#But if they were in clash I used the clash images since it was easier on me

[st4rstudent]

For any toontown tierlist fans out there. I made a tierlist for toons (mainly from ttcc, some rewritten is included) since I couldn't find any. I'll attach and image below of all the ones I included, but if anyone has any suggestions I'm all ears.

Link if you want it

[bopinion]

2024 / 41

Aperçu of the week

“The first casualty, when war comes, is truth”

(Hiram Johnson, progressive US politician, who was Governor of and Senator for California, among other things, on World War 1)

Bad News of the Week

Bavaria is Germany's largest federal state. It is larger than Ireland, for example. Or Denmark. Or Belgium or the Netherlands or Croatia or Switzerland. So it's pretty big by European standards. So if an area is three times the size of Bavaria, that's a lot. And the area of forest that has already been burned in Brazil this year is just as large.

A total of 22.38 million hectares caught fire between January and September, according to a report by the MapBiomas initiative. This corresponds to an increase of 150 percent compared to the same period in 2023. The MapBiomas network consists of universities, non-governmental organizations and technology companies and examines satellite images, among other things, to keep track of environmental developments.

According to the WWF (World Wildlife Fund), the main reason for the fires is deliberate arson. To create grazing land for cattle and arable land for soybean cultivation. Brazil's President Lula da Silva is committed to better protecting the forests and has already achieved success through stricter legislation and prosecution, as well as defining new protected areas.

So why are the figures still soaring? Researchers attribute this to the ongoing drought stress in the Amazon and its neighboring regions, which simply makes it easier to burn and causes it to spread more quickly. At the same time, the second largest tributary of the Amazon, the Rio Negro, is currently drying up, with the water level at its lowest since records began - in 1902!

The first researchers already fear that the first tipping points have also been passed in Brazil. This would be a catastrophe for the planet's largest C02 reservoir, oxygen producer and biodiversity guarantor. And therefore for humanity. It shocks me that there is still political support for fossil fuels. For example, in the current US presidential election campaign, where even Kamala Harris has backed away from her opposition to fracking because it could cost her the swing state of Pennsylvania. Or in Germany, the automobile country, there is talk of “technological openness”. Or Hungary would prefer to buy Russian gas again. Or...

Good News of the Week

The first anniversary of the Hamas attack on Israel. A sad day. Because it brought immeasurable suffering. First for the Israeli victims of the Hamas act of terrorism. And then on practically the entire Palestinian people. Both triggered by the extremism of individual so-called leaders who accept any victim for their ideologically blinded egoism - except themselves. The fact that there are now (one year after the attack!) still Israeli hostages with unclear whereabouts or conditions and at the same time the number of civilian victims of this war - because it is nothing else - is increasing daily is unbearable.

What I find good in this context is the differentiated view among the population here. In Munich, there have already been demonstrations with different points of view, which have certainly sharpened their own different points of view: “365 days - Munich against anti-Semitism” and “Palestine speaks Munich - 365 days of genocide”. The events took place on the same street. And remained peaceful and no clashes were reported. Even if both are too short-sighted, because not every Jew is a Zionist and not every Palestinian is a terrorist. On the contrary: a demonstrator holds up a sign that reads “Palestinians against Jew-hatred”.

Recently, an acquaintance told me about a video conference that a conversation partner from the USA suddenly left. He later apologized: he had been in his home office, his partner and he were of opposing political opinions and there would have been a huge row at home if he had found out what his international colleagues thought of Donald Trump. Namely nothing.

Such fundamental differences, which run like a deep rift even within families, were previously only known to me in the context of corona, when it seemed that vaccination supporters and opponents could no longer build any kind of bridge to each other. In the current political debate, there seem to me to be very few uncompromising hardliners. On both sides. Because there is consensus on one thing: the suffering must come to an end. That of the Palestinian civilian population and that of the Israeli hostages and their families. As long as we can agree on that, there will still be a basic understanding. For the good.

Personal happy moment of the week

We have been struggling with coronavirus and other colds for some time now and are still not really fit. As a result, real life is only taking place on the back burner: work gets done and we don't have the energy for the rest. Work-life balance looks different. But now we've finally been “outside” again. For brunch with friends. And we'll be doing it again a week later. It's nice to meet other people again without it being a meeting.

I couldn't care less...

...that the European Union can and probably will now impose punitive tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles. The official reason is that Beijing is promoting car production with so many subsidies that competition is being distorted. In reality, however, the European automotive industry has simply been asleep. And what's more, the subsidy was invented in the European single market, so to speak.

It's fine with me...

...that a large majority of the CDU state associations (of the conservative Christian Democratic Union) are open to black-green coalitions. A corresponding blanket rejection, as repeatedly demanded by the Bavarian CSU (the sister party Christian Social Union) and its Minister President Markus Söder, is “absurd”. Exactly. In addition, North Rhine-Westphalia, Baden-Württemberg and Schleswig-Holstein are recognized as having good, solid and pragmatic governments. In a coalition of conservatives and the Greens.

As I write this...

...the clean-up work in Florida is progressing after Hurricane Milton plowed through the peninsula like Helene shortly before. The extent of the damage was less severe than feared, even though it could run into the billions and there were also fatalities. What is terrible, however, is how even such disasters are being instrumentalized by the Republicans in the US election campaign to support the dystopian future scenarios that Donald Trump is creating ever more blatantly. Particularly perfidious: the Democrats would take away urgently needed funds from the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to “rescue” Americans in order to buy the votes of illegal migrants. Unbelievable: these guys still manage to leave me at a loss for words...

Post Scriptum

Asylum is a hot topic in Europe right now. The increasing popularity of right-wing parties is mainly due to the fact that (too) many believe the propaganda that the entire continent has a migration problem. As a result, even more moderate centrist parties now also have this issue on their radar and in their election manifestos. The lowest common denominator: less immigration is better than more.

It is therefore surprising that the right of asylum is now being extended. But fortunately, justice is blind. The European Court of Justice has now decisively strengthened the protection of Afghan women. It has stated that the repression of the Taliban regime is now so massive that they are generally considered to be persecuted.

They are therefore entitled to asylum in the European Union. In principle and regardless of individual examination and interpretation. Women are systematically discriminated against by the Taliban - simply because they are women. The fact that this discrimination means, among other things, that no woman is even allowed to leave her home without a male escort makes it unlikely that the theory will be put into practice. But for me, this decision alone is a very strong symbol.

[homenecromancer]

this isn’t on ao3 yet because i still want to work on the summary a bit, but here i finally finished this fic i’ve been working on

title: a kiss and I will surrender

summary: Hans Gunther-Hagen is a really bad influence, and Jeb Batchelder decides to Get Worse. set between Max and Fang.

content warnings: unreality / hallucinations

- - - -

All it took was a touch.

He shook your hand — his palm was dry, his fingers were strong — and although you didn’t know it then, that was it for you. You were infected by his vision.

Hans Gunther-Hagen had never been your friend — a work acquaintance, at most — but lately you were running short on friends. The remains of Itex had decayed around you with surprising speed, and now you found yourself almost alone — until he reappeared. And he had done much better for himself, in the years since you last saw him, than you had. So it was no surprise to you that he denied having known you; it didn’t even hurt your feelings (much). You were getting used to being the ghost that haunted people’s lives; you found you rather enjoyed it. Better that than the alternative. She was too polite to say it, but you knew that Valencia hated the sight of you.

And so, when the invitation came — half social invitation, half job offer — you didn’t have to think twice. You dressed in your best remaining clothes, and you went.

It was a lovely house, you had to admit. Too small to be an estate, too bright and modern to be a mad scientist’s mansion. You had visited houses like this before, ingratiating yourself with their rich owners, seeking any scrap of funding you could get for the School — that had been before you’d gotten the government contract. It seemed like a thousand years ago.

What you had done before, you could do again. Your shared history might even make it easier for you to win him over — and this time, all you were seeking funding for was yourself.

This house, you noticed, lacked the sprawling green lawn you expected from other rich men’s mansions. Instead, a silent, white-uniformed man escorted you through a carefully-managed simulacrum of the desert. Each rock, each plant was self-consciously well-arranged. A natural appearance was not the goal; the goal was for the landscape to declare how cleverly it had been assembled.

You were led inside and offered water in an equally stage-managed sitting room, where an array of woven rugs hung on the wall. All the furniture was wood-framed — chunks of log, polished smooth, with woven backs and seats. It was all movie-set Southwestern.

But you were only there for half an hour before you were informed that Gunther-Hagen was ready for you on the veranda, and you left the little sitting room behind.

You weren’t surprised to see him sitting in a deck chair by the pool, for all that it clashed with the man he had been when you knew him. (The linen suit, at least, was accurate to your memory.) It was an image fully in keeping with the rest of the house: this place was not a home so much as it was a calculated evocation of a particular image. It was a statement.

He didn’t get up when he saw you, just waved one languid hand at the chair next to his. “Please, sit,” he said.

You perched on the edge of the chair — there is no non-awkward way to sit down in a deck chair, or at least there wasn’t for you. “Thank you for inviting me to your home, Dr. Gunther-Hagen.”

He laughed gently. “No need to be formal — call me Hans.”

Which you always had, when you had known him, but then, that had been twenty years ago.

“Sure,” you said. “Hans. Why am I here?”

And he told you what he had seen.

////

Hans, even when you knew him, had not been much of a scientist. He had more of the salesman in him than you had liked — his talent was in convincing people to do what he wanted.

And you, you poor sap, fell for his sales pitch hook, line, and sinker. On that sunlit veranda, with its view of the sea and the setting sun, Hans Gunther-Hagen sold you the apocalypse.

His voice was even, calm, relentless. You said little; you could only listen; you drowned in the honey of his words, and only surfaced when the last of the light was nearly gone from the sky. You felt a little dizzy.

“So,” he said. “I think you and I could make a difference.” He smiled. “I don’t expect you to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ right away, but — will you think about it?”

The sunset painted his face in tangerine, scarlet, gold; it reflected off the rims of his reading glasses.

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

He nodded. “Thank you.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll show you the way out.”

And, as though he did it every day, he offered you his hand as you climbed out of your deck chair.

That was what sealed the deal — his hand on yours, his strength, his touch.

