#i mean granted this was actually easier than it maybe looks

[chickenoptyrx]

Is another Calvin and Hobbes redraw.

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.4 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

"I don't know. They both look nice."

"You are so useless you know that? I have shown you five outfit choices and you have said the same about every single one. I need help." You whine.

"I don't know what to tell you they all look nice on you. You look good in all of them so just pick your favourite."

"Was that actually a compliment Williams?"

"No fuck off." Ellie stands from her slouched position on the sofa subtly looking you up and down but not subtly enough you don't see it, you feel hot under her gaze, even her stony glare caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, the feeling sickened you. You had 5 hours until you were due at your parents but the anxiety had already taken over your body. You had been wiping your palms on your pyjama shorts periodically since you woke up, your body had a constant tremble and the colour in your face had drained. Ellie had walked into you having breakfast in the kitchen and questioned if you were ill because of your appearance. You didn't understand why now? Why after two years of pretending you didn't exist did your parents want to talk to you? You just felt sick and Ellie's nonchalance over your outfit options were not helping.

"Ellie please just help me pick an outfit. I already feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Why does it fucking matter what you wear? Who are you trying to impress? Your parents? The ones that kicked you out? Are you not embarrassed by yourself?" She spat the words out without even making eye contact before strolling out of the living room up to her room. You stand frozen contemplating her words as a single tear escapes its prison fleeing down your cheek, she was right really, it's pathetic but they're your parents.

This is a normal reaction, right?

Ellie threw herself down on the bed running her hands over her face. She knew she shouldn't have said that, it was mean and cruel and you looked the most beautiful in the third outfit choice that you had picked because your smile was beaming and you were giving playful twirls to show all angles of your favourite outfit. She should've just told you how beautiful you looked and told you to wear that one but she couldn't because she felt like she was supporting you going to your parents house and she just couldn't do that to you. Granted she never saw how them kicking you out went but she was told and when she saw you going back to that house, in her mind all she could picture was you being thrown out of there by your hair and left to cry on the ground. She'd rather leave Jackson than see you forgive them for that. Ellie told herself that was the only reason she didn't want you to go, but she was lying to herself and she knew that because the thought of you moving out to move back in with them sent her into a spiral so deep she felt like she'd never recover from the dizziness. She had just got you back and not only was she blowing it because she can't get out of her own way but she might actually lose you to them a second time. She felt a familiar sting behind her eyes that she refused to let escalate so she practically ran to the bathroom for a cold shower. She had been having cold showers a lot recently, it never got easier but maybe that was why she needed it.

You hadn't spoken to Ellie again that day until just before you were leaving for your parents. You had decided to wear the third outfit you had shown Ellie as you felt the most confident in it and as you walked past her sitting on the sofa she called your name.

"What Ellie?"

"You look really nice."

"Thanks."

She went to speak again, to say she was sorry and she didn't mean anything she said, to tell you she hopes it goes well, but you were out the door before she got the chance. She sighed and tried to focus on her film once again but all she could think about was what your parents were going to say to you.

"Thanks for coming baby." Your mum smiles softly at you from her place across the table as you avoid eye contact as you had since you walked into your old home. The dinner so far had been quiet, it was obvious they had something to say but they were both holding back, it angered you more by the second until you slammed your fork down onto the table and finally made eye contact with your mother and then your father for the first time all evening.

"Why have you asked me here? You've had no issue pretending I don't exist for two years so what do you want now?" You look at them hopefully, all you were wishing for was them to say that they were sorry and they were wrong, that they accept and love you no matter what. Over the course of the day you had actually managed to convince yourself that is what they would say, so much so that you had considered what you would do if that was the case, you had already decided you would continue living with Ellie but start trying to see them regularly and build your relationship back up gradually but the hopefulness and the illusion you had created for yourself immediately shattered as your dad uttered his next words.

"We thought if we cut you off you would eventually come to your senses and end this silly little phase of yours but its become clear that we were wrong to take that approach. Your mother and I think it would be best if you move away from that girl and come live with us. We can help you darling, make you right again." As he says his last sentence he places his hand over yours and squeezes.

Your heart broke. Shattered into tiny pieces that you feared would never find their way back to each other.

You felt every nerve in your body pulsing, you could barely choke out a breath, the family home you had always loved and cherished was no longer a safe haven filled with joy and love it was the darkest place you feel you could ever find yourself in. You don't even realise you've began to cry until a droplet lands on your arm, you look down to see your dads hand still firmly planted on yours and all of a sudden it felt like the whole arm was burning. As you slap his hand away and kick your chair back so hard it topples over your parents both rise with equally dissatisfied looks on their faces, they were looking at you like you were a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Why can't you just accept me as I am? I'm nineteen and you're still treating me like a child that doesn't know my left and rights. Why can't you just love me? Why is your love conditional?" You're screaming but the noise barely reaches your ears, your parents rebuttals are blurred by the heavy humming in your ears. Their lips were moving but no sound was coming out, you were deaf to their pleads, their reasoning, you were deaf to it all, all you could focus on was leaving and going back home to Ellie. You know you're moving because you're no longer in the dining room, you're yanking the front door open and storming out but you can't feel anything, you feel numb, there's nothing inside of you anymore, the only thing that had kept you going was the hope that one day your parents would love you again but that hope had been ripped away in a heartbeat and now all you feel is empty.

You can hear yelling, and the ground beneath you is hard but you don't remember falling to the floor, your vision is blurry, hazy from the floods of tears that still haven't slowed their plight down your cheeks, you try and focus on the sound of the yelling until it becomes coherent words.

"Ellie! Ellie! Ellie!" It's you, you're screaming, the only word your brain seems to know at the moment is Ellie so you just repeat it over and over until you see the blur of a figure running towards you.

"Hey, oh my god, what happened?" She bends down on the floor and scoops you into her arms, reflexively checking for cuts or bruises or something to signal that you're hurt, but there's nothing, nothing except for the look of despair that painted your face. "Come on talk to me, what happened?"

You couldn't find the words, there were none, your body trembled and shook with broken sobs until your throat was sore and there were no tears left to shed, Ellie's hand never stopping the gentle circles it was soothing on your back.

"My parents, they- they hate me." Your voice is quiet and broken as is Ellie's heart seeing you in this state.

"They don't hate you. They're stubborn and backwards and awful parents but they don't hate you." You chuckle dryly at her words but she remains soft-spoken and gentle with you like you're made of glass. It felt foreign, no one had ever been this way with you, you had never wanted or needed anyone to be this way with you but in this moment you could feel your heart picking up the shattered pieces trying to mend itself as she holds you. She wipes the stray few tears still dampening your cheeks before beginning to pull you up from the ground with her. "Come on, let's go sit on the couch and you can tell me what happened." She doesn't wait for your response simply starts walking with you until she plops you down on the sofa seating herself right next to you and looking defeatedly at the broken look on your face.

"I thought they wanted to make things better, try and rebuild our relationship but they just wanted me to move back in with them and away from you so they could- I don't know- convince me this is all just a phase and I'm not actually a lesbian. You should've seen it Ellie, they looked at me like I was a toddler screaming because I dropped my ice cream when I fought back, why can't they understand?"

"I don't know, Joel always said there were places around the country that were really against anyone being different, those mindsets never left people I guess. It's not your fault though and you shouldn't beg for them to be in your life when they've proved they don't deserve it."

"I just feel like such an idiot, I honestly thought they might want to try and fix our relationship and somehow this hurts more than when they kicked me out."

"You're not an idiot for hoping your parents would get over themselves and be good parents for once in their lives." She spits the words with a venom as she imagines your parents shaming you over and over again and making you feel like you were born wrong. "This isn't your fault." She places a hand on your thigh and squeezes to emphasise her words before you gently place your hand over hers and squeeze back with a small smile.

"Thank you Ellie, really, and sorry for screaming the house down."

"Don't even worry about it. You scared the shit out of me but I'll let you off this time."

"Oh how kind of you." You snarked back.

"Andddd she's back. Missed you." She smirks and winks before laughing as you roll your eyes and rise from the sofa, before she can question you, you tell her you need to have a shower and wash the day off you and she simply smiles and nods before you walk to the bathroom leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She wasn't relieved, she couldn't be because your heart had been broken again by your parents but as much as she tried to push the feeling down it kept coming back stronger, you're not moving out, she's not losing you to them again, she shouldn't be happy but she is and that only makes her feel worse so instead she tries to focus on something different, anything to take her mind off of the storm raging around her head.

"Come down here I have a surprise!" Ellie calls upstairs to you with a giddy look on her face.

You walk downstairs cautiously, half-expecting the surprise to be Ellie jumping out at you and scaring you, something she used to do a lot when you were younger but when you come face to face with her at the bottom of the stairs you know that's not it.

"Close your eyes and hold my hands."

"Errrr-"

"Just do it. Please." She pleads with you and you defiantly shut your eyes and grab onto her hands as she starts leading you to the unknown.

"Ta-daaa!" She says it monotonously which causes you to giggle until you open your eyes, your breath hitches and you freeze.

"Oh my god. Ellie, are you serious?" Your face was like that of a child in a sweet shop as you take in the campfire set up in the woods that back onto your cabin complete with a blanket on the floor in front of it, Ellie's little metal tin that you recognise from the other night and a bottle of what you hope is very strong alcohol.

"Thought it would be like old times but better now because we can drink... and smoke." She mutters sheepishly as she fidgets with her fingers while looking at the ground where her foot shuffles the dirt underneath it. Under the light of the moon you can make out the rosy hue adorning her cheeks and the sight has you smiling the giddiest, toothiest grin you had done since as long as you can remember.

"Ellie... I don't know what to say."

"Oh don't go all soft on me now. Come on sit down I'll start the fire." She led you to the blanket and pushed you down before you could protest and then begins lighting the fire like she had always done when you were younger. Before long the fire is raging and you've drank enough that you know longer feel the chill of the cool night air.

You and Ellie both don't say much throughout the night, but the silence is comforting for once, it lets you breathe and process everything that had happened as well as you could when your mind was so hazy from the joint that you had shared and the bottle that was almost empty. You're swaying to music that no one else can hear before you pause feeling Ellie's eyes on you.

As you turn to face her, she doesn't look away, holding your gaze, you could've sworn she had leant in a little but you also could've sworn the world was spinning at this point in time so you're quick to dismiss the thought. She opens her mouth as if to speak but no words come out, only a small sigh and a shake of her head as if she was trying to shake away a thought buzzing around her like a fly.

"It's getting late and you've had a long day, you ready for bed?" You look at the dying fire and back at the girl before nodding and clumsily standing and holding a hand out to her. You only realise you overestimated your ability to balance right now as you're tumbling down to the ground on top of her as you failed to actually help her up. As the shock of the sudden movement subsides you both make eye contact as your noses practically touch from the proximity of your bodies, you expect her to push you off or at least laugh but she doesn't, she just returns your gaze like if you both look away from each other the world would end. Your knuckles brush against her soft, freckled cheek almost instinctively and she nestles into your touch until you both pause, your predicament finally dawning on you. You jump back as she clears her throat and sits up. "How about I help you up this time?" She chuckles.

"Yeah I think that might be for the best." You both walk inside, Ellie walking behind you up the stairs in case you stumble again until you reach your room where you turn around to meet her pink, tired eyes.

"Thank you for everything today, I really needed that. You're a good friend." You don't think about the words you use until you see a small pang of sadness that is gone as quick as it showed on Ellie's face being replaced by a quick smile.

"You're welcome, but seriously go to bed you look like you're gonna pass out any time now."

You blow a kiss as she rolls her eyes before stepping into your room and gently closing the door behind you. Ellie makes no move to retreat to her room at first, just standing staring at the wood of your closed door, she doesn't want this feeling to end and she's terrified that if she goes to sleep it will be ripped away from her never to be seen again, it had already happened once before when your parents had forced you both apart and she never recovered so she just stood staring at your door until she could pry herself away.

Ellie hadn't fallen asleep, she had tried to but there was too much going through her head, images of you being kicked out, you at dinner tonight, the dejected look on your face this morning when she snapped at you, the first time she saw you when you were spying on her as she arrived, the dinner where you bonded over music, the campfires you had made, when you laughed so hard at one of the worst jokes she had ever told you gave yourself a nose bleed. You were an infestation in her mind and all she could do was play the memories on a loop.

"Ellie are you awake?" Her head snaps up at the sound of your slurred voice coming from the other side of her door.

"Yeah, come in."

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"Errrr... yeah- yeah I'm fine. I just, I can't sleep and the other night when you stayed with me..." You trail off too embarrassed to finish your sentence as your eyes remain planted on the savage starlight poster above her bed, you had always loved listening to her rave about the comics, but she understands what you're saying and is kind enough to throw her sheet back and tap the space next to her in her bed.

You mutter a small thanks before climbing in and laying on your back until she whispers your name prompting you to turn and face her.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier-"

"It's okay-"

"Wait, I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean anything I said, you weren't stupid for trying to see the best in your parents and I have no idea how it feels to be in your position because Joel has never given a fuck, so I'm really sorry."

