he gonna do when he sees satoko herself bringing k1 there? i guess the hinamizawa syndrome would explain that away for him somehow- then again he also seems to think k1 is complicit in the harassment without knowing what it is, so i guess he could rationalize it as “oh, satoko got through to him and he’s hearing her out!” ... only to go check up on them and, uh. y e a h. 

actually that’s what i’m most confused about- the sea of fragments scene was thrilling but forget all that witch stuff. yeah, yeah. something something lambdatoko real??? i don’t think what’s left of satoko’s humanity is gone for good- the rant during rika’s disembowelment seemed real enough; it’s just that loopertoko is firmly in control now and little things like realizing she’s in the wrong or regretting hurting her friends and beloved don’t matter anymore. no matter how she might feel, the ends justify the means and nothing’s getting in the way of her certain victory. not even herself. rika “gives in” after this, and satoko seems content with the way things are and more than happy to let things be until rika catches onto her and we get the guntoko scene. 

the twist of sotsu so far has been that there is no twist and everything we saw in the question arcs happened the way it was presented. the big “mysteries” were all context: why did rena develop hinamizawa syndrome? rina was a stressor in her life already, satoko made it worse with h173 to ensure the worst possible outcome. was mion or shion the culprit in wataakashi-hen? it was mion because satoko injected her for science™ out of curiosity. tatariakashi? satoko’s been gaslighting both teppei and her friends with the abuse situation and making both parties seem like the bad guy to the other. unfortunately for her we swerved into minagoroshi, so i guess she switched to ooishi since k1′s had too much character development to resort to murder? or to keep things unpredictable. who knows.

either way, what we saw in damashi cannot possibly be what actually happened. satoko shot teppei then beat his corpse well before ever leaving- that explains the weird ass shower scene we got and the lack of injuries; she’s cleaning off the blood. that explains the new outfit. she CAN’T wear the normal one, it’s covered in teppei’s blood so she had to grab whatever was sitting in her old room, which actually helps her look like she just escaped abuse and is celebrating. 

but... then what happened when she brought keiichi there? she can’t know that ooishi’s planning to throw her and teppei under the bus to catch the sonozakis carrying out the curse; she would have known ooishi dumped all the trash at their house. we would’ve seen some indication that she knew it was him. 

i’m guessing that keiichi really did hallucinate teppei attacking him, or that his head injuries muddled his memory of that night. he saw teppei’s body, got bonked by satoko, i guess passed out and because he remembers seeing teppei’s injuries assumes he did it? satoko flees the scene, having a feeling ooishi will show up once he hears screaming. ooishi does, sees k1 knocked out and teppei dead, assumes the villagers convinced k1 to go harrass them more or outright kill them and that there was a struggle. either way, his theory is right and off to the festival he goes to play with his shiny new hax. satoko has to walk while ooishi can drive, so she gets there later. but that’s okay, ooishi’s already killing rika at that point. all she has to do is jump fragments once she’s sure rika’s dead. 

alternatively ooishi bonked him, but given he’s going l5 that night the fact that he left k1 alive seems sus as hell. sure, he’s convinced the kid’s got no idea what’s really going on, but does that matter once you’re l5? you lose all inhibitions; the festival massacre proves that. 

i just. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa finally things are moving again!!! sucks that we have to wait till next week for more. 

i really hope goodtoko comes back in some way, though. :( her defiance and attempt to stop herself made me really sad tbh.

side note, i think i vaguely remember reading somewhere that unineko witches seek out or create other witches to ease their boredom. it’s probably me misremembering, but persnaps that’s featherine’s eua’s game plan here? she clearly expected witchtoko to develop and she’s been having a blast watching the show, especially with that sea of fragments scene... hmmm. 

[myghostmonument]

13xReader: Inhibitions

Notes: I’ve been writing a lot more “canon” pieces recently (non-readers, posted on my ao3), but it feels nice to go back to my fandom roots, so to speak, and finish off some requests like this one! Each style has its own challenges to work through, and it’s fun to move between them and keep things interesting. I plan to keep writing for both, so no worries to anyone who prefers one over the other. This is, as always, gender-neutral for the reader, and is also border-line a disaster!reader fic, a loose characterization style created by the incredible @lilaccoats​ that I stole bc she loves me 

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to a trendy bar, promising a night of relaxation and fun. Shenanigans ensue when you maybe-not-so-accidentally get a little too inebriated. 

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, mentions of vomit, and attempted assault. It’s more an uncomfortable conversation than anything, and nothing graphic happens, but please be warned!

WC: 7500 please don’t look at me like that I just picked at it to unwind as I worked on my zine piece and it got entirely out of hand honk honk goes the clown mobile 

The decision to go to a bar had been Ryan’s. That alone, that the destination had been picked during his turn, ought to have been enough forewarning; it seemed that whenever a trip went sideways, it almost always fell on Ryan’s turn (or the Doctor’s, but you and the others excluded that data — her choices were always catastrophes and not worth including in the risk analysis amongst yourselves).

But faced with the usual question of “where and when to next?”, Ryan had requested a bar, and the Doctor had delivered. You had landed on an asteroid, which according to the Doctor was the location of a top-notch bar, situated along a very popular intergalactic trading route. It was certainly busy, as you all left the TARDIS in an alley and approached the sleek, shiny building; there was a short queue to get in, but people — aliens and humans both — congregated in clumps around it and as you moved through the line and entered the bar, you even looked up and noticed people on the roof.

“So,” Yaz said, propping a hip against the bar counter and taking in the sights. “This is where the great Ryan Sinclair works his magic.” She let her eyes rove around the noisy crowd, and grinned over at Ryan. “You feeling right at home then?”

Ryan shot her a scowl, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. “Ha ha,” he said. “This is not what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, looking around at him. “Really? I thought I did all right.” She put her hands on her hips, surveying the crowded, noisy bar.

“Well I think it’s great Doc,” Graham said, already perusing a menu with interest. She beamed at him.

“Thank you, I try my best,” she said. She had her hands in her coat pockets, something that usually indicated she was being (or feeling) cautious. In this case, you thought she was merely trying to avoid knocking into anyone, or any drinks; the bar (if that’s what it was, it did seem more like a sort of club) was packed with people, and it would be all too easy to hook an elbow or bump a precarious drink.

Yaz and Ryan were still bickering, and although you generally enjoyed wading into those sorts of things, a menu caught your eye and you pulled it closer. You could read it, thanks to the TARDIS’ help, but translation could only go so far.

“Are these all alcoholic?” you wondered aloud, frowning at something listed as a Greyhound.

“Are they even all drinks?” Graham added, and you glanced up with a smile, knowing he was hoping for food.

“I think so,” the Doctor answered, moving over to you. She reached over to pull your menu towards her, and her sleeve brushed against your shoulder. “Hmm,” she said, still standing very close. “Sorry Graham, all liquid.” She didn’t actually sound all that sorry, you noted. Graham obviously noticed it as well, because he gave a theatrical sigh.

“Every drink has an inebriation agent of some sort,” the Doctor continued, scrunching her nose. “Different sorts for different races and species, this is a very diverse bar.”

“Are they all safe for us?” Yaz asked, also crowding your shoulder to look at the menu.

“Y-e-s,” the Doctor said slowly, followed by an “actually no,” and an eye-roll from Yaz. “Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean by safe. Humans are common enough here, but some drinks will still have a stronger or weaker effect than they would for their intended consumer. They’re coded, see?” She flattened her (your) drink menu on the counter and pointed. “This is the symbol for human, with standard colour rankings. Green means intended for you, yellow means it will have less effect, and red more.”

“Get in,” Ryan said, and you knew without having to look that he was perusing the red-coded drinks.

“You don’t want to try a Red,” the Doctor said sternly. “It could have any number of effects.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Ryan muttered, and then it was Graham’s turn to bicker with him while you and Yaz  scanned the menu.

“How do you think we order?” you wondered, after deciding to try the Greyhound, which was coded green. Yaz had decided on yellow-coded drink, which cited a lack of alcohol. Its kick came from the flavor combination and carbonation, apparently. Yaz’s particular choice sounded disgusting, and you were very much looking forward to watching her try it.

“Yeah, I don’t see a barkeep,” Graham added, craning over the counter and apparently done with trying to persuade Ryan to make good choices. “Though I suppose you might not be able to pick one out from this mess.” It was true; though you were congregated around a counter, there was no discernible life-form keeping tabs or otherwise running it, and the crushing ebb and flow of the crowd was a confusing riot of clashing voices and species. Over it all thrummed the heavy beat of music, alien but still somehow recognizable as upbeat and catchy. You had the distinct sense that this was a trendy bar, and wondered how the Doctor even knew about it.

“It’s simple,” the Doctor said, and she bent over you to again point at the menu, her arm resting against yours. “You see this bit here? You press it with your finger, then press the box next to the item you want.”

“How’s that work then?” Ryan asked dubiously.

“It’s DNA activated,” the Doctor said calmly, as if that were in any way a normal thing for a drinks menu to be. “We were all scanned when we walked through the doors, didn’t you notice?”

“Did we notice the DNA scanners in an alien bar filled with aliens?” Graham asked. “No, must have slipped my mind Doc, no idea how I missed them. ”

“Well,” the Doctor said loftily, “you were scanned. So order your drink like I said, and it’ll be brought to you.” She bent over her menu, some of her hair brushing against your face. You sat very still, swallowed, then reached for a menu and dragged it towards you (seeing as how your own had been commandeered.)