////

It took you a while to realize what had happened to you. You thought you needed time to think it over. Your heart had already made its choice — your brain just didn’t know it yet.

That night you slept in your truck in a Walmart parking lot — you didn’t trust yourself to make the long drive to Arizona in one night. Not that you really wanted to go back there, but you owed it to Valencia — to say goodbye, at least. You tried to think of what you would say to her, but no words came.

Nothing Hans had told you was really new; nothing he said was a surprise. Some of it you’d even learned from Valencia — melting glaciers, mass extinction, plastic in the oceans. In her words, Earth was suffering death by a thousand cuts, and the people she worked with were fighting to bandage them. It was a sunnier image by far than the picture Hans had painted for you.

He had said to you: “The planet isn’t dying, Jeb. It is being murdered.”

You thought about that, vaguely, as you dozed in the back seat, one arm over your eyes to block the light. What was happening to the planet was not an act of God, or a run of bad luck — it was a deliberate act, one that it was not too late to stop. There was still a chance to save the world.

The sun rose. You drove.

Valencia wasn’t happy to see you, but she also didn’t shut the door in your face, which was a positive indicator. “Jeb,” she said. “What’s wrong? I’m still unpacking, here.”

You were speechless before her, this woman you had known for so long. In her paint-stained shirt, with her hair tied back, you couldn’t decide if it was the morning light that made her look like a phantom of your shared past, or if what Hans had said had put you out of kilter with the world. If you were beginning to change, yourself, into a ghost. You bubbled over with knowledge too terrible to speak aloud.

She looked you over and sighed. “Come in. You’re letting all the warm air out.”

It was the same house. A pair of suitcases stood by the couch you had been sleeping on, but everything else was the same as when you’d left. Yet you seemed to see it in double vision, overshadowed by its own potential future. The living house competed with its ruined shadow self for your attention. Drifts of debris appeared and disappeared in the corners. Holes blossomed and vanished in the walls.

“I have all your stuff,” she said, pointing to a box that stood against one wall. “If that’s what you’re here for.”

Your skin prickled all over. You shivered. You hoped she couldn’t see it.

Destruction was only a part of what Hans had revealed to you. Through the window, you saw a riot of wildflowers and tall grass appear and disappear in the backyard. A deer stepped out of the trees and began to browse. You weren’t sure if it was real. Or if you were real.

“There is a better future,” he had said. “Just not for you and I.”

It had been a relief to hear him say that. You had never been able to imagine a future with you in it – you were always and forever an outsider. Which was for the best, really. Your record showed that being linked to you was a dangerous thing.

For a moment you wanted to tell Valencia everything – to show her the horrors Gunther-Hagen had shown you, and the solution he had posited. According to him, the end of the world wasn’t coming. It was already here.

Even in Valencia’s house, whose walls crumbled and rebuilt themselves in your peripheral vision.

“Jeb?” she said. “Are you okay?”

Over her shoulder, you saw one of Ella’s school pictures, neatly framed. And even while you watched the wall it hung on crumble, and the paint around it flake away, it was still there. The unraveling world could not touch it.

You didn’t need to offer Valencia Martinez a tenuous hope of survival. She had built her own future; she didn’t need yours.

“I’m fine,” you said, and after that it was easy to mechanically fit together the appropriate phrases. “Just tired. I had a job interview yesterday.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So that’s why you stayed in California. Guess you won’t be sleeping on my couch anymore.”

“Yes,” you said. You were done with being an intruder in her life. After – what had happened to Ari – you had needed her kindness, badly. You had had nowhere else to go. But you were not done mourning him yet, though by now she must be tired of your grief in her house, your sorrow that, to you, seemed to fill up every room. She would never say that, though, and so it fell on you to exit gracefully. “So I came back to get my things.”

You couldn’t decipher the look she gave you, but what she said was: “Okay. Best of luck with the job.”

Once you had been able to talk with her for hours, about anything. But now that was in the past.

////

The drive back was worse than the drive out. You no longer had Valencia to think about, no conversation with her to plan. It was just you and the end of the world.

That was something that had struck you deeply when Gunther-Hagen said it. He had looked at you gently and said that there would be no single, definitive end of the world; the planet would keep turning, the sun would rise each morning. The world wasn’t going anywhere – only humanity would be gone.

And you had felt a sense of profound relief at that. Your ending was already written; you would die with the rest of your species.

Your children didn’t share that limitation – they were the ones who would go on living when you were gone. Managing the world to come wasn’t your responsibility, but theirs. You just had to get them to that world.

The earth rippled and shuddered ahead of you, the rolling hills twisted and changed their contours. This late in the year, night came early. On the horizon, you saw city lights gleam against the darkness, then vanish. The surface of the road crumbled before your eyes, but rolled smoothly away under your truck’s tires.

All these things, these signs of a possible apocalypse, you both saw and did not see. They shimmered with fragile unreality. You’d always had a vivid imagination, but now it had seized control of you. You stopped for gas, and part of you was confused by the simple fact that the truck stop still existed. It was a shock to the system, seeing other people going about their business as though their whole way of life were sustainable. The bright lights hurt your eyes.

Gunther-Hagen’s words bubbled through your mind: we have created a world we cannot survive … those who would survive must be more than human.

He had known how to flatter you, how to woo you to his side. He had laid things out for you with nightmare clarity, then suggested, mildly, that your expertise, your design experience, might be of use to him. He had, he said, the facilities to create human-based recombinant lifeforms, the technology to force them to adulthood (“Rather like plants in a greenhouse,” he explained). What he lacked was a designer.

It did not occur to you then, that, of all the people you had known at Itex, the School, the Institute, you were the only one left who had not gone to ground. (Not counting those still awaiting trial.) You weren’t the best in your field. You were the best he could get.

But it felt shamefully good to be wanted at all – the thought of it warmed you inside. You weren’t used to it.

////

The sun was beginning to set when you saw him for the first time, as you cruised through one of the little towns clustered around the highway. He had his back to you as he peered through the partly-shattered window of a souvenir shop. Lack of sleep blurred your vision, and you only saw him for a moment, but you would’ve known him just by his hair – that dark color that had so surprised you in its difference from yours.

Your son, the revenant.

You didn’t have a chance to call his name, or even make a sound. The window rebuilt itself, the brick lost its coat of dust, and Ari – vanished.

There was a gas station two intersections ahead. You parked sloppily and fled to the bathroom. You ran cold water over your hands, rubbed it on your face and neck, until the nausea subsided.

You knew he was dead; you’d buried him. You’d killed him – not directly, but what did that matter? Dead was dead.

You were already hallucinating a future that had not yet come. The only difference, you thought, was that Ari was a ghost from your past, not a future that you would never see.

You went back to your truck and kept driving west. You had no other choice.

But the ghost of your son pursued you.

You stopped to buy a soda; his arm reached past you into the cooler for a Coke, and each black hair on his forearm was just as you remembered it, each bulky Eraser muscle just the same. You spun around, but no one was there, and as you watched, the ransacked snack aisle behind you refilled itself. Overhead, a fluorescent light flickered.

It happened again and again, until you thought your heart would break. A man watched you from the door of a half-ruined house, and you knew it was Ari from his silhouette. Then you blinked and the spell broke, and the house and he both vanished. You saw his favorite hoodie on the side of the road, crumpled in a pile of crushed beer cans, and then it was gone. As you followed the 15 through the mountains west, you caught a scrap of his voice through the radio static, there and then gone.

You began to see a pattern in his visitations, and finally it became too strong for you to deny. When the world around you wore its present shape, when everything was more or less whole, he was not there. When the asphalt cracked and fell apart, when whole towns dissolved into the earth, when the sky over the city shed its haze of light pollution and trembled with glimmering stars – then he was there, a shadow on the edge of your perception.

You were wrong. Your son had not returned as a ghost from the past. He was a resident of the possible future, the future you had been offered a hand in shaping.

Gunther-Hagen had cautioned you that futures took time to build. That if you joined him, your last years would be spent in a broken world, one not yet renewed. That you would not live to see that renewal.

Your mind returned again to something he’d mentioned offhanded, part of his portfolio of wonders. The boy, cloned from the car crash victim. How quick the production process had been.

You could see your son again – resurrect him from your memory, return him to the world, release him from the half-existence of the possible and give him another chance at life. You’d need a tissue sample, and that meant going back to Arizona – but you could do it.

You’d just need Gunther-Hagen.

You kept thinking of the casual way he had shaken your hand. Maybe it had just been a long time since someone had touched you, even in a friendly way – whatever the reason, it tingled and itched along your nerves. You burned with the memory of it.

Valencia hadn’t touched you even once. She’d sent you on your way with a polite goodbye and nothing more. For years she had been one of the people you knew best – but that was a long time ago, and you had spent the intervening years slowly excluding yourself from society, without knowing that was what you were doing. All your old friends were gone now.

But this man you had known for one year, two decades ago – this man had shaken your hand, as though you were a human being.

I could make this work, you thought. I could really make this work.

In the depths of the night, as you came to the turn that would lead you back to the mansion, the world shimmered before you one last time, a melting haze that shrouded the way ahead. You braked hard, grateful there was no one else on the road. And out of that fog, trotting easily over the fragmented concrete, a pack of wolves passed in front of your truck. You watched them go – you were rather numb by now – and breathed out hard in shock when you saw where they were going.

Just off the road, a man stood in the grass – he was tall, and strongly built. Drops of water shone in his hair, and even in the weak light of the remaining streetlamp, you knew every scar on his face. And you knew better by now than to expect this ghost to react to your presence, so you contented yourself to only look as the pack settled themselves around his feet.

Ari raised one hand, and he waved to you.

////

Gunther-Hagen came to the door himself when you knocked, which surprised you, wearing a monogrammed set of pajamas, which did not. He raised his eyebrows when he saw you, but you spoke before he had the chance.

“Yes,” you said. “I’ll work with you. When do we start?”

“In the morning,” he said, and embraced you.

[hollyoxleylevel5]

Research into Spotify wrapped

When we were presenting our work to each other in the team meeting, I found that my asset looked separate from Flora and Molly's since theirs were mainly illustrated and mine used photography. To make sure the brand visuals are consistent I decided to look at ways I could make my second story asset a combination of photography and illustration. I was unsure of how to do this, but when reading back the brief I noticed that the audience listens to spotify podcasts. During one of the first meetings with my group we discussed how Spotify uses "Spotify wrapped" to highlight the users annual activity. They use small and simple illustrations to draw attention to certain songs or podcasts that were popular to that person. I decided to explore this more because it may show me different ways of combining the mediums without them looking separate.