"It's okay Ellie, really, I forgive you."

"Thank you." Before long you're dozing off as Ellie follows quickly also as you're both spent from the day.

You wake as the golden sun pours through the window with a small groan until you pause noticing you aren't in your room, although you had never seen it before you knew it was Ellie's from the savage starlight posters and book case full of them as well as joke books and records, even the balled up clothing on the floor told you the room was Ellie's and as you turn to your side to see her auburn hair flowing freely over her pillows your stomach drops, the last thing you remember is being around the fire and now you're waking up in Ellie's bed. You quickly check and breathe a sigh of relief that your pyjama shorts and top are on your body and not part of the multiple piles of clothes on the floor. You attempt to crawl out of bed without waking Ellie to sneak out as you fear if you face the girl now you might just combust but as your hear your name being called meekly from the bed you grimace and turn to face the now sat up Ellie that was scratching at the back of her neck.

"Heyyyy."

"Didn't think you'd be the type to sneak off without saying goodbye." She smirks as she speaks and your face drops. "I'm kidding jesus. You came and got in bed with me last night because you said you couldn't sleep, we just went to bed that's all."

"Oh... Okay, well uhhhh thanks again for last night." You fumble for the door handle and yank the door open the second you find it. "I'm gonna go to errr... my room now sooooo, bye!" You step back walking straight into the doorframe and wincing unsubtly as she fails to stifle a laugh before you practically sprint away from her eyeline.

Ellie giggles at your open display of awkwardness that you had always been so good at hiding before falling back down to try and sleep off the throbbing headache she knew you would be suffering with ten times more.

tags: @radioheadfan699 @readbydayana @emiliabby

psa: i never really include descriptions of things to do with the reader like the outfit so that everyone can imagine whatever they want the reader to be wearing but if you’d prefer I add more detail in that respect please do let me know because I’m happy to either way <3

[thishazbinamistake]

Howdy!

I am here to talk about Viv's horrible character designs.

From an animator perspective, they suck.

Here's why

1. The characters have way too much detail

For animation, more lines equal more work. You're going to be drawing them over and over, and it just creates more stress and work for the animators.

For example, I took one of the most egregious designs in HB (Beelzebub) and simplified it to be animation friendly.

(Can't send it here but I'll probably make a post about it or something.)

2. There's too much of 1 color

WHY IS THERE SO MUCH RED??

Especially since they're in a primarily red background, they don't stand out AT ALL.

Like how am I supposed to see them if they blend in to the background??

3. I have no idea what half of them are supposed to be

Charlie is based off a doll?

Alastor is based off of a deer?

Katie Killjoy is based off of a praying mantis?

Angel Dust is based off of a spider?

Beelzebub is supposed to be well... Beelzebub?

When designing characters, they need to be clear on what they're supposed to be! And no, explaining it on Twitter does not count.

4. The animation reference sheets are garbage

No wonder there's so much animation errors. There's no facial expression sheets, lip sync guide, nothing. It's just a 4 angle turnaround sheet where the character is in complex poses all the time.

If you Google Lackadaisy's animation reference sheets and then look at HB's, it's like night and day.

I'm more than willing to send some examples (along with the edit I did) if you want

So yeah, what are your thoughts?

These are all great points! I think you summed up the main problems very well, but I'll elaborate on each of them. I'm no expert at character design or animation by any means, but I'll do my best to explain my points!

First of all, like you said, the character designs are way too complicated. Anyone who knows even the slightest amount about animation knows you want to simplify and streamline your designs as much as possible to make it easier on the animators. Vivzie is way too obsessed with her Deviantart OC lookin'-ass character designs to actually do this, even though it would seriously help to make the animation process way faster and easier. Beelzebub is seriously the best (or worst?) example of this.

I feel so bad for the poor souls who had to animate this. There are just way too many moving parts here, from her multiple arms, her wings, her markings, to her freaking lava lamp hair and tail?? It's just awful. And so many of Viv's designs suffer this problem, I could go on and on.

Like, I think it actually is a nice looking design, as a still image. Maybe not for the demon Beelzebub, but as a general furry OC, I think she's cute. But that's beside the point. I would love to see your redesign of her!

Next, the RED. So, most of the characters we see in Helluva Boss are red-skinned imps, which has been a common depiction of demons for centuries. One big problem I have is that there's little contrast in these designs. Let's look at our three main imps.

Aside from some white and yellow highlights, they're all mostly red and black. Their color palettes aren't distinct in the slightest! And, I mean, come on. Red accessories against what's almost the exact same shade of red skin? Really? It just doesn't look good. A little contrast here and there goes a long way, like... maybe make Moxxie's bowtie blue? Or Blitz's pendant green? I don't know, anything to help each character stand out, and help give them more visual intrigue.

It doesn't help that most of the backgrounds are primarily shades of red, too. Here's a few screenshots I found that really show this problem.

Look at all that fucking red. Like you said, there's such little color variation that the characters blend into the background. Now, to be fair, I did specifically choose these screenshots because I think they really highlight the problem, but this really is what so much of the show looks like. Granted, we do have a bit more variety in the different rings of Hell, each with their own main color, but this is still too much red, considering how much the color comprises the main characters' designs.

Next, like you said, Vivzie is really bad at making characters actually look like the things they're supposed to look like. Let's take Alastor as an example!

Oh boy! More red and black. So, Alastor here is supposed to be a deer. What's the first physical characteristic that comes to mind when you think of a deer?

Yeah, those big, impressive antlers! So... where are his? Oh, they're those tiny little forks on his head that are almost entirely obscured by his stupid emo hair. Like, come on! Giving him bigger antlers would have made him look so much cooler and more intimidating, and it would have been a great focal point for his design! It's such a missed opportunity. (I know he has bigger antlers in his scarier "demon" form, but you still could have made these a little more impressive.) And don't even get me started on those ears... they look more like fox ears or something. Like you said, a good design shouldn't need to be explained through supplementary material. We should be able to tell what a character is supposed to be just from looking at them!

Another great example is Angel Dust, who, despite being a spider, lacks so many distinct features we associate with spiders! He only has six legs instead of eight, he doesn't have pedipalps or chelicerae, and he also lacks that big old spider booty, which I think is such a missed opportunity, considering he is supposed to be in the sex industry. He isn't even remotely shaped like a spider, he looks more like a fuzzy stick bug or something.

Part of me feels like Viv is too afraid to make her characters look unique, so she just goes with the same, skinny humanoid design for just about everything. It's such a shame, because I really do think she is a talented artist who can make some really interesting designs. But then again, she also gave us Beelzebub, so... maybe not.

As for the reference sheets, maybe I wasn't looking hard enough but I couldn't find any official ones for the main characters, so if you could send those my way I would appreciate it! Though it honestly wouldn't surprise me if they were bad. I did look up Lackadaisy's and found them pretty easily and...

This is so freaking comprehensive and detailed, it's incredible! Look at all those poses and facial expressions!

Comparing Vivzie's works to Tracy's feels kind of unfair, since Tracy has been working on Lackadaisy for 17 years, and it really shows. This is leaps and bounds above Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel in quality. Rocky's design is tight; it's detailed, but not overly complicated. There isn't an obnoxious overuse of highly saturated colors, and there's such nice contrast between his fur, his eyes, suit, and tie, making his design very nice to look at. You can also tell so much about his personality and the world he lives in just from his appearance. It's such a good design, and Rocky is just one example from Lackadaisy! All of Tracy's designs are memorable and stand out from one another, unlike so many of Vivzie's characters, whose designs honestly feel interchangable.

So much thought and care has gone into Lackadaisy, and I seriously cannot wait for the full series, as well as all the other amazing indie animated series that have been coming out recently. It's sad that Helluva Boss is seen as the pinnacle of indie animation, when there are so many other series out there that are just.. better! Lackadaisy, obviously, but we've also got Digital Circus, Murder Drones, Monkey Wrench, and so many others that deserve way more appreciation than what Helluva Boss receives. And that's just from an art direction standpoint, we aren't even talking about writing. That's a whole other can of worms.

All of that being said, it's obvious that a ton of love and hard work went into Helluva Boss, and I hold absolutely nothing against the animators and artists at Spindlehorse. These poor design choices are a hallmark of Vivzie's art style, and they're simply working with what they've got. There is such wasted potential here because it feels like Vivzie is too afraid to step outside her comfort zone and design something that isn't a brightly colored, sharp-toothed twink, or skinny anthro wolf girl.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts. Thanks for the ask, this was fun to delve into! And again, I'd be very interested in seeing you post your redesigns! 👀

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?” 

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?” 

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.” 

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite. 

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt. 

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos. 

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.” 

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.” 

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt. 

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.” 

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center. 

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio. 

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.” 

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses. 

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.” 

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.” 

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.” 

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption. 

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.” 

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.” 

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.” 

Her as in you. 

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to  Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

 “We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.” 

“I did tell him the truth-“ 

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.” 

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates. 

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him. 

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?” 

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?” 

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?” 

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?” 

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together. 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.” 

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over. 

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie. 

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss. 

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well. 

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.” 

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance. 

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.” 

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!” 

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience. 

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did. 

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger. 

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.” 

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.” 

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.  

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end. 

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment. 

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth. 

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been. 

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back? 

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.” 

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat. 

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts. 

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you. 

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room. 

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano. 

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.” 

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before. 

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep. 

Were you ever his to keep, ever? 

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you. 

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you. 

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.” 

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off. 

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat. 

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock. 

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?” 

You were never his to keep. 

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew. 

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to. 

“I made loving you a blood sport.” 

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality. 

“I want to be forgiven.” 

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing. 

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk. 

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.  

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person. 

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone. 

You never came home. 

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again. 

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His  own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this. 

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night. 

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off. 

He never dropped the key. 

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated. 

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.” 

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page. 

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play. 

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness. 

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through. 

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench. 

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips. 

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you. 

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that. 

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

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[flowai]

i’m back! this time doing some observations based on readings I did, charts I looked or just by seeing people. if you have doubts feel free to ask anything.

• when a person has a scorpio rising, the energy they give is way more intense at first sight than a person with a scorpio sun. since scorpio is the sign on the cusp of the 1st house and this house is originally ruled by mars, it gets activated by action, so a scorpio rising will often act more like the characteristics of the sign then someone with an actual scorpio sun. it’s easier to see at naked eye.

• people who have aquarius venus tend to attract most of the time weird individuals. it’s an overlooked placement reduced to non monogamy, but it’s so much more than that. i observed that people with this placement can often be taken advantage off, because aquarius can be selfless when it comes to helping people and that being the way aquarius operate, in contact with venus it can make people with this placement more vulnerable to this kind of situation.

• moon in capricorn and moon in cancer are different sides of the same coin. both have very different styles to how they demonstrate their feelings but when it comes to being valued of their emotional labour they often get overlooked. people take them for granted because is often similar to a primary source of emotional support, like a parent. you know is their obligation to do what they do, but you don’t know that it takes an active thinking and a never ending job of keeping things like they’re always supposed to be. nice, warm and stable.

• your lilith placement will always eat you up. unless you truly recognize the lesson she’s wants you to know, she gonna chew you alive. is different from a saturn lesson, lilith is not about time, is about seeing what you don’t want to see and acknowledge in a conscious mindset, is to not let people transform you into what they think you are, your conscious mind is the most powerful gift lilith can give you.

• looking at your jupiter and knowing how to read the place it’s in can help you how to manifest things you want and do really witchy stuff. to learn how to track abundance and good luck. jupiter is a really powerful sorcerer that has the power to attract what he wants but he’s also a show off, so be careful with how you act because there’s gonna be people watching you.

• one of the most prominent place your mars placement is going to show off is when you get into an argument. i’m a sagittarius mars so a I have the terrible habit of thinking I own the truth in everything and never admitting i’m wrong. a pisces mars can get a bit manipulative if it feels it does have a way to go. a gemini mars will deceit you into think they’re right no matter what, even if they realized they’re in the wrong mid argument.

• the 12th house is the worst place to have a malefic planet (saturn and mars) or challenging placements (square or opposition). in traditional astrology is consider to be the place of bad spirit since it’s above the 1st angular house representing the self, meaning that the 12th represents hiding of the self, events that happen in the natives life that is not easy to access or even acknowledge. this is a very simplified explanation, I can maybe do another post on this since it’s a long subject to cover.