After some consideration you ordered your Greyhound, and it arrived in an interesting, fluted sort of glass, delivered by a waiter. The drink was a pleasing sanguine colour, complete with a wedge of fruit on the glass rim. The whole effect was quite good, too, which was more than Yaz could say for her yellow-coded drink, which she almost choked on. You didn’t deign to try it after that, but Ryan and the Doctor both made a big show of tasting it and being subsequently horrified. Graham, equable as ever, took the abandoned yellow in hand and sipped it serenely, something the rest of you took in with an impressed sort of horror. The Doctor drifted away shortly after with no drink of her own, which wasn’t too surprising; you rarely saw her ingest anything more than a taste of food or drink before flitting away, like some sort of overgrown and absent-minded hummingbird. Ryan and Graham wandered off too. You lingered at the counter with Yaz for a while, as she ordered a new (and improved) yellow-coded drink. You found your own glass empty, and after some hesitation, shrugged and ordered another Greyhound. It hadn’t been too strong; you simply felt warm, and bright. It was nice. Second drinks in hand, you and Yaz decided to do a circuit, it was dark and loud and you were quickly separated in the swirling crowd. No matter, you thought cheerfully, as you took another sip. You’d catch Yaz up eventually, no doubt. The music was blasting, and you unconsciously matched your footfalls to the beat, feeling it warm and sizzling in your blood along with the drink. You tipped the glass in your mouth at the end of the song, and were surprised to find it empty. “Well that’s rude,” you told the empty glass, which flashed  in your hand in a thoroughly unimpressed manner. You pivoted in the press of bodies around you, trying to find a free table and a menu. You needed replacement drink, seeing as how your current one was clearly faulty. “Must’ve shorted me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Typical. Think I can’t handle my glasses - I mean, hounds. Dogs. Drinks.” You stumbled as you pushed through a group of people, but regained your stride easily enough. You even spotted Ryan in a shadowy corner, chatting with a very lovely alien indeed. She seemed to be trying to entice Ryan to dance; you wished her the best of luck. Ryan was a hilarious dancer. Not bad, but definitely hilarious, and he took some convincing. You reached a table on the edge of the dance floor, and pulled a menu towards yourself. It took you a couple of jabs to correctly order your Greyhound — your finger kept slipping. Or maybe it was the menu, actually. “Faulty drinks, faulty menus,” you complained to the room at large, leaning back against a pillar as you waited. The people swirling around you were difficult to focus on, and you wondered suddenly if the room was tilting — surely the room itself wasn’t faulty! “Have to get the foundations checked,” you informed the alien server who appeared with your drinks. They gave you an odd look and vanished. You reached for your drink, but paused, hand outstretched as you considered the not one but three glasses set before you. Two Greyhounds, and one that was something else, a smaller, opaque glass. The liquid shimmered in a very interesting way indeed, and it was difficult to look away. Well, perhaps they had brought you the extra drinks on the house, in order to make up for all the faults you’d been uncovering left and right. You stumbled as you pondered this, which as far as you were concerned was proof enough of the foundational flaws; you were, after all, standing still, so what other reason would you have to stumble? Unbelievable. You reached for the Greyhound, but your hand paused, then changed course halfway through and grasped the smaller, shimmering cup instead. It was very light in your grip. You tasted it and stumbled again; it had hit your tongue with a wallop, your entire body was fizzing with a bolt of what must be pure electricity, there was no other possible explanation. Everything around you was abruptly brighter, louder, richer. You blinked, fascinated. “Not too many humans can handle their reds,” a voice said next to you, and you set the cup down with a thud, squinting as the alien next to you came slowly into focus. “You usually so squiggly?” you asked him, and he titled his head, dark eyes moving from you to the half-drunk cup, and back again. His smile flashed in the low light, and for a moment it was all you could see, becoming somehow the brightest, sharpest thing in the room. “It’s a curse,” he said, and you nodded sagely, taking another sip. His eyes followed the cup, and his smile sharpened. “Could cut myself on that,” you observed. “Teeth,” you added, when he looked confused. Perhaps he was drunk; it was ridiculous how many people couldn’t hold their liquor! “Want to try?” he asked, and his hand was on your arm. You weren’t sure when it got there. “Excuse me?” you said, loftily, aiming for a bit of the Doctor in your speech. You thought you did quite well, but the alien didn’t look as annoyed as anyone on the receiving end of one of the Doctor’s questions usually did. Rude. “Do I want to try what?” you asked belatedly, and realized that you were being towed towards the dance floor. When had you made that decision? Time seemed to be leaping ahead and then stalling out in great lurches, and everything was fuzzy and dull. You felt the glass taken from your hand, and were vaguely surprised to find that it was empty again. Another faulty glass? Really? You might have to register a complaint. “Not a lot of humans here,” the alien said, and his hands were on your sides, moving you to the music. People pressed all around you, bumping your shoulders and making it difficult to get your bearings. Your shoes squelched on the slightly sticky floor as they moved. You wanted to stop and see if you could get the room to stop spinning so much, but the hands on you kept you in motion. The alien was speaking again, close to your ear so you could hear him over the din. “You come here alone?” he asked, his fingers warm against your side, and tight. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him but he kept you where you were.“No,” you said, blinking as you tried to orient yourself. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. “Came with m’friends.” “And they left you all alone, to drink a red?” he murmured, and his grip tightened. He was pulling you across the dance floor; the light was fading, and you realized all at once, as you moved into a more shadowed section of the room with only the gleaming crescent of his smile visible, that you were actually quite drunk, and didn’t know where any of the others were. “Should - should get back to them,” you tried to articulate, and he laughed, one of his hands sliding lower. “You’re right where you want to be.”  You stiffened, and tried to pull away. “No, I want to find my friends,” you slurred, jerking back. He held your arm, and pulled you into him in a great twirl, and suddenly your back was against a dark, slightly sticky wall. He loomed over you, one hand still vise-like on your arm, the other pressed against the wall by your head. He smiled down at you, except it didn’t really look so much like a smile anymore, but just a lot of very sharp, gleaming teeth. Your face was very cold, and you wished the room would stop spinning enough that you could push him off and find the others. “I could be your friend,” the alien said, his breath fanning across your face, his hand sliding lower again. The hand on the wall touched your hair, curled a lock of it musingly through his fingers. “I just love red-drunk humans, all alone and lost and looking for a friend to help them.” You struggled again in his grip, and this time he let you go. You lurched sideways along the wall, falling against the corner in a heap. You thought you should feel sick, but you only felt annoyed, and cold, and something else, something like confusion that was tipping towards fear. The alien lifted you back up, hands on your arms, then pressed you back against the corner, his weight against you. Annoyance flared and you tried to push him away. “Let go,” you ordered, but he only laughed, touched your face. “You don’t want to be alone right now do you little Red?” he asked. “I’m sure that’s true,” a new voice interrupted. It had a familiar, lilting cadence, but you didn’t recognize the sharpness to it, or the way danger simmered beneath the surface. The alien didn’t glance away from you. “We’re busy,” he said, touching your face again. “Find your own —” but then he was ripped away from you in swirl of grey fabric and flashing eyes. You swayed, then jerked back as hands touched you again, but — “It’s okay,” that voice said, “it’s alright, it’s me,” and you recognized it this time. The Doctor tucked you against her side and you inhaled that familiar scent of tea and vanilla, and it cleared your head a little, enough to let out a shaky breath. “He’s being - rude,” you told the Doctor, your voice muffled as you glared at the alien. “Yes, he is,” she answered. Her voice was still light, and soothing, and you weren’t able to see the way she was looking at him.  He scowled, gaze darting from you to the Doctor and back before making a dismissive sort of hand gesture and melting into the crowd. The Doctor stood very still for a moment, and you all you could hear was the thunder of her hearts. She let out a breath, then turned you. Again you found your back against that wall, only the hands on you were gentle, and cool. The Doctor touched your face as she looked at you, and that was better too. “Are you okay?” she asked, and you wondered at the appearance of that crease in her brow. She looked dangerous, in the half-light, but her hands were still so light. You nodded, and suddenly her grip on you was tight as she kept you from toppling over. “Wouldn’t - leave me alone,” you told her. “Rude.” “You already said that,” she observed, removing one of her hands to fish in a pocket for her sonic. You blinked at her, swaying on your feet as she ran it over you. She read the output and exhaled. “Tell me you didn’t drink a red.” “I didn’t drink a red,” you repeated dutifully, and watched as her entire face scrunched up in exasperation. It was nice.“You’re so pretty,” you informed her. It was important that she knew in that moment how pretty she was, with her face all scrunchy and the flashing lights making a halo of her head. “So pretty. Too pretty.” You stumbled, and again she caught you. “Okay, I think it’s back to the TARDIS with you.” “Says who,” you slurred, even as she steered you away from the wall and towards the exit. “You’re not — you’re not the boss of me.” “I certainly am,” she muttered. “Especially when you’ve gone and had a red, and I explicitly told you it was a bad idea.” Her grip on your arm was firm and cool, and infinitely preferable to the alien’s. The other alien, that was, because obviously she was alien too. So many aliens! “You’re the best alien though,” you mused aloud, and she darted a quick look at you, tongue poking briefly out of her lips. You liked that quite a lot. You wanted her to do it again, in fact, but she had drawn her lips back into a thin line as she watched you. She steered you towards the exit, but the crowd seemed to have doubled in size, and she was forced to shove her way bodily through the dancing, yelling patrons. A much larger person staggered into her and she grunted as she took the blow. “I think I hate bars,” she said, her voice all but inaudible over the din. “That’’s new. Maybe.” Someone else knocked into her, and the force was heavy enough to jar your arms from her grip. She receded from you in a blurry tunnel of light and sound, and then it was just you, pressed between strange bodies on the dance floor while the music thundered through your bones. Huh. Almost everyone was taller than you, and you had no idea which way the exit was, or the Doctor. You didn’t care much about the exit, but it’d be good to find the Doctor; you had felt less…. fuzzy, when her hands had been on your arms, and more like yourself again. And also she was just so pretty. Wandering in a blurry haze of music and voices, you began to wonder if maybe you might locate another drinks menu. You weren’t so sure about another red, but it also didn’t seem like quite as bad of an idea as it had an hour ago. That was interesting. Weaving and stumbling, you tried to push through the press of bodies, and had made a little bit of progress when — — hands, there were hands on you again — You lurched sideways as you tried to bat those hands away, but there was nowhere to go, the wall of people bounced you back, and the lights were flashing and people were shouting and there were hands on you again — “ - alright? Hey?” The hands succeeded at spinning you around, and a person loomed out of the crowd. Two things followed in short order: you recognized Yaz, and you threw out a defensive fist. They didn't happen in the optimal order, however. “Oi!” Yaz cried, dodging your fist and catching it in her own. “It’s me, what the hell?” She was still sliding in and out of focus, but you were aware of the fact that she was quite pretty too. "’M sorry,” you told her, wondering why she was pulling away from you. You hadn’t actually hit her, after all. Had you? “Sorry,” you repeated, swaying.She was peering at you, her hands firm on your arm. Her eyes were very dark, but they reflected the dancing lights all around you and you blinked, fascinated. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. “Absolutely corking,” you slurred, proud to remember the phrase you had heard Graham use (and Ryan mock) earlier. You weren’t sure why it made Yaz look so alarmed. “Yaz — oh, good —” The Doctor popped into your view as she squeezed between two dancing aliens who took no notice of her, which was probably good because her expression was quite stormy indeed. She still looked quite pretty. How’d she manage that? It wasn’t fair. “Doctor,” Yaz said, turning, “I think something’s wrong —” “Someone decided that they should have a red,” the Doctor said, grim. “I also had two - three - I had - greens!” you told them both, proud. Yaz’s look of alarm deepened, and it was so comical that you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. When that did nothing except make her and the Doctor’s brows both snap into synchronized, angry little v shapes, you only giggled harder. “Right, TARDIS,” the Doctor said ominously. “Yaz, can you find Ryan and Graham and let them know?” Yaz nodded and between one blink and another, she had vanished again. “Just like magic,” you told the Doctor, wondering why your lips were numb. She gave you a swift, searching look, her eyebrows still angry little vs and her tongue still poking between her lips. “Come on,” she said, wrapping a cool hand around your wrist. The contact was steadying, and very nice. She kept you close, clearly not wishing to be separated again as she towed you towards the exit. “Don’t want to go,” you told her abruptly, and you couldn’t hear your voice over the crowd and the music. You didn’t even know why you said it; it wasn’t true, strictly. You still felt like you could fit in another drink or two worth of fun, but you didn’t really care where you went, not if the Doctor was with you. Even if she looked so angry as she glanced back over her shoulder. She had heard you, evidently. She had very good hearing; you and Ryan and Yaz had been working on an experiment to test the limits of it, but hadn’t put it in action yet. Someone bumped into the Doctor hard and she grunted, but her grip on you remained iron-clad and she pulled you closer, actually folding you into her arms to protect you from the jostling crowd.“This is not what I had in mind,” she muttered, her lips very close to your ears as she spoke. It was nice, and extraordinarily distracting. “Do people actually enjoy these places?” “Ryan does apparently,” you said, remembering him chatting up that pretty alien. “This was his idea wasn’t it?” the Doctor mused, moving again and pulling you with her. You were still very close. “I don’t suppose we’ll be letting him choose the next adventure. Ah. That’s better,” she added as she stepped out of the bar and into the night, towing you with her.  A blast of cool, humid air hit you, wrapping around your body and cooling your cheeks. Even though the bar itself had been fairly dark, your eyes still relaxed as the flashing lights fell away.The Doctor let go, and the sobering effect of the night seemed to pull back, a little, as if you’d lost your anchor. The world tilted around you, the stars overhead wheeling and dancing. It made you feel a little bit sick, but it was also beautiful. The Doctor was talking, and you struggled to focus.“Think we parked just over there, yeah, must’ve. Let’s go — where are you going?” The last was delivered with an air of extreme exasperation as she turned in time to witness you bolting away. “I want to be colder,” you told her as you stumbled through the night. You were on pavement (alien pavement, anyways) but in the distance you could see the shadow of what had to be trees (alien trees) and maybe some grass (alien grass). You wanted nothing so much as to lay down on that grass. The Doctor’s protests followed you as you reached the tree and hurled yourself down at the cool earth. Well, not earth. Whatever passed for earth here. What was dirt on an asteroid called? A shadow fell over you, blocking the stars, and you turned your cheek in the grass to look up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hands on her hips, stray hairs blowing in the wind.“You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said. “You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” you replied cheerfully, and even though you couldn’t see her expression very well in the darkness and swirling stars, you could feel the scrunched-up scowl she leveled at you. “Come on,” she said, and her voice was exasperated but her hands were gentle as they lifted you off the ground. Gentle again, as they caught you when you stumbled sideways. “Careful, now. Come on.” “Don’t feel - so good -” you told her, and it was true; the fuzzy, warm glow was fading and the whirling of the stars wasn’t so much aesthetically pleasing as it was now sickening. “I expect not,” the Doctor muttered. “What could have possibly possessed you to drink so much? To drink a red?” “I didn’t mean t’ order it,” you defended yourself. “It was just - just there.” “And you drank it? Something you hadn’t ordered?” the Doctor demanded. “Surely you know not to do that!” “Just trying to have fun,” you mumbled, guilt rising up in you alongside the nausea. “Just wanted —  didn’t mean to — I wasn’t —” “Okay, it’s okay, I know,” the Doctor said, her voice softening. She shifted you against her as she spoke, and you realized she was fumbling for the TARDIS key. The blue box was humming at an almost inaudible frequency, but you could feel it moving through you bones, cooling your blood, steadying you. “Thanks,” you said weakly, patting a hand on the wood as the Doctor steered you through. The interior slights dimmed as you came in,  and it was a soothing balm on your eyes and raw nerves. “She’s spoiling you lot,” the Doctor muttered, but you could hear the fondness threading through her voice. “She likes us,” you thought, or maybe said. The Doctor made a soft sound, not quite a word, and you weren’t sure if she’d heard you. Weren’t sure if you’d spoken. “Okay, try and eat this,” the Doctor said a few moments later. Or maybe hours, you still weren’t entirely sure how time was progressing. Her fingers brushed your lips as she placed a fizzing sort of tablet on your tongue, and you realized all at once that your lips weren’t numb anymore, but blazing with sensation. “Swallow it, it’ll help,” she added. You blinked, looking into her face, so close to yours. There was still that furrow by her eyebrow but she didn’t seem angry, anymore. Not like she had with she’d stared down that rude alien. Her eyes were bright, glittering like the star field outside of the bar. “Too pretty,” you complained, then promptly choked on the tablet you had forgotten on your tongue. “Swallow,” she repeated, placing two fingers on your mouth. Your breath hitched, which did not help the choking one bit. You did, at least, in the midst of the resulting coughing fit, manage to swallow the tablet,  but it burned and your eyes streamed as you blinked at the Doctor. “Good,” she said, placing fingers under your chin. Her touch was somehow both cooling and blazing, comforting and so very distracting. You made an indeterminate sound, and her eyes flicked to yours, a brief touch, before flicking over your face. “That should kick in soon,” she said, dropping her hand. “Is it — gonna cure me,” you asked, and the breathless quality to your voice was due to the lingering affects of drunkenness, surely, and not the Doctor’s touch. She snorted, pushing hair out of her eyes.“It’ll speed up the process, burn the chemicals out of your system faster,” she said. “And it’ll make for a quicker hangover.” She fixed you with an amused look. “Quicker, but not easier. You’re in for a fun night, I think.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on the couch. You regretted it at once, as your head spun and your stomach roiled, but the drama of the moment had dictated.“I didn’t mean to,” you complained, shutting your eyes as the lights spun around you. The spinning didn’t stop, in the darkness behind your eyelids, but it was a little bit better. Maybe. A cool hand brushed your forehead, and that definitely was better. “I know,” she said, and you could hear the gentleness in her voice. “Am I going to die?” you asked, not because you thought that you were — you’d been sick before, though admittedly not from alien alcohol — but it had the right flair of drama to it. It also made the Doctor snort again, and regrettably, her hand slid from your brow. “You’re drunk, not dying,” she said, and her voice was receding as she moved around the room.  “Humans and their substances, honestly.” Something was placed on your brow, cool and damp and soothing. The Doctor tucked the cloth against your head with deft, gentle fingers even as she continued to explain her thoughts on humans and all of their myriad of flaws. “You’ve never been drink — you don’t drunk —” You stumbled over the words, and felt her fingers still, then fall away from the cloth. You opened your eyes and with the room spinning and the dim light and the serious, difficult to read expression on her face, she looked as remote and otherworldly as she actually was for all that she was your friend. “Time Lords are an advanced race, we certainly don’t have the same genetic predispositions towards inebriation or the desire to attempt so,” she said finally, still looking down at you. You grunted, considering her words as they slid in and out of your head.“Didn’t answer the question,” you observed, and were rewarded with a scowl. “Hm,” was all she said, but she was smiling slightly. “Try to rest now, and if you need to be sick —” she kicked something on the floor that gave a hollow thud. “Try to aim in here, yeah?” “I am not going to be sick,” you said firmly, and the Doctor’s smile flashed in the dim light. “I hope not, the pill’s supposed to help with that but,” she shrugged expansively, and even through the spinning room you were able to focus in shocking clarity on the pull of her shirt across her frame she did so, “I don’t really know what combination of ingredients you drank, and how they’ll react to the other things you drank or your own biology. So. Bin.” She nudged it with a boot again. “I’m going to check on the others, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be right back.” You didn’t want her to go, but you were feeling worse by the moment as the alcohol was burned out of your system and, as far as you could tell, migrated to your head. You could feel each heartbeat rattling in your skull like knives, and your roiling stomach kept speed with it. You moaned something that the Doctor took for agreement. Time passed, although you weren’t in any way able to keep track of it. You suspected it had been a century based on the pounding in your head, but it could have only been a few heartbeats. Either way, you were still alone when you realized that what you really needed was some water. Nobody was around to hear you, but you still complained and groaned and generally made a spectacle as you swung your legs off the couch, sitting upright. Your stomach made a solid pass at leaping out of your throat, but you steadied yourself with a snarl; you were not going to need the bin, you were not going to be sick. And you were right; all thoughts of nausea fled as you pushed yourself to your feet, because your skull might as well have shattered. Your headache pounded so violently that you thought it might be slamming you through the floor; it felt too heavy, too thick, too white-hot with blinding pain. Death was infinitely preferable to this miserable thing called life. “Never — drinking — again —” you vowed, swaying, hoping the floor might just swallow you whole and end your suffering. “A noble sentiment,” the Doctor said from behind you. “But one rarely adhered to, I suspect. What are you doing off the sofa?” She appeared at your side, a steadying hand on your elbow. “You didn’t sick up somewhere did you,” she added with sudden trepidation, looking around your feet apprehensively. “I just wanted something to drink,” you told her, wretched. Your head was still pounding, and even the dimmed lights were still too bright. They stabbed your eyes with sharp, splintering shards of pain. You groaned, and leaned your head instinctively against the Doctor’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” she said, with a touch of asperity, but her hand was gentle as ever as she smoothed hair back from your forehead. “Water,” you clarified, your voice muffled from the folds of her coat. It was soft, and cool, and smelled like home. “Ah,” the Doctor said, steering you back to the couch. She eased you down again. “Stay, I’ll get you some water and a new cloth.” “Where are the others? Are they coming?” you asked miserably as she reappeared, setting a glass of water in your hands. It had a truly spectacular bendy, swirly straw that was almost as long as the glass itself, a vibrant purple and orange that hurt your eyes to look at, but you appreciated the gesture as you lifted it to your mouth with weak hands. “They’ll be here soon, they’re trying to find Ryan,” the Doctor said. The cushions dipped as she settled on the other end of the sofa. “They might have to expand the search,” you said, thinking of that alien he had been speaking with. You groaned as your head gave another spike of pain, and slid down the couch as sitting became too much effort. “Just rest,” the Doctor said. “It’ll pass.” “Promise?” “I promise,” she said, and your eyes were closed, but you could hear the slight smile in her voice. “I am the best alien, after all.” You could definitely hear the smile, now, and something niggled at your memory; you suspected that the Doctor was poking fun at something you had said while in the bar, but the memory was sliding in and out with tremendous spikes of pain and you let it go. You suspected that you had said many unfortunate things, and you could only hope that the Doctor hadn’t heard or remembered most of them. You drifted for a time, after that, surfacing to occasional bursts of pain or nausea or, more welcome, cool hands on your brow as they took your temperature or readjusted the the damp cloth. Clarity — and more importantly, an absence of that all-encompassing pain — arrived abruptly. You sat up gingerly, feeling weak and shaky and not even remotely good, but it was a normal not-good, not I’m going to die and if not I wish it would hurry up about it not-good. “Ah, here we are,” the Doctor said, and you looked over to see her curled up at her end of the couch, a book in her hand.  She closed it and tucked it in the cushion. “Feeling better?” “Yeah,” you said, peeling off the now warm and dry cloth from your head. You looked down at it, then the mercifully empty bin at your feet. Something else rolled in your stomach, almost worse than the earlier nausea: shame, with a side of guilt. “Ah. Sorry, about all that,” you mumbled, darting another look at the Doctor. She was watching you, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over you, still assessing. “Accepted,” she said, scooting over to you and fishing her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Deep breath,” she said, resting it against your chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for anyways,” she added.  “It’s not your fault you got served a red, or that someone tried to take advantage of you for it.” You had forgotten about that, had forgotten about that other alien and his heavy, unwelcome hands, and his sharp, hungry smile. You shuddered, and the Doctor’s eyes touched your own, a welcome distraction. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste time on me,” you muttered, but she was pushing a fresh glass of water into your hand. “Drink. And yes I do, or do you not remember bolting up and trying to climb the  TARDIS console?” You goggled at her. “Apparently not,” she said with a wicked grin. “No, don’t apologize again, it’s okay. You got me out of that bar anyways, I really wasn’t vibing with it. ”You had been awash in horror at your actions, but the Doctor’s last words snapped you out of it. “Vibing with it?” you repeated, incredulous.   She shot you a look, tongue poking slightly between her lips.“Yeah, am I using that right? Ryan taught me.”  You were still goggling at her, but the sound of a door opening and a rush of voices distracted you both. “Ah, finally,” the Doctor said, brushing off her legs and standing up. “I wonder what kept them. We’re in here,” she added, pitching her voice to carry to the others and making no effort to define where “here” was; it was obvious to her, and that apparently was to be enough for everyone else. It was very her. Everything she did was very her, you mused. Not just because it was her doing them, but because she did everything with such one-hundred percent commitment, energy, and enthusiasm. You smiled slightly, watching her as she stood with her hands on her hips. She’d taken off her coat at some point, and she looked smaller without it, more wild and fleeting, something ephemeral. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled when she met your eyes. That smile was also wild, fleeting and ephemeral, but it grounded her, a little bit, in the here and now. And you, too. “Hello,” Yaz said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, her hair coming out of its braids, her jacket mussed, but it was a happy sort of tired. “Have fun?” The Doctor asked as Yaz threw herself down on the couch next to you. “Yes,” Yaz said, leaning her head back on the cushions. “Not as much fun as some other people, though,” she added, and turned her head to fix you with her dark, glittering eyes. “How are you doing?” “I feel like death,” you told her, and stuck out your tongue when she grinned. “That’s what you two get for going off-book,” she said smugly, wiggling her shoulders deeper into the couch and kicking off her shoes before lifting her legs and curling them up on the couch. “Oi, I didn’t drink a red,” the Doctor said, indignantly. “Not that I would have been affected, if I had. You humans are so — ” “She been going on like this the whole time?” Yaz asked you, and the Doctor gave her a dark look. You giggled, and it only made your head split down the middle a little bit. It was worth it, for the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Definitely,” you confirmed, wincing as you lifted a hand to rub your temples. “This is the thanks I get, for spending my night chasing after red-drunk humans? Mockery and false accusations?” “Not you,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “I was talking about — “ “Hellooooooo TARDIS!” “That,” Yaz finished, turning to watch as Ryan crashed into the room, with an aggrieved Graham in his wake. The Doctor groaned, throwing her hands up. “Ryan! Not you too!” “Guilty your honor,” Ryan crooned, spinning a wild circle and narrowly avoiding the couch with his flailing feet. You hastily copied Yaz, drawing your feet up onto the cushions and settling in to watch the show. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love! Congratulate me.” “You’re not in love, son, you’re drunk,” Graham said wearily, trying to grab Ryan, but he spun out of reach. And fell over. The room shuddered. You gasped, Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth, Graham cursed. The Doctor closed her eyes. “Ow,” Ryan said, but he was smiling beatifically up at the ceiling. “What happened?” The Doctor asked resignedly, crouching by Ryan and taking his pulse, then pulling out her sonic. He ignored her, still smiling happily up at the ceiling, his toes clicking together as he hummed. He was still firmly in the “fun” stage of the Red inebriation, it seemed. “What do you think, Doc?” Graham answered tiredly, moving to stand by them. “He wanted to impress a pretty girl.” “Did he?” you asked, interestedly. The situation was a lot funnier when it wasn’t happening to you, it turned out. “Well, he chugged a red and challenged some bloke to a dance contest,” Yaz said. She was grinning, and it was the grin of a sober woman witnessing the carnage wreaked by foolish friends. “We almost didn’t get him out of there.” The Doctor stood up, pinching her nose. She came to a decision.“Right. I’ll get him a pill, but I’ve done my babysitting duty for the night. He’s your problem after that.” She stode from the room, and you heard her mutter something about never going to a bar again. Yaz heard her too, and you shared a grin. Ryan, it turned out, had very little interest in taking the hangover-speed-up pill from the Doctor. It also turned out that red-inebriation or no, he could still move very quickly, and it took the combined efforts of Yaz, Graham and the Doctor to get the pill in his mouth. You filmed most of on your phone you'd fumbled quickly out of a pocket, which as far as you were concerned did just as much to help the situation as any of them. The Doctor threw herself down on the sofa next to you with an explosive sigh. “I am never,” she said, tipping back her head, “taking humans to a bar. Ever again.” Ryan moaned from the floor, punctuating the statement with eloquence. Yaz sat down on the Doctor’s other side, then scooted over to make room for Graham who was looking silent and shell-shocked. You found your shoulders rubbing the Doctor’s, and you curled your feet up under you to make more room while leaning your head against her shoulder. You could hear her twin heartbeats, and after a moment she rolled her head so that her chin was resting in your hair.“You’re all on probation,” she said, firmly. You hummed skeptically, and Yaz snorted. Graham was still grimly silent, but you knew he’d come around. Silence, for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan’s increasingly pathetic moans.“Shall I pop in a movie?” Yaz asked finally. “Go on then,” the Doctor said, resigned, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be here for a while.” “‘’m never drinking again,” Ryan groaned from the floor.  He clapped his hands over his ears as you all began to laugh, which did exactly nothing to help. “Humans,” the Doctor said to the TARDIS ceiling, but she was still smiling. “You love us,” Yaz said, standing up and moving to put on a movie. “Yeah,” the Doctor said after a moment, so softly that you thought you might be the only one who heard it. “I do.”

[asthmark]

❝ hotel soteria ❞ [ i ]

summary → After an assassination gone wrong, you and your partner are in critical need of a hideout and what better place than Hotel Soteria — an exclusive safe haven for the worst of the worst. But, the longer you stay, the more you become exposed to Korea’s biggest and baddest outlaws and begin to learn what the criminal life is truly all about.

warnings → mentions of death, blood n guns n stuff

word count → 3k (kind of short i’m sorry!!)

You had done something bad.

Your crimson-soaked clothes, disheveled hair, and bruise littered skin confirmed it. You ignored the blood that dribbled down your upper lip and what you were sure was a black eye forming. You shut your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of gravel beneath the tires of the car rather than the pain. You were so exhausted you had begun to doze off, before the boy in the driver's seat spoke up.  

“How you holding up back there?”

You twist your head slightly to make eye contact with Lucas through the rear view mirror and simply groan in response to his question.

You see sympathy wash over his face. “Don't worry. We'll be there soon.”

You have so many questions for him. Where exactly were you going? Why was it taking so long? Was it safe?

You're out before you can ask.

When the car door opens, you jolt awake. You crane your neck to look up at the shadow towering above you.

“C’mon, we’re here.” Lucas extends his arm out to you.  

You take his hand, finding yourself to be incredibly stiff. You both cringe when you hear your bones crack as you move ever so slowly.

When you step out of the vehicle after what seemed like an eternity, the first thing you notice is how dark it was. You had fled the crime scene a little after sunset but you could now see the yellow moon illuminate the sky.

"What time is it?" you ask, your voice hoarse.

"It's around 11. Why?"

"It's just… these past few hours have been a blur," you respond. You wince as Lucas puts your arm around him so you can use his broad shoulders as support. “We should stick to robbing banks.”

"That’s probably true... but, hey, we're not dead." He chuckles dryly.

You look at him and he flashes you that charming smile of his. It makes you feel better for a second. Then you notice the dry blood on his temple and the cut on his bottom lip.

You frown. "Are you okay?"

He nods, reassuringly but you don't fail to notice his limp as you both walk. He catches the way your eyes dart down to his injury. "Don't worry about that. I'd say we got off pretty easy this time.”

You have to agree with him there. Once your covers had been blown, you expected more police sirens and handcuffs but the current situation you find yourself in is oddly serene. Just you and him walking beneath the stars.

"Where are we going?" you ask after a moment of silence.

His answer is simple. "Hotel for criminals.”

You go still, trying to process what your partner has just said. He senses your confusion and continues explaining.

“I heard about it through a friend. Apparently, it really comes in handy when you need a hideout.”

“And it’s not just some government scheme to lure in delinquents or something?"

“It seemed legit to me. I had to pay for memberships and everything.”

"Memberships? Lucas, this whole thing sounds sketchy."

"Well, we need a place to stay. We shouldn’t spend the night at just any hotel, the cops could track us down. This place is our best bet. And look, if it is all a scam, we'll just kill 'em." Lucas offers you a bright smile that made it seem as if he were talking about something much more upbeat instead of murder.

You finally relent. "Alright. If we're gonna get caught I'd rather it be now. So, where is this place?"

You and Lucas walk and don’t stop until you reach a complex that looks to be so run down you believe it’s abandoned. The only thing that indicates that it’s the place you’re looking for is the sign that hangs above the front door.  

You read it aloud. "Hotel Soteria. Sounds… fancy."

The two of you shuffle up to the front steps, equally unsure of whether or not this was the right choice.

"Before we do this… any other ideas?" Lucas asks, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You shake your head. "Like you said, you already paid. We have the memberships. No backing down now."

Lucas seems to agree because after taking a deep breath he twists the knob and swiftly steps inside. You glance behind you, surveying the dark that engulfed the streets, then follow.

Dust is the first thing you notice about Hotel Soteria. It's everywhere. On the floor, on the portraits that litter the walls and on the front desk that is placed right in the middle of the lobby.

"So much for fancy," Lucas murmurs, lingering behind you, too busy observing the framed photos.

You make a beeline for the wooden surface. A shiny, metal bell sits atop it next to a computer and a landline phone. None of these items are dusty, though. They've been in use.

Lucas steps forward to tap the bell and you jump slightly; the ding sound cutting through the eerie silence of the hotel and startling you. The noise echoes until it fades and you're once again left with nothing but quiet.

"Do you think they're closed?" you ask, turning to face your partner.

"We never close."

You and Lucas turn around in unison to face the desk and the man that has suddenly appeared behind it, pulling out your guns and aiming them at him in record time.

The man does not seem fazed in the slightest. In fact, he seems almost bored with the two of you, his cat-like eyes narrowed into an unamused stare. “Well, good evening to you too.”

“You're the guy I talked to over the phone.” Lucas lowers his gun at hearing the man's voice more clearly. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

The man seems to remember him as he smiles ever so slightly. “Ah, Lucas, right? I'm pleased to see you got here safely.” The man then turns to you. His smile has dropped and been replaced with a look of pure disgust at seeing how you still have your weapon up. “Would you mind?”

You reluctantly lower it but not before mumbling, “This place is so sketchy.”

The man scoffs, having heard you. “What did you expect? Five star ratings? This is a place for criminals. If it bothers you so much you can go elsewhere.”

“No, no. We’re fine.” Lucas punctuates the last word by nudging your arm and shooting you a glare for your comment. He attempts to move the conversation forward. “So, uh, can we please check in?”

The man doesn't hesitate to deny him. “Nope.”

“Nope?" Lucas repeats, incredulously. “What do you mean? We paid for the membership. You have to help us."

"Actually, I don't have to do anything," the man says, smiling smugly. "Especially not when you're violating my rules."

Lucas furrows his eyebrows. "You didn't tell me anything about rules."

"You didn't ask."

You sigh. “We're tired and we’re injured. Just tell us your rules so we can get this going.”

The man clears his throat. "First of all, no weapons are allowed."

You glance at Lucas, a displeased expression on your face. He pays you no mind, opting instead to listen to the man, carefully.

"Secondly, no disrespectful words or harmful actions are allowed against the staff." You notice how his eyes flicker to you when he says this. "Third of all, your membership must be paid for in full and in advance. Fourth of all, no video or photography is permitted. Lastly, there is zero tolerance policy against killing or physical altercations of any sort. That should be a given but I've figured out you can never be too sure." He sighs and you can only imagine all the awful things that had happened in the hotel for him to have to establish that as a rule. "Violate any of these rules and your membership will immediately be terminated, no questions asked. Are we clear?"