Spotfiy used the same colour palette in different combinations to make each page different whilst keeping it consistent. I like how they have used simple illustrations to create a border for the photograhs. By having the illustrations interact with the images, they have made it look like one composition instead of two mediums placed together. By keeping the illustrations to simple flat shapes, they have stopped the photographs from being overwhelmed. Furthermore, the pastel colours of the illustrations compliment each other stopping them from clashing and distracting the audience from the statistics on what they have listened too.

I like how they have made the list of tp artists stand out by placing them in coloured boxes. This stops the type from fading into the purple background. I like how they have linked the accompanying images of the artists to the names by using borders of the same colour, making it easier to see which images link to each title.

I like how the sharp yellow triangles contrast with the smooth purple semi-circle. This makes the shapes stand out and draws the audiences attention, making the illustration and image the first thing the audience sees.

Following this research, I will explore how I can combine image and illustrations. I will make sure to use flat and simple shapes to stop the image from being overwhelmed. I will also explore how I can use the illustrations to stop the text from fading into the background.

Spotify. (2022). Molly's Spotfiy Wrapped. [Screenshot]. In possession of: The Author.

[a-partofthemob]

woop woop, im bored time for some: MINEGISHI HEADCANONS, why? because i love them, that's why.

- their aura is green in color and has leaf like patterns with some flower designs speckled around, since their power is chlorokinesis the plants also take on their aura color

- their aura is very weak and not visible because of the amount of plants being controlled, psychic energy dispersion and all that. im making this one up because we didnt get to see their aura in canon lmao

- when minegishi gets sick or feels ill, their aura takes on a more yellow or brown color and the plants they control are easier to take down, more limp, or just plain wilting

- nobody knows if they can actually talk to plants or if they're just making it up

- they have sprayed shimazaki with a garden hose

- more than once

- had used a lawnmower as a weapon before and terrified everyone

- let's not talk about the time when they used a chainsaw

- and axe

- and scythe

- they wore an all black ensemble during the scythe days and scared the shit out of everyone, especially the lackeys

- whenever some battle goes down and minegishi gets called into the scene and pulls up wearing all black and wielding a scythe, you bet you’re ass people thought their time had finally come

- minegishi found this hilarious

- the others did not

- they can and will form a cactus on the place you sit and step don't test them

- found out about the Hanahaki Disease once and have tried to make it into a reality

- it was... not a pretty image

- you know the scene in encanto where mariano's nose got punched?

- yeah minegishi has done that

- their wardrobe is... something

- you've seen their shirt you can tell where i'm going with this

- likes light pastel colors and soft neons, also funky buttondowns because they seem to be the type to like funky buttondowns (i am too)

- so their light color scheme would definitely clash with their deadpan personality

- shimazaki doesn't know minegishi doesn't have any eyebrows either until hatori joked about it or just started poking randomly at their face because he was bored and going... "you dont have eyebrows??"

- "one wrong move and i'll shove a cactus up your ass"

- they were definitely an overalls kid

- i like the idea of minegishi having a collection of hairpins to get their hair out of their face so im sharing that image with you guys

- also think of post-wd minegishi, when they're a florist now, and compare that to herb cookie

that's it adios, i’ll probably do more in the future but who knows?

[fallout-lou-begas]

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #22: Behind the Scenes

Hi! So I mentioned in my commentary on Issue #22 of @ikroah​ that the production notes for this issue were so big that they would need their own post that would come later. This is that post! Strap in, I’ll be going through the pages above and just sort of shotgunning everything I have to say about craft and how they came together to you.

So the first thing to say is that #22 marks a big shift in both how I produce and draw IKROAH. Right off the bat, here’s what’s different about this issue:

Digital thumbnailing! That’s right. While I did do some sketchbook work (see the end of this post for details), mostly figuring out the layout of the hotel room, the first thing that I did for this issue was “draw” the entire thing in these very simplistic, loose, “shitty” versions. This was crucial for not only being able to compose every panel in advance and view the comic as a whole before I even make a single pencilstroke, but it also let me do all of my lettering in advance. This digital thumbnailing step makes sure from the very beginning that I have enough room for all the dialogue in the script, and since this issue was so talky, it was a must. I instead spent most of my sketchbook time doing multiple takes of tricky panels as practice.

Perfect panels! No more scratchy, irregular paneling. Perfect squares and rectangles only in this one, and going forward. This was part of the digital thumbnailing process anyway. Since my canvas is proportional to the size that I draw at, it’s easy to know how big each panel is in centimeters, and as you can see in the scanned pencils in the gallery above, I obviously do still need to draw the panels. However, I don’t ink over the pencilled panels, and I just fit the art into the digital panels after digitization.

Blue pencils! If these scans are a little hard to read for you, that’s because I do all of my penciling in non-copy blue, now, which makes it very hard to...well, copy. After you apply a layer of ink, the contrast between the ink and the blue pencil is so significant that the pencils basically erase themselves inside the scanner. You can do this, too! You just need any kind of light blue colored pencil; in my experience “sky blue” works best.

More complex shading! I used to do a very intentionally simplistic, mostly two-tone based shading. Now I do three-tone. It’s an experiment, but I kind of like it. That’s what this comic is valuable to me as, anyway, it’s a very good lab for artistic experiments.

Anti-aliasing! That’s right, my art was never anti-aliased before. This is because I actually do not own any kind of tablet. I color everything with a mouse and keyboard in GIMP like a fucking maniac, so scanning my inked pencils and aliasing them makes it a lot easier to work with my own art digitally, given the tools I have. However, I decided that aliased art and word balloons were clashing too much with the anti-aliased lettering, so after coloring each page I just run them through an anti-aliasing filter, and then the speech balloons are already anti-aliased.

In the “sorry for the delay” post I made about this issue a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I was basically re-learning how to make comics entirely “in a good way.” See what I mean?

Now for the general notes. I’ll be commenting on things basically from the first page going on, apologies in advance to mobile users for making you scroll back up repeatedly to look at what I’m talking about, but desktop users can just open all the images in tabs...

Page One

You may think that the first page, such a complex full-page shot the streets of New Vegas, must have been the hardest and most time-consuming to complete. You’d be dead wrong. It took a single day to pencil and ink, and two days to color. It was probably the least labor-intensive page of the issue for one simple reason: barely any lettering. Lettering takes a long time and it’s very tedious. Also, despite all the dramatic lighting, it was pretty auto-pilot.

The background on the digital thumbnail is from the episode of King of the Hill where Hank goes to Las Vegas to grab his runaway father. The simplistic, cartoony approach to nightlife lighting inspired me, and I kept something sort of like the blimp-like building in the final page.

You can see that I moved around the people walking in the street between the pencil and final art; I thought it looked better and crowded the insert panel less.

My favorite part of drawing this page was just the concept of it. Everyone knows that the in-game area of New Vegas is very barebones, so I wanted to draw a scene that really took place in a city. This page takes inspiration from the area around Vault 21 while expanding it tremendously, and adding the monorail right outside. I also made the executive decision to make Vault 21 actually look like some kind of interesting, sci-fi vault instead of, like, a shack like it is in-game.

The Italian restaurant in the background on the left has its name cut-off, but its name is Chickalini’s, and that and the “famous chicken pasta” advertised on its storefront are references to an I Think You Should Leave sketch.

I completely forgot to draw the Securitrons. I didn’t even have them in the script. I got so caught up in rendering a cool city scene that I forgot that in the context of this setting there should be big TV-screen robots patrolling the place. Fortunately I remembered them half a week before the comic went up, and adding them in wasn’t too hard. I know that the prongs on their heads are antenna, not lights, but they look better with the little lights on top.

Pages Two and Three

The final panel on this page got completely redrawn. On the original pencils, you can see that I just totally fucked up the perspective. Remember when I mentioned I still did some thumbnailing in my sketchbook? Well here it is, alongside the inked version of the fixed pencil. Among the thumbnails you can see an alternate, less repetitive version of Page Three, but I ultimately went with the more rigidly paneled one because it felt better paced.

Another hard-learned lesson on this and other pages about not forgetting the little details: basically any time that you see Agnes’ coat and boots on her bed, or Cass’ clothes on hers, I had to add those in after I’d already almost finished the whole page. Continuity! It’s important!

In the pencils for Page 3, you can actually see that I drew Agnes holding a straight razor in both hands. I originally pencilled it in her far hand because that’s what I thought she was holding it in, because I drew her holding it in that hand in the mirrored panels. But then I remembered that I already drew the mirrored panels as mirrored, so I wouldn’t be flipping them, and to make a long story short this issue makes the second time in as many issues with mirrors where I’ve nearly had an existential crisis over how to properly draw reflections.

I’m sure a lot of people wonder why Agnes is shaving so...intensely. I generally don’t like to tell people exactly what something unstated in IKROAH is actually about, but I’ll make an exception just this one time to remind you that shaving as a trans woman can be a sensitive thing even when you haven’t got a nerve-wracking relationship with razors because when you were a child a deranged robot sliced off half your face with a buzzsaw (see IKROAH #7).

For the montage of Cass undressing as Agnes shaves, I remember actually asking some of my friends how much nudity I could get away with depicting if it’s not even particularly sexual, and I worried about needing to censor it or something with an obtrusive blur. I eventually decided it wasn’t necessary since Cass and her sideboob is mostly out of render distance anyway.

Pages Four

Nine panel grid, baby!! Fuck yeah!! Real comic-heads already know!!! Wahoo!!

This is one of my favorite pages I’ve drawn for the whole comic. The nine panel grid does a lot here all at once: the way it shifts from looking at Cass to looking with Cass toward Agnes, the incredible close-up in the middle row, the full bleed of Agnes’ good side...everything just really comes together here in a way that I’m super proud of.

I’m also super proud of Agnes’ legs in those boyshorts. This emotionally devastating argument doubles as the fanservice issue, apparently!

The red outline for emphasis around Cass’ line in the sixth panel (Agnes’ extreme close-up) is a trick I learned from rereading the Team Fortress 2 comics. They also inspired me to be a lot less lazy with my backgrounds, and to commit to their colors and use pop-color a lot more sparingly. I think it has great effect in this issue.