[mezz-merizing]

language, hypnotism, and you!

here in the Hypnokink Zone we tend to center our focus on inductions. and for good reason!! they're the purest form of hypnosis, the intentional induction of someone, an endeavour designed exclusively to take someone into trance. but what if we didn't want to do an induction, or even take someone into trance, but still have a hypnotic effect on them? as it turns out, this is extremely doable, and extremely cool!

if you've been here for a while now you might have seen this post from me, my first proper ramble about all this stuff, and you might remember that bit at the end, when i talk about just how hot i find the words "hypnotized" and "brainwashed" themselves, and how i sometimes just find myself repeating them over and over when i'm really feelin' it. i think that's a good representation of how just single words can fuck with our minds, and it's not just those two <3

so like, let's think for a second about what language actually is; we tend to take for granted the fact that we make air do silly tricks with our mouths and our throats in order to put ideas and concepts into other people's heads. really, a word isn't just a word- it's not just the funny shape that air takes on when you make just the right tongue movements, it's the idea that word actually is. and ideas are extremely powerful!! when you think of the word "brainwashed" you don't just think of the individual letters, you think of helpless subjects, spinning spirals, and complete, devoted obedience. and that has more effects on you than you might realise :3

sometimes people in the hypno sphere call this "neuro-linguistic programming" or "NLP" but that's kind of a misnomer, (actual NLP is a silly and weird pseudoscience largely invented by "pickup artists" to sell courses, so, y'know, i try and avoid the association) i prefer to just use "hypnotic language" because it's just as descriptive! the basis of hypnotic language is this: when you say words, you incept ideas into someone's head. if you have the skill, time, and familiarity with the person you're talking to, you can use this to control their thoughts nearly as effectively as if they were in trance!

a lot of this relies on what words mean the most to the individual you're talking to. let's take me as an example!! the word docile makes me fucking weak. it conjures up images of blank-face, calm-smile obedience, of gently nodding and going about the commands i'm given, of empty-headed servitude. the images it conjures in my head are vivid and hot as hell, and it's just a single word. use it a little bti around me, and you'll ensure i have all those thoughts swirling around in my head! thoughts of servitude. thoughts of enslavement. and so it comes naturally that i'd be easier to control <3

tone matters too! if you speak to someone authoritatively, they'll come to see you as an authority. even in tiny matters, insignificant ones, even in little ways- saying "hey, grab me a glass of water" is more authoritative than "hey, can you get me some water?" obviously, this is a double-edged sword! too much authority and you might give your intentions away, or just come off as kinda bossy, and that's more likely to make people actively resist you than let you in. once again, it's all about knowing your target! you gotta know what your subject's tolerances are for this kinda thing

take all this together, and you can have almost as much of a grip on someone's mind as you would if they were completely hypnotized :3 you break them down overtime, get them hanging on certain words, widen their tolerance for authority... and eventually, with a lot of effort and patience, they're yours. obedient to you- brainwashed, in all but process

can you imagine it? like, from the subject's perspective- being completely under someone's hypnotic control without ever having been hypnotized. maybe looking back at a long time ago and thinking "i sure acted different then", but not worrying about it at all. you're a thrall, and as far as you're concerned, that's just who you are!! that's just kind of how the world works

i dunno about you but i can't imagine a fate i'm more desperate for <3

[kitmoas]

purgatórium versenye

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: **18+ ONLY** **MINORS DNI*** ***SMUT*** dark and demonic themes, cult vibes, gun and syringe, blood, gaslighting and stolkhome vibes, gives almost...Saw vibes in a way?, clicker training

As per usual if i forgot anything let me know

Author's Note: oh look I actually hit a deadline with this one! Okay second part of the double feature is here!! Again I am still getting back in the grove of writing so I'm sorry if this sucks, also I did not edit this at all sooooo yea

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Exhaustion filled your body but thankfully you knew that the wait was almost over. For the past three and a half years your world was four walls, dozens of gadgets, millions of sounds, and two women. It wasn’t torture by any means, the work was nice and the company of two of the most beautiful people to ever grace the Earth was even more nice, but you were more than ready to pack up the project and move on with the next item for your resume. You knew the frustration you had with this job was at no fault of your mentors, a failed experiment is never in the cards for anyone but you couldn’t help but feel some anger towards them and their actions throughout the years. 

There is no doubt that they are gorgeous, charming, and extremely brilliant but you had to ponder their focus on some occasions. Yes, the job was granted funding for four years which allowed a bit of wiggle room when it came to how strict the workplace was on a day to day basis. It meant that the stress was off of the three of you to produce results quickly, but you never thought the efficiency would suffer. In your mind, if anything, it should have been even better since every single detail could be worked. It meant that you could have trial run after trial run, fixing any small little error that you could find but instead the deadline is rapidly approaching with not a single trail run completed. 

“Hey, how do you feel about dinner tonight? Maybe go over the last stage of progress so that we can really get into “trials”?” Blinking, you turn slowly to the raspy voice. She’s a few inches taller than you and a soft smile graces her face as she looks down at you. Her hand is already reaching out towards you, fingers twitching as the tips get closer and closer to strands of your hair. 

It’s easier to talk to her alone, she feels soft and safe. Her presence is calming and she rarely teases you in uncalled for moments, but when fun comes she’s the life of the party. Sarcastic and witty, she truly had it all and you know that she’s way out of your league but you just had to remember that she is your coworker; nothing more. 

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded, agreeing to the plans before your brain can catch up but she’s smiling widely. “Great! I’ll cook, just go ahead and bring yourself and that pretty little smile.” Her hand cups your cheek, thumb graze along your lip before she quickly pulls away. Fleeting touches keep your brain in a spiral, a light haze causes it to be hard to think but your entire body buzzes at the compliment. 

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It was the moment your Uber pulled up to the large house, gates opening slowly that you realized you had never asked about your crush’s background. There was no way that the research that you were doing paid for this property. You could barely pay your rent and still have enough money to eat anything besides instant ramen. No one ever got into this world for the money, it was all for the experience. 

The attire you adorned was casual, no dress code given and no formal wear in your closet, you felt completely out of place as you climbed the front steps. The urge to flag down your Uber and run was strong, but you knew that if you finished this dinner you would be done and the end of the job would be near. 

The door swung open quickly, a young man answering it almost the moment the first chime of the doorbell sounded. Your finger was still against the cool metal and the you knew that your face gave away just how surprised you were but you tried to shake it away when you were able to take in what he was wearing. Casual clothes, almost gym attire with what looked like nicer joggers and a colorful tight long sleeve shirt. “You my sister’s guest?” 

His tone was crude, a brash contrast to how the sweet girl you knew spoke and you dumbly nod. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to people speaking to you rudely, you lived in the slums of New York City, but you weren’t prepared for someone who should know your status in the company to treat you as harshly as this. 

“I would have thought the girls could have found a better option, but I suppose this will work.” He’s mumbling mostly, eyes trailing your body up and down before he starts to walk away. The door left open as you watch him retreat into the depths of the house. 

It took you a moment, body frozen as you tried to figure out what to do. The toe of your shoe had barely touched the dark marble floor when a soft hand wraps around the edge of the door, smirking face popping out in front of you. Despite the racing of your heart, and the temporary fear in your throat, you begin to relax as the sight of your coworker. “Well hello édes szerelem, you’re late.” 

The accent settles you even more and you can’t help but chuckle, finally taking your spot inside the doorway fully. “It wasn’t my fault.” You snicker slightly under your breath, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips as you watch the woman’s eyes roll. While you may not appreciate being so behind, you can dabble in the fun that she brings to the lab. 

“You have literally been standing here like a frozen little gremlin for at least five minutes, I do believe it is your fault.” She grips your forearm, dragging you father into the foyer. She barely waits for you to take your shoes off, a look of confusion on her face as she watches you but thankfully a taunt doesn’t fall from her lips. 

Your jaw drops slightly as she guides you farther into the house, twisting hallways and grand archways blur as she practically jogs. “Well I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by—“

“Pietro.” The sentence gets cut off by the woman you were most excited for as the two of you turn into a wide doorway. You were unsure exactly how she heard you that entire time, but you were glad she did because you felt like she could easily answer any questions that you may have. “I must apologize about him, he’s not too fond of guests; even Natasha here.” 

The redhead chuckles, her grip on you finally relaxing as she separates from you and heads to the bar in the corner. “What can I say, not everyone likes me.” Finally feeling the ability to relax, you allow your eyes to roam and your body to settle on a comfy looking chair. You weren’t expecting such a cozy room, it almost looks like something a middle class family would have. Adorned with cheesy family pictures, a few worn in couches, a huge television and the recliner that you happen to be sitting in you could almost close your eyes and believe that you were at your uncle’s house to watch the lastest football game. 

“Sure and it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a bika egy kínai szekrényben. “Your neck almost snaps as the foreign language catches your ears. Wanda had never once spoken the what you believed to be the native tongue of the mysterious woman drinking a martini in the corner, but here she was. It sounded fluent, a casual switch between English almost like she was with her grandmother who had immigrated to the United States.” 

Scoffing, you can see the ginger purse her lips before she downs the rest of her drink. “Oh yes, let’s just hate Natasha, the new girl. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to fit in because you know I have! I’ve been working hard towards my goals and everything that the family wants time to finish to become one of you.” Her voice comes out in a hiss, anger fueling her speech and you realize that the two had to have forgotten that you were here. 

Clearing your throat, you try to catch one of their attention. You didn’t want to intrude too much, but you also didn’t know where to go to excuse yourself. Jumping slightly you weren’t expecting Wanda to practically jump at you, her body rushing towards you but stopping just a few steps away. She smiles, but it’s a little bit to fake for her normal comforting grin. The look on your face must have indicated her mistake because Natasha immediately crosses the room, slapping the younger girl on the back softly. 

“Now Wanda, don’t scare our guest.” The ginger smirks at you, reaching up to cup your face. Her eyes roll when you flinch, her fingers smooshing against your jaw to keep you still. “We aren’t going to hurt you darling.” She straightens her back, her head tilting to stare you down. “You don’t think we would hurt you do you?” 

The other woman is hunched over, almost struggling to stand up, when you finally take notice of her, Your eyes straining to find hers as you search for some kind of signal what is happening. She adverts your gaze though and instead falls to her knees, settling comfortably and reaching out to lay a hand along your calf. The soft touch slows your heart rate and allows you to focus enough on the questions you were being asked. Slowly you shake your head, unsure of where the intensity has come from. 

Biting her tongue as it slips between her teeth, her smile morphing her mouth some. “Good, now, it’s a custom to play a game. Won’t you play with us?” Her voice is sultry, grip on your cheek forces you to nod your head. She cuts you off before you can verbally answer, raising her eyebrows as she waits for you to actually fight her but she is met with nothing but silence. “Exactly, good. Wanda, would you tell them we are ready to begin?” 

Time practically stands still as you watch your object of affection scurry out the door, and you have to gulp down your nervousness once more while you are alone with the older woman. You have many questions but the uncertain stretches across your skin. Anticipation was rising in your body, as well the blush that tinted your skin. 

It was only a few minutes when Wanda returned, the small device that the three of you had been working on in hand, along with two women carrying covered platters. She makes eye contact with Natasha before beelining it directly towards you, her hand cupping your cheek immediately. “Trust me, everything will fall into the place that it’s meant to be.” Her voice is soft, eyes searching yours as she lets her thumb boop your nose gently. She smiles when she sees you mindlessly nod. 

Your heart races the closer she gets and it practically stops when you realize what is about to happen, though your brain doesn’t get much time to catch up when her lips finally touch yours. The kiss is slow, tender, and it makes your confidence in her statement strong as you realize that she’s going to be the foundation that she falls on during this game. A small electronic click sounds in the room, echoing in the background, and though it sounds familiar you don’t pay it any attention. 

A hand in your hair interrupts the moment you two are sharing, and while your body is tugged away from the older woman your mind stays stuck on it as Natasha’s grip tightens. She’s speaking but you can’t help the hazed look in your eyes as your focus stays on Wanda, unknowingly agreeing to whatever the ginger is saying. “Glad, I’m glad you agree.” Her voice, final and firm, shakes you and you try to turn to look at her but a cool piece of metal lands on your temple. “Nuh uh pretty girl, you agreed to the terms of my game. Now you play.” 

A chill freezes your blood, your muscles locking up as your predicament settles in. Nodding, a small frantic motion, your eyes searching for Wanda’s to try and signal for help but she stands in the center of the floor. She’s calm but her eyes are sharp, watching you almost like a predator watches prey. You weren’t sure why she had your project, but you no longer cared about that. You just wanted to leave this house alive. “Don’t you want to play with us, sweetheart?” It’s her voice that makes you melt, even with the sharp digging of the muzzle into your skull. At your smile, and slight relaxation, another small electronic click.  

Missing the evil smirk that spreads across the ginger’s face, unnaturally sharp teeth showing, you allow your body to press against hers. Believing that Wanda would get you out safely, you decide that you’re just going to allow this game to play out as it was meant to. “Eszter, step forward. Our players are ready for round one.” One of the girls approaches you, standing slightly off center from in between you and Wanda. “I, Natalia Romanoff, the GameMaster officially call a beginning to this trial. Lift the dome, Eszter.” 

The gun is still lazily pressed against your head to keep you inline, and you flinch as a ringing sound radiates into the room when the metal lid scraps. There sits two levers, one red and one blue. “It’s simple, you each pick a lever and you better be fast after you choose. We wouldn’t want the game to end so early now would we?” She steps back, snickering as your body sways unstably. 