Lucas nods vigorously.

The man's gaze shifts to you. "I asked if we were clear."

"Crystal," you respond.

He smiles once more but it lacks emotion. “Perfect. You can leave any weapons or firearms right here.”

Lucas obeys, pulling his gun from his holster and placing it on the desk. You copy his action, biting back a complaint.

The man nods, satisfied with your cooperation. “They will be returned once your stay ends. Now, Yangyang will escort you to your room.”

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps are heard and another man appears—if you could even call him that. He looks more like a boy to you, if anything. You wonder what he’s doing working at a place like this. Was it possible that he had a criminal record of some sort? If he did, he certainly did not show it. He had a warm smile on his face, a stark contrast from the cold faced man at the front desk. He makes a motion for you to follow him and leads you up a set of stairs, away from the lobby. For a moment, it’s only the sound of footsteps and creaking but surprisingly, he decides to make conversation.  

“What did you guys do?” he asks. His voice seems childlike, like a nosy little boy.

“Huh?”

He chuckles at your answer. “Well, you’re not here for fun, right? You’re running from something.”

Lucas chimes in. “Police.”

Yangyang makes a face, as if the mere thought of any legal authority disgusts him. “So, what was it then? Why are they after you two?”

“Killed a guy,” your partner answers, nonchalantly.

“Ah, good ol’ murder. You guys don’t seem like the type to just go on killing sprees, I’m guessing there must’ve been a pretty good pay to do the job.”

You nod. “That’s the only reason we did it. Robbing banks just wasn’t enough anymore.”

“Well, for people in your line of business, Hotel Soteria is the right place to be. Perfect getaway spot to lay low until the cops get off your back. Only people who know about this place have memberships and besides, there’s no photograph evidence of what goes on inside.”

Lucas smirks. “Guess those rules do come in handy.”

The young boy nods. “That’s the only way the hotel has lasted as long as it has.”

“Handing over my gun to that guy was still the toughest thing I’ve done all day,” you huff.

Yangyang laughs. “Even over killing that dude? Wow, Ten must’ve been really bad to you.”

“Ten?”

“The angry guy at the front desk,” Yangyang explains. “He’s not that bad, I promise. He just cares about this place a lot. Too much, almost.”

Quiet falls upon the three of you. Luckily, you don’t have to endure any awkward silence as Yangyang hands you the key to your room.

“Enjoy your stay. If you need anything, don’t be shy, okay?”

You and Lucas both nod your heads and with that he disappears down the hall. Lucas wastes no time unlocking the door.

You expect a run down room but once the lights are flicked on, you find that it’s rather well kept. The beds are made neatly and there’s not a speck of dust, unlike the lobby that was covered in it. Lucas flops on to a mattress, not even bothering to get under the sheets. He tucks his hands beneath his head and contentedly sighs.

“I’ve been waiting for this.”

You smile and make your way over to him. “It’s been a rough day.”

He nods then scoots over to the edge of the bed. You only realize he’s making room for you when he pats the space next to him.

You can’t help but smile. “Lucas, there’s two beds.”

He mirrors your grin. “Doesn’t matter.”

He opens his arms towards you and you can’t deny the urge you feel to climb into his arms and stay there until the mess you’ve found yourself in is all over.  

So, you do.

His arms envelop your figure and you just about melt into his embrace. You can’t ignore how tightly he holds you and you feel almost embarrassed at how much you enjoy it. Of course, doing what the two of you did for a living hardly left any time for tender moments like these so when they did happen, your relished in it. You feel yourself begin to doze off faster than ever before and you credit the man holding you entirely.

“I can’t believe I’m cuddling with someone capable of murder,” you mumble, tiredly.

Lucas’ ears pick it up and he chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back. “I could say the same thing.”

You smile and that’s exactly how you fall asleep.

When you wake up, it’s still pitch black.

That’s nothing new for you. The jobs you and Lucas did usually required you to wake up before the crack of dawn. With the dark working as your cover, it made sneaking up on your target a million times easier. You’re about to dismiss the disturbance in your sleep as pure habit and close your eyes once more when you hear talking. You could tell it wasn’t just a conversation between a couple people because of how incredibly loud it was—it had to be a large group.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re slipping out of Lucas’ grip and climbing out of bed. You stop once you reach the door of your room, pressing your ear firmly against it. You listen carefully, seeing if you can pick up anything that’s being said. The sound is still muffled, almost like it’s far away and you assume it’s coming from downstairs. Without a second thought you grab your key off the nightstand, giving Lucas’ unconscious figure a quick glance. His snores fill the room, your movement thankfully not causing any disturbance in his sleep.

With that, you leave the room.

Darkness engulfs you as soon as you step into the hallway and you almost instantly regret leaving the comfort of your bed and Lucas. You know it isn’t too late to turn around and find your way back into his arms but you realize how much clearer you can hear the chatter from downstairs and your curiosity gets the best of you. You try to walk as quietly as possible to the end of the hallway although you’re sure that even if you stomped the entire way no one would notice since the commotion is getting louder and louder with every step you take. Finally, you reach the top of the stairs and you wait there, leaning against the wall and tuning into the conversation.

“—such short notice.” You recognize the voice as Ten’s.

“Well, forgive me. I can’t usually find the time to call you in the middle of a heist. I’d get my brains blown out before I even finished dialing your number.” This voice is new but right off the bat you can tell they hold enough sarcasm to rival Ten’s.

“All I’m saying is a heads up would have been nice,” Ten responds and you can almost visualize the annoyed look on his face. “Nearly all the rooms are booked.”

You hear a string of groans and complaints. Just how many people were down there?

“You’ve gotta figure something out,” the same voice from before says. “We did some real damage this time, Ten.”

He scoffs. “That’s certainly nothing new.”

“We need to stay here, it’s the only place we’re really safe.” The person clears his throat. “Please.”

A chorus of agreements follow, multiple other voices pleading with Ten. Then there’s a pause. Even you hold your breath, wondering what he will say.

“Fine. I guess I could work something out.”

There’s immediately cheering and excited shouting following this statement.

“I knew you’d give in.” You can tell that the same guy who had been bargaining with Ten moments before is the one to say this. Everyone simmers down, as if they need to listen attentively to his every word. Was he perhaps some kind of leader?

“Is that so?”

“You could never turn us away. Even if you wanted to.”

“Of course not. But you know just how much I love to see you beg, Lee. Consider it giving you a run for your money.”

He scoffs. “You’re one to talk about money. One membership here is worth Johnny’s entire closet.” This comment produces laughs from the group. You guess this Johnny guy had some expensive taste. “At this point I think you’re a better con man than all of us combined.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Stealing and lying is your second nature.” The brutal bluntness of Ten’s statement gains a couple chuckles. “And if you really had a problem with paying for so many memberships, you would stop adding member after member into your little gang.” This really seems to crack them up and even you find yourself smiling a bit, imagining the large group crammed downstairs and having to deal with Ten’s relentless sass (which you had experienced first hand).

“You just keep getting bolder and bolder, huh?” There's a pause and you almost begin to think he’s going to snap. Instead, the voice goes from smug to surprisingly genuine. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Right back at you. It’s a shame that Mark setting off security alarms is what brought us together.”

“Hey!” someone—Mark, you assume—protests. “It was an accident!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get you into your rooms. You already know the rules, drop your weapons and you can go right ahead. And Yuta, if I find out you smuggled any firearms in again I will make sure the police know your name, okay?”

Yuta huffs. “And I’ll make sure they know you work the front desk at a bad guy hotel.”

“Excuse me? Did I misunderstand or did you just threaten a harmful act against a staff member?” You can hear the teasing tone in Ten’s voice. You know he must love having authority over every person that sets foot in the building thanks to the rules he established.

“‘Course not, sir,” responds Yuta in an overly polite, purposefully high pitched voice.

“Well, in that case, enjoy your stay at Hotel Soteria, boys.”

a/n → omg!! finally part one is out!!!1! firstly THIS IS NOT MY CONCEPT and is based loosely off a film called Hotel Artemis which i have actually never watched but i remember seeing the commercials for it on tv and being like “wow that’s a really cool concept :-)” secondly i’m not sure how many parts this series is gonna have or even what direction it’s going in all i know is that i want to introduce all of nct bc i enjoy giving ppl criminal backgrounds lol anyway feedback is greatly appreciated and i hoped u liked it 

[amanharwara]

Poppy - I Disagree (Album Review)

"I Disagree" is the latest album from multi-genre performer Poppy. The album marks a shift in Poppy's sound, moving towards heavy metal in contrast to her previous predominantly pop records. The album is labeled as "post-genre" by Poppy. This album expands the heavy metal sound she dabbled into in some of her previous records.

You might remember Poppy from those weird YouTube videos which can still be found on her YouTube channel. Poppy's music career gained traction when she released her debut studio album, Poppy.Computer. The album solidified the lore around Poppy's character being an android. She rarely sheds that persona. However, leading up to the release of this album, Poppy has been distancing herself from that android persona.

The central messaging of the album is about not adhering to anyone's standards and being able to disagree with people in power. The album empowers you to be non-compliant to the standards of society and to step out of the box. Poppy says that the album is all about "burning the music industry down." This rebellion is amplified because of the heavy metal sound.

Concrete

The song starts with amazing horns and fast drums. Poppy desires to be buried six feet deep. To bury someone six feet deep means killing them. She wants to kill off her old self, probably the "android" personality. She also talks of burying her and covering her in concrete to turn her into a street. The phrase "turn me into a street" most probably refers to how streets and roads are named after significant people in history, meaning Poppy intends to leave an impression in human history, or at least the musical part of it. After the intro, come some amazing riffs and loud, fast, and heavy drums leading into the bright, playful chorus. Such contrasting themes are found throughout the album where songs transition back and forth. The only verse on the song also sounds shiny but it's far from it. It talks about how commonly joyous items like chocolates don't bring any happiness to her. All she wants is the taste of "young blood" in her teeth.

I Disagree

"I Disagree" is the title track and the second single from the album. The track starts with some banging drums and the Japanese lines of "Watashi wa anata ni dōi shimasen" which translates roughly to "I disagree with you." I'm in love with the drums on this song. Whilst they're nothing experimental, they're straight bangers. The intro transitions into the first verse with some heavy guitars. The first verse is probably addressing authority figures like the heads of the music industry. The verse is written in anger with Poppy calling out executives. She tells them what they preach is insanity. Their life is a tragedy. The chorus comes in with some heavy guitars and Poppy wanting to "burn it all down."  The second verse also talks about her disagreement with the executives on how they continue to pressure artists to act and behave in a certain way. Overall, the sense of rebellion is sharply presented on this track while not lacking in the music.

BLOODMONEY

Next up is "BLOODMONEY," which might be my favorite song from the album. It is also the most abrasive song on the album with heavy, distorted synths and chunky, overblown drums. The song is about dealing with hypocrisy and liars. The song starts with Poppy being introspective and taking a deeper look into humans' beliefs. The intro questions faith and contradictions that arise from the acts that followers of those faiths commit. By asking what the person believes when nobody is watching, she questions how much does the person believe in the values of the religion they follow and how much is just an act that they put up for other people. She questions whether they follow their religion with the same conviction when they are not in public. The chorus exposes the hypocrisy in the mentality of the people who act righteously in public but are on their knees asking for forgiveness because in their minds they know that they have done a lot of wrong in their own lives. Such people can be found everywhere. Poppy's experience of this might be evident in the music industry where executives constantly abuse their power to milk their artists under the guise of caring for them.

Anything Like Me

This is the fourth track from the album. It is another one of those songs where it keeps transitioning from being soft and melodious to being very abrasive. The drums on this song are electronic with some warmth. Having done some research, the song seems to be about Poppy's conflicting emotions during the Mars Argo trial. Poppy recently parted ways with Titanic. She recently released a statement detailing this on her Twitter. On the song, Poppy is probably accepting that her online persona was inspired by Argo. She wants to get rid of that. She wants to become authentic and find her own identity instead of mimicking someone else's. This would explain why Poppy has been trying to get rid of the online android persona and adopting new sounds. Musically, it's a pretty good song.

Fill The Crown

"Fill The Crown" is one of the more synth-pop influenced songs on the album. The chorus is rhythmic and harmonic while the verses go hard with some crazy backing vocals. The chorus inspires the listener to be free, to be anyone they want to be. Goes well with the overall theme of the album, i.e. not conforming to societal norms. The influence of Marilyn Manson on the song is prominent in the verses. Overall, I'm pretty indifferent towards this track. It's nothing special, but it's not bad either.

Nothing I Need

This track is one of the softest on the record. It's purely a synth-pop track. It reflects on how most of the things that people want, end up being nothing that they need. Poppy contemplates that most of the things she wanted don't matter to her anymore as they aren't something she needs. One of the lines in the first verse probably is referring to Titanic Sinclair. Before the release of the album, Poppy came out with a statement in which she ended her professional relationship with Titanic. In that statement, she talked about how he used to manipulate her. This is probably the power that she talks about in the line.

Sit / Stay

Higher-ups in the music industry often control artists and curtail their creative freedom. This is the subject at hand that the song tries to tackle. The lyrics of this song are very indicative of this. Executives force artists to stay within lines. They tell them to sit in their place and not get up. They tell them not to talk back because they own them now. The chorus gives the opposite message. It motivates artists not to be controlled and manipulated. Musically, the song is pretty good, too. 

Bite Your Teeth

This is one of the heavier songs on the record. The song is relatively simple in the terms of its lyrics. Alan Watts, a Buddhist philosopher, is quoted here. He said, "Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth." This lyric is repeated throughout the song. The song tells you that even though defining yourself is like an impossible task, you should keep trying to define yourself. Even though the lyrics are simplistic, the song keeps you captivated with an amazing instrumental. The song features a heavy break down towards the end. And that break down is fantastic.

Sick of the Sun

"Sick of the Sun" is the second-to-last song on the album. The song is encapturing the feelings Poppy felt when she was in a dark, depressive state. The instrumental here isn't as dark as the lyrics are. It's one of the two songs at the end of the record which reference Poppy's depressive state. This song showcases her self-isolation. The chorus captures this feeling of self-isolation perfectly. Poppy speaks of how she is sick of the sun, which in this context, is a metaphor for hope. The fact that she is sick of hope shows despair. She wants this illness to go away. While the lyric of "I just wanna float away" seems gentle, it might be indicating death or suicide in this context. She tells us that she can't trust anyone, which is something that people with depression find difficult to do. In the verse, she asks if someone can turn down the lights. The light here, again, is used as a metaphor for hope. Poppy is depressed and in darkness. Depressed people often get stuck in a rut and find it difficult to get out of it. Poppy is finding it difficult to get out of this endless darkness that she has found herself even when light, as a metaphor for hope, is being shown to her.

Don't Go Outside

This is the final track on the album. It depicts the next stage during Poppy's depressive state. It portrays the transition from depression to contentment. It starts with a slow, acoustic section. The start of the song continues the theme of self-isolation. It tells that it is not the time to go outside, but rather lock the doors and crawl back into the bed. This refers to the feeling of boxing yourself in. The chorus probably refers to the depressive state of current affairs when talking about how the TV says "we're out of time." Watching the news on the TV makes her even more depressed. This depression paints everything bland and uninteresting, making her not want to go outside. This theme continues until the next time the chorus plays. And then the transition begins. It assures you that everything will be okay as long as you keep trying and don't give up. In the outro, Poppy interpolates lines from three of her songs from the album. This is done to wrap up the album’s central theme. Life may be pointless, but you can still make the most of your time while you’re here. Everything can burn down, but you can still do as you please as it does.

Overall Album Rating: 8 / 10

[headlesssamurai]

My Lazy, Poor, Stupid Person’s Attempt to Paint Tabletop Miniatures

by headless

This has nothing to do with covid-19 really, it’s just something I reckoned I’d share.  For several years I’ve played Dungeons & Dragons, and occasionally others like Call of Cthulhu and Delta Green, or Shadowrun. Though, I say ‘play’, when I mostly run games as a Dungeon Master. It’s one of those “hobbies” that is a lot of fun for someone like me, but requires a ton of dedication, so it isn’t always easy to get a dedicated group together.

Anyhow, I generally homebrew settings and adventures, never really been too big on running pre-written games, even if some of them are fantastically written. And one of the most frustrating things is I some times want to have a miniature on the battle grid that looks a certain way. This is hardly a big deal, since miniatures are just markers meant for reference in combat encounters, the real image of the characters is in all of our heads.

Still, I sometimes want to have something especially specific, a lot of the players in my current group appreciate cool looking miniatures, and seeing as I’m usually hard-up for cash, I can’t always buy pre-painted mini-figures, unless I get a good bulk deal on ebay or something.

One of my recent attempts to acquire bulk miniatures came a few years back when I realized during the 4E days, Wizards of the Coast had released boxed board games themed with the D&D style, which all came with a great deal of unpainted miniatures; these came in sets like Wrath of Ashardalon, or The Legend of Drizzt, with lots of themed minis for the board game’s scenario.

Anyhow, I’ve had a ton of these unpainted miniatures forever and use them often for nobody-NPCs and other characters the players run across. Lately, however, the group I’ve been running in a campaign for about eleven months (usually weekly), ran across a problem where their dragonborn ranger Grixxis was captured by and then negotiated his away out of the clutches of this ancient entity who calls herself Gorgoth (who appears to be a pale, beautiful young woman, but probably isn’t; even the not so arcane-y Grixxis intuited that much). She was actually impressed that he resisted her Sleep spell, and offered him a deal, she’d let him go but he needs to complete a task for her in the next seven days, and if it isn’t completed in that time frame his soul will be bound to her forever.

The task was to go to a mountaintop and retrieve something that resides there, though Gorgoth did not explain what the object was, so the party set off to find this mysterious mountain. The journey led them to an area of bad wilderness where no one lives, and where roving bands of orcs constantly hunt and war with one another, so only a few people know anything about that region. The party ended up hiring a guide, who was a wood elf exile named Skaya. They seemed to be intrigued by her because she’s living in a city which is currently at war with wood elves, so there’s a lot of prejudice and racism against her kind. Skaya does have facial tattoos that indicate she’s been exiled from her tribe and therefore no longer truly considered by her people to be a wood elf (their worst form of punishment in this universe), but still, the party seemed immediately fascinated by this single NPC among the potential seven or so they might’ve hired for this expedition.

Anyhow, my players have only gotten truly invested in one other NPC they’ve met before this; a small little orc toddler named Gruuba who they saved from a bunch of slave trading bandits early on in the campaign. I’ve had difficulty finding a good miniature for Gruuba too (because she’s really small and scrawny), but since she’s at the same developmental level as a human six year-old they try to keep her out of combat scenarios (despite Gruuba’s excited insistence that she enjoys using clubs “for smashings”). Since the party have begun to really enjoy Skaya as character, the longer they’ve slowly, slowly gotten to know more about her stand-offish personal history, I really wanted to get a miniature for her that reflected my image of her better than the one I’d been using.

So, even though I got basically no experience doing so, I bought a miniature from Reaper Miniatures, and after looking up a few tutorial vids for beginners like me, I set about trying to paint my first mini-figs.

Two things, if you’re looking into this yourself; First, I’m not totally unartistic, I write creatively and I sketch with pencils and ink. Painting’s fairly new to me, but it’s not like I have absolutely no artistic talent. I also solder a lot of really small wires and components in my normal daily job, so I may have better muscle control for this sort of thing than some people. I only mention this because I may have had a few advantages in this undertaking. I just don’t want to make people overly confident, keep things in perspective. So whatever your level of expertise at this, if you want to start just try to patiently measure your expectations, and don’t get discouraged if your first results aren’t so great. All things improve with time.

 And B. if you’re poor, lazy, and stupid like me, there’re ways to get around that. This video I watched gave me a good rundown of the basic steps which are; - scrub the plastic down with some dish soap, luke-warm water, and a toothbrush; allow at least 1 hour to dry (I let them sit for a day because I’m paranoid), and be sure there’s no lingering moisture before you start painting - get a good primer or base coat on the model before you start adding other colors; lighter base coats allow more colors to show up easier, while darker base coats tend to make the colors you paint over them darker - stay calm and take your time - try to paint the colors that’ll go under other colors first, like, if a barbarian dude is shirtless but’s wearing a few pieces of armor, paint his shirtless skin first, then paint the armor he’s wearing second because it layers over better that way - use thinner paints and multiple coats of a color to get an even final color instead of one thick coat - allow each coat of paint to dry for 10 - 20 minutes before applying the next coat - learn about washes, pigments, and inks, because they’re awesome - get a decent varnish for a final protective coat, matte varnishes make the model look dryer and flat, gloss varnishes make the model look shiny and wet, if you do a coat of gloss and a coat of matte varnish it equalizes it pretty good

And this video here sort of laid to rest my fears that I’ll need to spend $600 on paints and washes and stuff. The very helpful lady in that video explains how she uses generic acrylic paints from the craft store (I got mine at Wal-Mart) to paint her Warhammer miniatures, and she even offers a method of making your own washes from a combination of paint and flavorless mouth wash. It’s genius. So try not to stress too much about buying the really nice brand name paints, because it’s not necessary, those paints just have an optimal mix I think, otherwise they’re the same damn thing as generic acrylic paints. Also, you’re just trying to learn, so unless you really, really feel like emptying your bank account, just use the generic stuff.

I started out painting something I didn’t care about. I wanted my miniature for Skaya to look badass and awesome, so I wanted to start with some practice miniatures. Grabbed a few from those 4E board game sets and gave it a shot. But I had also recently gotten hold of a Goliath Barbarian miniature from the Player’s Handbook Heroes sets (also from the 4E days) a rare find, since it usually goes for like $60.00 by itself. Randomly found some dude on ebay selling an unopened box set for $20.00, so I got a wild elf druid and a human berserker along with it. So I started out touching up the goliath’s armor to make it look more like armor and less like weird blue stuff.

Here’s a before-and-after for him (I didn’t take photos of them before because I wasn’t anticipating this, so I just found examples from around the web):

Next I tried a re-paint. A friend of mine had recently guest-played in my campaign and created a half-drow monk (his backstory was fantastic), so since nothing like that exists, I took a Soulknife Infiltrator miniature seen here:

And repainted it to sort of look like his half-drow Monk of the Open Palm:

I finally had the courage to do a full paint, so I grabbed the Dragonborn Elementalist from the Wrath of Ashardalon box, and painted her up with reddish scales (I’m one of those who thinks dragonborn should have physical attributes of their heritage).