The perspective of the seventh panel here gave me a lot of grief. I’m no good with complex 3D posing software so I wound up mocking up the entire scene in Minecraft so I could draw it better. Yeah, Minecraft. No joke:

Page Five

Starting with the first panel on Page 5, you might be thinking, “Okay Lou, I know you color with a mouse and a keyboard but that’s a really fucking good Cass for having drawn it with a mouse.” You’d be right! That’s because that panel, along with some of the other egregiously well-done ones in such an otherwise sloppy mock-up, is traced off a reference image. My pencils are all me, though. Can’t trace even if I wanted to, unless I got, like, a lightbox.

Changing the room number from 301 to 310 may seem like an arbitrary revision, but it was actually for a very good reason: it was just more aesthetically pleasing after everything was already in place.

Pages Six, Seven, and Eight

Page Six’s digital thumbnail is a favorite of mine on this issue, it’s just really funny. The weird shape that is Cass sitting on the bed in the mock-up’s eighth panel is especially great.

You can see on the pencils that I drew Agnes’ “No!” expression twice, once in the panel and once in the empty space in the first row of panels. I wasn’t sure how close-up I wanted the final panel, but I ultimately went with the one drawn as I’d originally thumbnailed it. Still, the second take was really well-drawn, so I’m glad you get to see it here. Agnes has such a stick up her ass most of the time, it’s a lot of fun to finally get to do an extreme expression with her.

The first and last panels on Page 7 are probably the best examples I have of a digital thumbnail translating perfectly into the finished product. I saw it, I executed it, I loved it.

Yes the first panel of Page 8′s digital thumbnail has a weirdly distorted image of Will Smith from the “can you?” scene in I, Robot. It was the closest thing I could think of to the expression that I wanted for Cass there. I wound up moving her over to the right side of that panel in the final version, making the whole panel seem “slower” and more thoughtful.

The “horizontal lines for ellipsis” thing is a trick that I like to use in comics, one that was previously seen in IKROAH #5.

And that’s it! But one more thing...I already showed you a bit of the pencil thumbnailing that I did for this issue, but I think you all might love to see just exactly how small I can draw page as complex as the one of the Vegas streets...

[kaibutsushidousha]

Tribe Nine progress report #00 (part 1)

Translations from the official Tribe Nine website, supplemented with things that were said on stream.

Character names are in Japanese order because that's how they're officially romanized.

Also, I'll be posting this in multiple parts because I reached the image limit on this post.

World

In the country of Neotokyo, year 20XX, youth with no hope for society's future form Tribes to find a place to call home.

With time, the disputes between Tribes continued to grow more and more violent. The situation was very intense in the eyes of the Neotokyo government, so they enforced the XB Law, which limited the quarrels between Tribes to only Extreme Baseball.

Pitch, bat, and trade blows. The youths were crazy over this radical pride-staking game.

XB (Extreme Baseball)

A duel method similar to baseball, designed to settle conflicts between Tribes. As determined by the XB Law, the loser must obey the winner's order(s).

Runners and the fielder with the ball can initiate battles with each other for the right to reach a base. The slugfests between players equipped with body-enhancing gear are XB's greatest trademark.

Rules

The games must be played late at night when there are no longer any onlookers.

The games will use the entire City as its field.

Batters are only out by tag out or by strike out.

There is no home run. In case of an extra-base hit, the runner(s) can run through the bases until they initiate a battle against the fielder with the ball.

A fielder with the ball is allowed to initiate a battle against a runner, staking the runner's right to reach a base.

Players can equip XB Gear to enhance their physical abilities.

Anything can be used as XB Gear, as long as it's approved by the Judge Robot acting as the umpire for the game.

The win condition is either scoring more points than the opposing team or knocking out the opponents in battle.

The winner can give any order to the loser.

Characters

[This section will have some character profiles for a few Tribes, but before that, I'll have to go over some elements that were only explained in a previous interview and in the stream. The game will contain 23 Tribes, each themed after one of the 23 wards of Tokyo. The names of the Tribes here all match the names of the wards they represent. Their base concepts will be all about local stereotypes, of course, but in the stream, Kodaka compared them to One Piece pirate crews in terms of how much individuality the characters will get within the team.]

Minato Tribe

A Tribe famed as the strongest in Neotokyo. They value the bonds between teammates and genuinely enjoy XB.

[The Minato ward is the ward where the Tokyo Tower (also called Minato Tower) is. Due to holding the symbol of the city, Kodaka chose it to be the ward of the anime's protagonist Tribe.]

Kamiya Shun (Leader)

CV: Akira Ishida

Birthday: February 22nd

Height: 179 cm

Weight: 65 kg

Voice sample 1: Let's enjoy one more game.

Voice sample 2: I'll show you how to topple the Minato Tower.

"What could be more exciting than XB?"

The founder and leader of the Minato Tribe, as well as the main reason why they're considered the strongest. He is one of the very few Beam Bat users. He's as top tier as you'd expect as a pitcher and batter, not to mention he's unmatched at a fistfight.

He enjoys unchallenged popularity on the XB field, but he also has a more goofy side. His antics include giving his teammate incomprehensible nicknames and getting hungover on coffee, among others.

Shirokane Haru

CV: Shun Horie

Birthday: January 20th

Height: 160 cm

Weight: 47 kg

Voice sample 1: My name is Haru. Shirokane Haru.

Voice sample 2: If I can really hit this swing...

"If I really have potential... I wanna give it a try!"

A timid bullied boy. He was getting into trouble with the town's delinquents as usual when Kamiya and Taiga saved him. He was bound by his own perceived uselessness, but Kamiya noticed his natural agility, wits, and keen eyes and he was invited to use these "weapons" of him for the Minato Tribe.

Taiga

CV: Chiharu Sawashiro

Birthday: October 10th

Height: 182 cm

Weight: 76 kg

Voice sample 1: I'll beat Kamiya Shun and become the best player!

Voice sample 2: The match only starts when you get to the batter's box.

You got nothing to worry about, you got me as the captain on this ride aboard the S.S. Big Ship Taiga, where S.S. stands for "safe and sound"!

A hot-blooded boy who came to Neotokyo from the other side of the ocean in pursuit of one dream: winning against the strongest man, Kamiya Shun! He joins the Minato Tribe along with Haru. He's a novice in XB and struggles to memorize the rules, but he keeps challenging his opponents with his dauntless courage and the brute strength he's so proud of.

Arisugawa Saori (Vice-Leader)

CV: Mai Fuchigami

Birthday: November 22nd

Height: 162 cm

Weight: 43 kg

Voice sample 1: The Minato Tribe never says no to anyone wanting to join or leave. You can stay as long as you want.

Voice sample 2: Raise your arm higher and put more strength into your swing.

There's no ball I can't catch!

The Minato Tribe's vice-leader. Despite her frail looks, she's an outstanding catcher, capable of stopping even Kamiya's blazing fastballs. She takes charge, commanding Minato's ensemble of oddballs since Kamiya is too careless to be a real leader.

No one values the members of Minato's team more than her, but she is extremely strict about rules and morals, never hesitating to unload a cartridge of her favorite airsoft gun on a transgressing teammate.

Mita Santarou

CV: Mutsumi Tamura

Birthday: March 30th

Height: 150 cm

Weight: 44 kg

Voice sample 1: I know talent when I see it.

Voice sample 2: The first thing rookies do is carry my stuff. That's the law of Minato.

T-those dudes are no match for me...! Ok, you guys go take them on!

A member of the Minato Tribe. He claims to be the ace of the team but is actually just a reserve pitcher. He's a pervert and a sleazeball and often gets punished by Arisugawa for it, but he shows no signs of wanting to fix his flaws.

He tends to abuse his seniority over the new members, but he's as caring and friendly as he is unreasonably bossy.

Daimon Manami

CV: Fukushi Ochiai

Birthday: July 20th

Height: 191 cm

Weight: 180 kg

Voice sample 1: I accept all forms of gratitude and cake.

Voice sample 2: You gotta swing hard but without straining yourself.

Don't forget to eat well before a game of XB.

A member of the Minato Tribe. He's always supporting the other members with his gentle personality and great cooking. Minato's base of operation is Lovely Ocean, a restaurant he runs.

Despite his usual calm, no one can stop him when he snaps.

[Translation note: Manami means "lovely ocean"]

Aoyama Kazuki

CV: Shouya Chiba

Birthday: May 18th

Height: 174 cm

Weight: 57 kg

Voice sample 1: Huhu, even if I can't use my left arm anymore, my brain is still much better than yours, stupid people.

Voice sample 2: Timing is essential in our next strategy, I'll be giving the commands. It'd be easier for all of you since you won't have to think.

"You'll be my pawns."

A mysterious boy who suddenly appeared asking to join the Minato Tribe. He can't properly play XB because his left hand is injured. But for unknown reasons, he's very knowledgeable about XB tactics and how to handle a Beam Bat and makes full use of his ingenuity to bring victory to Minato.

He seems to have some kind of goal in approaching the Minato Tribe, but what could it be?

Chiyoda Tribe

A tribe under the patronage of the king of Neotokyo. They have been suppressing many other Tribes all over the country to ostentate their power.

[Chiyoda is the ward where the Palace is, so the Chiyoda Tribe are the guys with political power]

Ootori Oujirou (Leader)

CV: Jun'ichi Suwabe

Birthday: September 26th

Height: 192 cm

Weight: 78 kg

Voice sample 1: Can you entertain me, even a little?

Voice sample 2: A game needs blood. In eras where giants clash, the people are waiting for battles that spray blood and shatter bone.

"Winning is everything. There is nothing else I need."

The leader of the Chiyoda Tribe, and heir to Ootori Tenshin, the king of Neotokyo. Tenshin trained him since he was a child to be the strongest XB player.

He challenges teams all over Neotokyo to prove he is the best.

Ootori Tenshin (King of Neotokyo)

CV: Hiroshi Naka

Birthday: January 31st

Height: 177 cm

Weight: 51 kg

Voice sample 1: None is allowed to disobey the Ootori family! It's the masses to duty to kneel before me. Am I wrong?