A soft hand wraps around your wrist, Wanda reaching out to keep you upright and tugging you forward. She pulls you into another kiss, electronic click sounding. This one was rough, quick, as she forces her tongue into your mouth. It ends abruptly, she rips away from it and smirks at your breathless form. “Come darling, we have to play the game. You pick your lever first.” She sets your hand on the platter, releasing your wrist as she stands back. 

You weren’t really sure what it meant but you knew that you wanted the blue one from the beginning, something drew you to it and you instantly lifted your hand there. Wanda barely reacts, eyebrow twitching slightly as she settles her hand on the red one. A soft countdown comes from behind you, punctuated by a tapping of metal against something. At the count of one you both pull your chosen colors, but only Wanda moves. She’s swift, and if you would have blinked you would have missed the dagger that flies out of the wall and just barely misses her. Thumping into the wall behind where she once stood, you can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips. 

Natasha hums behind you, stepping up to press the gun to your lower torso and her hand roughly grabs your hip. Dragging you back so your ass is rubbing against her, and your back is digging into the gun. “You didn’t even move, as if you have a death wish idiot.” Her voice is mocking, teeth biting at your ear lobe. “If you want to live you’re going to have to play the game better than that.” Tutting she shoves you forward, before pulling you back to spin you around. She uses the barrel of the gun along your jaw to move your head around the way she wants, leaning in slightly to hover her lips over yours. 

Chuckling, she watches as your eyes slip shut, and you take a shaky breath in. Lips parted pathetically as you wait for hers to touch. “Do you want me to kiss you, slut?” Her eyes shine, a glimmer that is found when you begin to nod. It’s a quick motion before you immediately try to take it away. Shaking your head to deny it, you didn’t like Natasha–only Wanda. “Nuh uh little one, you can’t take back your first answer.” Allowing her gun to run down your body she smirks at the shivers she causes, before she shoves the metal between your thighs. Tapping it randomly against your covered clit, it shocks you how quickly she finds it but your body reacts subconsciously. 

Hips jumping at the contact, you try to lean into her. Electric click sounding loudly in your ears, echoing in the quiet of the room. You’re confused as you start to crave her touch, being denied it this entire time. You aren’t even sure how long she stands there, playing with your body, but you know that she never lays a finger on you but by the time she pulls away you are soaked. It causes you to fill with shame because you weren’t sure what kind of game you were playing, and you just wanted to live but you no longer wanted to escape. You should but you didn’t. 

“Time for the next round, Dorottya. Bring forth the rest of the equipment, she’s ready.” Wanda jumps forward at Natasha’s words, wiggling up next to you as the last girl steps towards you; pulling the dome off as she comes closer. “This is even easier, no movement needed for the dumb little thing. Pick a needle, and one of our girls here will administer it to you.” She smiles at the two of you, it’s almost too soft and it makes you whine. It’s sinister the way she cackles at the sound, drawing you into her to just shove you back. 

A click. Wanda giggles and kisses your shoulder. Another click. Her mouth stays there though, a low whisper coming out to calm down. “We find out the winner of this round at the end of the game, my love.” You melt and another click, the hint she gives you goes over your head at the possessive pet name. 

Blindly you reach out, rolling the two syringes along the metal. Neither seem flawed nor do they seem to have any true differences, so you just grab one at random. You weren’t sure which girl grabs the shots because the brunette is dragging you into another kiss, her hand mapping out your body. Hands trailing up your shirt, forcing herself under your bra to thumb at your nipples. A click. You whimper softly, for some reason you’re extremely sensitive and you can feel yourself clench slightly around nothing at her touch. It had to be because of how long you pined over her, the gorgeous girl finally giving you the attention that you dreamt about for years. A click. 

Natasha lets her body mold against your back, gun tapping methodically against the outside of your thigh as she grinds in your ass. “Look at you, finally willingly playing the game.” You can feel a bulge against you, and you can’t help yourself as you allow your hips to roll back into it. A click. Something was happening to your body and you just needed more, you wanted to be filled and you wanted Natasha to be the one to do so. 

You move your body as much as you can, trying to find a way for your clit to rub against something. A click. You wanted some kind of relief from the rapidly approaching heat. It wasn’t something that you were expecting, but you were okay with this wild game if it meant that you would be taken care of by these ladies. Maybe it was all fake and they just wanted to be weird, you never know what kind of freaky shit rich people got into. 

Clearing her throat, the ginger shoves you off of her. It causes you to tumble into Wanda, helplessly you flop onto her. You were surprised she could hold your weight but you were content to rub your face against your breasts, though you weren’t allowed to stay long. When the older woman behind you dragged you back down. She effortlessly moved you as if your body was made of a fluff, shoving you around until you were laid out on the ground. A click. 

A growl comes out of her mouth as she lets her body fall on your aggressively, hips humping into you where she had forced your legs apart. It was rough and quick, a moment of chaos in the tight fisted control that the ginger usually had. A click. It was almost like she was losing herself in the pleasure, her hands all over you as she tugged your clothes down and ripped them. “Play the next round.” Her voice was deeper, rough and rumbly, as she moved on top of you. 

You were confused but just as you opened your mouth to ask how, Natasha had pulled away only to be replaced with Wanda. Her mouth was on the exposed skin that was left behind from the ginger ravishing you, and her fingers were already swiping through the wetness that she found in between your thighs. A click. She slips two fingers into you, the tips at first just to test out how tight you were but she thrusts both in fully when a metal collar is slapped around your neck. It all happens at once and your vision blurs as you're filled by the brunette, your pussy stretching around her fingers. A click. 

She uses her hips to shove her fingers deeper into you, while you were unsure of when your arousal got so high, you knew that you wouldn’t last long. A click. It had been so long since you were even touched slightly, and you had been dreaming of Wanda touching you for years. It was everything you dreamed of and you could feel the cool of her rings slightly. They were rubbing against your leaking hole, and your hips jut upwards when her metal wrapped thumb rubs tight little circles on your swollen clit. A click. 

“I pick a card, you win if you get a face card. If you both get one, we continue to play until the first number card is chosen. Who is going to go first?” You can barely see where Natasha is sitting above you. Her voice is nonchalant as she shuffles the cards in her hand. 

At the same time Wanda shoves a third finger into you, chuckling against your stomach where she’s leaving hickeys as her name falls from your lips. A click. You weren’t sure what was happening but you hear Natasha reading out the card she choses. It’s slow, and you let your head flop to the side. Forcing your eyes open you watch as the ginger slowly strokes her strap, it’s large and you crave it. A click. 

The brunette on top of you moans, her hips have found home on your thigh and you can feel her wetness as she grinds down onto you. A click. It’s the feeling that almost pushes you over the edge unexpectedly. You didn’t think you were close, but apparently Wanda knew otherwise. “Natty she’s so fucking tight, her little cunt will be perfect even after she loses.” Her voice is shaky as she chases her own high, fingers inside you almost painful as her control fumbles. A click. 

It’s in that moment that Natasha gasps, a taunting sound as she turns the next card over. It shows a golden five surrounded by butterflies, a soft sweet image for the torture you unknowingly subjected yourself to. “Well well look at this, it looks like the little whore lost.” A filthy moan falls from your lips when you hear the ginger’s words, and humiliation fuels your orgasm even more when you realize that losing has caused you to dangle even more dangerously over the edge. A click. 

The collar around your neck suddenly drops, cold metal instantly tightening around you. Your eyes are wide open, though you are struggling to keep them that way, it allows you to watch as the oldest woman stumbles over to jerk off over you. It’s quick as she grunts, ropes of cum landing on your lower belly from the strap. It almost feels medical as she immediately pulls the harness off, the leaking tube leaves a trail of her cum along the floor as she sets it to the side. 

Though sterile and professional, you can’t help the way the coil in your tummy begins to shatter when Wanda shoves a glob of the cum into your cunt. A click. Another click. Another click. Intense pain starts to radiate through your body, and a searing sting burns your neck. Through your foggy hazed brain, you can hear Wanda excitedly telling the other women that it’s working. 

You can feel metal start to pierce your neck, the pressure breaking as does your skin and the pain throughout the rest of your body overtaking everything. A click. Another one. Your body starts to flail causing Wanda to struggle to keep herself inside you, but she continues to force three fingers into you as you react to the way she touches you. 

“I see the brainless slut lost the second round too?” Natasha laughs, a full body harsh sound, before she comes over to you. Dangling over your face, she smiles at the blood starting to leak around your head. A click.  “I guess we’ll see if the poison or the spikes kill you first, but don’t worry. Your body will be put to good use. It’s already conditioned to the sound, if we did this correctly it should react even when your heart stops.” It’s almost too soft as she speaks to you, but she gives you a soft kiss on your forehead. 

It doesn’t take long for you to stop feeling things, and the disappointment of a ruined orgasm runs through your closing veins. You can’t move or speak, and your vision is extremely blurry but you do see Wanda stand. The brunette leans down, a fake pout on her face as she looks down on you. “I’m sorry but I guess you won’t get to have a little fun before the end, Drágám. I tried but our formula must work too well.” A click. 

The two stand shakily, a sigh falling from their lips as they watch the puddle of blood get larger underneath you. “That’s going to be a pain to clean, they won’t be happy about that.” Pietro’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, suddenly showing up. “Did you have to be naked for this one? I don’t need to see my sister like this.” He pretends to puke, and for a moment things could be seen as normal. The three of them laughing and acting as if they were family, off to go find their elders to show them what they made. The sacrifice they have for them, almost like a present that Natasha has brought them to be accepted into the family. 

Your eyes are wide when the beating stops, when the world goes quiet and the pain ends. Even so, as a click echoes through the room your body convulses and your empty cunt pulses.  

Translations are loose: English to Hungarian

Drágám -- darling

bika egy kínai szekrényben-- bull in a china closet

[dailydegurechaff]

It's killing me so much I have to talk about it. Do the people know. Do they know that the men in Youjo Senki are fucking giants.

I talked abt it with a few friends on discord like last month or so, but I need to yell about it on tumblr where more people can become aware.

Using a few images as reference, I did a bunch of measurements by counting pixels using Tanya and Visha (who we have sort of canon heights for) as measuring sticks, and this is what i came up with:

the shortest of them are 6ft? why, studio nut, why

if you want an explanation for my color coding/what the asterisks mean/where the hell did i get these numbers, that's under the read more. but yeah. why are they so tall.

ok so it started upon receiving these two images from a friend (thank you Pumpkin) that give heights for Tanya and Visha

Using some reverse searching I was able to find that these two images come from a game collaboration with a game called Alice Gear Aegis. Whether or not you want to consider the info from a game collab as canon information is up to you, but to me it seems accurate, so all my estimates are based on this data.

Another friend (thank you Luna) provided me these two images that I could use as reference to make some pixel measurements. While the first is a a cleaner looking image, I opted to use the second because it included Lergen, Rudersdorf, Zettour & Anson. I don't really care about the background 203rd members (sorry.)

So I cleaned the image up to get all the lines roughly straight and made them easier to see with some color coding. This is where the color coding on my excel sheet above comes from. This is also the image I used for my pixel counts.

And from here I calculated some ratios. This is where a few discrepancies come into play. So on my excel sheet above I listed that depending on whether you use Tanya or Visha as a measuring stick, you'll get a variance of roughly 10cm/4inches. This is because they're technically not perfectly aligned to one another.

For Tanya shes 140cm tall and 281 pixels. That means 1 pixel is roughly equal to 2.0071cm. When we apply that ratio to Visha though, we should expect her to come out to roughly 321 pixels (160cm * 2.0071). She's 339 pixels though, which would be ~168cm (339px / 2.0071). But we know that's incorrect.

The inverse applies as well. Using Visha (339pixels & 160cm) as a measure, that would make 1 pixel equal to 2.1188cm. That means Tanya is expected to be roughly 297pixels (140cm * 2.1188). In the image Tanya is actually 281 pixels, which would make her ~132cm (281px / 2.1188). Which we also know is incorrect.

This is a weird discrepancy I'm not sure how to account for, so I just said fuck it and went with both options. I set up my Excel sheet to include columns for using both Tanya & Visha as a reference to provide two different estimates, you can choose which you think is more canon.

Personally I prefer to use the measurements calculated using Visha as reference because a 210cm/6'10" Lergen is offensive to my sensibilities. To put it into perspective, I measured the door to my bedroom as 198cm/6'6". I refuse to accept this man being taller than my door.

Ok finally the asterisks:

* Why the note on Koenig? On the image, it's a bit blurry but it looks as though Koenig & Lergen are aligned to the same (pink) line. But when I look at it closely, it really does look to me that Koenig is maybe 1 or 2 pixels shorter than the line. Granted that's not a lot, but there is a small difference so idk.

** Why the note on Anson? In the image, it kind of looks like he's hunched over/leaning down a bit, he's not standing perfectly straight. While he is aligned with Rudersdorf (Green) it could be he's actually a little taller if he stands straight.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Y/N: Well, you didn't have to worry about me.

Legend: Well, I did.