In the box her name’s Heskan. I definitely used way too much wash on this one so she looks super shiny.

I then took the orc archers in that same box, and not really paying too much attention this time, quickly painted them, because I lack many orc archers:

At this point, I felt it was time to finally paint Skaya, the wood elf exile. I used the Reaper Bones model Deladrin, Female Assassin ($1.99) for Skaya’s mini.

And taking way more hours than I did on the others, which were only about 1-3 hours each, when you count waiting for the coats to dry, I managed to sort of make her look like Skaya, I guess:

After this, the fact that it wasn’t complete and utter shit, which is what I expected, I was encouraged. So I tried to do out party’s tortle cleric, named Daruuk of Chult (who oddly speaks with a Slavic accent, so that’s how people from Chult sound in our campaign), for whom we’ve lacked an accurate mini-figure for some time. I bought a pack of Spikeshell Warriors ($2.99) from the Reaper Bones line.

But Daruuk characteristically wields a large shield and a warhammer, so for some reason I got super detailed and bought a pack of loose shields from the Reaper Bones line ($0.99), then bought Halbarad ($1.49) a human cleric.

I clipped off Halbarad’s hammer at the hilt, then I trimmed the spikes off of the spikeshell warrior’s club, and used a dremel to carfully mill a hole inside the shaft of the spikeshell’s club, then pinned the hammer inside and secured it with gorilla gel. I used an actual cork board pin to push the shield onto the spikshell’s offhand after cutting off his turtle shell shield in order to pin it before gluing, then clipped off the rest of the cork board pin. Somehow, this ended up making the shield look meaner because it now has a like pyramidal spike sticking out the center. After allowing the glue to dry I painted him up, and my attempt at Daruuk the Death Cleric turned out thus:

I guess his hammer looks sort of Acme-level cartoony, but he’s a giant 350 lb. turtle-man who talks like Omega Red from X-Men The Animated Series, so I’m okay with that. The spikeshell also fits well with the razorback sub-race feature I allowed Daruuk’s player to homebrew for himself. I was really proud of this one.

Finally, because I’m an insane asshole who is getting obsessed with my new hobby, I decided it was dragons or bust. So I bought a pre-primed unpainted Young Blue Dragon from WizKids ($13.99).

And spent, like, three days meticulously testing different paint layers to see how they come out. I tried to paint her in the tradition of blue dragons as they appear in the art of Forgotten Realms material, but gave her a somewhat darker cast, and added metallic blue layers to her claws and spinal ridges. I still need to paint her base, put some highlights on her eyes to accentuate the glowing effect and add my washes to give her a final layer of dimension, but here’s how she came out so far:

Behold, Stormfang! Mistress of Thunder...

Anyhow.

This is super long and I wonder if anyone will bother to read any of it. But just wanted to put this out there. From a dude who, if you asked me a year ago if I thought I could do this, I’d have said I’m too stupid, poor, and lazy. I still think of myself as all of those things. The real pros use crazy detailed techniques with like seven layered highlights on their models, and airbrushes and all kinds of other madness. I use maybe three coats total and I don’t get too worked up if I make a mistake here and there, and I haven’t spent more than maybe fifty bucks total across six weeks, and most of that was wasting paints because I was still learning how to mix different shades. 

So if you got something you feel like you’ve always wanted to do but are too stupid, poor, and lazy to figure out, just go for it yo. I managed to crack out these bastards and I still think I suck, but it’s way better looking than I expected. For real though, you should see some of those Warhammer players, they got mad crazy god skills at this stuff compared to me. But your level of skill isn’t the point. The point is to have that moment with that thing you did, and look at it, and just go “Yeh, I did that” when at one time you never believed you ever could.

There’s always going to be somebody better than you, but even they, like all of us, are still learning.

              侍    headless                     

[jayne-hecate-writer]

The Mandalorian... In Lego form

What can I add to the praise about the Disney Plus series, The Mandalorian, that has not already been said?

Yes, it is really very good, I was captivated within the first minute and was heart broken during the third episode, entitled The Sin, when the Mandalorian handed over the child to the Imperial officer, played so beautifully by Werner Herzog. Of them all, it is probably episodes three and four that are my favourites, showing the more gentle side to the character. But let us be honest, when choosing favourite episodes of this series, we the viewer have been rather spoilt because there is not a dud among them. Not even the sixth episode, which was a heist story and could easily have been done rather badly, but wasn’t and even included a fabulously dry Dave Filoni cameo as a New Republic pilot. No, not a single missed beat, bad line or failed joke throughout series one.

This is not to say that it does not have its cold brutal moments though, the Quarren being bisected in the first episode was utterly shocking, you even hear his legs heit the floor! Encasing the good natured Mythol in carbonite was really mean. Yet, they saved the humour of child abuse right up until the end and the speeder scouts indifference in violently handling the child. These moments of suffering are balanced so perfectly with real heart and leave a lump in the throat, even when dealing with an assassin droid walking into a lava flow. Terminator eat your heart out!

So, it must be time to combine some of the biggest loves of my rather childish, adult life into one hobby, namely my love of Star Wars and my love of Lego. With every new franchise released under the Star Wars banner, Lego get good dibs on making tie in sets. With the release of the Mandalorian, the Lego sets have been exceptional and if you have not yet seen them, you should go and have a look at the Brickset page.

The first set, number 75254 or AT-ST Raider is a glorious reworking of the beloved Imperial walker, as seen during the Battle of Endor, but here it comes with loose wiring and scratched paint. The colours are indicative of rust, repainting of old worn out parts and some battle damage, all achieved with coloured bricks and several stickers. The effect is really very pleasing and the walker stands at just over twenty five centimetres tall. All that it is missing is the red glow in the cocpit. The minfigs that come with this set just wonderful. Cara Dune, played so effortlessly well by Gina Carono in the show, is a really lovely minifig, although having a globally available minifig of your character must be exciting even for a movie star. Along with the walker come two raider pilots and then even Mando himself, in his dirty and mismatched armour, which is a little odd. By this point in the show, when he meets and briefly fights with Cara Dune, he already has his new Beskar cuirass of armour, complete in shining silver. So one has to ask why he is presented to us in the older colours of his armour that was destroyed by the Mudhorn in the second episode? Over all though, 75254 is a lovely set, even with the annoyance of having to apply stickers (which is a topic that takes on the additional needs of disability issues for me and my manky old lady fingers), rather than using printed pieces.

Set 75267, the Mandalorian Battle Pack is simple, cheap and rather pretty. This is a basic set with four minifigs, all in various colours of Mandalorian armour which may be different clans, with a small gun emplacement and speeder bike. The warriors are split equally male and female, but I have no idea which is which, due to the lack of lipstick, floral tops and flowing long hair, the usual key indicators used by Lego to show the gender split (stories of my subverting this by placing  the ‘male’ bodies with the ‘female’ heads, are very likely true!). Removing the helmets reveals an unprinted black head, which is slightly disturbing, but this is something that Lego had done for several years now.

The big set of this theme for 2020 has to be the fabulous ship used by the Mandalorian, the beautifully named Mandalorian Bounty Hunter Transport Ship… Oops yeah, it seems that somebody fucked up. Set number 75292, Razor Crest has in some cases been renamed following claims of trademark usage by another company, who just happen to make Lego compatible sets and some may claim have been guilty of cloning Lego sets without license. Oh dear.

I pre-ordered my set a good three months prior to release and thank the heavens that I did, because it was hopelessly delayed and finally cancelled three days after release and so I had to deal with Lego directly... during a pandemic outbreak... when every anguished parent with a Star Wars addicted child was no doubt screaming for their Mandalorian set too. Lego were hellishly busy and no doubt there were many like me, disappointed Amazon customers scrabbling to find the sets they had ordered weeks before. How many of those adults with debit cards were buying the toy for themselves though, remains a closely guarded industry secret.

When the set arrived, I was impressed by the actual size of the box which was huge and which my cat now uses for a bed! This was just the outer packaging used by Lego to ship the set, but the actual set box was still quite large and also beautifully printed, if surprisingly heavy.

Building the model was fun, even if there is a fair amount of repetition due to the chirality of the ship and the usual struggles with yet more bloody stickers! The engine nacelles are probably the least screen accurate feature, given the rough tooth like arrangement on the front intakes bares little resemblence to the smooth circular versions on the screen rendered ship. This is a tiny little complaint about an otherwise awesome model though. (I am just going to pause here for a moment. Are they really air intakes? Given that this is a spacecraft and it can travel at ‘light-speed’, why does it have these large open front intakes that resemble the compressor fan of a jet engine? Actually, that is a stream of thought that can only lead to sadness, especially with the roar of said engine as it flies across screen, supposedly in space, you know space. The place where NO ONE can hear you scream! But can hear if you miss a gear on your spaceship!)

Minfigs with this set are thoroughly cool, with our classic Mando himself, Din Djarin. He does of course have the child with him and the fidure of the child is adorable. This set also includes Greef Karga, a Scout Trooper and IG11… Um. Once again, this is a potentially confused set. Is this from the first episode or the last two? I don’t recall seeing the Scout troopers in the first episode so much, but they are present and a large part of the finale. Mando does of course have some serious issues with droids, having been orphaned during the Clone Wars, by a B2 Super Battle Droid (Speaking of droids and the Clone Wars, this does explain to me why when Luke and Obi Wan visit Mos Eisley, the cantina owner tells Luke that the droids are not welcome. It was a glaringly obvious issue that I never gave thought to, of course people would mistrust droids, the Clone Wars were a political tool used by a member of the elite, to secure their own power while creating political turmoil in which they could thrive and in which many thousands of innocent people lost their lives. I wonder if this was written to parallel real life, not that we have many examples of this in the real world), which is shown in heart breaking visceral detail during the several flashbacks we see. Again, this is just another element in this series that goes to such great depth to give the characters real heart. Anyway, back to my point, a part of his redemption was Mando coming to accept and even trust a droid, which he does with IG11, despite it being Mando himself who terminated the IG unit to begin with. So with a Scout trooper, IG11 and Greef Karga, would it be fair to say that with the child in hand, Mando should be in his silver Beskar armour? It would appear not and thus Mando is still in his dirty, rusted and damaged armour with this set. At some point they simply must release a set with him in shiny new Beskar, but maybe that will come with the release of Series two.

Over all, the sets released in this theme for 2020 have all been excellent and to an adult child like myself, well worthy of collecting, building and displaying… Because these are not  toys! They are valuable collectors pieces, future antiques and actually rather pretty. Which leads me onto my next section, how to display the models while making them look like something interesting and not just a pile of bricks. I had a space that you could have called a bookshelf, not a great space for books if I am honest, being slightly awkward and on top of my Lego desk. So I decided to fill this space with a Lego Diorama that measures one hundred and six studs wide and twenty four studs deep. It was a crap bookcase and my Lego books kept falling over or worse, falling off altogether to land on whatever I was working on at the time. The gloss painted finish proved to be be sticky, which damaged a couple of my instructions booklets and well, these are the issues you get when you design and build your own furniture, out of scrap wood and offcuts. Yes, the furniture is a bit mismatched in my office, but I made nearly all of it. Maybe one day I will do a show and tell.

The display started as a simple thing, a couple of enclosed boxes in which I could build a pair of scenes. My first scene was the Rebel Alliance looking at a hologram of the Death Star, while planning an attack on the technological terror. It is half based on Episode four with a dash of episode six. I added flickering lights and a large Death Star shell from the planets sets and stood back to admire my work. It was… OK-ish and sat like that for several months as I planned the next box and then what was to go above it.

With the release of the Mandalorian, I knew that the remaining box had to be the Covert, with the Armourer and her forge. I also knew that with the Razor Crest, I wanted some kind of scene above the covert to place both the ship and the AT-ST together, which while technically mixing a couple of episodes set on different worlds, could be seen in the soul of the show, rather than an accurate depiction of the Mandalorian itself. With the addition of some more lights it was all going so well and then I had to re-home Vader's castle, a task of Sisyphean proportions. 

Humour aside, I need a larger office. With my Solo, Rebels, Rogue One, Clone Wars, New Hope and final trilogy themes to my Star Wars Lego display, plus the collection of Technic lego so large it required specialist furniture to be built, I have run out of room. Vader’s castle is thankfully taller than it is wide and it fitted onto the shelf fairly well. It also took lighting effects really nicely and I was pleased with the results, in particular, the glowing hologram of the Emperor that appears in miniature in front of Vader's desk. However, it now looks like I have a nice castle, built on the edge of a run down city slum, with the sewers taken over by rogue blacksmiths and a group of noisy political activists. If any of you can spot the social commentary in here, well done you. Poor old Vader however can barely get any sleep, no wonder his mouse droid keeps leaping off the model and onto my carpet, it wants to escape for some peace!

So now that the office shelves are filled, what should I do next? Well actually, there are some things on the Razor Crest that I am not happy with, aspects that need some work to make it look a little better. First to go is that hideous hole in the top. Yes, it allows you to claw the pod out, but for display, rather than play, the hole is unacceptable. I made my own Moff Gideon (Using Winstone from Ghostbusters for the head and an Imperial Pilot body) and equipped him with a Darksabre. I added a pair of speeder bikes too, one for the scout that came with the Razor Crest and one for a scout that I added later.

I dread to think how much I have spent on this project, there is easily three hundred pounds in sets on my shelf alone, consisting of three large ships, one walker and a castle. There are also the various minifigs I bought from else where, such as the Rebel Alliance leadership and spare Mandalorian warriors. There are all of the lights, the wire and the switches, which cost about twenty pounds. It all adds up rather quickly and luckily for me, most of the Lego consists of bricks that I have collected over the years and a lot of those bricks were second hand.

Was it worth it? Yes it was. Not only was it a lot of fun to plan and build, but as a disabled person, it is nice to have a hobby that I can still manage and do fairly well. It is nothing like climbing a mountain, or wild camping with my mountain bike, but it stopped me going insane with boredom, especially during lockdown. Who knows what I can do next, but it is nice to be back on the technic and building actual gear boxes again.

[artificialqueens]

Cause I give you all -Pt1- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: hi i am back with another fic bc i have no self control whatsoever! this is a three part story that was originally a one-shot but it made more sense to split. it’ll be finished soon bc the last part is almost done so! i will now go back to owl to see if ch4 accepts it has to be written. this is a very casual story, i hope you enjoy it! as always i am @pichitinha on this hell site and I have posted this on AO3.

It isn’t often that they get the night off when touring. Thinking about how tired and lacking months of proper sleep Trixie is, she strongly considers staying in the five star hotel they’re in and sleeping the best sleep she knows she’s had in months, but at the end of the day she knows she gets a good amount of free time on the tour bus, even if sparse and uncomfortable, and she hasn’t had fun in a long time. So she showers away her laziness, gets dressed in nice clothes and her own make-up, and goes in search of a bar.

It’s apparently the only bar in town and it’s really crowded with the most redneck crowd Trixie’s ever seen. There are large bearded men and strong women and as soon as she enters she can spot at least five people arm wrestling on tables filled with empty gigantic glasses. The smell of beer is strong and so is the smell of bacon and she turns her nose.

She finds an empty stool by the end of the counter in the middle of two couples heavily making out and she sits down with her eyes fixed on the bottles in front of her, tries to tune out the sexual noises coming from each of her sides. She truly found the most heterosexual bar in the state.

Maybe she should have chosen her sleep.

She orders herself a beer - when in Rome, right? - and sips at it slowly, lets her eyes unfocus as they stare at the bottles and her mind wonder.

She’s so tired. She hasn’t picked up her guitar in three months. She washes her hair once a week only and it’s starting to show. Her favorite clothes are now all worn out. Her make-up kit is getting way too close to being empty.

But she loves it. Touring with a country legend as a backup singer is something Trixie never thought would be so satisfying, but it is. She’s friends with her which is something she couldn’t even dream of when she was a kid, and she gets to experience the ups and down of the famous life up close. She’s doing what she loves, earning good money with it, and she’s at the best point of her life so far.

She just lets herself wonder, sometimes, when it will end. Not in a bad way but not in a good way either. Is this how it’s going to be, forever? Always on busses, from city to city, hotel to hotel, in the shadows of someone else’s spotlight? Will she ever stop somewhere long enough to find someone to build a life with? Does she even want to settle down?

She doesn’t, particularly, not in the white picket fence with 2.5 kids kind of way. But she does in the having a loving wife who cares for her and wants to share a life together kind of way. Trixie’s in love with the idea of being in love, and she knows she’ll always be.

She finishes her beer and asks for another one. There’s no point in going back to the hotel, even if she’s not mingling in any way. She might as well drink as much as she hasn’t been able to while touring, and sleep in until noon or later since they have a show in that same town the next evening so they have no plans for a few hours.

And then she takes one more look around, tries to figure out if there’s anyway at all she could fit in with anyone, and she spots a blonde woman at the other end of the long counter, sipping on a beer alone, her posture similar to Trixie’s. She might be projecting or reading what she wants to read, but everyone else is very ingrained in the place’s vibe and the two of them are the only ones completely isolated.

Trixie’s not saying the woman’s a lesbian. But Trixie isn’t saying she isn’t. There’s just that face when you know you’re the only gay person in the middle of a clearly non-accepting space and, well, that’s what Trixie’s seeing.

It’s worth trying, right?

She asks for an extra beer and moves over to where the woman is, spots an empty stool by her left side and slides swiftly into it. The woman doesn’t notice, so Trixie decides she has nothing to lose and slides the new bottle of beer in front of her. She blinks three times before coming back to her senses and looking over at Trixie.

She grins widely and Trixie melts a bit. Her teeth are displayed in the most symmetrical smile she’s ever seen and they are extremely shiny and white except for the small red mark on her front one where her lipstick probably brushed and she didn’t notice. It makes her look a bit dorky and it’s a look that definitely suits her.

“Hi,” the woman says, grabs the beer without breaking eye contact or letting her smile drop. “Is this for me?” She motions the bottle, sips at it before even getting an answer. Trixie’s half convinced her old bottle still has beer inside.

Trixie shrugs, drinks her beer as well before answering. “I was a bit lonely over there and I saw you a bit lonely over here, thought we could drink together?”

The woman smiles wider, her tooth still a bit red, and nods a little before adjusting in her seat so she’s half facing Trixie. Trixie can’t tell her intentions, isn’t fully sure if she’s just glad that she has a girl talking to her instead of a creepy guy, but whatever. At the very least she’ll share a few beers with a pretty woman before heading back to her hotel.

“I’m Katya,” she offers as she extends her hand, her short nails painted the same red shade as her lips. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Trixie,” she replies as she shakes her hand, small and pointy. “And you’re welcome.”

They cling their bottles together, cheers, they say, and take a sip together, eyes interlocked.

Maybe she’d been right in going out tonight.

*

There’s a table in the corner where a couple seemed intent on doing as much as they could without having to remove their clothes and Katya convinced Trixie to bet on when they’d leave and how far they’d go before doing so.Trixie is looking at them very attentively - probably creepy - waiting for her phone to beep indicating Katya’s time is up and she’s won. She has five minutes left and then she wins. They haven’t agreed on what the winner gets yet, but she just doesn’t like losing.

“One of them is gonna end up finishing right there in the next two minutes and then they’ll leave,” Katya says over her shoulder, pulling her attention back. Her tooth is still not clean and Trixie kind of doesn’t want to tell her at all. It’s nice to see a flaw in her, honestly.

“First of all, ew! We want that table so I truly hope they don’t.”

“When will you ever have the chance again to say that you’ve lived through an experience like this? Live life, Trixie!”

Trixie snorts, looks back at the couple and her timer - she’s two minutes away from winning.

“I am living life to the fullest, thank you very much.”

Katya’s eyes sparkle a bit. She seems interested in Trixie, in what she has to say and even what she doesn’t have to say. It’s odd to receive all that attention, but it’s thrilling too.

“Tell me about it. What are you living like?”

“I’m a singer. I mean, a backup singer at the moment. But I do sing and play guitar sometimes, on bars and stuff. Or I used to, before touring.”

Katya nods, her eyes wide as she gives Trixie her undivided attention. “That sounds fascinat- I won!”

She exclaims as she points to the couple getting up and sure enough Trixie’s timer is thirty fucking seconds away from beeping.

“Fuck me,” she whispers in frustration and Katya doesn’t miss a beat.

“Actually I get to choose what you have to do since I won the bet but I’m okay with that.”

Trixie laughs loudly, Katya’s smile is shiny and the little mark still there.

“Maybe if you learn to clean your teeth after you apply lipstick.”

Katya’s hand move to her mouth to brush against it. “Shit.”

*

She’s not sure how they ended up in a park at 2AM, both of them having had one too many bottles of beer before leaving the bar, but here they are. Trixie’s at the talkative phase of her drunkenness and she’s sure she’s shared way more than she should with a complete stranger, but this is something tomorrow her will worry about. Today her is blissfully out of her mind, giggly and in good company.

“Ok so how does one reach the ripe age of twenty-seven speaking five languages?” Trixie asks as they stumble through the empty and quiet park, their healed steps and loud voices echoing through the trees.

“I don’t speak five languages, spanish and italian are like child level knowledge at most,” Katya replies with raised eyebrows, as if that makes any difference, as if Trixie isn’t immensely impressed by that anyway.

“I get that, my english is at a child’s level as well,” Trixie retorts, thinks she’s being funny but honestly she’s far too drunk to be sure.

Katya laughs though, loud and clear in the night sky, enough to send the birds flying from the tree tops near them.

“Hey, it’s not your fault you’re from Wisconsin!” she finally says, and now Trixie’s the one screaming, her hand hitting Katya’s arm playfully.

“You bitch,” she says jokingly, and Katya gets it because her eyes are sparkling and they stumble closer to each other, one practically leaning on the other as their breaths mingle.

There’s a beat of silence in which Katya licks her lips, and then she murmurs, “By the way, I’m like, really really gay.”

Somewhere in the back of Trixie’s mind she knows the setting is intimate - they’re practically embracing, faces close, eyes interlocked - but the way Katya says it just makes a loud bubbly laughter leave her lips as she takes one step back to ground herself.

“Girl, me too!”

*

It’s 4AM and they’re at a 24 hour diner, most of the alcohol evaporated from their system although Trixie’s skin is still buzzing. They’re seated facing each other in a corner booth, there are quite a number of customers for the time, but everyone is talking quietly and it’s really peaceful. They each have a mug of steaming coffee in their hands and even though they’d looked at each other’s eyes all night, Trixie’s just now realizing Katya’s eyes are green.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” she says then, doesn’t really realize she’s doing so. She’s forgotten bits and pieces of everything she’s told Katya all night, but that’s more related to how dumb some of these things were and how many than to them being drunk. She likes it though, feels comfortable with her. With the pretty, beautiful lesbian with whom she spent the entire night and has yet to kiss.