Voice sample 2: Every single one of those so-called big shots sullying my Chiyoda must be exterminated! Go show them the power of the Ootori family!

"Through XB, you must show that that the power of the Ootori family is absolute!"

The king of Neotokyo. He's strongly obsessed with XB, to the point he trained his heir Oujirou since childhood to be the best player.

After that, he founded the Chiyoda Tribe with Oujirou as the leader.

He aims to trample all Tribes in the country in XB to ostentate the strength of the Ootori family.

CV: Mikako Komatsu

Birthday: March 15th

Height: 170 cm

Weight: 46 kg

Voice sample 1: As you wish.

Voice sample 2: I honestly and absolutely believe you will get the result you desire.

"Only death awaits the enemies of the Ootori family."

Ootori Tenshin's secretary. To the public, she's nothing more than a modest secretary, but her secret is that she's a cold-blooded agent, capable of doing anything for the sake of the Ootori family.

Countless people who criticized or plotted to opposed the Ootori family's plans may or may not have been to their grave by her hand.

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Animage Magazine March 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

The Two Beast Kings

At his daughters’ crisis, Sesshōmaru makes his satisfied appearance! It appears he has some kind of connection with Kirinmaru but their intentions are still unclear. In what way will the two beast kings be involved in the fate of the Yashahimes?

While chasing Tōtetsu who is the last of the Four Perils, Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha finally confront Kirinmaru. The three of them are overwhelmed by Kirinmaru’s immense power. Saving the girls from a desperate situation was none other Sesshōmaru. The impact of the clash between the two great demons shook the earth and was put to an end in a moment. While Towa and others are left pondering what the relationship between Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru is, they somehow managed to survive the fierce battle.

The spirit of the Tree of Ages considers Kirinmaru’s existence as one that should be killed. However, looking at his actions, they do not seem to be simply “evil”. Kirinmaru intended to defeat Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha as they were “the half-demons who would take his head”. However, he could’ve buried the three with one strike of his overwhelming strength. It appeared as though he was not taking the battle seriously in episode 18.

On the other end, although Sesshōmaru saved the girls from a crisis, it looked as though he was not truly hostile towards Kirinmaru. The meaning behind Kirinmaru’s words to Sesshōmaru “I will still have you work for me” puts a weight on one’s mind.

The relationship of the two beast kings who bare many mysteries. It might be a little longer before the full picture behind their motives becomes visible.

Character Bios

Sesshōmaru A proud, ruthless greater demon whose father is the Dog General. Towa and Setsuna’s father. (A man of) very few words, he does not show his thoughts for the most part.

Kirinmaru A beast king on par with the Dog General. He was in a long slumber but was awakened by his elder sister, Zero. Apparently, he’s trying to destroy this world to a degenerate state.

Jaken A small demon who serves under Sesshōmaru. Cowardly but helpful, he placed upon himself the role of child rearing and caretaker to Towa and Setsuna who had been taken from their mother not a moment after being born.

Rin Towa and Setsuna’s mother. She accompanied Sesshōmaru for a long time as a child and has faith in him. For some reason, she is currently sleeping within the Tree of Ages.

Higurashi Towa In order to save Setsuna who had her memories and dreams stolen, she searches for the Dream Butterfly. Her explosive power when Setsuna was driven to a corner was enough to leave a scratch on Kirinmaru.

Setsuna Even in the feudal era she sometimes plays the violin she borrowed from Mama Moe. The details on how she came to wield her favorite naginata, Kanemitsu no Tomoe, will become clear?

Moroha Although she is Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter, in order to escape Kirinmaru, she was placed in the care of the wolf demon tribe in her early childhood. She carries the sword Kurikaramaru, which she received from her master, Yawaragi.

The Mystery Behind Sesshōmaru’s Actions

14 years ago, Sesshōmaru took a newborn Towa and Setsuna from Rin and sheltered them in the forest of the Tree of Ages in order to keep them away from Zero and Kirinmaru. However, 4 years after that when Zero burned the forest, Sesshōmaru tolerated her actions. The intentions behind what he is thinking is unreadable.

The Dream Butterfly and Rin

The Dream Butterfly steals Setsuna’s dreams and takes them to Rin who is sleeping within the Tree of Ages. It seems Kirinmaru has something to do with the actions of that Dream Butterfly. What is Kirinmaru’s “profound plan” regarding the Dream Butterfly that Konton of the Four Perils spoke of? And what is the reason behind Rin’s slumber?

Moroha’s Master

Yawaragi, the wolf demon who trained Moroha who was separated from her parents and raised by the wolf demon tribe. The of two them broke their ties 3 year ago but reunited due to Konton’s trap and fight each other as teacher and student. During that battle, Yawaragi explains to Moroha how to fight without becoming Beniyasha. Putting her life on the line, she bestows upon Moroha the grand technique “Crimson Backlash Wave”.

The One Who Will Defeat the Beast King

The prophecy the Shikon Jewel once told Kirinmaru was “(The one who will destroy Kirinmaru) will be one who is neither human nor demon and can impossibly traverse time”. He seems to think it refers to Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha but the difference in strength between the three of them and Kirinmaru is obvious. Presently, it would probably be difficult for the girls to defeat Kirinmaru.

Inheriting the World of “Inuyasha”, Director Satō Teruo

Following the “Inuyasha” Rule for Shot Divisions and Presentation

— Director Satō, please tell us first the details of how you became involved in this current work.

Satō: “Inuyasha” was the first work I took part in as a freelance producer and it also taught me the fundamentals of production. Afterwards, I was the assistant director for “Inuyasha The Final Act” and because of that, they reached out to me this time asking, “We’re going to make a work that inherits the world of “Inuyasha”. Would you be interested?”.

— As a work that inherits the world of “Inuyasha”, what points do you place importance on?

Satō: Among the viewers of this work, there will of course be those who watched “Inuyasha” but reversely, I think there will be those who come to know of “Inuyasha” through “Hanyō no Yashahime”. I intentionally created the work so that when these people reach the point of wondering “What kind of work is “Inuyasha”?”, they’ll get the same taste (as “Hanyō no Yashahime”).

There’s also a task for “Hanyō no Yashahime” to “Inform the generation that doesn’t know “Inuyasha” that there’s a wonderful work by Takahashi Rumiko-sensei called “Inuyasha”.” Just like “Great Detective Conan” that’s also on Yomiuri TV, families can enjoy (the work) together as parents become nostalgic and the children have a fresh feeling. From there, it would be great if the children are told “There’s a work called “Inuyasha”.”

For that reason, I felt that I wanted to depict the characters that were carried over from “Inuyasha” in a way that didn’t feel off as much as possible. The serialization for the original work “Inuyasha” ran for 12 years and the anime continued for 4½ years, so I think everyone has a complete image of each of the characters within themselves. I’m conscious of trying to stick to that set image people have of “This person was this kind of character.” as much as possible.

— Director Satō, you were directly in charge of the storyboard for episodes 1, 2, 4, and 6. What sort of things are you mindful of as you create the images?

Satō: In “Inuyasha”, there was something like an ““Inuyasha” rule” for shot divisions and presentation. I wanted “Hanyō no Yashahime” to inherit those rules. Episode 1 for the most part depicted “Inuyasha” since then so we couldn’t exactly break away from that rule. However, starting from episode 2, if we suddenly used a different shot division method that feels as though it’s from a different work, the viewers probably wouldn’t be able to follow along. Thus, in order to show that rule from the start, I did as much of the storyboard as I could myself.

— What kind of rule is it exactly?

Satō: For example, how Inuyasha releases the “Wind Scar”. Also, I was frequently asked “Tessaiga is always written with dokkun (translator’s note: pulsing sound effect) but what is the “dokkun disposition”?” or “What is “mokomoko”?”. The pulsing Tessaiga does when it transforms is what we call the “dokkun disposition”. The “mokomoko” refers to the fluff that Sesshōmaru trails behind him. There are people who call the fluffy scarf worn during events like the coming-of-age ceremony “Sesshōmaru’s Mokomoko” and we call it “Mokomoko” at the production site too (laughs). Conversely, there are many people who give Setsuna’s mokomoko the same volume as Sesshomaru’s like in the “Inuyasha” era, and I remember at the beginning (animation character designer) Hishinuma Yoshihito-san was always correcting them like, “Please make hers more subdued than her father’s”.

— How do you do the shot divisions?

Satō: We use a sort of old-fashioned method of shot division that’s different from the current trend. Currently, there’s a lot of finely chopped, speedy shot divisions and while cutting battle scenes short is easier, we purposely make it one continuous shot so that the battle is endless. My thought process is that I want there to be traces of “Inuyasha” in that part of the screen.

Even the Effects Have Traces of the Parent Generation

— You spoke of Setsuna’s mokomoko but does she herself know of her father’s mokomoko?

Satō: I don’t think she knows. The clothes were probably given to her by her caretaker, Jaken, like “Let’s have you wear this” (laughs). Towa and Setsuna were named by Rin in episode 15 but they were babies, so they didn’t know. Probably while Jaken was in charge of educating them, he told them “You’re Towa and you’re Setsuna.”

— We heard that Moroha’s clothes is the same as Inuyasha’s “Robe of the Fire Rat”.

Satō: Yes. Just like the “Armor of the Iron Rat” that appeared in episode 16, it is made of fabric from the fire rat. Inuyasha himself is inside the black pearl and Moroha was left in the care of the wolf demon tribe, so Inuyasha couldn’t give the clothes to Moroha. However, I think the wolf demon tribe probably got their hands on something similar somewhere.

— What is the reason for Towa’s clothes being a school uniform?

Satō: It’s probably Towa’s own uniform for living in the feudal era (translators note: basically, it’s her way of dressing for the times). Her reason for dressing as a boy is because “It’s easier to fight in” after all, and it’s something I discussed with Takahashi Rumiko-sensei and (Series Composition) Sumisawa Katsuyuki-san many times. As to why we made her core like that. First, starting from her being a child that avoids the standard femininity, we came up with all sorts of thoughts like “Why not just give her an appearance with a Kyary Pamyu Pamyu like originality”. From within (those ideas), it was Takahashi Rumiko-sensei who came up with “It’s easier to fight in”. She said, “Rather than having a complex reason, wouldn’t a simple reason like this be easier to for the people watching to understand?”. That’s how Towa’s appearance and character were solidified.