۵♡۵

It’s no secret the Yan!Chain is protective. None at all. But how protective are they each? Well, let’s unpack that shall we. (By the way, my memory is worse than Wilds at the rate i’m going, so If i forgot one of em just let me know)

Time

8/10 Solid breathing room, enough you can be left alone while he works. Enough you can take a wander around town without telling him first or speak to someone else. But not much beyond that. Not that he doesn’t trust you, but you loose so many people so many times and you tend to make sure that the people who stay round actually, you know, stay around. And, in his eyes, who wouldn’t want you? You’re so… good. Just wholeheartedly good and kind. And with a face like yours, it’s no wonder that people would stare, wanting to keep you all to themselves. So it’s best he does it first. Especially since he knows you best.

Twilight

10/10 inwardly 9/10 outwardly. Wolves are incredibly, incredibly protective of their chosen mates. Going any length to care for them and ensure their contentment with one another. With that said: congratulations, you are now house spouse. You aren’t leaving Ordon without him in tow. He trusts you just enough to stay at home while he works. But talking with other people read: other men doesn’t go over well. Your friends are his friends, the family you have connections with are his family. What’s yours is his and what’s his is yours. No one else included. Afterall, that’s the deal with marriage, right?

Hyrule

Probably around a 4 or 5/10. Still absolutely prepared to kick ass and look good doing it in the occasion that you need it, but more forgiving. You can have your own job, friends and life outside of his. But do keep in mind, he’s still out of his mind here. You’re being watched. The faeries are far more subtle than glowing with light when they need to be. Your relationship is more or less built on trust and understanding, so you’ll have an easier time bargaining for your freedom. But freedom only goes so far. He’s seen so much of the world that you couldn’t possibly see more. He’s got eyes everywhere. Every glade. Every forest. Every clearing. Every flower and blade of grass if it means he knows here you are.

Legend

6/10, if we’re being safe, but let’s be real: 7/10. Feral, will bite a man. He doesn’t restrict you so much, he wouldn’t dare being the cage his dearest wishes to escape from. But your environment? That’s a free playing field. Anyone who attempts to befriend you is met with his sarcastic rude remarks, any employers turn you down, any freedom beyond him and what he has to offer is not a freedom he trusts. You can be alone… ish. You’re babysat by Ravio. Or maybe your babysitting him… we’re getting off topic. He’s as restricting as he can be without being downright abrasive to you. He already knows he’s rough around the edges, but as long as you keep believing there’s more to him, he’s satisfied.

Four

4/10 (I’m Kidding) Actually: 9/10.

Another house spouse! Between Vio and Blue, you have no reason to be with anyone else. He’s practically four people in one, he can make you anything you want, you man the front of the blacksmiths while he’s in the forge -so you’re talking to the customers, clearly not alone- and anything else you’d ever need is readily available. Red is less protective and more clingy. You’re his heart, it’s only righteous he wants to keep you safe. Green is the one who borders. Any ‘freedom’ i.e: talking to customers that you do have is granted by him. And if you do happen to simply sprint off one day, I hope you’re aware the minish are far more capable of finding lost items than one might’ve thought.

Wild

like… 4/10? Ok ok ok, hear me out. So yes, anything so much as lay a finger on you, they’re meeting their maker. Yes. Agreed. But also, this man is a goof. You’re laughing, revelling, travelling, cooking, eating, rough housing, fighting… anything the moment calls for. Now yes, your hand is always clasped in his and he’d let a man bleed out of all you had was a paper cut, but he’s not as bad as the others. This does bump up in cities, he’s got an arm around your waist and adamantly refuses conversation with anyone but you, but comparing to the other heroes? Considerably more bearable.

Warriors

Considering this man has lived through a literal war, 8/10. But this is more for who you talk to and who might be of threat to you opposed to what your doing. If you want a job in the castle, fine by him. He already knows everyone there and has the ties to get them out of their jobs immediately if it comes down to it. Want a quiet life where you choose to be a house spouse? 100% fine by him. He’ll bring you flowers, make dinner, run errands, anything you’d like. But a life away from him? With the vermin who want nothing more than your downfall? The one exception. There are few people more capable than himself to care for you. And to him that means none. He will love you, because no one else has enough to love you as you require.

Sky

3/10 least, 5/10 most, He’s the most inconsistent. He wants you by his side but understands the surface and his line of work is dangerous. He doesn’t want you alone but there’s few options for friends. He wants to let you see the world and embrace it with open arms, weather it be falling through the sky with the wind whipping past your face or floating through the water, letting your joins rest or napping under a tree with him. He wants for you to have freedom. But with the world he was given, he’s afraid it’s not a choice.

Wind (platonic or as a crush. Testing to see how this goes because boy oh boy am i scared)

2/10. Granted, he’d walk or sail the ends of hyrule if it ment he could do much as hang out with you and he most definitely holds care for your well-being. But with that said, look at me and tell me there’s much critical thinking going on in his head. An argument between him and Vio would be interesting. I’d pay to watch that. Asides, while he’s definitely protective so to speak, it’s not excessive. And he’d be the most willing to let you go if it’s what you wanted. But not without letters, and nagging, and being annoying. Because it’s you you know he cares

[aibidil]

we gotta stop telling moms* to learn to ask for and accept help

this is a pseudo-mental-health bullshit way of subtly individualizing a multilayered structural and societal (often classist) problem wherein people in general, parents especially, mothers specifically, and neurodivergent mothers to the extreme, are left to fend for ourselves in ways that are frankly unprecedented in the history of human beings

I'm sure there are people who struggle to ask for help. (I've never been one of them.) What I'm saying is, even if they could learn to, it wouldn't solve anything!

Let's look at the assumptions behind "you need to learn to ask for help!"

That there's someone to ask. Who tf are we meant to be asking? If you live in a culture where families have scattered, you might not have any family nearby. Maybe you're lucky enough to have a partner, but if so, I feel like we can already assume you're asking for help from them, and them from you. (If you're not, that's a whole separate issue.) But often the overwhelm isn't such that an equitable division of labor between two parents can solve the problem. I have one non-partner family member nearby whom I can ask for help, and that actually feels pretty lucky.

That people you ask will agree to help. I recently messaged the entire school community list begging someone to drive one of my kids home on Wednesdays, figuring that many people must be going in that direction anyway and surely someone would be willing to stop the car and let my kid out at the end of my street. When I didn't get any responses from the wider community, I sent a smaller plea to the parents in my kids' classes. Nothing! Nada!

That our problems are such that others can (easily) help. There's a tragic het script that's like "I don't bother to ask him for help because I end up doing more work to get him to help than it would've been to do myself" (and yes that's fucked), but that's not even what I'm pointing to here. There are so many ways that the structures of our society make it so that people can't get help from others. School pickup, for example: most schools have policies that only parent/guardians or someone given prior permission can pick up students. If a parent is unexpectedly in a jam, this makes finding help a lot trickier and probably involves calling the school and trying to grant last-minute permission. Helping a kid with homework, for example: No matter what I do, teachers email/call me. This means that if I assign this task to my partner or some other person, I have to constantly be an in-between who is like, the arbiter of information. Going to the pharmacy: once I went to the pharmacy to help a neighbor with a kid who had been vomiting for 12 hours straight, and it was so difficult. First I had to pick up their insurance card, write down the kid's name, dob, etc. I still didn't know half the answers to things they asked me as I painstakingly eventually managed to pick up this kid's prescription.

That you have money to pay for outsourcing. Often, when it comes down to it, the only way our society seamlessly allows for help is through monetizing the tasks. It's possible to hire housecleaners or a nanny, for example. You can pay for grocery delivery. But (even if you're totally fine with becoming an employer, which I've never been) is that financially within reach for most people? No!!!

That the tasks that are hardest for you are tasks that can be outsourced. With adhd, my biggest chore struggles are getting myself to water the plants and getting myself to fill the pill organizers. These are not the easiest chores to get help with! I mean, even laundry would be easier, as you could chuck it all into a giant bag and hand it over to a service to be washed. But plants? They're all over my house and on different watering schedules. The pill organizers? That's controlled substances (Adderall, baby) and it's confusing with multiple times of day, etc -- who is going to take that on? Even my partner is too worried to get it wrong.

That, even if you have money, the service you need exists. I really want help with food preparation, but I have MCAS and specific dietary needs. Also, I don't want help with dinners (my partner does that) so much as I want help with snacks/lunch. I know what I would make if I had the energy to. There are no services in my area that could help me. I guess I could hire a personal chef, but I can't even begin to afford that and even then, many wouldn't work bc they're not all willing to work with different dietary needs. I tried finding something I could order by mail, but there's nothing that's a great fit and it's all too expensive for me.

The problem is not that moms don't know how to ask for and accept help. Every time we say that, we reinforce the idea that the problem is an individual one, that the fault lies with moms. It's a structural one, and it doesn't. Many of us are well aware of how to ask for help. If we aren't asking, it's because we know it's futile.

*The choice to gender this as "moms" is a conscious one, even though it also applies to some men and nb people. In my view, it really is a gendered problem that overwhelmingly affects women who are mothers. Because of that, generalizing to "people" or "parents" seems to me like it would be watering down the problem, at best, or erasing the gendered component of the problem, at worst. We also shouldn't say "you need to learn to ask for help" to dads, nonbinary parents, and non-parents—but we generally don't say that to those groups anyway! The vast majority of the time, I see this being said specifically to mothers. Moreover, the response that dads get to asking for help is often different. A dad asking for help strikes people as going above and beyond and is therefore more likely to trigger people to actually help him. Think about dads whose wife goes out of town and all these people bring him casseroles. Our society is often really good at giving some help—but only in extreme cases (emergencies like acute sickness or hospital stays, grief, ….a dad alone with kids for some reason, etc), and moms asking for help with mundane things simply does not count as a justification for help in most people's minds.

[luimagines]

You Steal his Clothes Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Wind, Four and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Wind

Wind didn’t notice anything wrong for the longest time. With his bag being carried by Epona now, he didn’t even realize when it had gotten light. Maybe he had just gotten stronger with all the training the other boys had been giving him?

He flexes at the thought of it. Aryll would be so proud of him! His grandma too. He’ll be able to help out more with fixing the house if he can get even stronger.

Wind straps his sword to his back and proudly continues his march with the rest of the group.

He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong until he can hear you giggle suspiciously behind him. Maybe you’re talking to one of the guys and they’re messing with you or telling jokes and dumb stories. They always liked to makes sure you’re in high spirits. Something about you makes them all protective.

Even if Wind is aware he does something similar to the older boys, it’s suddenly ok and encouraged even, when you’re the recipient instead.

Curious to see what’s got you so giggly, Wind turns around, ready to comment on the laughter when he stops. His ankle is pinned at a weird angle and it crumbles under his weight. 

He falls over.

You see him and skip over to where he is. You adjust the very familiar green hat on your head and the green tunic over your body. “You ok, Wind?”

You’re grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Wind knows that look. And Wind knows that outfit! It’s his!

“I didn’t think it would fit you.” Wind blurts instead, feeling a slight blush spread over his nose and across his cheeks. It’s the hero’s outfit. the one his grandma made for him when he came of age. The one he had his first adventure in. Frankly, he’s just out grown it. That’s why he isn’t wearing it anymore.

Not to mention it’s not the most comfortable thing to wear but you don’t seem bothered by it.

“I didn’t either.” You spread your arms out and do a little twirl. Wind gulps and pushes himself up. Cute. You look cute. “It’s a good thing you have the belt too!”

“....Wait, were you looking through my bag?” Wind raises an eyebrow as he gets back to his feet.

You seem to stall at this. You shrink back and smile nervously. “Not exactly. I was looking for the fairies you said to get for Time, remember? I found it then. And well... It fits me. I didn’t think it would.”

“I forgot I had it.” Wind reaches forward to tug at the sleeve of the under shirt and the tunic itself. It fits you well. It fits you really well actually.

“What do you think?” You wink and strike a pose. “Am I a hero yet?”

Wind snorts. “You don’t need an outfit to be a hero.”

“Link says otherwise.” You cross your arms and pout. Wind has to fight the urge to poke your cheek. Your words however, strike something in him.

“Which Link?” He frowns, and turns to track down the majority of the group. “I’ll get him to shut up. You’re a hero too.”

You blink, not expecting his fierce attitude. “...All of them.” You tilt your head innocently. “Haven’t you realized that you all some sort of uniform? Wild says he was the only one who didn’t go through his trials with this kind of outfit... But then he got one later on after going through a lot of shrines... whatever that means.”

Wind pauses, only a split second from walking off in a rage. He looks back to you. “Really?...What’s a shrine?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But he says they were some that were easier than others to complete. something about them made him stronger. After going through all them he got his own green tunic...with shorts.”

Wind groans. “Shorts would have been awesome to have when I was home.” He points to his tunic. “Humidity and those pants do not mix.”

You laugh. Wind thinks that maybe you can wear it for a little longer then. It’s not like he’s using it.

Four

Four thought he was about to go crazy. Granted it wasn’t the biggest problem in the world, especially when put into comparison with what the group is currently dealing with. But it was annoying.