Katya smiles at the compliment, and Trixie realizes she hasn’t complimented her smile all night. It’s really pretty. She’s really pretty. Trixie is still amazed that they’re hanging out.

“Thank you. All of you is really pretty,” she says back, and Trixie bites down on her lower lip. She’s not one for one night stands usually, but she is on a long tour where there aren’t really any other options and is it even a regular one night stand after they’ve spent the whole night together? Technically yes, she knows, and technically she’s not even certain Katya wants to sleep with her, but at the end of the day she knows that all she wants is to finish this day in a bed with Katya. It can be her hotel room, it can be Katya’s hotel room - she’s travelling too, she learned, she’s a photographer following some models for a project, and what astounds Trixie the most is that she’s not one of the models herself - it can be anywhere really. She’s really drawn to Katya, more so than she usually is to any strangers - are they still strangers by now? - and she knows she deserves it.

She squirms in her seat, thinks of the proper way to put this question out there, but then Katya cuts her off with a question in a completely different direction.

“So, where you heading next?”

“Somewhere close, I think. I never remember the schedule.”

Katya raises her eyebrows. “Really? And how does that work?”

Trixie shrugs. “I just get there and go to the stage and sing I guess? I recognize several of the cities and sometimes I’ll explore for a couple of hours if we can but mostly I just sleep, it’s a really tiring routine.”

Katya seems baffled and Trixie feels like she’s done something wrong for some reason.

“Seeing new places is my favorite part of touring. I’ll gladly give up sleep if I can see something I’ve never seen before.”

“I mean, after the fourth town with the same hay stacks and trees it gets old, you know,” Trixie jokes into her cup of coffee, trying to find her ground again. She’d been so comfortable seconds ago.

Katya laughs, but her heart isn’t fully in it. God, had Trixie somehow ruined this? She’s not even sure how.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m a photographer. I usually find beauty everywhere I go.”

“Oh,” Trixie says, doesn’t know what else she could say.

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant to sound pretentious like that. And I’m not judging you or anything. I’m just… I don’t know, it’s nice finding these little differences, isn’t it? We’ve been so similar all night.”

They have. Their similar sense of humor is something that made them hit it off instantly. But also realizing that they travel so much, live the same home is nowhere lifestyle had been a major point. It never occured to Trixie they might perceive it so differently.

“Yeah, of course,” she responds, although she isn’t sure it is. Meeting Katya had felt like fate, but now she isn’t so sure.

But then Katya’s hand slide across the table and holds tightly onto hers.

“My hotel is really close. Do you want to crash with me?”

Trixie knows what she means, and most of her worries disappear as she looks into her eyes. She nods and they get up together, Katya’s hand clasps onto hers and the only time she lets go is when they’re inside the room and she needs it to unzip Trixie’s dress.

*

Trixie goes back to her hotel room late in the afternoon with Katya’s number in her phone, a bite mark on her left hip, and the song I Put A Spell On You by Annie Lennox from Katya’s alarm stuck in her head.

[home-halone]

Long Post on Screenshots

Coincidentally, I had glimpsed the twitter thread in question (or something similar) before I saw a post about it and had some thoughts™ as well

I was going to straight up reply but it got out of hand and I ended up blabbing a lot about taking screenshots, mods and ReShade.

Mods. Literally just an aesthetic client-side change. I can't believe people are up in arms about this. Let people have their fun and ignore it if it's not to your taste. There's absolutely no need to shit on someone else's definition of fun. Your values for what comprises a good screenshot made with effort should not be imposed as the standard. (Unless you're holding a screenshot contest, it literally doesn't matter.)

I don't use mods personally, out of laziness and I cannot be bothered messing with my files. Partly because I don't have characters that have a particular appearance that I really want. But that's my reason, and if other people are happy with their mods, so be it. I'm happy with my own thing. Even a walk home next to a world-famous monument just gets dull when you see it so often. It's not a crime to appreciate it through a different lens.

I'm going to preface this by saying no one has to defend what they want to do for fun. And even if your reasons for using mods/ReShade etc doesn't fall in line with any of the ones offered below, it literally doesn't matter and you should have your fun.

Contrary to what some negative folks think, people are still fully capable of doing some really good glamour without mods. Although it makes sense when you play around with FFXIV's glams/character creator enough, you'll quickly realize that there are particular limitations (certain gloves don't show up with certain tops, some bottoms lose the pants/skirt when you wear certain things over them, etc) and some people simply want to portray the details of their characters accurately to their vision. I have seen a lot of really good designs that don't exactly match their in-game sprites. Some people might want to do an easy cosplay. Some people might just want to look pretty and sometimes it doesn't get deeper than that. 

Nevermind that there are ordinary people behind modding, creating these for use. They didn’t spawn out of nowhere. They’re a product of someone’s hard work and skill too. Shout out to @keeperofthelilacs​ for the posts & a glimpse into the grueling, painstaking process just to make a deceptively simple mod and apply changes to each model. I cannot fathom people creating things that are not even in-game.

But obviously, with modding being the new shiny thing, there would be an influx of pretty pictures with people using them. The majority out there still does some creative things without the use of these programs. But their use isn’t indicative of a lack of creativity in taking screenshots.

Yes, the game is intrinsically beautiful and the sights are breathtaking, and there's no shortage of unmodded, unretouched, unReShaded screenshots littered about. I know there are more than a handful of reddit threads with such screenshots up. But, even with the built-in /gpose, the options can be limited and the vivid colors don't always show up the way people intend them to. This is why ‘different’ draws attention. Since we all have the same washed out color palette (suitable for actually playing the game. try raiding with an Aesthetic ReShade setting with Depth of Field on, it is agony.) it’s easier to pick out brighter looking, unusual colored screenshots. Moreso if they’re beautifully composed.

The improvement of colors from ReShade are only one aspect of it, as a lot of people who use them could tell you.

This screenshot has ReShade on and some /gpose settings, and it’s whatever. It’s meh.

It’s poorly lit, tilted to one side for some reason, the background lantern is grabbing all the attention, but the scenery is somehow cut off, my character is awkwardly posed, the colors, while MORE vivid, aren’t really inspiring the ‘hey this outfit is awesome and unique’ feeling. You have no idea what you’re meant to pay attention to.

Now, before you say I took a bad one on purpose, this was actually from the time I first got the diamond coat so I was ACTUALLY trying to show it off. This was one of many screenshots I’d taken, trying to nail down what I wanted to do.

It just goes to show even if you have the tools, you can still produce some pretty underwhelming stuff. And you could easily take a better one if you know what you’re doing.

It may be beyond the provisions of the game, but it’s not an easy task taking good screens with ReShade. Like said, it takes time and skill. 

You have to know when to use angles and tilts and how to frame photos. Composition does SO much. The word gets used a lot but there’s a lot involved, whether you do it consciously or not. Do I zoom in up close or far out? How far?  Do I want to put my subject in the center or a little to the right? How much of the background should I show? Do I blur? Do I use dutch angles? Do I take a high angle shot? Daytime? Nighttime? /gpose which filter? How much can I crop? Do I need the feet in the frame? Do I add special effects? Lighting setting 3 2 or 1? More green or more red? Those are basic questions people think about, but these are settings you use to tell a story. Then there’s questions like, how do I frame the photo to draw more attention to the feeling of being trapped? How do I use lighting to create a feeling of dread? How do I use the environment to help me tell the story and not just take a dull photo of my character?

And that’s just taking the photo. It’s easy to be tempted by all the shiny stuff you can pile onto a photo, but if it doesn’t serve a purpose other than “ooh”, then the intense sparkles floating around a photo can distract more than contribute.

So you have everything set. You switch ReShade on. You picked out a good preset. But when it comes to stuff like this one size does not fit all, in order to make it work beyond what a preset provides (as night can be pitch black, and daytime is a complete bloom-filled eyesore) you have to get your hands dirty. Presets can be pretty for sightseeing, and for most it’s enough and they work well enough to use consistently in screenshots. And that’s perfectly fine. The settings are very technical and have numerical values. I don’t understand all the values and effects myself, and finding the sweet spot to produce is an arduous process.

The same goes for Photoshop. There’s no magic button to make your art look good. You need a good eye for adjusting saturation, color balance, lighting, cropping, framing etc. to improve ANY photo. More than that, you need to be good at making believable visual effects for fancier edits. If you drag a brush randomly, no one’s going to be immersed in the way those hair extensions were made. Nope, people study the native look of a photo to make changes. Otherwise you just end up with spaghetti hair.

[it’s the same ugly photo but with spaghetti hair]

I literally used the color dropper. It’s not enough to do that!! Like GIRL I’m a fuckin digital painter and I don’t know how all those people paint/edit hair, it’s a SKILL they learned and not one I have LOL. You have to care about lighting and getting the right width and all that. It’s not that simple.

Photoshop’s got a magic wand but it’s not that easy!

People who edit photos are familiar with these... and each one has its own settings and values :,^) that can change the mood of a photo by making only certain colors be more muted or even making everything look a little lighter and brighter.

It’s not that easyyyy look at one of these windows if I didn’t do this for a living I’d be so confused

So going back to showing off my coat. After I saw the lineup of photos I’d taken, I was pretty dissatisfied, especially because I knew I could take better photos. 

I identified the problems I saw:

1.Even though I wanted to showcase my outfit, I didn’t have to take a photo straight on. The photo earlier had her facing completely straight into the camera. And it felt very flat.   

2. It’s zoomed too far out, you can’t really see the details on the coat.

3. I tweaked my ReShade settings. I worked on the lighting. When I realized my settings and the lighting in game (and on gpose) were not cooperating, I decided to wait for daytime. Kugane at night was distracting as hell with all the lanterns in the background. My clothes were the star.

Here’s another screenshot I took wearing the Far Eastern stuff.

I wasn’t showing off the details of the glamour here. Kugane at night has a lot of personality, lights and colors. When I looked at this old screenshot, I realized that it wasn’t a good setting for a simple photo that said “hey check my glam”. This photo told a story. My clothes weren’t the focus, it was the fact that Proxi was in Far Eastern clothes in Kugane. All of those facts were of equal importance, so she was a figure immersed in her surroundings.I didn’t need to capture the details of her dress, just show enough for it to be recognized. That’s why this photo worked. And only one of the many reasons why the badly lit one didn’t work. Contrary to the urge to do so, I didn’t need to tilt the camera angle to make it look interesting. I used her body language, paused an emote at the right second to get something more relaxed, her over-the-shoulder look gives an inviting feeling. I let the color contrast separate her from the background as a figure, but I kept her a part of that warm Kugane vibe with bits of red lighting. There’s a lot of thought that goes into this. How color and mood tie together. Knowing what is essential and what isn’t helps a lot, and sometimes it’s trial and error and you don’t really actually know what you want.

Here’s the final image of the Coat screenshot that I posted  a couple months ago

The problem with the Diamond Coat is that I dyed it a dark blue color and I wanted to keep that sense of dark blue without shining a bright light on it, or lightening the color. I used stronger contrasts to bring out the blues, fiddled with settings I didn’t understand but it made details shaper lol. I used angles and some blur to add a little more dynamicity (being a more static photo) and focus on Proxi. While she is still mostly facing forward, I played with her pose more, to get more of a ~random well-dressed elezen on a stroll~ feel. And!! look at all the details on her coat, you can see them!! 

But wait, you ask, aren’t you just proving that ReShade is a crutch wELL IT’S NOT. It’s a TOOL. You use. If it makes your life easier and more efficient and it makes you happier, like, honestly it doesn’t matter.

But here’s a non g-pose, non-ReShade screenshot I took during a Zurvan EX run early last year. My PC froze for a second lol. I was going to have a heart attack doing this but as a SMN I’m obligated to RELISH Teraflare. This is ONE lucky screenshot I got and you know what, even if the colors aren’t super vivid, this screenshot feels SO right. The explosions aren’t overwhelmingly bright, the arena is surprisingly a fitting background, and she’s got her leggy up but she didn’t give me a panty flash and I am fortunate this turned out to be a great photo I could put in a church mural.

Another non-gpose one. See! framing, contrast and all that. This was from my old blog circa 2016 and it got one note! LOL gpose didn’t even exist yet as we know it, and I don’t think ReShade was widespread or even a thing yet and I was super proud of this one. The trees gave her a soft background without making it too blindingly bright so she stands out and I love it.

So there’s’ your normal screenshot look, without excessive flash and eyesore while still being pretty.

But yeah anyway

TL;DR 

1. Don’t be bitter about other people using tools and adding steps to enhance their aesthetic experiences or to create screenshots that are more faithful to their vision. If it’s not harming you, live and let live. 

2. There’s more thought that goes into pretty screenshots than you think. Just because they don’t pick up a brush and draw, does not disqualify these screenshot posters as skilled artists in their own right.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ'✿ That’s all!

[blooblooded]

Marty goes through Lee's files

Ajax Guttierez’s face was shiny with sweat when he called Marty back. “Man, that was close,” he said. He straightened the collar of his shirt. “I don’t think he suspected anything though. But, what he said in there, at the end...he looked like he wanted to hit me. His eyes went all dead and shit, what a fucking freak.”

“That guy couldn’t punch through wet tissue paper,” replied Marty, as he sat in his chair with his legs drawn up. He had been so stressed out during the period of radio silence where AJ had presumably made copies of every file on Lee Harlan’s laptop that he had snapped every pencil he owned. Not that he had been worried about AJ’s safety. No, he just desperately wanted to figure out whatever it was that Lee was hiding. “You got it right? You got all of it?”

“I got it.”

“Tres bien,” Upon hearing him speak his native language, AJ furrowed his eyebrows. Marty ignored that. “Send it to the email address I gave you. I have a feeling it’s going to take me all night to go through everything.”

“Right.” AJ paused. He passed a hand over his face. “You think there’s something on there that will pin him, get the cops on his ass? Because if there isn’t, if he goes near my kids one more time, I think I’m going to kill him. I’m really going to kill him.”

Would it really be so bad if AJ killed Lee? Marty allowed himself to imagine it, brass knuckles breaking his glasses and smashing his nose. It was the least he deserved, after all the things he knew he had done. Giving underage teenagers alcohol. Messing with Kip’s mind, convincing him to stop taking his medicine. Scaring Esther’s dad, hitting Eddie Bellamy. Making Rome roll up his sleeves to show him the bruises on his body. Probably worse things too. Someone who was capable of doing what he knew Lee had already done, was also capable of doing worse things.

Marty wished he had another pencil to break.

“Yeah,” he said, with finality. “I’ll find something on him. I know that.”

###

It turned out that AJ had copied 500gb of data from Lee’s computer. The process of going through it was taking hours, agonizingly slow work. Determined to work through the night, Marty went into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. He made it quietly so that he didn’t attract Jules, or worse, Dog. Talking to them would only delay his discovery of whatever fucked up shit he knew that Lee must be hiding. Even a small delay would get in the way of the pleasure he would feel when he anonymously sent evidence of Lee’s formerly unknown crimes-- whatever they were-- to every detective in Eden.

Before he returned to his bedroom, he had already drunk half a mug of coffee.

A lot of it was writing. Which tracked, since Lee was always going on and on about being a writer. Or journalist, or whatever he was. There were no journalists in the Northern Territories, so Marty didn’t fully understand all that. To him, it seemed like an unimportant profession. He read a lot of Lee’s work anyway. Maybe it was good-- he had no way of knowing the quality of the writing, since English was not his first language.

Soon, Marty grew bored of reading about Lee’s idiotic political beliefs. Compared to the fiery diatribes he had heard from Florence Gauthier as he had grown up, Lee’s words seemed tepid. He did not know what he was talking about, how could he-- he had not lived what he was talking about. He went to the folder that contained his pictures and clicked through them. The majority were selfies; Lee in various outfits that were increasingly fussy, always tight pants and stupid looking scarves, color coordinated sweaters. What kind of man cared that much about fashion and the way he looked? The vanity. It was basically like being a woman, it was embarrassing and effete.

He continued to click through pictures, and a greater understanding of Lee’s life formed inside his mind. This was a person who cared a lot about appearances, but rarely seemed to have the same friend in more than one picture. He took a lot of pictures of his food, of different coffee drinks. Pictures at various rallies and protests. It all seemed very empty, almost performative.

At one point, he came to a picture of Lee as a child, hugging a woman that was probably his mother. Lee was maybe 10, and lacked the fussy pretension he had developed as an adult-- no, as a child he appeared dweeby and scruffy. His glasses were cracked and there were patches in his jeans. Still, he looked truly happy, smiling a full smile that showed his crooked front teeth, so unlike the sly, closed mouthed smiles of his adulthood. His mother looked a lot like him, same mousy brown hair and eyes. She wore a jean jacket with lots of pins on it, her fist was raised up into the air, Lee’s small fist was raised in mimicry. So this was the mother who had hung herself in prison. It was hard not to feel something for the child who had lost his mother that day.

So Lee had had a mother who had loved him. Marty didn’t know what that was like. Their similarities ended with the shared experience of having mothers who were dead.

As he clicked through hundreds of pictures, he discovered that Lee liked to take pictures of himself and of other guys who were naked. Sex stuff. Marty had heard about people taking pictures with their partners, it wasn’t particularly abnormal, but still gave him a shock the first time he opened a picture to see Lee had taken a nude. Marty stared for a second and felt his ears get hot and embarrassed. Lee looked a lot different without any clothes on, all pink and skinny, but with a little bit of a belly that was otherwise hidden. He had seen naked men before, but was suddenly uncomfortable seeing his enemy in a vulnerable state.

There were a lot of nudes. Of course there were, considering how vain he was. Lee had had a lot of boyfriends, and as with the pictures of his friends, none of them seemed to hang around for very long. Marty suddenly felt uncomfortable. He was looking at pictures that were not meant for him, intimate moments shared between Lee and various strangers. It was voyeuristic, but wasn’t this what he was supposed to be looking at? Surely there was something here, some indication of great perversion? The selfie pictures of Lee, taken while embracing various guys in his bed, didn't resemble him at all. He looked happy.

This was, of course, jealousy. Marty knew that he would never be able to have it, but he desired love and intimacy with another boy someday. This was not a possibility in his Colony. Seeing someone he hated have something unattainable was hurting him.

He drank the rest of his coffee, telling himself to pull it together. There was no reason for him to feel jealous.

There was no reason for him to feel the other shameful thing either: a strange, hateful attraction towards Lee. Marty pushed that down, chalking it up to being 13 years old and sexually frustrated due to puberty.

There was a picture of AJ in there too. Marty wished he hadn’t seen that.

Of course, there were also videos. Marty knew the content of these from glancing at the first frozen frame. He did not believe he had the mental fortitude to watch them yet. This was also not completely abnormal. Being 13 years old and completely wracked by puberty, he had watched a lot of pornography, but it was different when it was someone he knew. Eventually he would have to watch them, he just hoped that his brain wouldn’t be into it.

This was all normal. If Lee was just a normal guy, just a weird guy who had never done anything wrong, then this was all for nothing. He had convinced AJ to steal the data for nothing.

But it couldn’t be nothing. Lee was hiding something. Marty kept clicking through files. The night grew longer. He made more coffee, careful so that he would not wake Jules.

By 2am, he discovered something bad enough to make him grit his teeth, but not bad enough to send to the police. Or was it? He didn’t know. It appeared that when Lee had cornered Rome Prospas, claiming to be concerned about him, he had taken several pictures of him. Maybe this had been out of concern, or as evidence to send to social services, but it didn’t sit right with Marty. It didn’t seem normal. And Rome looked scared.

He had known that it had happened when Rome had been by himself in Kip’s bathroom. He knew that Lee had seemed worried and had asked Rome to roll up his sleeves to show him the bruises that had formed on his arms after his dad had grabbed him. But seeing pictures of his friend looking all scared like that made Marty feel angry. There were three pictures. In the first, Rome’s big yellow eyes were watery, looking directly at the camera, or directly into Lee’s face, with his arms held out in front of him. The other two were close ups on the purple bruising, and one of Lee’s white thumbs was visible, as if for scale. So Lee had put his hands on him. Marty felt himself bristling, knowing that Rome was more scared of Lee than he was of his dad. At least he knew what to expect when it came to his dad.

It was bad, it was, that Lee had been alone with a kid and made him roll up his sleeves, then took pictures of him. But it wasn’t bad enough. It wasn’t like he had told him to take off his shirt or had done anything that could not be filed away under the category of ‘concerned, responsible adult’. Marty kept gritting his teeth. He thought about calling Rome and checking in on him, but didn’t want to give the wrong impression, calling in the middle of the night. Rome liked Marty a little too much.

Still, it was something. Marty grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the file names, just in case.

Another hour passed before Marty found anything of note. What he did find made him feel even more upset.

It was a video, like the others. And like the others, Marty would have clicked past it, if Kip had not been so clearly in the first frame.

For a second, Marty saw red and he clenched one hand into a fist. All this time, he had known that Kip was obsessed with Lee, that he would do anything to make him like him more. It was evident in the way that he looked at him, in the way that he was always talking about him like he was some kind of genius. In his heart, Marty knew that Kip wanted to sleep with Lee, but up until now, he had believed that Kip was too scared and inexperienced to follow through. If they had done anything, if they had messed around, surely Kip would have bragged about it to at least one of his friends. He was not a person who was capable of keeping secrets. Why the silence? Was he ashamed?

Marty’s finger hesitated over the mouse. If he watched a video of Kip having sex with Lee, he would never be able to look at his friend the same way. And of course, deep down in his most private thoughts, Marty often found himself wishing that he lived in Eden, because maybe, one day, Kip would see him as more than just a friend. If he lived in Eden, maybe one day Kip might touch him or kiss him, maybe more. It wasn’t like the constant low-level horniness that every teenage boy experienced. Marty liked Kip. He really liked him, and it was his first time really liking anyone. He didn’t want to see him being intimate with anyone.

But he also wanted to screw over Lee in any way he could. If there was anything weird on this video, anything at all and even though Kip was 18 years old, he could send it to Kip’s mom. Kip would hate him forever, but at least Lee would be out of the picture.

He pressed play and steeled himself to watch something that he knew would upset and horrify him.