— Towa’s weapon is also a little different. What she thought was the national treasure, Kikujyūmonji, was actually a fake, and she creates a blade with her demonic power at the part where it broke.

Satō: That part is probably also Sumisawa-san’s sense. Turning the broken sword into a demon sword. Even though she once obtained the real thing through Riku, the result was that she continued to wield the fake one. I think that part makes things more entertaining.

In a sense, “Inuyasha” was also a story about a sword’s growth. Inuyasha’s Tessaiga absorbs the demonic energy of demons it cuts and turns many techniques into its own. On the other hand, Sesshōmaru created the weapon, Bakusaiga, from within himself. Whether Setsuna inherited that or not is something to look forward to going ahead.

— How did you create the techniques for the three?

Satō: There are various techniques such as Setsuna’s “Scrouge of Swallows” and “Cyclone Burst” and Moroha’s “Crimson Dragon Wave”. The creation was basically Sumisawa-san coming up with the (kanji) characters and us coming up with how to portray them. We had the photographers match the shade and disposition of the effects to the parent generation and lineage. Towa and Setsuna have the same blue and green as Sesshōmaru and Moroha has the same yellow effect as Inuyasha’s “Wind Scar”.

We Want Towa and Everyone to be Happy

— Of the episodes that have aired thus far, which one in particular left an impression on you?

Satō: Episode 15 where Riku talked about the past. It was an episode that was related to the crux of the story and I think it was a crossroad of the past. The fact that it only appears as flashbacks to the three princesses who are the lead characters is characteristic. It was to the point that I was surprised on the day of the recording like “Oh, they’re not here!”. For this episode, we had Yamaguchi Kappei-san, the role of Inuyasha, do the commentary for the PR spotlight and it had an “Inuyasha” feel to it. Rin has grown-up a little bit but for her acting, we ordered that we “Want you to be conscious of childhood Rin” when addressing “Lord Sesshōmaru”.

— Episode 15 was also the episode that revealed Rin was the mother of Towa and Setsuna. What were you conscious of when depicting Sesshōmaru and Rin?

Satō: Regarding that, it was something I wondered about the most as an Inuyasha fan when my work in “Hanyō no Yashahime” was decided. Since Rumiko-sensei did not depict this, there were probably fans that had complicated feelings with how the relationship between the two is presented… In that sense, I’d say it’s best to make it so that the two can properly live together in happiness. How do I put it, it’d be hard to look at if things stay as they are.

— Director Satō, you yourself want everyone to be happy.

Satō: Correct. The moment “Inuyasha The Final Act” ended, I thought everyone would be happy, but it ended up like this… Based on the actions of the other characters, I would like to shape Sesshōmaru and Rin-chan’s afterwards in a way that everyone can agree to. Regarding Moroha, there’s the matter of when she will meet Inuyasha and Kagome. It would make me happy if you could pay attention to that part going forward.

— This month we published an illustration of Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru (P. 42~). Director Satō, do you have any situations you would like to see in future copyright illustrations?

Satō: As a fan, I would like to see the parents and children sitting together. “Inuyasha, Kagome, and Moroha would be there and beside them would be Sesshōmaru, Rin, Towa, and Setsuna” like they had a family gathering at New Years. I think that kind of situation would be fun. However, in actuality I think that might be difficult as the dog brothers don’t get along (laughs).

— In episode 18, Sesshōmaru finally appeared before his daughters and that created major movement in the story. Please tell our excited readers some highlights going forward.

Satō: Episode 19 is a story where the demon slayers play an active, albeit not serious, role. You could say it’s a breather episode and it feels as though the tempo is completely different from episode 18. However, please enjoy it while relaxing (laughs). Following with episode 20, Shiori-san, the half-demon who appeared in “Inuyasha”, will make an appearance. It is an episode where she and Setsuna will interact. Sumisawa-san thought that in order to depict half-demons, this was something that couldn’t be left out and Inuyasha walked down this path as well. Then, the final chapter begins in episode 21. Things will move all at once. Zero, who started appearing in episode 14, will especially be a key person going into the final episode. Please pay attention to her relationship between Kirinmaru and Sesshōmaru.

Having Takechiyo Around Is A Big Help!

“Takechiyo is fun to move. As a therapeutic mascot character, just him being there is a big help and he has room for growth going forward. From the start, Takechiyo was born from “having a character that could be messed with in some way or another like Shippō” but he feels completely different. Also, with Fairouz Ai-san’s tenacious acting, he has grown into a very good character. Apparently, he’s a favorite of Sumisawa-san (laughs).” (Satō)

Sesshomaru’s on A Different Level! The Role of Sesshōmaru, Narita Ken

Episode 18 was his first appearance outside of flashbacks. The impression I got was that it’s as though Sesshōmaru thinks Kirinmaru is “Not an opponent worthy of my time”. That’s why I didn’t even insert a breath and imagined that “he could easily win this” during the scene where they crossed blades. I also checked with sound director Nagura Yasushi-san like “Would you like me to insert a breath?” but he said, “No need”. On the other hand, Kirinmaru was taking breaths so I really think Sesshōmaru is on a different level. Even my impression of Hosoya Yoshimasa-kun was… the level is not the same. Just kidding (laughs). Hosoya is quite adorable so it was fun doing (the scene) with him. What will become of the relationship between Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru is something to look forward to going ahead.

Today’s Diary

This month we visited Sunrise’s studio #1. The selection begins in the conference room lined with plastic models of Sunrise’s works. Hishinuma-san, what do you think seeing all these works we have collected? **

“We created “Hanyō no Yashahime” with the intention of simply gearing it towards the children of today, but there’s a wide age range of contributors. From elementary schoolers to those in their 50s, I can really feel that the work is loved by everyone. It seems there are many people whose deep-rooted support for us stems back to the “Inuyasha” era.”

Which character is the easiest for you to draw?

“The one who’s easy to approach is Moroha. There’s a part of her that resembles her father (Inuyasha) so at first, I was conscious of copying (him). However, over time, I gained the ability to bring out her uniqueness.”

Who is the most popular on-site? (translator’s note: aka the studio)

“I’d have to say there’s a lot of staff who say, “I want to draw Moroha!”. When the plans were stood up, Towa and Setsuna were the two protagonists but Takahashi Rumiko-sensei’s design of Moroha was so appealing that the 3 of them became the main characters you see now. That’s why I want the on-site staff to love on Towa and Setsuna more! Especially for me, I want to continue to sympathize with Towa and watch over her growth with the emotions of a foster parent. Of course, the parent that gave birth to them is Rumiko-sensei.”

The main story is finally approaching its climax. Please show us your enthusiasm.

“My main job right now is designing and copyright illustrations but the staff are working hard towards the climax that will be at the end of March. The story development is going to be hardcore, but I would be really happy if you continued to support us. Look forward to it!”

 ** Back story: This month’s Animage held an art contest for Yashahime with the judge being animation character designer, Hishinuma Yoshihito. Also, this page has a “One point lesson” on how to draw the 3 girls. However, that one is heavily image reliant so I will not be translating it (I do not post scans as much as possible).

[butterflies-dragons]

do you know if anyone wrote meta about Jon and Littlefinger being foils? like both were raised in a paramount house next to the lord's children, forced out it in their teens thanks to a betrothal, started from the bottom and climbed to the top, wanted to be loved by catelyn. I'm not smart enough to figure out how LF's relationship w Sansa will be a foil to Jonsa by myself, do you know if someone wrote anything?

I wrote about it here and there:

Jon Snow and Petyr Baelish

Jon and Petyr were raised along with Tully girls (Sansa, Catelyn and Lysa).

Jon and Petyr loved redhead girls (Ygritte, Catelyn) that are described as half-fish (Ygritte’s swimming skills and Tully sigil).

Jon and Petyr lost their virginity with redhead girls (Ygritte, Lysa).

Being a legitimate Stark and inheriting Winterfell is Jon’s deepest desire, while Petyr conspired the fall of House Stark.

Jon and Petyr have Bael the Bard imagery around them. Bael the bard abducted the Rose of Winterfell, Rhaegar abducted Lyanna Stark (Jon’s mother), and Petyr abducted Sansa Stark. Bael and Rhaegar were harp players, while Petyr spread lies in his favor through songs (A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI).

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses (Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him (Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.” —A Clash of Kings - Jon II).

Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo (“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII). Sansa defended herself with “a handful of snow” (Sansa […] grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

From: THE BLACK PRINCE WITH THE WHITE GUARDIAN - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, the Tourney at Ashford Meadow and the songs about Florian and Jonquil.

* * *

3. Petyr Baelish

Littlefinger was never at Winterfell or the godswood, but he feels a deep hatred for the castle, he always dreamed of Winterfell as Catelyn’s dark and cold prison:

He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Littlefinger is the cause of the War of the Five Kings that killed Sansa’s parents and older brother and separated her remaining siblings. The war also caused the fall of Winterfell that was, invaded, sacked and burned by the Greyjoys and Boltons.

But there is a connection between Littlefinger, Winterfell and the godswood. Littlefinger has involved Sansa in several murders, Joffrey’s and Lysa’s being the more important (Dontos and Marillion also suffered murder and mutilation). The King’s murder was planned in the Red Keep’s goodswood, and Lysa’s murder was a direct consequence of Petyr kissing Sansa in the Eyrie’s goodswood.

Now Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo:  

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

The ambitious men that pursed Winterfell through marrying Sansa, also had to take her maidenhead and conceive an heir, in order to consolidate their claim to the castle and the north. So “coming into the castle” also means having sex and making children.      

Littlefinger is too machiavellian, it seems he has used the godswoods not only to trap Sansa but also to reenact his children fantasy of being Catelyn’s love:

I saw you kissing in the snow. She’s just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. Why did you love her best? It was me, it was always meeee!“

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But Sansa, like Catelyn, never wanted and will never wants Petyr Baelish as lover.  