And yet- of course this happened to him. The one thing he needed for the sake of convenience and it’s gone. Great. Fantastic. It’s just like him to lose it. It was only a matter of time.

His headband was missing. Now he was going to have to deal with his hair in his face until he could either salvage some cloth from some unsuspecting sap that left their clothes for ruin- or he could buy a ribbon the next they went into town.

To be completely honest, he’s not entirely fond of the latter.

He has a few ribbons for formal purposes but for everyday use? Where he’s sweating and working and fighting? It ends being grosser and more trouble than it’s worth.

He groans and end up shoving his stuff into his bag again after taking everything out with more force than necessary. Every other item is paired with Four forcibly moving his hair back, only for it to gradually fall back in front of his face.

Four won’t voice it (with words, he plans on groaning and griping until he can get a decent replacement) but this probably the worst thing to happen to him. He’d take being stabbed over having his hair all over the place.

He throws open the door, flips his hair and makes his way through the inn towards the others.

He huff and tosses his bag over his shoulder and tries to come up with a solution. He bumps into you and curses.

You jump and look at him. “Oh! Good morning!”

Four rubs his head where it got hit the worst and huffs again. “Hello.”

“Bad morning?”

“Something like that. I’m missing my-” Four looks up and pauses. The cogs in his brain take a little while to process what he’s seeing. You’re sleeves are rolled up and you’re wearing an apron. There’s flour on it. There’s also flour on your face. Your hair is held back by-

Four points to it. “...That’s mine.”

You flush and shrink back. “Sorry. I just saw it laying around. I knew it looked familiar. But I couldn’t figure it out where I saw it. Um... ”

You look down at your hands, which are covered in more flour and a bit of dough from what Four can see. As much as he wants it back he doesn’t want you to get dough of all things in your hair just to get it back. He sighs. “Why are you covered in flour?”

You brighten a little bit. “Wild was going to show me how to make bread. It’s why I needed my hair back.”

“Hair in bread isn’t good.” He agrees.

You bite your lip. “Do you mind if I hold onto it a little bit more? And then I’ll give it right back, I promise!”

Four raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down again. You look cute if he’s being honest with himself. And the headband isn’t lost and he trust you to keep your word. Besides, it’s not like it’s going to take forever.

He nods. “Aright. Have fun. Don’t get too messy.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.” You admit with a small grimace.

Four snorts and walks away. Maybe he’ll stop by town to get a few new ribbons anyway. You should have your hair back more often, he thinks. And why not have it be with something nice for a change? Besides, it’ll stop you from stealing his headband. Which his main reason. Nothing else.

Hyrule

Hyrule was searching though the basket that Twilight has just brought back from the cleaning rack. He knew he had given his under shirt for him to wash and well... he’d like to have it back very much.

He continues to search without much look and he groans loud enough to catch the Captain’s attention. Warrior looks over and snatches his own shirt from the pile before they succumb to the wrinkles Hyrule no doubt gave them. “Didn’t find what you’re looking for?”

Hyrule turns and leans backwards, falling onto his butt and putting his hands behind him. “I lost my shirt.”

Warrior snorts. “I think Twilight lost your shirt. Just ask him where he put it if it’s not in the basket.”

“Good idea!” Hyrule throws himself to his feet and dashes through the camp, leaving the rumpled clothes behind for Warrior to fix before someone notices.

Hyrule looks high and low for the Rancher, finding him by the edge of the camp. He makes himself run faster and “taps” the other boy on the shoulder. It’s closer to a punch but Hyrule is more than a little frazzled to notice. “Twilight I’m looking for-”

He sees you.

You’re sitting with your legs crossed on the log in front of them, having been talking to Twilight before he interrupted you both. Hyrule knew he was on the skinny side. His shirt was a bit baggy on him but it was fine and it played it’s part well.

On you on the other hand. Well you filled it out better than he ever would have been able to. It accentuated your body perfectly. Hyrule could feel his jaw drop at the sight of you. It looks like you had just come back from a bath. Your hair was wet.

Twilight taps Hyrule on the shoulder to get his attention again. “Traveler? You were looking for something?”

“That.” Hyrule points to you. “Is my shirt.”

You blink and flush deliciously. ”Oh... Well my clothes still have to be washed. I thought they would have been done by the time I had finished but-”

“And someone didn’t tell me to do theirs first so these things could be avoided.” Twilight shifts the blame away from him.

You huff and shift your legs down. Hyrule realizes that you’re not wearing your pants either. Just his under shirt to cover yourself.

You say something to Twilight to defend yourself but Hyrule finds himself looking down your legs anyway. It’s not even subtle.

“KeEp iT!” Hyrule forces himself to look away before you notice. And he’s very happy and lucky that neither you or Twilight call him out on his very manly voice crack. “I can wait. I think it’s looks better- I mean I think it works better in for favor this way. It’s not like it’s going to take forever.”

You stand, making it harder for Hyrule to keep his eyes where they belong. “Really? It’s not like I asked you, Hyrule. I could... I should just give this back.”

Hyrule shakes his head frantically and takes a step back. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re very fine, actually. I’m just... I’m going... to wait. Over there.”

Hyrule turns on his heel and pointedly looks away from you. His shirt rides a bit shorter on you than on him. that’s not something he wants to entertain right now. With his face bright red and his imagination running wild, he makes his way back into the middle of the camp.

Maybe he should do what you did and head into the nearby creek. Dunking his head in cold water might fix his emotional state right now. 

He can hear you snickering.

Part 3

[ladyloveandjustice]

Winter 2024 Anime Overview: Metallic Rouge

Metallic Rouge

Premise: There are a robot-alien-whatever race called Neans and they're really oppressed and all that, you've heard about Detroit Become Human you know how it is. Rouge is a Nean who's been tasked by her brother with killing the Immortal Nine, super powerful Neans who want to not be oppressed and are willing to kill the humans that use them as slaves. Rouge's partner is Naomi Orthman and she's pretty fun. Eventually, Rouge sort of starts to wonder if ruthlessly killing her own people who are fighting oppression might be a bad thing actually.

Man what a mess. Kind of a fascinating, ambitious mess, but it's so bad. (If you're a fan, I encourage you not to engage with this review, you have better things to do than upsetting yourself for no reason).

I was attracted to this because like, it's focused on two women with really cool character designs! And they get to fight and be cool and have a vitriolic best buds kind of partnership! Naomi is pretty charming. The show does often LOOK good, and there's some genuinely cool animation moments, I'll give it that.

However, I realized fairly quickly that the story was a hodgepodge that didn't seem to have much of a grasp on even the basics of writing, but by that point I wanted to see what stupid plot twist it'd pull next. I don't know if it was a good decision but it sure was a decision I made. It means I get to write a review where I can be mean which is always easier than trying to convey how good a show is, I guess because less pressure.

The story starts in media res in a very confusing way. It does (attempt to) explain things a bit in later eps, but you never really stop having the feeling you've just been plopped in the middle of an ongoing story. I think it's very likely, that like so many shows, this was supposed to be a 26 episode show but it was cut down to 13 because anime originals sadly don't get to be that long anymore.

I don't think a longer runtime would have made the plot less stupid and frustrating, but it probably would have made the show a little better and some events have more impact. But rather than cut some events to let the story breathe, the show insisted on cramming a ridiculous amount of plot twists into a short runtime, meaning they never had time to land and you had no reason to care about most of the characters.

The approach to the Neans was a total mess especially. Very badly written for the most part. The Neans are literally slaves. Because of the Asimov Code (literally naming it that in universe is pretty funny I'll admit) they have to do whatever humans say, and most of the humans ruthlessly abuse them, use them as shields when there's danger, often steal their life giving nectar for kicks and leave them to die horribly, the police gun them down all the time, and also a huge amount of them are in a forced labor camp on Venus where they either die from the horrible conditions, (often falling directly in lava or being irradiated or whatever) or they just work until their bodies give out. (It definitely doesn't help that two of the Neans we see killed most horribly are Black-coded.)

DESPITE ALL THIS, the story inexplicably tries to both sides it for most of the anime. Some of the Neans are actually really evil because they'll do violence to escape their oppression! That's so bad, they're just as bad as the humans, they're really mean and randomly murder their own allies! Rouge is genuinely presented with the dilemma of "you can free the Neans and maybe they'll rightfully want revenge and kill some humans and society will ~be in chaos~ or you can just let your own people continue to be enslaved and horribly killed and abused every day. And she's like "hmm I dunno. Both sides have a point. yeah I think freeing them could be bad". Incredible. (Granted it does come around a little in its conclusion when some characters randomly change their minds, but it's way too little too late)

If you couldn't tell, Rouge is a really nothing character who it's hard to sympathize with thanks to her baffling choices, except for in a couple episodes that were genuinely charming and fun and made you think "hmm maybe it would have been fun to see these characters get into some shenanigans". Naomi at least has a fun personality, and I had a little bit of crush before her character mostly went down the tubes with everyone else.

Naomi and Rouge's dynamic could be pretty fun and was definitely the best thing about the show (and the only times Rouge showed any personality was with Naomi and a spoiler character), but the show insisted on speedrunning their conflicts and separating them constantly despite that dynamic supposedly being so central to the story, so.

But really, as I said, the most entertaining part of the end of the show was seeing how many ridic plot twists it could cram in, most of which had no impact because you didn't care about the characters, they didn't make much sense, and there was very little to set them up. EVIL ALIENS, EVIL FAMILIES, THIS BORING CHARACTER HAS SECRETLY BEEN PULLING THE STRINGS BECAUSE REASONS, that kind of stuff.

But I have to leave off telling y'all how one plot twist in the final episode is undone LITERALLY 30 SECONDS LATER because of something a character did off screen. also it's done two minutes before the episode ends. It's so funny I have to tell you.

SPOILERS

---

Rouge pressed the button that frees all the Neans. Then a character who hadn't done much but I guess is the big bad now pops up and is like "Rouge you freeing the Neans was all part of my plan because you activating the device actually infected them with an EVIL PROGRAM AND NOW THEY WILL FIGHT FOR THE EVIL ALIENS!! Rouge was like "wha?" but then the Neans glowing red evil eyes immediately turned off and the brother was like "actually I anticipated it and hacked it offscreen they're actually free." And the villain just leaves without really reacting. Amaaaazing.

---

So yes, wouldn't recommend this show unless you really like watching trainwrecks, and despite how amazing a trainwreck it is, there are stretches where it's just a slog.

(God, this review ended up longer than I thought. So much carnage and crumpled metal to describe. But now I'm officially free.)

[kimdokja-real]

This showed up on my dash today and immediately made me think of Bottom Yoo Joonghyuk and Top Kim Dokja Granted, it's not totally capturing the "KDJ can be the strong one" (cuz he's definitely worked several days in his life) and the (very important and I would love to see more of this) "YJH deserves to be taken care of/is loved" but like... the vibes are there, right?

'fancylad boy-king type' Kim Dokja is literally a Demon King! Demon Kings are dominant and powerful, not a false sense of power only to make it hot when he bottoms (like what most JoongDok is like when Kim Dokja is legitimately powerful).

Yoo Joonghyuk definitely deserves to be taken care of and loved! Gonna write a post about how Yoo Joonghyuk should be appreciated more.

And I literally don't know, maybe it's the image, they can't see or it's hard to picture a muscular man at the bottom, and a slender man at the top (he's gonna enhance his body to save Yoo Joonghyuk though) but to be honest I look for personality and Yoo Joonghyuk's rough, gruff, cold personality makes him a very cute bottom. Cold but when he's bottom, he gets all hot and flustered, it's so cute. It's the moe gap. And Kim Dokja's sly messing with people personality makes him a hot top.

It is always this way, not only for Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. For a bigger male and smaller male yaoi pairing (when seriously, Kim Dokja is almost freaking 180cm, just 4cm away, he isn't small, he isn't that smaller than Yoo Joonghyuk.) There are certain things people especially girls want to see in their favourite characters (I mean yaoi is originally made for women), from their own experience likely and there will be self-projecting (or just writing off own experiences?) to a point it's only human and it's for some reason easier to see the more slender man bottoming. Because it's that way in yaoi manga, and guys are stereotypically masculine too I guess.

But yaoi manga is fetishization of gay people and pairings, just for people to enjoy the sex scenes, and for female empowerment in Japan (I did a paper on that!), maybe a little cute romance, and it may not be the same for an actual male-male couple. But people have their kinks and from yaoi manga, most just automatically see the more masculine guy topping and the slender guy bottoming.

Also Kim Dokja is much more popular and loved than Yoo Joonghyuk as a character, most people prefer their favourite character bottoming. It's not even about his personality but people's preferences. There's also a kink of the intelligent one bottoming and being out of sorts, losing himself in pleasure too, which is what a lot of JoongDok end up with. I actually do understand that kink, I had it for Orihara Izaya from Durarara, but I made sure to keep him in character enough. (To the extent people said my writing was like the novel that Izaya acted like Izaya from the novel, and yeah generally people don't do that, I'm an analyst so it's different and I can analyze a writing style and write it but the point is to try. Anyway I've gotten the same feedback from Dokjoong fans too so I'm glad.) And even though Kim Dokja is an intelligent maybe vulnerable character, I just prefer him as Top, because he'd be a really unique top. (Which Top is self-deprecating yet desires? Only Kim Dokja.)