Lee held the camera and pointed it down at Kip, who knelt on the floor in front of him. Kip still had all of his clothes on. In the dim light of Lee’s apartment, his face was shadowed and the dark circles under his eyes were exaggerated, making him look sick. He was smiling nervously.

“You still want to do this?” asked Lee. Hearing his voice, so smug and self-satisfied, made Marty’s heart pound. Hate. He hated him. It would be easy to stop watching this, he knew he needed to stop watching this, but could not bring himself to turn it off.

Kip nodded. “Uh-huh. I want to. It’s just-- I don’t know how--”

“It’s OK.” At the bottom of the screen, Marty could see Lee unzip his trousers and pull his dick out, jerking himself off to get hard. Marty could hear his own blood pounding in his head as he watched this and was aware of how hard he was clenching his teeth. He shouldn’t be watching this, it was like a train wreck he couldn’t look away from. “Put your hand here.”

His friend’s face was eager, but unsure, and Marty watched Kip’s eyes glaze over as he clumsily fondled Lee. He had seen this before. One minute, Kip would be there, the next, he had a thousand-yard stare and was blank, like he was somewhere far away. The only times that Kip got like that were when he was scared or upset. Marty would have strangled Lee for not noticing that, for being too stupid and wrapped up in himself to notice that. How could you not notice that?

If he sent this to Kip’s mom, it would be all over.

“OK, good,” Lee was saying, and he was putting his hand on the back of Kip’s head to pull his face towards his crotch. “Good. Now, please don’t bite me.” He laughed, like he was laughing at Kip or making fun of him, making fun of his teeth. Marty’s mind was filled with hate.

Light suddenly gleamed back into Kip’s eyes, which widened in alarm. He jerked away from Lee with great strength, scooted back on the floor, then stood up, shaking, his arms held defensively in front of him. He shook his head several times. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked in alarm. “Don’t touch me! Stay away from me!” He wiped his hand on his pants, watching Lee like a wild animal.

“Kip?” Lee asked. “What’s wrong?”

Kip hit his own head. He looked at Lee savagely. “Were you gonna try to fuck me?” he asked. “Huh? You fucking freak. Are you kidding me? I’m your friend! I’m your friend! Who does that? Huh?”

“If you don’t want to do this, it’s OK, I don’t want you to feel upset, I just--”

Kip’s face contorted when he looked at the communication device that was still trained on him. “Don’t fucking film me!” The camera was suddenly obscured by opaque blue, and the video ended.

For several moments, Marty sat there without moving. “What the fuck,” he said, confused by his friend’s sudden mood swing, but glad that he had seemed to come to his senses before he got in over his head and lost his virginity to a loser like Lee Harlan. “What the fuck.”

It was disturbing. He leaned back in his chair. 4:30 am. In the kitchen, he could hear Jules rustling around, she always woke up so early, she always had so much to do. The smart thing would be to try and get some sleep so that he could look through Lee’s files with fresh eyes. When he did not get enough sleep, he was more prone to seizures. But he also had so much to do.

Marty rubbed his face. He did not want to make himself sick and exhausted, but still did not want to go to sleep. A sense of dogged determination had overtaken him at this point. A singular desire to destroy a man who lived hundreds of miles away was his only thought. If he could get something on Lee, he could ensure that his friends were no longer bothered by him. They were unable to see him for what he truly was. They were unable to do anything about his presence in their lives; by some method of psychic charisma, Lee had pulled a blind over all of their eyes. But not Marty’s.

This was not his responsibility. He was just a kid.

Sleep was not an option. Marty clicked out of the pictures and went back to Lee’s writing.

Meaningless words and treatises on economics bored him to tears but he kept reading, reading and reading. Finished articles, works in process. Grocery lists. Journal entries. The private life of a man whose true face was kept carefully hidden. By now, Marty knew him about as well as he knew himself.

He had been right about him. For the most part. He had been right about how he was shallow and angry, someone who wanted to lash out at systems that he perceived as unfair, but was mostly helpless to do so. This was not so much different than the types of people Marty had grown up around during the civil war, except Lee lacked the power of will that they all had to make considerable changes.

To make true change, a person had to act in ways that were drastic. Lee did not have it in him.

That’s what Marty believed, anyway, until he found a receipt for the purchase of 200 pounds of nitrate fertilizer.

As Marty looked at this receipt, the only thing that struck him as odd was the knowledge that Eden was completely underground, and had no space for large scale agriculture. Most of the food that they ate there was grown from cells in laboratories, unless someone had enough money to buy the rare real stuff. And Lee was a writer with no interest in things that could grow. Why would he even need fertilizer?

Something inside of him became scared and he didn’t know why. What could someone do with that much fertilizer? Marty leaned back in his chair.

Something bad, that’s what. He thought back to the nonsensical vision he had had a few weeks ago of buildings in Eden crumbling onto streets below. It hadn’t made sense then. Now, the vague memories of listening to Florence’s Partisans talk about the improvised explosive devices they had set beneath roads the Royalist armies marched down came flooding back to him. A few years ago, they had blown up a school with a home-made explosive. Bombs. You could blow stuff up with fertilizer. You couldn’t do it well, but you could do it.

That was crazy. Lee didn’t have it in him to actually hurt people. He was a creep, and he had crazy political beliefs, but he was not a killer. Marty had grown up around killers. He could see it in their dead eyes. Men like Field Marshal Anatole Surkhov had killed dozens. Reed Kimble was a killer. Even Beatrice Kosarin had killed, and she was only a woman. Lee lacked what they had. He was just some dorky, creepy journalist with ideas that were too big for him.

But what would he be doing with that much fertilizer?

Anxiety grew inside of him. This was crazy. He had started the night looking for proof that Lee was some kind of sex criminal, found nothing, and now had made himself so paranoid that he was starting to think he was some kind of terrorist. This was what lack of sleep and stress were doing to him. Marty got up and left his bedroom so that he could reset his brain.

In the kitchen, Jules was busy cooking breakfast. She still wore her shapeless undershift that she slept in, and her limp black hair was unbraided. She clattered around at an alarming speed, stirring a pot of oatmeal and frying eggs as the coffee pot squealed. When she saw Marty, she glared at him.

“You stayed up all night again on that computer,” she said accusingly, and crossed her skinny arms in front of her like a bat. They spoke French at home, and Marty’s mind subconsciously made the change away from English. “Really? I don’t understand why you do that to yourself, Mari, I don’t understand why you don’t take care of yourself. Sit down, what do you want to eat?”

Marty sat down at the table numbly, images of explosions replaying in his head. Jules tried to smooth down his fluffy hair and he flinched away from her. He hated people touching his head. It was 5 am.

“I worry about you,” said the gristle-sharp woman who had raised him. “What happens if you have another big seizure and I’m not there, huh? The Prime Minister has me working at the hospital in Ill de Matane too much, I’ll see if she’ll let me stay here with you more.”

“I’m not sick. You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll do it if I want to.”

Explosions. There was no way that Lee would do that. He was a bad person but he wasn’t that bad. Marty suddenly felt like laughing.

Jules poured steaming coffee into 3 unmatching, chipped mugs. She watched him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You look upset.”

Marty took a cup of coffee from her and didn’t answer. His brain felt like it wasn’t working anymore, the way it got when he was overstimulated. In an hour or so, Ayda would wake up for school and he could talk to her about this. She would be able to talk some sense into him. Ayda was good at that. He drank the coffee and felt it warm him from the inside.

Dog, the big quiet man who lived with them in the quarters that Florence Gauthier had so… generously given to them on her vast estate, came into the kitchen, sensing that breakfast was almost ready. His weak chin and round eyes made him appear nervously rabbit-like, despite being almost seven feet tall and broad shouldered. He sat down next to Marty and Jules handed him a cup of coffee without a word.

There was something going on between Dog-- Ivan Kosarin-- and Jules, and Marty didn’t like it. Sometimes Jules would say things to make Dog blush, or sometimes he would put one big hand on her lower back. Marty accepted that she had a life outside of being a sort of elder sister figure in his life, but he still worried. When he watched Jules rattle around the kitchen, cooking breakfast for more than just the two of them, it made him worried that she would get hurt. Yes, Dog was a gentle person and had never given Marty any reason to distrust him. Except--

“You fought with Florence’s Partisans,” Marty said, directly to Dog. Although he had known him since he was 6, they rarely spoke to one another. “When the fighting was bad.”

Dog seemed taken aback by Marty’s blunt question. Both his hands grasped his mug of coffee. “I followed the Blue Army.”

“Right. Surkhov fought alongside the Partisans.”

“Mari,” scolded Jules. Her mouth twisted in distaste.

“So you know all about Partisan tactics.”

Dog’s watery eyes moved from his mug of coffee and up to Jules, then back. His mouth tightened. The war was not something often discussed in this household, although it had raged for nearly a decade. Even now, the dead king’s Loyalists still gathered in the Hinterland forests.

Jules shook her head. “This isn’t something to talk about at breakfast. Florence Gauthier’s men were- are-- animals, she had no control over them. Why are you even thinking about this, Mari? You spend too much time looking at that computer. Eat.”

But Marty could not eat. “Ivan,” he said, using Dog’s given name, the name that he despised, his voice accelerating with emotion. “Three years ago, when that school was bombed in Ille de Matane--“

The mere mention of the act made Dog’s face turn white. Marty had only been 10 at the time, but he could remember hearing about how Anatole Surkhov and his men had dug through the rubble for two days, looking for survivors. The Partisans had been disbanded immediately after that, and Florence had hung many of her own people. At 10 years old, his imagination had held onto the images of little kids getting blown to bits. Now, he could only think of the same thing happening in Eden.

Lee Harlan was no Partisan, no desperate soldier. Or was he?

He continued: “They used bombs they built themselves, right? They used fertilizer because the embargo made gunpowder so scarce.”

The coffee was scalding hot but Dog drank it anyway. There were lines under his eyes. “People will use whatever they can get their hands on when they are desperate and angry,” he said carefully. Behind him, Jules fiddled with a crystal she wore around her neck, movements tense. “That’s-- it’s over now. That was a horrible time, it should have never happened. The Prime Minister should have never let that happen. I don’t know why you’re thinking about it. It’s over.”

“I just want to know how it works.”

“Ammonium nitrate can be manufactured from fertilizer.” Jules was growing angry, maybe even protective over her friend. She shook her head and made the sign against evil, her thumb pressed to her blackened middle and ring fingers. “It’s easy to make, even for an idiot. That’s why it’s so dangerous. Gauthier’s men annihilated that school with only 30 kilograms of ANFO, they stole it from a farm and were able to build a bomb that killed 24 children the next week. Is that what you wanted to know, Mari? You should feel blessed for the privilege of not knowing these things. The war is ending, we don’t have to think about this anymore. Eat your breakfast.”

Easy to make, even for an idiot.

Marty felt very sick. He stood up and realized that his knees were shaking. Suddenly, all he could think about was the people he cared about in Eden. Ayda. Kip. Rome. All he could think about was how far he was from them, how helpless he was to do anything if something went wrong.

Easy to make, even for an idiot…

This was wrong, of course it was. He was being paranoid, crazy. He had no reason to think that Lee would do something like that, or be involved with something like that. This paranoia was the byproduct of his obsessive thoughts, of his constant fixation on Lee Harlan. In trying to sniff out something that he had done wrong, he had created problems in his mind. Problems that didn’t exist.

But Marty had been right about things before. He had seen things before, things that ended up happening. He thought about the vision he had had, the vision where huge buildings crumbled into chunks.

He got up from the table and did not realize that he had knocked over his mug of coffee. Both Dog and Jules jumped, looked at him like he was crazy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jules demanded. “Mari, you have to eat.”

Suddenly delirious, suddenly sick, he shook his head, pushing his way back to his bedroom and his devices. “No,” he said. “No, I have to call someone. I have to call Kip.”

[counttotwenty]

Bullet Points: Secrets and Shiny Things

Ill Boding Patterns--part 1

Bullet points are encapsulated scene analysis from the top of each act to the bottom. (each act is bookended by a commercial break)

1. The scene progression in the Teaser is VERY enlightening. As we know, it gives us the lens through which to view the rest of the episode. It sets up the relevant themes and as always, each scene is informed by and informs, those that come before and after. I’m gonna point that out a little more here than usual because, as I said, in this case it’s fascinating.

And since this was one of the least subtle eps of primetime tv I’ve see in a long time it’s not hard to spot the throughlines.

A hard hat may not be good enough to protect you from the anvils in this one. Fair warning.

BOING!!!!!!

2. Personally I loved Beowulf when I read it both in high school and in college. Yeppers, I was that kid. You’re shocked, aren’t you?

3. I was surprised (in a good way) when I saw they were casting someone to play Beowulf. I mean I figured they weren’t gonna get too deep into the weeds of the actual story, which frankly I don’t blame them for, it’s a little dense for primetime. 

But Hrunting the enchanted sword and the overarching them of epic battle were perfect choices to use as illuminators of the current storyline(s)

Nice story choice!

4. The staging of the first part of the scene is spectacular. Lots of moving pieces. People. Noise. Flaming catapult rounds. Wooden spikes. Potential danger is everywhere and a battle is definitely afoot.

They do a very nice job of giving that time to unfold.

And though there are dozens of people going about their business, including a blacksmith, we only “meet” two of them. Beowulf and a poor, hapless foot solider looking for courage in a flask. (From here on out to be referred to a PHF)

5. Really nice shot selection as the camera settles on PHF and then switches to his point of view. 

His view is obstructed by trees and smoke though he can see soldiers in the distance. Which is a visual indicator of his confusion and lack of certainty about his mission. He is clearly trying to make a decision. It’s written all over his face.

BOING!!!!!!

And he decides to bolt. Stumbling as he goes. Until he runs into Beowulf, almost literally.

6. Beowulf believes his enchanted sword assures him of being hailed a hero, and though eventually he gets around to mentioning victory as well, the idea of being a hero is clearly the #1 thing on his mind. Which is one of those little factoids you file away in case you come across a situation later where a man is counting on a sword to help him achieve his personal goals.

Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait long.

7. Beowulf uses his considerable confidence and faith in the sword to convince PHF to turn around and join the battle.

Just a quick note to the PHF--you realize he’s not going to let you carry the lucky sword, right?

But for better or worse, off they go to battle.

It’s worth noting here than in the original poem the sword was ineffective at best. Which comes up again later. Several times. Because no dead horse was left unflogged in this ep.

8. So PHF set off determined to take one course of action (fleeing) and then an interaction with another person (Beowulf) altered his path 180 degrees (he stayed to fight)

Keep that in mind just in case it comes up later in the ep. (SPOILER ALERT it does. In a very big way)

9. Beowulf gets off to a good start, appearing to fell the first ogre pretty easily. Lots of other soldiers being tossed around like frisbees but his feet manage to stay on the ground and he appears to be “winning’. But that initial success is soon challenged by a new influx of 2 ogres.

So in other words the first battle was just a warm up.

BOING!!!!!!!

10. Unfortunately PHF is not so lucky and gets crushed under the foot of an ogre in the second wave. Which is sad for PHF but leads to a really spectacular camera shot where the darkness from the approaching foot fills the screen then we fade back in on an entirely different landscape. A new battle if you will.

BOING!!!!!

Nice touch with the smoke from all the various flaming weapons, mixed with maybe a little fog, blanketing the now desolate battlefield.

11. Even the opponent Beowulf goes to war with this time is a very different version than the previous battle.

BOING!!!!!

He finally knocks Beowulf off his feet and separates him from Hrunting.

12. “I killed all of them.”

Except oops, as it turns out Beowulf wasn’t the one who killed the ogres. It was Rumple. 

But still, all Beowulf really wanted was to protect his village, right? So who cares who gets the credit for killing them, right?

Don’t count on it. Remember Beowulf’s main agenda seems to be to be hailed a hero.

It’s safe to assume he isn’t gonna take this lying down.

13. So let’s see where we stand after the first part of the teaser.

Be careful about placing too much faith an an enchanted sword because it might not do what you think it’s going to do.

and

If you’re struggling with a decision, and depending on the flask for a little clarity, and someone is trying to convince you which way you need to go--choose carefully. Things may not go the way you expect.

BOING!!!!!

14. So as we go to the title card I’m thinking, whoever we see in this next scene, especially if they’re on the cusp of decision, is in for a rough ride.

Cut to Killian.

Well ... crap.

15. Just like PHF he’s using an 80 proof alcohol lubricant to help the decision making process. 

I feel ya, Killian.

It’s important to note here though that Killian tried Archie BEFORE he started drinking. It’s a very strong sign of his redemption that even his first instinct now is to do the right thing. He’s no longer fighting his pirate urges at every turn.

He’s a changed man.

Instead of lashing out in actions and bad behavior when something goes wrong he’s trying to work through it.

Very well done.

16. Interesting use of muted tones and soft focus to help visually portray Killian’s state of mind.

17. “Captain Hook doesn’t get cold feet.” 

Colin did a fantastic job of infusing that line with more Captain Hook-ness than Killian-ness. No grand gestures. No body movement. Just his face and voice. A slightly more aggressive tone. A slightly more pointed accent. Slightly harsher facial expressions.The difference is subtle but unmistakable.

Extraordinarily well done.

Kudos to Colin.

18. “There’s not another living soul knows the secret but me.”

This line stood out like a sore thumb to me. Mostly because unequivocal assertions like this have a way of being proven false in the end. Especially on this show.

19. Notice how when he talks about how Emma wouldn’t understand his tone and facial expressions once again soften.

Very sweet and makes me go awwww every time I see it but more than that it’s a very real representation of the effect her love has on him. She makes him all gooey inside (LOL) and the thought of disappointing her devastates him.

And that’s a very important thing to keep in mind.This exchange with Archie makes it very clear that he sees falling short in Emma’s eyes as unacceptable. He’s not worried about himself in this scene, though losing her would clearly devastate him, he’s worried about Emma and what this news will do to her.

BOING!!!!!!

20. “Because it would seem that I am broken.”

And he’s Hook-ish again. Taking on the harder edges mentioned above. That is until he gets back to talking about Emma then he softens again.

“I want to tell Emma the truth.”  

The fact that he wants to tell her ... our little pirate is all grown up and fully redeemed. Sniffle.

It’s worth noting here that this isn't just about Killian telling SOMEONE the truth--because if it was he’d tell Archie. This is about him telling EMMA the truth. She’s the one that matters to him.

21. I’ve rewatched this scene at least 20 times and way Colin deftly moves between the Hook and Killian sides of his personality is simply breathtaking. It is such a spectacular external representation of his internal turmoil.

AMAZING!

22. They make too much of a point here about how much Killian wants to tell Emma for it not to come back and make a big difference down the line.

23. It’s a nice moment when Archie, like David before him, acknowledges the changes in Killian.

First it came from someone who has a personal relationship with Killian, then from someone with a professional relationship.

They certainly are making sure Killian’s redemption is airtight.

BOING!!!!!

24. In contrast to PHF in the first scene there’s clearly never a moment Killian is tempted to bolt. Which is a very big statement.

25. “I think maybe you need to find out.”

Archie isn’t telling Killian what to do, he isn’t even pushing Killian in the direction of doing the “right thing”. Killian is already there. Archie is simply confirming what Killian already knows and what he already wants to do.

BOING!!!!!!!

26. Oh you handsome pirate ... just watch out for the ogre’s shoe. Metaphorically speaking of course.

27. The scene with Gold, Belle and Blue is painfully slow, even for an exposition scene. Which this clearly was.

It also served as a VERY clunky way of connecting Gideon’s sword to Hrunting in the minds of the viewers.

But still...yikes. Even the sniping between Gold and Blue felt very flat.

Which is probably because they were only using it to remind casual viewers the Black Fairy is Gold’s mother.

Good lord, a little subtlety people.

28. “He’s not the first one to think wielding that sword will make him a hero.”

Time to play connect the scenes. LOL

BOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

29. So now we see Rumple on the top of the world. He’s being hailed as the hero of the Ogres War. He’s getting all the credit. Which technically he’s due since he killed all the ogres. 

He’s a happy man.

As long as no one spills his secret.

This scene right here is what sows those feelings of dread later in the ep because.....

30. Enter Beowulf.

31. Seriously Rumple--why are you giving him the sword back? To the victor go the spoils and all that. Not like that’s gonna come back and bite you at any point. (eyeroll)

32. So in a fit of jealousy because Rumple is getting accolades he feels like he deserves Beowulf spills the secret, pulls the rug out from under Rumple and makes the people who were celebrating with him just minutes earlier suddenly recoil.

BOING!!!!

33. The important difference here though is that Rumple wants to keep his secret and Killian wants to spill his.

34. How come every time I dare to say that Rumple has absolutely no desire to give up the dark magic, in fact that he quite enjoys it, my askbox runs over with people telling me I don’t understand the character.

I’m not making it up, folks. He says the words himself.

35. “No more magic.”

We’ll see.

36. When Gideon kills the security camera feed to the monitors is really brilliantly done contrast to last week’s scene where the ones at the jail followed David all the way to the cell.

Both men are out for revenge but one path was clear and one is obscured.

I see you, show.

37. Since it’s pretty clear we’ll be watching the saga of two very different sons play out in this ep it’s interesting to see the initial contrast between no more magic Bae and open sesame Gideon.

Well done.

38. Apropos of absolutely nothing I chronically misspell the word sheriff on the first try. I have a mental block about it, I swear.

39. “She won’t be able to get the best of me again.”

And down he goes.

Snort.

40.So before we go on to Act 1 let’s kind of gather up the common elements we’ll be working with.

A shiny object plays a pivotal role in all of these storylines--be it a sword, a ring or a dagger.

Two of the storylines (Beowulf & Gideon) deal with a man who believes an enchanted sword is the key to his success.

Two of the stories deal with men keeping secrets. One (Killian) who wants to reveal it and one (Rumple) who wants to hide it.

Oh and there are battles looming, both personal an of the epic variety.

Next up--What Are You Up To?