Meanwhile at the Wall…

Jon Snow

Unlike Theon, Jon doesn’t feel rejected by the heart of Winterfell. Jon got a direwolf sent by the old gods that shares the weirwood’s coloring:

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood��s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Unlike Theon that invaded Winterfell and allowed the Ironmen to sack, pillage, kill and rape. And later let the Boltons into the castle to burn it. Jon wants to rebuild Winterfell:

They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Jon wanted Winterfell, as much as he had ever wanted anything, but unlike Tyrion, Jon rejects the castle in favor of Sansa. And Jon would never forced himself on Sansa if she doesn’t want him as well.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

The wording of these two passages (“He wanted it” / “I want her”), the Winterfell references, and the guilt and angst for desiring something forbidden (“May the gods forgive me” / “I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is”), is way too similar to be a mere coincidence. Winterfell and Sansa are merged in the text.

Tyrion and Littlefinger sexually desire Sansa and used the same Winterfell reference as an innuendo:

"Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Both Tyrion and Littlefinger have giant imagery around them, both even talk to her about the Giant of Braavos, both wanted Sansa politically (Winterfell) and sexually (her body), and Sansa has been prophesied slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow (Winterfell reference). I think that Jon might help her to fulfil that prophecy.

Indeed, Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall and the Wall in the north:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy. […] He had always had a yen to see the Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

But Sansa is “stronger within the walls of Winterfell” and Jon at the Wall is “the shield that guards the realms of men.”

Sansa also throws a handful of snow at Littlefinger’s face during the snow castle scene:

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A handful of snow… Wouldn’t be awesome if Jon Snow continue the Stark men tradition to beat Littlefinger out?

I was always suspicious of Littlefinger helping Sansa build her snow castle, but since Petyr Baelish has giant imagery around him, it all makes sense after reading this passage:

She looked as if she thought he was making that up. “How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?” In legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. “Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there’s a tower taller than the Wall.” He could tell she did not believe him.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa will be certainly grateful if she can take advantage of any help Baelish could offer to rebuild Winterfell, but she will slay him anyway, as in the songs:

“If the tales be true, that’s not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell’s walls.” “Those are only stories,” she said, and left him there.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses:

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him:  

Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon II

As I said before, if Jon had accepted Stannis’s offer, he would have had Winterfell, but at an extremely high price: burning the weirwood tree, which, to him, would be sacrilege:

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said … but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman’s hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Sansa feels empty like a godswood without gods, like a godswood without a weirwood tree, mostly because she lost Lady, but also because she feels like a lone wolf without its pack, and a body without its heart due to the extreme disillusionment she has suffered so far.

But Jon Snow has a direwolf that is a symbol of the weirwood tree, Jon himself is a symbol of the weirwood tree. And Sansa has become a symbol of Winterfell and the godswood, but she feels empty without her wolf. Then Ghost might complete Sansa’s empty godswood, and Jon might fill Sansa’s heart again. And together they could be a pack. And together they could rebuild their home. Please play North by Sleeping at Last here.  

So…

…One would have to wonder why GRRM is always comparing and contrasting Sansa’s suitors with her bastard half brother Jon Snow? What is the reason for that? Does that mean that something romantic will happen between Sansa and Jon in the future? Is that just a mere coincidence? If the same thing (Sansa’s suitor being compared and contrasted with Jon Snow) happened three times, can we really call it a mere coincidence? One would have to wonder… Why?    

From:  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark & Winterfell. An exploration.

[yukihime242]

Here I am with another interesting thought since I’m literally bored to death in my office.

(GIF Source: VSGIF.com thru’ Google Image Search)

I have been thinking about the Abyss Order since they were popping up here and there within Sumeru region, and a thought occurred to me.

What if the Abyss Twin actually found the Traveler before the Traveler began their journey?

(GIF Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/700239442062161278/)

Let me clarify that I’m referring to long before, like, probably when the Traveler is still asleep?

Also, I am taking references strictly from in-game lore and trailers which Mihoyo/Hoyoverse has published. And to make my life easier in writing this, I will be referring to the Traveler as Lumine (since I chose Lumine), and the Abyss Twin as Aether. Pictures may show differently but it’s still the same thing.

And 🚨Spoiler Alert🚨!

There are two reasons why I had this thought.

First, I find it strange that the Abyss Herald we met in the second Dainsleif/Abyss Order story quest took a while to recognise Lumine. He was so willing to end her life and after clashing swords for a few rounds, he was like “oh wait. Your powers seem familiar. You must be my Master’s sibling.” and just retreated into the Abyss portal.

Whereas, the Abyss Mage in the We Will Be Reunited Trailer was like “operations are going well, just one tiny problem is that your sibling is the one hindering our progress. Just so you know in case we accidentally bury him six feet under 👉👈”

(Picture Source: Genshin Impact Wiki Fandom)

Why is it so weird is because this particular Abyss Herald ☝️ seems to be the second-in-command of the Abyss Order, after Aether. Isn’t it important for him to know who the Traveler is so that he could avoid critically hurting her? Yet, the Abyss Mage instantly knew who Lumine is and even said “your brother (or sister)” in the trailer.

Second, I don’t think it was pure coincidence that the Abyss Order and the Traveler happened to be in Mondstadt at the same time at the start of the story.

(Picture Credit: https://www.reddit.com/r/Genshin_Impact/comments/qed84l/the_abyss_twin_trying_to_contact_the_world_they/)

Let’s talk timeline first.

500 years ago, Aether and Lumine got separated. Aether did not fall asleep and witnessed the destruction of Khaenri’ah. Afterwards, he started his journey in Teyvat and was most likely searching for Lumine too. 

We also do not know when he joined the Abyss Order, though it was most likely towards the end of his Teyvat journey. He saw the “truth” of the world and for some reason unknown to us, he joined the Abyss Order and led them.

Fast forward to the time when Lumine started her journey, the very first time we (the players) first saw the Abyss Twin is in a cutscene such as the picture above.

500 years is a lot of time to journey through Teyvat, join the Abyss Order, and even start operations. Operations requires meticulous planning, especially if you are trying to corrupt a dragon and transform him into a war dragon. All of this, will definitely take some time.

But I also don’t think that Aether will dedicate all of his time into the operations he’s planning with the Abyss. He possibly could have taken some time to continue searching for Lumine and eventually found her. 

This also brings me back to the first reason that it was possible that Aether asked one of the Abyss Mages to watch over Lumine while they continued with operations. I mean, it would be nice to get the Abyss Herald to do it, but if you think about it logically, the Abyss Herald’s talents could be better used at other areas instead of watching one sleeping log.

But this doesn’t answer the question of why I think it’s not a pure coincidence that Aether was in Mondstadt the same time Lumine started her journey.

(Picture Source: DBLTAP thru’ Google Image Search)

Aether probably did not know that Lumine has already awaken from her slumber. I mean, you found her, ask the Abyss Mages to look after her while you go continue the Abyss Operations, there isn’t really a need for you to be there, right? If anything goes wrong, all the Abyss Mages had to do was to come and tell you.

Yeah, I know, I also have a few counteracting thoughts on this, but let’s just address what I have written here first.

It is possible that Aether went away to oversee some other Abyss operations and occasionally came to check on Lumine. Just so happened that during the period she woke up, he was probably busy with Dvalin and did not have time to go check on her.

While the process of corrupting Dvalin and transforming him into a war weapon was proceeding smoothly, things can be pretty unpredictable. Take Durin for example. If anything were to go wrong with the dragon, Aether could quickly reach Lumine and protect her from any harm. 

Hence, I believed that this was what was happening during our time in Mondstadt. 

There are also some counteracting thoughts to this, like...

If Aether found Lumine, why can’t he bring her to the Abyss?

If that were to happen, we won’t have a game to play 😂

Okay, jokes aside. There is a possible factor that whatever sealed Lumine and caused her to fell into a deep slumber was too powerful for Aether to break, making it impossible for Aether to move Lumine. Another factor is that Lumine’s life could be in danger if they moved her without properly removing the seal. 

This could be another reason why the Abyss Order is so active in the Mondstadt region. 

Take the second Dainsleif/Abyss Order story quest for example. It was mentioned that the Traveler pored through every book she could get her hands on, hoping to learn more about what happened to Khaenri’ah. This was not shown in the game, so it could also be the same for the Abyss Order.

Aside from creating havoc in the land of wind, they were possibly searching for answers to break the seal on Lumine then. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Alright! I have finally penned this thought down. Another free empty space in my small brain 😬

I know that it sounds very far-fetched and very unlikely, but it’s just my personal opinion that I’d like to share with everyone. I also know that there are some counteracting thoughts to my hypothesis above, but I don’t really have the energy to deal with them. It may be right, it may be wrong, but we are here for fun! 😊

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift - Part 2

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Little inklings of sexual themes. Otherwise we’re still in PG territory. Oh and mutual pining from two idiots. My favourite kind.

Authors Note: One shot? I don’t know her. Honestly, I don’t have any excuse. I just felt the urge to continue on with this dumb fluffy story because it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside and I needed that. Will we drive this car straight into smut town afterwards? Ah you’ll just have to see. 

Catch up with Part 1 here

*

Paul always considered himself a smart guy. Perceptive, knowledgeable, with years of grueling education behind him to be where he is today.

His schooling, work, almost every minute of his waking moments was spent in the realm of artificial illustrations of correspondence. He could happily spend hours sifting through the words and numbers that made up all types of message transmission, might even admit he had a talent for decoding their significance and origin. Exchanges born from machinery were easy to analyse – they had set rules and gave little room for differing interpretation. He was comfortable in that world. Knew how things worked, what paths data and carefully devised information would take.

Human communication was infinitely harder to navigate. It was a skill he knew he was lacking in, compared to others at least. His words never came out the way he wanted, he struggled to say exactly what was wished to convey and agonised over the fact expression and tone could morph any remark into something with a whole different meaning.

Every day, he encountered people who used this as a tool - a weapon to obscure the truth and conceal hidden agendas. It was hard not to, working for the US government. In time, he’d become cynical. Wary of what people spoke aloud, assuming it was all said without much sincerity or reliability unless proven otherwise.

And then after another arduous day, there you were. Out of nowhere. Kind. Honest. Genuine. Within such an excruciatingly short interaction, you’d exuded all these traits so effortlessly. A breath of fresh air after being smothered by the smog the rest of his life contained.

Paul would easily admit his attraction to you was surprisingly swift. The rapturing smile you wore when you’d looked up from your notepad had him snared from the moment it appeared, an aura of natural vibrance and radiant energy shimmering out from your animated expression. What he’d expected to be a dry, tedious endeavour turned into a spark-filled scene, where an excited stranger made him feel both horrendously nervous and unusually at-ease. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.