Kim Dokja being OOC in most JoongDok fics reminds me of Orihara Izaya being OOC in most Shizaya fics. Er so Izaya is just an intelligent character like Kim Dokja, he claims to love humans and people, girls like him a lot, he's kind of cool as the villain and mastermind but he's slender and girls love to make him cute. He was the most popular character of the anime. This guy was so popular even people who didn't watch the show knew him from cosplays and memes. And people would ask what anime is he from.

I'll be honest and say I shipped the more popular pairing Shizaya (Izaya the more slender one on the bottom) so I enjoyed those fics at first when I entered the fandom and just wanted more (which I think is how a lot of JoongDok shippers feel), but eventually I grew bored of them because it was always the same thing. Protective Shizuo and cute Izaya (no idea where his intelligence went), and I just wrote my own. I still shipped the more slender one on the bottom but my favourite was actually Shizuo not Izaya lol, but when Izaya was top he didn't treat Shizuo well, so I shipped Izaya the more slender one on the bottom. JoongDok really reminds me of Shizaya, which is actually a fairly popular pairing. People knew the pairing even if they didn't know the anime Durarara. Like how people thought Omniscient Reader was BL because of JoongDok. But for Izaya, he acted as a girl online in canon while for Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja, it's not Kim Dokja who was a girl, it was Yoo Joonghyuk who was a girl in canon. So why is Yoo Joonghyuk not bottom? ...Pretty confusing for me.

People asked me a lot about Izaya, a lot, to the extent that I had to create an FAQ on my tumblr blog for Izaya analyses. Even though my favourite was Shizuo and people knew that. People asked me on Shizuo too but there were less. I bet if I shipped JoongDok, and did analyses on Kim Dokja, and wrote JoongDok fics, I would get people asking about Kim Dokja, the point is, it's just the character really. It's just the character popularity that leads to content being created in the way they're seen as. When you have such a beloved character that people go back to the novel and try to analyze it or remember certain scenes or just want to see more of him, that character is bound to be bottom. Because bottoms are loved and Kim Dokja is loved. People want Kim Dokja to be loved. Especially with his huge sacrifice, and taking on everything alone. (But I will say Kim Dokja can still be loved as a Top.)

(And I have a standard of Yoo Joonghyuk being loved at least for my own work, he needs to be IC enough.)

Sorry, just reminiscing about shipping a popular pairing. But Dokjoong is worth it.

So I believe it has almost nothing to do with Kim Dokja's and Yoo Joonghyuk's characters at all but because Kim Dokja is a super popular and loved character. Is shorter, has a slender body type like in yaoi, etc.

And, from my experience shipping a similar pairing to JoongDok, Kim Dokja is way too smart. He's highly intelligent, and people have trouble writing his intelligence. Kim Dokja is a mastermind character, and how are you supposed to write a mastermind character accurately with his intelligence? Most people aren't masterminds, haha. Anyway, just saying since the same thing happened with Izaya, he was the mastermind villain, too intelligent, and people couldn't write him accurately (people even thanked me for analyzing him so they could understand him!), so they just made him cute and somewhat cool and too angsty which was OOC, and made his partner Shizuo a brute who was rough, lustful and glaring (reminds me of JoongDok Yoo Joonghyuk.) which Izaya would always give into (even though he taunted Shizuo in canon).

And I think people just want something simple. So a cliche simple dynamic such as cold, rough top and submissive sly bottom draws many people. People in fandoms generally don't look for complicated things, they just want something easy to love, and angst (no matter what fandom or character, angst is always very popular. Angst is a given.).

Lastly, Kim Dokja is a lonely character, repressing his feelings, like Izaya, and it makes people who love him want him to be bottom and loved even more.

Just speaking about my experience with a similar ship lol.

(By the way if anyone is interested, Durarara is an anime about a teenage boy moving to a new city, meeting his friend, and discovering its mysteries, secrets and urban legends and being involved with a huge gang called the Dollars. Izaya is the mastermind villain. He pulls the strings behind the scenes and is incredibly intelligent. It's a great anime with more than 1 season, I recommend it and the light novels.)

When, when you think about it, doesn't it make more sense for the loyal one to bottom since, well he's loyal and will give the one he serves anything he wants. (It'll be hot too)

i think I said a bit much but the person asked why so I thought of...Why.

Also like imagine Yoo Joonghyuk crying, maybe because he's tired or hurt at Kim Dokja's words, Kim Dokja would freak out and wonder what the hell he did wrong, and - and it would be character development and exploring Kim Dokja's self-deprecating character like 'I made Yoo Joonghyuk cry, I deserve to die' 'Why do I care so much?' like vulnerable Yoo Joonghyuk can really activate Kim Dokja's character, Kim Dokja exploring his character, exploring Kim Dokja's character!

You know, there are rare exceptions, I've spoken about this before but ChildeZhongli from Genshin Impact, Zhongli who was so loved even by 'dude bros' (would bang his female form, yes he had one) was unequivocally bottom in the ChildeZhongli relationship, but when I searched them this year, ZhongliChilde was suddenly more than ChildeZhongli in A03! Well..........I think it's because Childe got much more loved as a character, so people wanted to see him as bottom more, since he appears everywhere in Genshin. I'm hoping the same thing will happen with Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk, as the manga comes out, maybe people will love Yoo Joonghyuk more. I don't know how since people said the webtoon people don't like Yoo Joonghyuk, taking away his scenes but somehow...maybe. (Genshin fans are much more open-minded than other fans in general though..........they ship almost every pairing and whatever kink but.........somehow, perhaps.)

For me, it's DokJoong because it's Kim Dokja who loves Yoo Joonghyuk the most.

This totally suits Dokjoong, Thanks for sharing! If you wanna talk more about Dokjoong or rant about why feel free to message me privately.

Now this may encourage me to make a post on why I don't ship JoongDok...

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Something I've noticed in the Ghost fandom (and others) is some fans feeling "unrepresented" in fanfiction...and thinking that this is a huge moral problem for which they must receive compensation. Which. No.

Does feeling unrepresented in fanfics (and fan art) suck? Yeah, it does. Been there, more than once. Hell, I'm not even really represented in my own actual real life. Does that entitle you to essentially demand that other people make fan works for you, lest they be labeled as "bigoted" or "bad" or otherwise uncaring? No. You're not entitled to people making things that appeal to you, just because.

You're entitled to want this, to feel like you're getting the short end of the fandom stick (and you might be, not gonna deny that), but other people not catering to you doesn't really say much about them at all.

There's solutions to this problem, though. One of them is seeking out people who are already making the kind of fan works you like, that appeal to you/your demographic. Granted, they may be difficult to find (and you may have to look off Tumblr and in more obscure places to find them), but you can't just give up without looking. Look for them, and if you find them, try to develop a friendship or friendly mutual-following-ship with them. (Sometimes easier said than done, I know. Idk how to people, either. But an attempt must be made. God's peed or however that goes.). And hype them up! Promote them! Share the joy with others!

Another solution is making the fan works yourself. You see the stuff that's already here, already made, already in progress? That stuff largely exists because a fan said "I wanna write/draw this", and they went and did it. You can do that too, and in fact you should! Engaging in the creative process is part of the fun of fandom, and you should know and experience this. Now, your skill level may not be where you want it to be or what you think it should be...but since when has that actually stopped anyone? (It certainly never stopped me lmaooo). You have an idea that you'd like to see realized? Draw it. Write it. Who cares if it's "bad"? Everyone's gotta start somewhere, and why shouldn't you let yourself start? Maybe your fan works won't be as popular as others, but who cares? (I never do. Also, fuck popularity. That means you get Perceived™. Gross.). Fandom ain't about popularity. It's about fun and community.

And in order to have that community, you have to participate in it. Even if you're not confident, even if you're awkward, even if you don't think you're as skilled or talented as other people. You gotta do it, and you gotta do it for the love of it.

Teal Dear: In order to get the things you want out of a fandom, you gotta be proactive. Go forth and make some stuff that appeals to you specifically. Be unapologetic about it and have fun. (That's what I do, and I love doing it!)

Okay. I'm tired. I'm going to bed 💤

[trillscienceofficer]

Imagine if Voyager truly cared about what B'Elanna and Seven wanted, like. once in seven years? For all the screentime Seven gets, it's never about what she wants, just what she has to do in order to fit in better, and B'Elanna... well. She truly gets shit from everyone for no reason whatsoever.

One of the main reasons why I would've love for them to interact more is that, for all their mutual annoyance, somehow they aren't as dismissive with each other as others are with them. Seven is a an arrogant little shit but she apologizes to B'Elanna very frequently when B'Elanna expresses her annoyance, more than most other characters generally do with B'Elanna honestly! And Seven seems to notice pretty quickly when B'Elanna is upset too, which always makes me raise my eyebrows because we're constantly told Seven is not very socially smart... she is though, once she starts learning. B'Elanna in turn only tells Seven to cut it out when she crosses a line and is not at all about giving her a lesson in 'humanity' or whatever.

@nebulouscoffee left some tags that made me think last night:

#on rewatch especially!! I noticed how much the script kept telling me these two hated each other #but they so rarely ever really came off that way? #and even when they did it always felt so... idk Scripted

And I totally agree with this. Voyager to me is a fundamentally unselfaware show, especially when it comes to B'Elanna: we're told things about her by other characters, but those never, ever gel very well with how she acts, how she expresses her feelings, how justified she she is in being irritated when others treat her like anything she says or does is unreasonable. On a lesser degree Seven is also treated that way; constantly, constantly told 'this is how you need to act', 'this is what you need to learn', 'this what it means to be human' and punished every time she's not good at it which is inevitable because literally no one else (except B'Elanna! or maybe Harry, although he is exempt from sexist tropes) is held to the same impossible standards. And Seven tries very hard every time! But of course the show is convinced that she needs to be taken down a peg in order to become 'a real woman' (yikes).

The way the show wants to present B'Elanna and Seven together is always 'look how catty they are with each other (wink wink)', and imho it isn't different from what's going on with them taken singularly. We're told they don't like each other, but what is shown to me is... way more nuanced, especially taking into consideration how they both fit (and not fit) within the ship. In a way, the way they relate to one another is the most honest rapport either of them have on Voyager. They don't really want anything from one another, they aren't thinking about fundamentally changing the other so their lives can be easier (again, when B'Elanna gets annoyed with Seven she only reiterates her own boundaries). Granted the show makes awful jokes at their expense sometimes (“Infinite Regress” and the cold open of “Someone to Watch Over Me” come to mind) but show me a character or a relationship on Voyager who is exempt from this kind of deeply uncomfortable and not actually very funny situation.

I truly believe that exploring this relationship more could have given them some much needed space. Space is a concept I always come back to when I think of B'Elanna and Seven, because I think both of them (especially B'Elanna) needed more of it to be themselves on their own terms for once. And I'm not talking necessarily about minutes of screentime—I'm talking about the writing being less sexist and racist, being less enamored with the idea of conformity, caring about them as characters and not as props in the absurd sexist, idiosyncratic fantasies of a 90s production: even beside Seven's horrible biosuit, B'Elanna is so often 'the girlfriend who doesn't understand what the protagonist is going through and will be insulted onscreen', it makes me genuinely mad!

Obviously I'm not exactly wishing Voyager had actually done it, because again, totally unselfaware writing all the time, but thinking about B'Elanna and Seven interacting always leads me to think about how they could both let each other simply be, even if they would still likely annoy the shit out of each other. And I wouldn't ever want to change that, honestly: willful women deserve to be themselves, that's all.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 45: Winter Vacation Katsu shows Mitsuhide around Kyoto; then back in the 16th century he has another surprise for her.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

“Now, the further you turn this, the warmer the water is.” I glanced over my shoulder to see if Mitsuhide was tracking the instructions, just in time to notice that he was looking at me, and not the plumbing.

Or perhaps I should say he was looking at my plumbing area, which very likely was visible below my bath towel. I raised both eyebrows at him and he winked. “You are a rather undeniable temptation.”

While it would have been nice to stay cocooned on the couch all day, eventually practicalities intruded. I introduced Mitsuhide to modern kitchen appliances, laughed as he spent five minutes turning off and on the lights in syncopated rhythm, fed him breakfast (well, it was lunch at that point), and now we were having a crash course in water management 101.

While running water was a concept he could get behind, he seemed not at all interested in temperature control, or the intricacies of how it worked from the source. “I presume there are people whose jobs there are to know specifically how it fits together, but at the moment, I’m only concerned with using it in its designated function.” He stuck his hand under the stream of water.

I twisted the level to make it warmer, and when he didn’t comment, I left it at that temperature. “On that note, I guess you’re an easier visitor than Shingen. He’s driving Sasuke crazy by taking everything apart to see how it works.”