[bytheanchorarchived]

headcanons compilation  ↬  alexander lightwood

a compilation of my scattered/posted (so far) alec lightwood headcanons. i will be updating this as i post more.

i don’t think jace realizes how much of alec’s self worth was always knit so tight to him. how deep the pain of his unrequited feelings really run. how it actually feels when jace starts to reject him (from his pov).

vampire academy au

drabble: alec and telling magnus he doesn’t need permission to be in his space

alec’s fantasy is

alec: top intelligences

alec and not being as KIND or COMPASSIONATE as u might think

alec’s kink is to be loved by a cute boy.

i just really like the idea of clary and alec learning to be friends, care for each other, learn from each other, and learn to share jace and share in their love for him and eventually in their friendship.

do you ever cry about the fact that most probably almost all the runes on jace’s left side were put there by alec?

jace didn’t always have perfect control over his extra strength, specially since he was used to training only with valentine, who was an adult at the time, which evened the field. when he first started training with alec and izzy he sometimes went too hard on them. izzy complained but alec never did, and would  if needed hide any markings left, because he didn’t want jace to feel bad about it, and because he wasn’t about to admit he couldn’t take it from a kid almost two years younger than himself. 

things alec wants: magnus casually touching him.

not feeling like a good person is something that both alec and jace carry for different reasons, and in two people that are so moral and were raised in such a lawful and righteous environment, that is an awfully dark weight to carry.

one of alec’s greatest pleasures is being around magnus after they said their i love you’s, because he never experienced before the freedom of being with someone he loves while being open about it, and  as a result, getting to experience the rush of knowing they’re aware of his feelings and still wanna be there. just touching magnus, or kissing him, or being around him, while aware of all of this, makes a ridiculously huge difference.

ok, listen. alec learned how to treat, talk, and deal with, help, someone after strong trauma, growing up with jace. growing up with jace, he learned that you don’t just touch someone that is going through an episode because of abuse/trauma or other strong case of overwhelming emotion. he learned that unwanted affection can be just as bad as violence, or indifference, and that the BEST thing he can possibly do is let the other person know he’s there, and let them tell him what they need. alec never goes straight to jace physically, when he’s upset, unless he initiates it, or jace gives him a clear indication of what he needs (indication that to parabatai that grew up together can be just a look of permission). he RESPECTS the fact that his need to help the people he loves, should not, is not, and will never be more important than what that person needs or wants. he respects the fact that he DOESN’T know what a person with trauma needs better than themselves, and he knows that even silent support, or just making sure the person is safe, can make a huge difference. he accepts and understands the fact that someone during or after a traumatic event, or traumatic memories of that event, might not WANT or be able to HANDLE affection at all, and he’s ready to give it only, and only if, the person indicates that’s what they need. this has been demonstrated in the way he took care of isabelle while she was detoxing. this has been shown again with magnus. this has been shown with jace again on the roof. his own sensibility allowed him to learn this, and it’s what makes jace trust him so much. jace TRUSTS alec to be there for him, because he KNOWS alec won’t push him, or overwhelm him, or even so much as touch him without permission. and sometimes, though not always, just to know that he can have this small power and agency over his own body and what happens to it, and who touches it, and how, can be enough to wind him down a notch.

lowkey both alec and jace are oddly attracted to magnus’ lack of belly button.

alec really likes magnus’ hands.#he likes kissing them#touching them#holding#having them on his face#on his body#i mean

listen, magnus hands are magical, powerful, and so, SO kind, gentle, and hard working, and alec feels gratefulness and profound admiration.

listen, alec comes home from magnus all glittery, with lipstick marks, bed hair, and hickeys. he nuzzles magnus and likes to be touched all over, and doesn’t even realize he’s getting himself all shiny until someone points it out to him and he’s ‘ wh-wh-WHAT’ blushing mess. that happens bc alec doesn’t have the habit of looking at himself in the mirror at all. p sure he just goes about his business with his head down and thinking about a million things and never even lifts it, much less pays attention. after all, the boy that doesn’t even brush his hair, wouldn’t notice any of those on himself.

alec lightwood is a family man, a father, big brother, son, parabatai and a husband, before anything else and that’s what makes him the happiest.

i feel like jace passes by the bane-lightwood residence once in a while just to clean, because if he didn’t, between alec and magnus they’d drown in the mess.

tbh i actually think the beverage alec would like the most is wine, i have this headcanon that the institute and idris have the european tradition of wine at the dinner table, and the kids would be allowed to have a small glass as they grew up. it’s the one he’s more used to, and he likes it some because it feels like family and reminds him of home even if it’s a memory blur of the institute and his few scattered memories of alicante. it’s the one he knows a little more about too.

alec spent so many years controlling himself that he doesn’t have a quick trigger at the start. he keeps holding his body down subconsciously and has to remind himself he can let go, it might not even happen the first time he’s more intimate with someone. he spent years hating every little natural reaction on his body, training himself against it, and it takes him a while longer than an usual boy his age to physically manifest his arousal, to allow himself to. it becomes more natural as he feels safe and more used to the relationship.

also, i think that’s what people find so funny in the book (and by people i mean other characters) when alec is like “clary is one of my best friends” ? because they’re like, you couldn’t care less about her five minutes ago. but that’s the THING about alec, once he takes you under his wing, he does and it’s finished. it doesn’t matter what he thought before because once you’re one of them, you’re one of them, to alec and he’ll keep you safe with his life.

another example of this is when clary hears alec comforting izzy after simon is turned into a rat, and she’s crying and like, HE COULD HAVE DIED, and alec is like, very patiently saying, so what if he had? and izzy is like I WOULD HAVE- and he’s like “you would have continued to do what you always did and lived your life as usual.” and clary says he sounds like he’s done this many times before and not once does she says he sounds worried for simon or the other boys or that isabelle seems to get a lot of people in trouble, because SHE is not in trouble. alec. lightwood. doesn’t. care. he’s super lovely to izzy but not once he worries about simon, at that point.and YET, later on, when simon has saved their lives and stuff in cog, he DOES worry about him, when the clave takes him. so you see what i’m saying here?

talking to nanda @magnusbanedfromperu and headcanon that once they’re older, starting with alec after he adopts max, maryse teaches all her three children to cook, so they can cook for her grandchildren.

the truth is, ale.c head of the instit,ute would never work. he was already forced to choose between his family and the clav.e and he’ll continue to be. you can’t be against the system, while also answering to the system and representing it. if he truly wants to educate shadowhunt.ers, he can’t be liable by the cl.ave for his every move. if he always has to compromise to keep his position, if that is more important  — keeping the title — than working for change, then his hands will always be tied. at the end of the day he’ll live a hypocritical, limited, life.

when ale.c is like that but with kids he brings home and mag.nus is HOW DID WE GET ANOTHER CHILD. and al.ec just……………………………………. i saw them, they’re ours now.also, actually i was gonna say this before and thought it sounded mean but it’s just alec, alec is really like: they’re my child now, you don’t need to pitch in, but if you want to be their father with me i will love you even more for it. however, regardless of anything, they’re mine now and i will take care of them for the rest of my life.

do you ever think about isabelle and jace pranking alec and giggling in the corner?

alec.lightwood.doesn’t.see.people.as.their.sexuality.doesn’t.see.himself.as.his.sexuality.doesn’t.give.a.shit.what.your.sexuality.is.only.what.you.do.doesn’t.hate.people.because.of.their.sexuality.doesn’t.exist.for.that.

listen those blue jammies were alec’s once, bc maryse bought them to match his eyes, only alec didn’t like them so much because they were too bright, and so she gave them to jace, which is why neat-freak jace sleeps in clothes that have a hole in it. bc alec made it and they were alec’s jammies.

show headcanons

now all i can think about is that alec still had conflicted feelings after kissing magnus, and that when he snaps at him and says “after everything i did for you” that he’s actually screaming that at jace, like seeing jace on magnus, specially considering how tortured he is. as though, “after everything i did for you, you still left me, you left me and made me stay back and protect everyone when all i wanted was to go with you.” it’d also mesh well with what he says in his ‘apology’, about how not having jace around makes him confused and feeling as though he can’t stand on his own. that part of him is hurt that jace left, even if he rationally knows he did it for them, he’s still furious he went without putting up a fight, because he knew what that would cause to alec, how it’d kill him, but alec still had to be strong and protect everyone else, specially clary from going after them. when what he wanted was to run after jace, himself.

bc him saying that to magnus makes no sense we can even see that in magnus face he’s outraged like wtf u talking about alexander bc alec did do the wedding thing for himself and everything else magnus has done was to help him even if alec didn’t want him in the end he’d still want to help him, so alec’s outburst was confusing and makes no sense but if you look at it from this point of view of him being frustrated and nearly through a panic attack and feeling betrayed and like he can’t trust anyone and no one will LISTEN to how he FEELS and how BAD it is and his head just shifts into jace and all the crap they’ve been through in s01 and he snaps at the wrong person bc he feels like he’s going to burst from it all

alec / izzy and the demon possession / yin fen

“ I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE SEX IN MY BOYFRIEND’S APARTMENT YET. HOW HAVE YOU?!?!?!!?!”

alec did feel it when jace tried to kill himself during the trial. in fact, he felt jace’s anguish and despair, and he got hit by it hard, which is what ultimately made him vulnerable for the demon possession and attracted it to him, in the first place. jace’s anguish through the bond knocked alec’s guard down and got him possessed.

alec was serene and happy earlier when he talked to magnus. he was worried about jace, but he was so certain jace would be back in an instant that he wasn’t tortured by it. sure the demon possessions were scary and all, but alec isn’t a scared little child, and he knows better than to let his guard down. he wasn’t vulnerable, he was feeling grateful to be alive, to have jace back, to have magnus.so why and how would the demon get in him? the most logic explanation is that jace was in such terror and pain and anguish that it seeped through the bond, and hit alec. which then, for my alec, drove his possessed self to clary’s room looking for her, where he found jocelyn instead.

what i really take into consideration about alec’s despair for finding jace, beyond the parabatai bond, beyond loving him so deeply, was that (mine, at least) alec had grown up hearing jace’s stories about his father. he grew up holding jace at night when he had nightmares. listening to incredibly awful stories told in a nonchalant tone because jace never even knew how bad it was; because he never knew any differently; listening to a little boy talk about his father with a fierce loyalty and love, when alec only felt stomach sick at the way he was raised, treated and beaten. jace literally thinks how he remembers looking for beating scars on his body after his father died, because those were the closest connections he had to him. and alec KNOWS this. he knows all of it. he knows exactly how jace was abused, how he feels about it, how vulnerable he is to valentine, and i think that of everything THIS is what scares him the most.

i think that when he was a little kid, he promised himself that he would NEVER let someone hurt jace like that again. and i think it really translates in his complete despair at not being able to find him. he knows more than anyone, almost as much as jace, what valentine is capable of. he knows intimately of the mental and emotional effects that has had on someone whose soul he has inside him. he KNOWS how this is gonna wreck jace apart, and it HURTS, because he swore he’d never let valentine(or michael) get his hands on him again and then it happened.

i’m sure i’m the slowest person on earth but i think i just maybe realized their intention with alec+jocelyn (i mean besides another wedge between fraywood). that alec’s rage brought him to clary’s room, to kill her, and found jocelyn in it, instead.+ i mean, i thought about it because before that we get that scene between clary and her mom, and there’s this pretty pointless comment of her saying she was guarding clary’s room, to make sure it was clear. it’d make sense? if izzy came for alec, because she focused years of resentment on him, alec does focused a lot of his resentment with himself on clary since she showed up.

ok. but seriously. this makes so much sense to me, and it’s my headcanon now. and now i’ve made myself sad. we got almost the entire first half of the episode reminding us of how alec’s annoyed by clary, doesn’t like her etc. then there was jocelyn’s comment that she was guarding clary’s bedroom. and i’m pretty sure some part of alec still irrationally, deep down, blamed clary for jace being through all the suffering he can feel his parabatai going through. valentine wouldn’t order jocelyn dead, specially when he hadn’t even got to talk to her yet. and while alec did have reasons to hate her, i.e. for what she did to jace, and how she used him too, she wouldn’t be his priority target. so what does make sense to me, was that he was looking for the daughter and found jocelyn instead, and it was good enough for the demon, given the circumstances. clearly i’m not saying alec wants clary dead, ofc not, much less to be the one to kill her, but just that his emotions would much more likely guide the demon towards her than her mother.

memory demon : “the one person you love the most.” /love/ the most. and while you could argue it was a sibling type of love (which is bullshit), alec’s reaction to it makes it clear that was not what that was, and he knew it wasn’t, and therefore could not possibly IMAGINE that someone would think it was something else, and not what he hated himself so much for. just like izzy knew. magnus knew. and clary knew. and jace did too at that moment. i just don’t get how someone can think that isn’t important. is alec falling in love with magnus? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY, but that doesn’t invalidate feelings he’s had before. it takes a while to work those kind of things out. he’s learning to love jace in a platonic way. i don’t know about anyone else, but, to me, you just don’t forget your first love, and everyone you’ve loved in fact, stays with you in one way or another. everything was done rushed-ly (though we know that was not their fault in season 01) so yES. alec WAS in love with jace still. at least my alec would always have been.just like camille is fucking important, and not dispensable, neither is jace to alec. their heartbreaks and unrequited love, are part of what make them finding each other so important. discarding that just actually cheapens their love, in my opinion.

malec fighting : i want magnus to drop his gentleness for once, and be the powerful, centuries old warlock around alec. i want  him to give alec a good shake (with words), so he realizes he can’t just shift back into treating magnus like “any other downworlder” that doesn’t belong in his business whenever he’s angry, scared, or upset. i loved that scene so much, but now i really wanted a confrontation that didn’t happen last time, when alec apologized instead, and magnus was sweet to him and that was great, but i wanted him to shake alec up a bit this time. like yes, he understands, but alec needs to understand too. that that was his family as much as it was alec’s. that alec can’t just be a shadowhunter, in business mode, that has no space for magnus whenever things get hard.

#ok#i see where you're coming from and all#but let me tell you about the word 'friend'#that fucking word#hurts so much#so fucking much#idk if that's the case here with magnus#but i can say that even watching that scene made me flinch#there is a world of conotations#of sweeping under the rug#of diminishing#of shaming#of dismissing#and of humiliation in that word#specially when it's said in the exact tone he said it#it actually hurt me to see it#it's a brutal word when said just right  X

there is a reason for why alec never sensed jace’s hook ups before, but jace felt it when alec and magnus first had something intimate with each other. the reason being that what jace felt and called happiness was actually a mix of intimacy, safety, yes, pleasure, but above all, love. since jace has never been in love before clary, and never had the chance to have something more with her, alec never felt the same from him. which is why it was a big surprise when he found out jace felt it, and it’s something he’s definitely to this day not entirely comfortable with. when clary and jace finally have their moment, alec will probably feel it too. it is certainly one of the reasons for his jealousy and pain in the first season, as he’s felt many things from 🇯🇦🇨🇪 towards girls before, but had never sensed him actually falling in love with someone else, until her.

people say alec is not affectionate enough but honestly to my alec those little touches are such an evolution??? just talking about my portrayal, personally, he was definitely more affectionate as a child, but ever since his gay thoughts™ started, he slowly stopped being freely affectionate to people. it started with jace, and then it extended to not initiating affection unless other people did for him. he’s JUST learning that it’s okay and he’s okay being who he is and he’s not gonna taint people just by touching them, or his close ones aren’t gonna find out he’s weird if they stand too close, or he’s not gonna give himself away if he lets himself be sensible and warm and let people in. that his love is not tainted. the fact that he’s initiating so many little gestures of affections is incredible to me. and i know the show doesn’t quite show how much of his struggle was due to homophobic society since that is so toned down in it, but his struggle was supreme, and to be this confident in himself, this comfortable, with greeting kisses and casual touching, that is amazing to me.

ok but look at his face. i know there’s this whole show thing where suddenly alec is the most confident person in the world, but that’s not how my interpretation will go. he’s not comfortable in this position, at all. he doesn’t even know if this is what he actually wants or just what his family imposed for him and he’s just used to it. he didn’t have the time to figure that out with jace having been head for less than 24 hours. at this point it feels like an obligation he can’t escape, and he feels wrong telling people what to do and being in this much exposition. he doesn’t like it. and he’s not even sure the job is for him.

ok but look at his face. i know there’s this whole show thing where suddenly alec is the most confident person in the world, but that’s not how my interpretation will go. he’s not comfortable in this position, at all. he doesn’t even know if this is what he actually wants or just what his family imposed for him and he’s just used to it. he didn’t have the time to figure that out with jace having been head for less than 24 hours. at this point it feels like an obligation he can’t escape, and he feels wrong telling people what to do and being in this much exposition. he doesn’t like it. and he’s not even sure the job is for him.

jalec headcanon hour: jace is able to, through their parabatai bond, activate alec’s runes for him without a stele, and at a distance, just like he does with his own.

i firmly believe alec is overcompensating on confidence and decision-making for having not done so the episode magnus was trapped inside valentine. that’s why he’s so“FINE”, with all of this. he KNEW something was wrong the moment he touched magnus to get him off the floor after azazel’s attack. but he didn’t trust himself, and if he had, and had been more involved, instead of accepting the clave’s authority, things would had been different. now he’s desperate to fix this however he can, prove himself not only as a protector but as DIFFERENT from the institution that did what they did to magnus, the downworlders, and so many other prisoners, and trust his gut. and just really hoping it won’t explode all on his face. pretty sure an anxiety attack is on the way when things get too big to handle. he’s much too young for this big a responsibility over so many lives. he might look all grown up but if clary is eighteen, that means he’s twenty one at best. and i feel like it’s often forgotten.

ok, but, good part of why it took my alec a while to realize the whole switch thing is he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. aka people, including  magnus, to reject him.

for weeks after alec dies for a second, jace has repeated nightmares of re-living that scene, only alec never comes back and jace in the dream thinks reality is the illusion. it messes him up for a while, where he needs to touch alec to know he’s real and there and alive, and jace wakes up gasping and while he’s dreaming he at times chants the ‘please don’t leave me, alec’ hoping this time he will get to live. some times in those dreams alec is killed by wolves, or by valentine’s hand because jace refuses to obey. some times he wakes up with his parabatai rune burning.

[samiam03x]

How to Manufacture Urgency to Blow through Conversion Roadblocks

We don’t need things.

We might need a six-dollar, almond milk, sea salt caramel mocha (no whip) when it gets a little chilly outside.

But we don’t need-need.

The lights are on. Roof over our head. Heating or AC blasting in the background.

That applies to most things you’re trying to sell.

Doesn’t matter if we’re talkin’ ‘bout that shiny new app you deployed or the fancy new eComm product. People don’t need it.

Which makes your life tough. How are you going to move the needle, get more subscribers, and scale revenue, when the vast majority of the people you’re speaking to have zero actual need to buy your widget?

You need urgency. Or more specifically, you need to manufacture urgency out of thin air.

Here’s how a few of the web’s top converting sites create urgency out of thin air to get visitors to finally commit once and for all.

Why Urgency Works

People don’t need your stuff. But it gets worse. Because people also resist change at the same time.

So you’ve got two problems. You need to shake people out of their inertia. And then somehow get them to act.

Thankfully, the solution’s no secret. There’s a book on it. Along with countless studies.

For example, ConversionXL explains one account where just a little bit of urgency sprinkled onto a product page lifted revenue by over 27% for Bob & Lush.

They came up with the idea to that “clarity of deliver time on a product page would push more customers to convert.”

Sound familiar? It’s what some of the best in the business, from Amazon all the way down to the QVC have gone to great lengths to employ.

So they made one relatively small tweak to their product pages.

The new variant included a little simple text box that highlighted when someone would receive their product if they ordered within a short time frame.

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Not only did revenue jump (27.1%), but the the number of purchases (9.5%) and checkout visits (10.1%) did, too.

Of course, the inclusion of this delivery date estimate wasn’t just a hunch. An epiphany. Or a ‘growth hack’ some growth hacker wrote about in their Bible to Growth Hacking on GrowthHackers.com

Instead, the hypothesis came from a place that good ideas always flow. But few rarely tend to go.

Consumer Research (AKA The Part Everyone Always Skips)

In 2012, Marcus Taylor of Venture Harbour launched a ‘Groupon deal for musicians.’ (And wrote about the experience in another excellent ConversionXL case study. Yes, I’m completely ripping them off today).

He reportedly invested months and even dipped into personal savings to fund it. The boats were burned. There was no going back. It had to churn a profit.

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No need to bury the lead. He increased conversions from a mediocre-but-fine 2.5% up to an astonishing 10.8% by infusing urgency into every pore of the site.

That incredible conversion lift wasn’t the part that got me, though.

This was:

When people think of conversion optimization, they go to landing pages. They go to headlines. CTAs. Images. And other similarly miniscule details that kinda don’t move the f-ing needle.

But all of those elements (which we’ll touch in soon) are at the mercy of one giant thing: the audience.

All of the CTA tweaks in the world can’t save you from targeting the wrong audience in the first place.

That’s the critical difference Marcus understood. And acted on. (Emphasis, mine.)

“Prior to launch, I “tested” hundreds of traffic sources, from Reddit Ads, to specific music forums. I wanted to know was which traffic sources I need to prioritise during the real campaign.

I ended up with a custom Google Analytics dashboard like this, which made it clear which traffic sources delivered the most relevant traffic.”

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“Not only did I know where my customers would come from ahead of time, but I knew more about my audience, such as how guitarists were almost three times more likely to buy than drummers, and that my conversion rate was highest in the UK and Australia.”

Similarly, when ConversionXL worked with Bob & Lush initially they didn’t haphazardly start throwing stuff on a DIY landing page builder. Rather, they begun with a boring, tired, old survey.

One hundred eighteen people opted in. And many agreed that their biggest fear centered around “running out of food for their dogs.”

That’s the catalyst. The trigger.

It manifested as a purchasing roadblock based on “knowing when the food would arrive.”

So that’s what ConversionXL leveraged. You’ve already seen the updated landing page variation that was a success. Just by using simple language to entice people to buy now (instead of waiting around).

The tactic – the thing you see on the screen – isn’t the point. It’s the impulse it targets. The underlying motivation that’s already preventing people from feeling like they need your thing.

It’s no coincidence that this is the exact same strategy that one of the interwebs top converters implements.

Expedia recently announced gross revenues of $16 billion. Up 8% from online sales.

Which should come as no surprise when you see what they’re doing.

How Expedia Manufactures Urgency Out of Thin Air

Visit Expedia.com.

The homepage is fairly bare. A giant reservation form takes over almost everything above the fold.

Below that, a few of “Todays Deals” are highlighted.

So far, not much is happening. It’s not until you actually search for a trip that things start to get interesting.

Vegas sounds fun. Pool season sure beats reading another blog post like this in your pajamas.

Plug in some dates. Hit Enter. And here goes.

Whoa. Lots happening.

You see plenty of greens (good!) and reds (bad!) to help you instantly understand their meaning.

In the lower right-hand corner, multiple little callouts keep popping up, sliding in and out of the screen, emphasizing the same thing: a BUNCH of other people are looking at booking these deals right now – so they might not last long.

Then of course, the Daily Deal hits you at the top of the screen. A classic countdown timer that ticks away. My heart rate sped up. Palms sweaty. Despite not having any real interest in booking this initially.

Once again, that was no accident. As this case study featured on Behave.org (formerly WhichTestWon) indicates.

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All that was added was a countdown timer. That’s it.

They even removed a few elements, including ‘free delivery’ and ‘order now’ in order to remove extraneous distractions and focus viewers on what mattered most: that countdown timer.

The result after 50,000 viewers? An instant 8% conversion lift.

Ok. Enough boring marketing stuff. Back to Vegas.

How Expedia Uses Price Anchoring & FOMO to Make this Trip Look like a Steal

Those FOMO callouts slide in and out of view.

The countdown timer continues ticking down. And then the product attributes help you decide.

For example, scroll down a little bit until you reach Cosmo.

It’s garnered a little yellow “Top Hotel” badge. It literally screams “Wonderful!” with excellent ratings and reviews to match.

Price anchoring in full effect, with the ‘sales price’ slashed down to the new effective one.

Scarcity comes into view with the strip of text in red that highlights the number of people who also booked this hotel in the past forty eight hours. Along with when it was last booked.

So. If we’re even remotely serious. We need to move fast.

Let’s select Cosmo. Because c’mon: wraparound terraces!

You look at available rooms and are immediately met by an “Unreal Deal” that will “save you 100% on your flight.” That’s backed up by the pricing, which shows you’ll ‘owe’ $0.00 more to select it now.

Deals like that won’t last. Don’t last. Which means you should act.

Not later, but now.

How Expedia Forces You to Take Action (Now)

Words matter.

It’s not that people absorb every letter in detail. They don’t. Hell – people don’t even read. ‘Specially not online.

But the sum is greater than the parts. It’s scanned in a moment’s notice and the meaning hits home.

For example, email marketing service AWeber ran a simple copy test on their call to action.

The only change? A single word.

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AWeber added the word “Now” to their call to action. And they saw a 12% increase in paid signups with a credit card.

An online travel booking flow is no different than any other conversion flow. Doesn’t matter if we’re talking about signing up for a new email marketing app or trying to go through a shopping cart checkout sequence.

The stats are remarkably the same, too. Online travel bookings see a 81% abandonment! While shopping cart abandonment averages right around 70%.

61% of those cart abandonments are because of ‘extra costs’ (including shipping, taxes, fees, etc.)

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You know how this feels. You’re super pumped about that new pair of plastic jeans (yes, that’s a thing) you just found. Except when you head over to checkout, you see that another ~30% has been tacked on due to taxes, shipping, and fees.

Guess what Expedia does, instead?

First, they ‘drop’ the price. Two cents. Literally. But it’s green and happy and there’s a check mark exclaiming “Good News.”

The other thing it says? “Book now to secure this price.”

Zooming into the pricing area on the right, you also see the savings of booking the flight and hotel together. Then, down below, you see the total price (again first – price anchoring).

And then a “Due at hotel” line item that cleverly buries all of those damn resort fees that we hate so much.

But they’re almost invisible because of how Expedia has positioned this pricing and sale.

Instead of being ‘thrown off’ the conversion scent at the moment of truth, you’re practically already packing your bags. #Humblebragging about your upcoming Vegas trip.

Conclusion

Ranchers use a cattle prod to get those big, dumb, slow moving animals to do what they want.

Whether that’s to eat, find shelter, or head to the slaughterhouse.

Consumers don’t need to do anything.

They might want lots of things. But they lack nothing. And so there’s no inherent desire to purchase your widget.

Instead, you have to create it. Manufacture it and bring it into existence.

For guidance, start with the web’s top converters. Expedia is a master at creating urgency by using countdown timers, product attributes, prince anchoring, FOMO, and a host of other psychological tactics that would make Cialdini proud.

Increasing conversions online isn’t about tricks or gimmicks or hacks. It’s about building up the value of your offering so much that people can’t help but convert.

About the Author: Brad Smith the founder of Codeless, a B2B content creation company. Frequent contributor to Kissmetrics, Unbounce, WordStream, AdEspresso, Search Engine Journal, Autopilot, and more.

http://ift.tt/2mNJfHR from MarketingRSS http://ift.tt/2py8Szi via Youtube

[marie85marketing]

How to Manufacture Urgency to Blow through Conversion Roadblocks

We don’t need things.

We might need a six-dollar, almond milk, sea salt caramel mocha (no whip) when it gets a little chilly outside.

But we don’t need-need.

The lights are on. Roof over our head. Heating or AC blasting in the background.

That applies to most things you’re trying to sell.

Doesn’t matter if we’re talkin’ ‘bout that shiny new app you deployed or the fancy new eComm product. People don’t need it.

Which makes your life tough. How are you going to move the needle, get more subscribers, and scale revenue, when the vast majority of the people you’re speaking to have zero actual need to buy your widget?

You need urgency. Or more specifically, you need to manufacture urgency out of thin air.

Here’s how a few of the web’s top converting sites create urgency out of thin air to get visitors to finally commit once and for all.

Why Urgency Works

People don’t need your stuff. But it gets worse. Because people also resist change at the same time.

So you’ve got two problems. You need to shake people out of their inertia. And then somehow get them to act.

Thankfully, the solution’s no secret. There’s a book on it. Along with countless studies.

For example, ConversionXL explains one account where just a little bit of urgency sprinkled onto a product page lifted revenue by over 27% for Bob & Lush.

They came up with the idea to that “clarity of deliver time on a product page would push more customers to convert.”

Sound familiar? It’s what some of the best in the business, from Amazon all the way down to the QVC have gone to great lengths to employ.

So they made one relatively small tweak to their product pages.

The new variant included a little simple text box that highlighted when someone would receive their product if they ordered within a short time frame.

Image Source

Not only did revenue jump (27.1%), but the the number of purchases (9.5%) and checkout visits (10.1%) did, too.

Of course, the inclusion of this delivery date estimate wasn’t just a hunch. An epiphany. Or a ‘growth hack’ some growth hacker wrote about in their Bible to Growth Hacking on GrowthHackers.com

Instead, the hypothesis came from a place that good ideas always flow. But few rarely tend to go.

Consumer Research (AKA The Part Everyone Always Skips)

In 2012, Marcus Taylor of Venture Harbour launched a ‘Groupon deal for musicians.’ (And wrote about the experience in another excellent ConversionXL case study. Yes, I’m completely ripping them off today).

He reportedly invested months and even dipped into personal savings to fund it. The boats were burned. There was no going back. It had to churn a profit.

Image Source

No need to bury the lead. He increased conversions from a mediocre-but-fine 2.5% up to an astonishing 10.8% by infusing urgency into every pore of the site.

That incredible conversion lift wasn’t the part that got me, though.

This was:

When people think of conversion optimization, they go to landing pages. They go to headlines. CTAs. Images. And other similarly miniscule details that kinda don’t move the f-ing needle.

But all of those elements (which we’ll touch in soon) are at the mercy of one giant thing: the audience.

All of the CTA tweaks in the world can’t save you from targeting the wrong audience in the first place.

That’s the critical difference Marcus understood. And acted on. (Emphasis, mine.)

“Prior to launch, I “tested” hundreds of traffic sources, from Reddit Ads, to specific music forums. I wanted to know was which traffic sources I need to prioritise during the real campaign.

I ended up with a custom Google Analytics dashboard like this, which made it clear which traffic sources delivered the most relevant traffic.”

Image Source

“Not only did I know where my customers would come from ahead of time, but I knew more about my audience, such as how guitarists were almost three times more likely to buy than drummers, and that my conversion rate was highest in the UK and Australia.”

Similarly, when ConversionXL worked with Bob & Lush initially they didn’t haphazardly start throwing stuff on a DIY landing page builder. Rather, they begun with a boring, tired, old survey.

One hundred eighteen people opted in. And many agreed that their biggest fear centered around “running out of food for their dogs.”

That’s the catalyst. The trigger.

It manifested as a purchasing roadblock based on “knowing when the food would arrive.”

So that’s what ConversionXL leveraged. You’ve already seen the updated landing page variation that was a success. Just by using simple language to entice people to buy now (instead of waiting around).

The tactic – the thing you see on the screen – isn’t the point. It’s the impulse it targets. The underlying motivation that’s already preventing people from feeling like they need your thing.

It’s no coincidence that this is the exact same strategy that one of the interwebs top converters implements.

Expedia recently announced gross revenues of $16 billion. Up 8% from online sales.

Which should come as no surprise when you see what they’re doing.

How Expedia Manufactures Urgency Out of Thin Air

Visit Expedia.com.

The homepage is fairly bare. A giant reservation form takes over almost everything above the fold.

Below that, a few of “Todays Deals” are highlighted.

So far, not much is happening. It’s not until you actually search for a trip that things start to get interesting.

Vegas sounds fun. Pool season sure beats reading another blog post like this in your pajamas.

Plug in some dates. Hit Enter. And here goes.

Whoa. Lots happening.

You see plenty of greens (good!) and reds (bad!) to help you instantly understand their meaning.

In the lower right-hand corner, multiple little callouts keep popping up, sliding in and out of the screen, emphasizing the same thing: a BUNCH of other people are looking at booking these deals right now – so they might not last long.

Then of course, the Daily Deal hits you at the top of the screen. A classic countdown timer that ticks away. My heart rate sped up. Palms sweaty. Despite not having any real interest in booking this initially.

Once again, that was no accident. As this case study featured on Behave.org (formerly WhichTestWon) indicates.

Image Source

All that was added was a countdown timer. That’s it.

They even removed a few elements, including ‘free delivery’ and ‘order now’ in order to remove extraneous distractions and focus viewers on what mattered most: that countdown timer.

The result after 50,000 viewers? An instant 8% conversion lift.

Ok. Enough boring marketing stuff. Back to Vegas.

How Expedia Uses Price Anchoring & FOMO to Make this Trip Look like a Steal

Those FOMO callouts slide in and out of view.

The countdown timer continues ticking down. And then the product attributes help you decide.

For example, scroll down a little bit until you reach Cosmo.

It’s garnered a little yellow “Top Hotel” badge. It literally screams “Wonderful!” with excellent ratings and reviews to match.

Price anchoring in full effect, with the ‘sales price’ slashed down to the new effective one.

Scarcity comes into view with the strip of text in red that highlights the number of people who also booked this hotel in the past forty eight hours. Along with when it was last booked.

So. If we’re even remotely serious. We need to move fast.

Let’s select Cosmo. Because c’mon: wraparound terraces!

You look at available rooms and are immediately met by an “Unreal Deal” that will “save you 100% on your flight.” That’s backed up by the pricing, which shows you’ll ‘owe’ $0.00 more to select it now.

Deals like that won’t last. Don’t last. Which means you should act.

Not later, but now.

How Expedia Forces You to Take Action (Now)

Words matter.

It’s not that people absorb every letter in detail. They don’t. Hell – people don’t even read. ‘Specially not online.

But the sum is greater than the parts. It’s scanned in a moment’s notice and the meaning hits home.

For example, email marketing service AWeber ran a simple copy test on their call to action.

The only change? A single word.

Image Source

AWeber added the word “Now” to their call to action. And they saw a 12% increase in paid signups with a credit card.

An online travel booking flow is no different than any other conversion flow. Doesn’t matter if we’re talking about signing up for a new email marketing app or trying to go through a shopping cart checkout sequence.

The stats are remarkably the same, too. Online travel bookings see a 81% abandonment! While shopping cart abandonment averages right around 70%.

61% of those cart abandonments are because of ‘extra costs’ (including shipping, taxes, fees, etc.)

Image Source

You know how this feels. You’re super pumped about that new pair of plastic jeans (yes, that’s a thing) you just found. Except when you head over to checkout, you see that another ~30% has been tacked on due to taxes, shipping, and fees.

Guess what Expedia does, instead?

First, they ‘drop’ the price. Two cents. Literally. But it’s green and happy and there’s a check mark exclaiming “Good News.”

The other thing it says? “Book now to secure this price.”

Zooming into the pricing area on the right, you also see the savings of booking the flight and hotel together. Then, down below, you see the total price (again first – price anchoring).

And then a “Due at hotel” line item that cleverly buries all of those damn resort fees that we hate so much.

But they’re almost invisible because of how Expedia has positioned this pricing and sale.

Instead of being ‘thrown off’ the conversion scent at the moment of truth, you’re practically already packing your bags. #Humblebragging about your upcoming Vegas trip.

Conclusion

Ranchers use a cattle prod to get those big, dumb, slow moving animals to do what they want.

Whether that’s to eat, find shelter, or head to the slaughterhouse.

Consumers don’t need to do anything.

They might want lots of things. But they lack nothing. And so there’s no inherent desire to purchase your widget.

Instead, you have to create it. Manufacture it and bring it into existence.

For guidance, start with the web’s top converters. Expedia is a master at creating urgency by using countdown timers, product attributes, prince anchoring, FOMO, and a host of other psychological tactics that would make Cialdini proud.

Increasing conversions online isn’t about tricks or gimmicks or hacks. It’s about building up the value of your offering so much that people can’t help but convert.

About the Author: Brad Smith the founder of Codeless, a B2B content creation company. Frequent contributor to Kissmetrics, Unbounce, WordStream, AdEspresso, Search Engine Journal, Autopilot, and more.

[ericsburden-blog]

How to Manufacture Urgency to Blow through Conversion Roadblocks

We don’t need things.

We might need a six-dollar, almond milk, sea salt caramel mocha (no whip) when it gets a little chilly outside.

But we don’t need-need.

The lights are on. Roof over our head. Heating or AC blasting in the background.

That applies to most things you’re trying to sell.

Doesn’t matter if we’re talkin’ ‘bout that shiny new app you deployed or the fancy new eComm product. People don’t need it.

Which makes your life tough. How are you going to move the needle, get more subscribers, and scale revenue, when the vast majority of the people you’re speaking to have zero actual need to buy your widget?

You need urgency. Or more specifically, you need to manufacture urgency out of thin air.

Here’s how a few of the web’s top converting sites create urgency out of thin air to get visitors to finally commit once and for all.

Why Urgency Works

People don’t need your stuff. But it gets worse. Because people also resist change at the same time.

So you’ve got two problems. You need to shake people out of their inertia. And then somehow get them to act.

Thankfully, the solution’s no secret. There’s a book on it. Along with countless studies.

For example, ConversionXL explains one account where just a little bit of urgency sprinkled onto a product page lifted revenue by over 27% for Bob & Lush.

They came up with the idea to that “clarity of deliver time on a product page would push more customers to convert.”

Sound familiar? It’s what some of the best in the business, from Amazon all the way down to the QVC have gone to great lengths to employ.

So they made one relatively small tweak to their product pages.

The new variant included a little simple text box that highlighted when someone would receive their product if they ordered within a short time frame.

Image Source

Not only did revenue jump (27.1%), but the the number of purchases (9.5%) and checkout visits (10.1%) did, too.

Of course, the inclusion of this delivery date estimate wasn’t just a hunch. An epiphany. Or a ‘growth hack’ some growth hacker wrote about in their Bible to Growth Hacking on GrowthHackers.com

Instead, the hypothesis came from a place that good ideas always flow. But few rarely tend to go.

Consumer Research (AKA The Part Everyone Always Skips)

In 2012, Marcus Taylor of Venture Harbour launched a ‘Groupon deal for musicians.’ (And wrote about the experience in another excellent ConversionXL case study. Yes, I’m completely ripping them off today).

He reportedly invested months and even dipped into personal savings to fund it. The boats were burned. There was no going back. It had to churn a profit.

Image Source

No need to bury the lead. He increased conversions from a mediocre-but-fine 2.5% up to an astonishing 10.8% by infusing urgency into every pore of the site.

That incredible conversion lift wasn’t the part that got me, though.

This was:

When people think of conversion optimization, they go to landing pages. They go to headlines. CTAs. Images. And other similarly miniscule details that kinda don’t move the f-ing needle.

But all of those elements (which we’ll touch in soon) are at the mercy of one giant thing: the audience.

All of the CTA tweaks in the world can’t save you from targeting the wrong audience in the first place.

That’s the critical difference Marcus understood. And acted on. (Emphasis, mine.)

“Prior to launch, I “tested” hundreds of traffic sources, from Reddit Ads, to specific music forums. I wanted to know was which traffic sources I need to prioritise during the real campaign.

I ended up with a custom Google Analytics dashboard like this, which made it clear which traffic sources delivered the most relevant traffic.”

Image Source

“Not only did I know where my customers would come from ahead of time, but I knew more about my audience, such as how guitarists were almost three times more likely to buy than drummers, and that my conversion rate was highest in the UK and Australia.”

Similarly, when ConversionXL worked with Bob & Lush initially they didn’t haphazardly start throwing stuff on a DIY landing page builder. Rather, they begun with a boring, tired, old survey.

One hundred eighteen people opted in. And many agreed that their biggest fear centered around “running out of food for their dogs.”

That’s the catalyst. The trigger.

It manifested as a purchasing roadblock based on “knowing when the food would arrive.”

So that’s what ConversionXL leveraged. You’ve already seen the updated landing page variation that was a success. Just by using simple language to entice people to buy now (instead of waiting around).

The tactic – the thing you see on the screen – isn’t the point. It’s the impulse it targets. The underlying motivation that’s already preventing people from feeling like they need your thing.

It’s no coincidence that this is the exact same strategy that one of the interwebs top converters implements.

Expedia recently announced gross revenues of $16 billion. Up 8% from online sales.

Which should come as no surprise when you see what they’re doing.

How Expedia Manufactures Urgency Out of Thin Air

Visit Expedia.com.

The homepage is fairly bare. A giant reservation form takes over almost everything above the fold.

Below that, a few of “Todays Deals” are highlighted.

So far, not much is happening. It’s not until you actually search for a trip that things start to get interesting.

Vegas sounds fun. Pool season sure beats reading another blog post like this in your pajamas.

Plug in some dates. Hit Enter. And here goes.

Whoa. Lots happening.

You see plenty of greens (good!) and reds (bad!) to help you instantly understand their meaning.

In the lower right-hand corner, multiple little callouts keep popping up, sliding in and out of the screen, emphasizing the same thing: a BUNCH of other people are looking at booking these deals right now – so they might not last long.

Then of course, the Daily Deal hits you at the top of the screen. A classic countdown timer that ticks away. My heart rate sped up. Palms sweaty. Despite not having any real interest in booking this initially.

Once again, that was no accident. As this case study featured on Behave.org (formerly WhichTestWon) indicates.

Image Source

All that was added was a countdown timer. That’s it.

They even removed a few elements, including ‘free delivery’ and ‘order now’ in order to remove extraneous distractions and focus viewers on what mattered most: that countdown timer.

The result after 50,000 viewers? An instant 8% conversion lift.

Ok. Enough boring marketing stuff. Back to Vegas.

How Expedia Uses Price Anchoring & FOMO to Make this Trip Look like a Steal

Those FOMO callouts slide in and out of view.

The countdown timer continues ticking down. And then the product attributes help you decide.

For example, scroll down a little bit until you reach Cosmo.

It’s garnered a little yellow “Top Hotel” badge. It literally screams “Wonderful!” with excellent ratings and reviews to match.

Price anchoring in full effect, with the ‘sales price’ slashed down to the new effective one.

Scarcity comes into view with the strip of text in red that highlights the number of people who also booked this hotel in the past forty eight hours. Along with when it was last booked.

So. If we’re even remotely serious. We need to move fast.

Let’s select Cosmo. Because c’mon: wraparound terraces!

You look at available rooms and are immediately met by an “Unreal Deal” that will “save you 100% on your flight.” That’s backed up by the pricing, which shows you’ll ‘owe’ $0.00 more to select it now.

Deals like that won’t last. Don’t last. Which means you should act.

Not later, but now.

How Expedia Forces You to Take Action (Now)

Words matter.

It’s not that people absorb every letter in detail. They don’t. Hell – people don’t even read. ‘Specially not online.

But the sum is greater than the parts. It’s scanned in a moment’s notice and the meaning hits home.

For example, email marketing service AWeber ran a simple copy test on their call to action.

The only change? A single word.

Image Source

AWeber added the word “Now” to their call to action. And they saw a 12% increase in paid signups with a credit card.

An online travel booking flow is no different than any other conversion flow. Doesn’t matter if we’re talking about signing up for a new email marketing app or trying to go through a shopping cart checkout sequence.

The stats are remarkably the same, too. Online travel bookings see a 81% abandonment! While shopping cart abandonment averages right around 70%.

61% of those cart abandonments are because of ‘extra costs’ (including shipping, taxes, fees, etc.)

Image Source

You know how this feels. You’re super pumped about that new pair of plastic jeans (yes, that’s a thing) you just found. Except when you head over to checkout, you see that another ~30% has been tacked on due to taxes, shipping, and fees.

Guess what Expedia does, instead?

First, they ‘drop’ the price. Two cents. Literally. But it’s green and happy and there’s a check mark exclaiming “Good News.”

The other thing it says? “Book now to secure this price.”

Zooming into the pricing area on the right, you also see the savings of booking the flight and hotel together. Then, down below, you see the total price (again first – price anchoring).

And then a “Due at hotel” line item that cleverly buries all of those damn resort fees that we hate so much.

But they’re almost invisible because of how Expedia has positioned this pricing and sale.

Instead of being ‘thrown off’ the conversion scent at the moment of truth, you’re practically already packing your bags. #Humblebragging about your upcoming Vegas trip.

Conclusion

Ranchers use a cattle prod to get those big, dumb, slow moving animals to do what they want.

Whether that’s to eat, find shelter, or head to the slaughterhouse.

Consumers don’t need to do anything.

They might want lots of things. But they lack nothing. And so there’s no inherent desire to purchase your widget.

Instead, you have to create it. Manufacture it and bring it into existence.

For guidance, start with the web’s top converters. Expedia is a master at creating urgency by using countdown timers, product attributes, prince anchoring, FOMO, and a host of other psychological tactics that would make Cialdini proud.

Increasing conversions online isn’t about tricks or gimmicks or hacks. It’s about building up the value of your offering so much that people can’t help but convert.

About the Author: Brad Smith the founder of Codeless, a B2B content creation company. Frequent contributor to Kissmetrics, Unbounce, WordStream, AdEspresso, Search Engine Journal, Autopilot, and more.

How to Manufacture Urgency to Blow through Conversion Roadblocks