“You spend a lot of time with them?” That unfamiliar tone was back in his voice. I don’t believe that he was actually jealous – just that there was enough history between the Oda and the Takeda-Uesugi alliance to mean that I had been hanging out with the enemy.

Lowering the conversational temperature back to casual, I said, “They’re the only people I know here since I prefer not to become close friends with anyone who will worry when I blip back into the past. So maybe let’s consider this time a neutral zone, and you can go back to trying to kill him when we return to the Sengoku era.”

What happens in modern Japan, stays in modern Japan.

He didn’t reply, but simply surveyed the pattern of water as it streamed down the walls of the postage stamp size stall. “So um, anyway, this is wasting water, so I’ll leave you to it…” I trailed off as he swiftly tossed away his clothes and stepped in.

He was so beautiful with the water flowed down his body, outlining every contour of his muscles. I know I had just spent the night and morning with that body, with this man, but I would never take that beauty for granted.

He raised that one eyebrow, smirked, and crooked his finger at me. “You did say something about needing to conserve water.

I had said that, yes. “There’s no room- eek!”

He reached out and pulled me in, bath towel and all. “My love, there is always room for you, no matter where I am.” He undid the now soaking towel and tossed it into the sink. Now there was little between us but water, and even that evaporated to steam when he wrapped his arms around me.

“Kitsune, I am not opposed to shower sex in concept, but we need a bigger…” My back would probably slide down the side and I’d hit my head and drown…

He rotated me away from him and I grabbed the towel bar for stability. “Hold on to that. I imagine that is what it was placed there for.”

Yeah, I’m not going to speculate on what Sasuke’s parents do in the shower, thanks for that mental picture.

He reached around to cup my breasts, and then I felt his teeth nipping at the side of my neck. “Oh God, we’re going to die.”

We did not die during shower sex… not any of the times we tried it.

Nor did Shingen and Mitsuhide attempt to kill each other when the four of us got together. Oh, the two of them would never become good friends – they were too much alike in the wrong ways, not to mention too different in every other way – but they managed mutual politeness during a meal that Sasuke and I cooked. That got upgraded to professional respect when they discussed the Yoshiaki and Motonari threats, which then devolved again to a cutthroat game of Catan that had both Sasuke and I eliminated within the first hour.

My moderately awesome ninja buddy and I watched the game from the sidelines for a little while before we both decided it would be safer to retreat to watching Picard (neither Shingen nor Mitsuhide had gotten into sci-fi, as travelling over 450 years into their future was sci-fi enough for both of them).

During the weeks as we counted down the time before the Togakushi wormhole manifestation, we all made the most of our time. Aside from breaking in the shower (and the breakfast bar, which Mitsuhide and I discovered was set at a very convenient height) we did actually emerge from the house every day to explore modern Kyoto. Mitsuhide decided that since this was more or less an enforced vacation, he would spend his time pursuing the interests that generally got pushed to the side amidst all the war councils, interrogations, and spying: live theater and music.

While I never could convince him to give K-pop - or any rock music for that matter – a chance, he did discover an appreciation for jazz. An unfortunate appreciation, since I disliked that sort of music. At least we were able to have a lively and ongoing debate over the merits of both, which usually devolved into mutual distraction.

Even though we always had a lovely time wandering through Kyoto in winter, my favorite part of the days were our evenings. I could be as cutthroat about Shogi and he and Shingen had been over Catan, and it was as much fun trying to outthink him and it was to distract him. I never won… though I came close twice.

Nor had I neglected my personal mission to organize the Mikumos’ library (with their permission). When they returned they would find everything neatly filed and cross referenced both in a database, and also in a hard copy notebook. Unfortunately, even after spending a couple of hours a day digging through their archives, I hadn’t discovered much about my father. True, Sasuke’s mother had kept a journal during that time which pinpointed when Aki and Francisco entered their lives, as well as what the two were studying, but otherwise the journal was pretty dry.

“Discover anything useful?” Mitsuhide wandered into the room with two cups of tea. I gratefully took it. Though he still couldn’t cook, he made a damn good cup of tea. I took a sip… and promptly burned my tongue. Good tea, but very hot tea. I fanned my mouth. He tsked. “The hazards of impatience, Brat… shall I kiss it to make it better?”

“Cute.” Not that I would ever turn down a kiss, even though it did threaten to throw me off track for the rest of the afternoon. Once we broke apart, I pulled out Professor Mikumo’s journal and read her description of Francisco. “We’re hosting a Portuguese exchange student who is very interested in Sengoku trade routes and any attempts by the explorers to influence politics. Or rather that was what the letter from his academic advisor stated. Unfortunately, this young man’s grasp on our language is tenuous at best, and as no one here speaks Portuguese, all of our work becomes delayed as we try to discuss everything in sign language.”

Mitsuhide politely nodded. “Yes, it is his lack of understanding that led to the most fascinating purchase of my life.” He tapped his lips, and followed that up by kissing me again. Mm. We were in danger of taking the afternoon off (again… it was last week’s work derailment that had led us to discover that the breakfast bar was the right height for eating… something that’s not actually food). No… this is important. I hadn’t even told him yet about that priest. “Francisco.”

“Dear me, have you forgotten my identity so quickly?” I shall have to give you a refresher on that topic.” He slid next to me and pulled me onto his lap.

I stopped his hands before they could make their way under my shirt. “I think he… or the priest who tried to buy me… might have been the one who shot Aki in 1578.”

To his credit, Mitsuhide immediately flipped into business mode. “On what evidence?”

Er. Well. “For Francisco, gut feeling, mostly. He had gun in his desk when I took the letter… and it was not there the next time I looked.” Before Mitsuhide could devil’s advocate me out of that, I added, “He’s been in Japan, both modern and Sengoku for over ten years, and yet he still hasn’t learned the language?”

“He could indeed be that incompetent.” By now, I knew that Mitsuhide wasn’t necessarily disagreeing with me – he was merely pointing out where I needed stronger proof.

“Ok, yes, sure. But it seems to me that whatever missions there were to send people like Aki back in time – they would have wanted the best.” But why had Aki never questioned Francisco’s language deficiencies? It seemed a critical error on his part, an error from someone who usually didn’t make errors. Unless Aki was well aware that Francisco was faking it, and pretending not to know in order to watch him? But if that were the case why give Francisco the letter for me? Ugh, I was confusing myself. Still, I needed to at least get everything out on the table before Mitsuhide started poking holes in my already shaky theory. “Suppose everything Francisco did was not incompetence, but a charade. He never intended to rescue me at the auction. But if his plan failed, he could fall back on his idiot disguise.”

If I reframed my view of everything Francisco had done, it could all have a sinister interpretation.

And here came Mr. Logic. “Was not the slave auction your idea to begin with?”

“It was. Francisco just took advantage of the opportunity I gave him.” But Mitsuhide was correct. I had brought the idea to Francisco and basically blackmailed him into it.

“Hm, and we won’t be doing anything like that again now will we?” The ‘royal we’ had returned. His arms tightened around me. “Now, you said something about the priest? I did interrogate him rather thoroughly, and he had no connection to the disappearances.”

Had I been mistaken in identifying the priest as the man who watched my gymnastics competition? I pulled the computer closer and tabbed into youtube. “Look at this.” Mitsuhide was quiet, intent as the video played. When the camera angle switched to show the priest, I paused and pinch zoomed it onto his face. “Same man?”

He leaned closer. “It is possible. The hat makes it difficult to be one hundred percent certain.”  He frowned, and it seemed there was some anger being directed inward. “Though perhaps that is me not wanting to believe that my interrogation technique to be infallible. I should have-.”

My turn to shush him with my finger. “Well, you questioned him as if he was what he appeared to be, a rather vicious priest. If that in itself was a disguise… well you didn’t know about the existence of time travel, so he might have training that the average psychopath does not.” I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder. I really hoped he wasn’t going to beat himself up over this. “You can’t know everything.”

“It is, in fact my job to know everything.” His hands massaged low circles around my back. “However, I have promised you… as well as Hideyoshi and Mai… that I will no longer take on the world alone. Nor is there much I can do about these two men right now. Not when we are here, and they are somewhere in the past.” He stood up, and took me by the hand. “Come on, Brat, you’ve worked all afternoon.”

I had at that, so I let him lead me into the den, where another of those snoozy jazz stations was playing something in the key of dull syncopation. I dropped his hand and made a beeline for the remote. No, I wasn’t planning to subject him to K-pop, but a nice movie night would be good. He beat me to it and held it over my head. “Oh that’s mature.”

Single eyebrow raise. “One person’s immature is another person’s success.” He tossed the thing onto a shelf that was above both of our heads. “Come here. This music, as opposed that shrill wailing you inexplicably like, is designed for dancing.” He pulled me into a dance hold. “Have I mentioned that I am quite fond of your era’s style of dance.”

Before I could again protest his depiction of K-pop as ‘shrill wailing,’ he had my head resting on his shoulder, as he pressed his hand on my back. His lean grace might have been made for this, as he expertly maneuvered me in a small circle around the center of the room.

Eventually, that slowed to a single swaying embrace as we clung to each other. The sun had long set, the only light came from the glow of the TV and the neighbor’s Christmas lights shining through the window.

I knew the steps of this dance we were doing, knew that soon, Mitsuhide’s lips would kiss my cheek, and then my mouth, until the dance became something else entirely.

But for the moment, I was perfectly happy melting against his body, in the more innocent hold.

We had time.

Three weeks later, and four hundred and fifty(ish) years earlier…

As soon as we “landed” back in the Sengoku and split off from Sasuke and Shingen, we made our way to Azuchi. I had expected that Mitsuhide would settle in and immediately pick up war planning with Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. And while he had indeed spent the day and half the night conferring with them, we were off to Sakai the next morning.

Our machiya in Sakai was unchanged, it was Mituhide and I who were different. We were approaching the townhouse as ourselves, not as fake merchant and reluctant concubine. There was no need to put on any act.

The real Kyubei was waiting inside to greet us. He smiled and bowed formally as if we had been gone a year rather than just a couple of months.

“Did you keep watch on…?” Mitsuhide left the rest of the question trail off, which mean this likely had more to do with my mystery surprise and less to do with whatever Motonari was doing.

I unobtrusively tried to listen in on Mitsuhide’s conversation with Kyubei, but what little I could pick up was in kind of a master/vassal shorthand of half sentences. Eventually, Mitsuhide noticed me lingering in the corner. “Dear me, is a little spy trying to spoil her surprise?”

He should be well aware by now that I was not a fan of surprises, even one that he had promised was a “good” surprise, so I just crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Patience, Brat, I’m just confirming the timing of it all.”

Knowing that was all I was going to get out of him, I retreated upstairs and unpacked the few items of clothing I’d brought to Sakai with me. As I was changing out of my dusty travel clothes, Mitsuhide joined me – and once again he was wearing the long, dark wig. “I thought the disguise was retired.” Please don’t make me dress up as Kaya. I’d happily put away the Kaya identity for good, and at the moment was wearing one of Mai’s hastily altered kimonos. Though it wasn’t completely to my taste, it was a lot more casual than the elaborate concubine disguise.

Correctly sensing the direction of thoughts, Mitsuhide helped me adjust the fold on my obi. “It’s temporary. The man we are going to see knows me only as Kyubei. You, on the other hand, are perfectly fine.” He tugged on my hair, and of course the hairstyle instantly fell apart. Without Sho to help, I was useless in the coiffure department. “In any disguise… or, er, disarray.”

He helped restore my hair, and then, in a move reminiscent of his former disguise, he extended his arm. Without any hesitation, I took it and we walked out into the chill winter evening. “Are we walking?”

“Are you saying you would prefer to huddle up in a palanquin?” The teasing smile he gave me indicated that any future palanquin travel we did would be far less innocent than our last trip. “That could, of course, be arranged, but tonight, we’re not travelling very far.”

Though I puzzled for a moment as to whether or not that had been a clue to my surprise, his purposefully bland look offered no additional help. We were not heading in the direction of Francisco’s, so that possibility was off the table. Instead, we ended up in the local retail section – not the business area with merchant’s large import/export warehouses, but the smaller apothecaries, clothing shops and tea houses patronized by the people of Sakai.

Even so, when Mitsuhide stopped in front of an herbalist’s storefront, it seemed an odd choice. My confusion grew when he led me through the shop and up the stairs to the living area. Once we reached the top of the stairs, he stepped aside, allowing me to face the man who had risen from his dinner to greet us.

A man whose face I had seen nearly every day until I was nineteen… and after that, had only been viewable via a drawing. “Toshiie!”

While my brother stood there stunned, I threw myself into his arms. “I thought I saw you in Sakai last fall… but I figured I was imagining it.”

He allowed me a long hug before stepping out of the embrace. “I was going to rescue you… I just needed more time to…” He glanced at the teapot on the table.

“Rescue me? From what?” It sounded like Toshiie had… already known I was in Sakai?

He turned and faced Mitsuhide. “Him.”

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @tele86 @akitsuneswife