It had also been a long time since he’d asked someone out on a date, for more than a few reasons. The more prolific Paul became in his job, the more unpredictable and unstable his life outside of it was. It took him across the country at a moments’ notice and consumed most hours of his day, meaning forging even short relationships was fairly difficult.

Plus… he just wasn’t good at it. Putting himself out there. He was shy, paralyzingly so. It’s not exactly something he could refute. His confidence was always born from experience and understanding, in knowing the reasons behind why things worked the way they did, along with being able to calculate what would happen next. No textbook could ever cover the entire spectrum of human personality, and there was no way to truly predict what a person might do or say. 

So, without the security of knowledge behind him, uneasiness and apprehension took over in most of his social interactions, particularly with those he felt a magnetism to. It’s exactly how he thought he seemed during his time with you. Awkward and floundering. Not exactly the most charming attributes for a man to have. And yet, the longer he was in your presence, the more he sensed those foibles fade into the back of his mind.

Talking to you was easy. Easier than it had been with anyone during a first meeting. What hadn’t been easy was enduring the seconds your touch grazed over him in your delicate workings while taking each different measurement - his heart beating a little faster, his muscles becoming a little more tense. When you’d eventually let your stare reach his, he’d seen how your eyes moved to trace the lines of his mouth, and it set his insides on fire. He’d been frozen by the unique type of burn, his body locked in place while a rare impulse begged him to sink his lips onto yours. In the past, he struggled to kiss a woman even after several dates, unable to push past the fear and doubt to turn his desire into action. However, in that moment, he’d been all too eager. His hand had moved on its own accord, fingers slinking up your waist, about to pull you closer when interruption instantly shattered his resolve.

The urge was still there in the dialogue that followed, although the promise of seeing you tomorrow made it easier to walk away, safe in the knowledge he had another opportunity to ask you out when his confidence was properly steeled. For once, he could be smart about this. Use his natural intellect to plan and act accordingly, giving him the best odds of securing more time with you.

Oh, but that all went to shit when your text message popped up on his phone screen. Seeing those words, even if they were meant for someone else, made his excitement reach an unfathomable peak, and in turn made him recklessly send a response without taking a second to think about the consequences.

And now, Paul had never felt so stupid in his entire life.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, the phone in his palm lit up with your conversation on display, he felt his stomach spasm with anxiety. Were you going to reply? What would you say? What if his bluntness freaked you out? What if you weren’t even talking about him? Was this all something his mind conjured up?

As the minutes passed without any sign of a response, the initially minor sense of panic began to compound, weighing heavy on his chest, the chaos of his mind soon melting into one certainty - he’d totally fucked this up.

About to slump his forehead into the steering wheel in a display of despondency, Paul suddenly felt a flash of courage at remembering the view of your face peering up at him. He knew the image of it would haunt him if he didn’t do something. He had to fix this. Explain himself. But it needed to be in person. He wouldn’t let technology mess this up for him again.

With a purposeful breath, Paul exited his car and began to retrace his steps past the other shopfronts, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say to you. He hoped to surrender himself to a collectively embarrassing situation, laugh off the turn of events, having it all culminate in an offer of dinner once your shift had finished. He already had a place in mind, only a street away, a little dumpling house that was always open late. Perfect for a cosy, quiet date after a chance meeting.

When his eyes latched onto your figure through the glass window, he stopped his hand from reaching for the door handle. You were crouching down in front of a small boy, his mother behind him cradling a newborn baby, your hand gesturing towards an array of child size suits. Paul couldn’t help but watch as your warming smile beamed, guiding the boys hands to touch and feel over the material, your words evidently making him feel more at ease as his expression slowly relaxed out of its worried frown.

Creeping backwards to make sure you didn’t catch him in your periphery, Paul felt a wave of relief wash over his skin, having evidence that your lack of reply wasn’t due to any of the worst case scenarios he’d been fretting over. You were just busy, concentrated on your work, giving your time and expertise to others in the same way you’d given to him.

The realisation was enough for him slink away, still impatient for your next encounter but assured in it being set within the next day cycle. He just had to wait.

Although, waiting wasn’t exactly a talent of his either.

 *

You were dying inside.

A friendly grin was plastered on your face as you conversed sweetly with the woman in front of you, making idle chit-chat while her son changed out of the suit you’d picked together, but the smile had never felt so insincere. Usually you loved when children came in to pick out ensembles for weddings and similarly formal events, but at the moment your mind was stuck on a small battery-powered rectangle sitting at your desk with a half-written message remaining under your lock-screen.

In the time before Paul’s response came through, you’d never felt more humiliated in your whole existence. Evaporating into thin air would have been a welcomed miracle. But when the returning text slid into focus, your whole mindset shifted.

He felt the same. He wanted you too.

You’d been in the middle of typing out a hasty invitation to come back and make true on his intentions when this overwhelmed mother with a fussy baby caught your attention. Her eldest son had done his best to iron out his only formal suit for the role of ring bearer in an aunt’s wedding this coming weekend, unfortunately resulting an a house full of smoke and a clump of burnt wool.

Personal matters withered into the background at the comprehension of her drained, exhausted demeanour, all your focus pointed back towards the job you’d been distracted from. Well, mostly.

You couldn’t avoid the thoughts and questions glinting in the back of your mind. Of what might have happened if this woman never appeared. What might be happening in an alternate timeline where you’d been able to send that waiting reply. Without intention, your wonderings turned into moving pictures – leading Paul into the back workshop, being roughly picked up onto the cutting table, his lips and yours finally connected in a heated clash, shedding all of his clothing until that heinous mustard shirt was crumpled on the floor-

The high pitched beep of the receipt machine snapped you back into reality, noting the relieved smile the mother wore while her son excitedly grabbed at the bags containing his dashing new suit.

“Thank you!” he hollered without needing to be prompted, waving his hand vigorously before skittering away to the door.

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” the woman echoed, taking the receipt from your outstretched hand. “I’m really sorry for keeping you so late.”

“Oh don’t worry about it.” The time on the monitor screen just ticked over to 8:17pm, long after you would usually shut up shop and head home to your empty apartment. “I've got nowhere special to be.”

You each said your goodbyes, waiting until the precise moment her silhouette was out of sight before jumping to your phone. The same half written message was there, but now it felt impossible to finish. All traces of adrenaline had long since worn off, and the bravery that made you type out the risqué proposition was reduced to almost nothing. Your timid nature rushed back in full force, a thumb pressing hard on the little x button to erase all evidence of your out of character impulses.

Who were you kidding. You weren’t this person. Unashamed and brazen enough to dive into a fiery entanglement with a handsome stranger in the same evening you’d met. You wished you could be. There was never a time the concept was so enticing. But… it was a fantasy not meant for you to live out. They were destined for the outgoing, the cool and composed, the bold and sure-footed. You rarely felt like any of those things. And Paul, like most men, probably reserved their interest and attraction for those types of women. It was so silly of you to think any different. Getting your hopes up was foolish, and would only end in-

The tingle of the shopkeepers bell sounded, internally groaning as you slid your phone back onto the desk. “We’re closed,” you hawked, a coldness in your tone you couldn’t hide. Eyes snapping up to the intruder, a bolt of lightening shot through, barely able to stop the delight mixing into your blood.

“I just, uh, figured out something more that I needed,” Paul said softly, scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“You did?” you breathed. “W-what was it?”

His chest rose and fell with a calming exhale, making sure your stares were secured before giving his answer. “…You.”

*

Tagging some lovelies who might want to read. Feel free to let me know if you don’t want to tagged in future works!

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza​ @millenialcatlady​ 

[whatifxwereyou]

Firestorm Part 8: Fire and Ice

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

The bell has rung. Things are changing.

A/N: I really love writing from Liu's POV, it's super fun. Also, I love him. I super fucked up my eye but I'm still writing~~ Have a good weekend! -rolls into oblivion-

Start From the Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Liu Kang covered his ears at the sudden awful ringing of the bell. It sat on the desk before him, unmoving, but the ringing was clear as day and it was miserable. Was this what Y/N had heard? It was deafening.

It was also frightening.

This couldn’t be a good thing.

He and Raiden had devised a series of studies to perform on each artifact to try and divine who had cursed them. Raiden had brought the bell back to the temple that morning for him to work with.

But the ringing was a literal alarm.

He abandoned the bell and told the monks keeping watch outside in the hall that it was in there and needed guarding. He also told them to let Lord Raiden know that he’d heard the bell when they got the chance. He bowed to them and then hurried through the halls of the temple.

He couldn’t help himself.

He had to check on you.

There was a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach and seeing you would ease that. But as he made his way through the halls, he saw the wind whipping through the windows. That feeling in the pit of his stomach had been verified. He broke into a run. He knew that Kung Lao would be helping you train today so he made his way to the fight pit and what he found made him stop dead in his tracks.

A massive vortex of shadow and ink swirled on the right side of the pit and on the left side Kung Lao was fighting an ink copy of himself. Fighting was the wrong word. Kung Lao was deftly avoiding the ink clone.

“A little help please!” Kung Lao blocked blow after blow with his hat, having to dig his feet into the sand to keep from being pushed back. Then he twisted beneath another slice of the ink hat, rolled aside, and leapt backwards. Liu Kang looked to the vortex nervously and then back to Kung Lao. “She’s in there but a little help here would be nice.”

“You can’t handle yourself while I try to get her out of there?” Liu Kang leapt into the pit, channeling energy between his hands. Fire spread over his palms at his command. It was startlingly bright considering how dark the vortex was making everything. Kung Lao made that sound he made when he didn’t know what to say and then leapt out of the way of another strike. Liu Kang knocked the ink version of him back.

“Don’t!”

“Why not? It’s attacking you.”

“What if it hurts her? What if hurting this thing hurts her?” Kung Lao pulled Liu Kang out of the way of another blow. He extinguished the flames in his hand immediately. He hadn’t considered that. They were a part of you. Even if it was someone else using your arcana against your will, it was still your arcana. He was unsure of the rules that came with that. Their gifts were so unique. He twisted away from Kung Lao and ducked beneath a blow from that dark hat and then leapt to the side narrowly to avoid the bladed edge that tore through his shirt. It appeared the clone couldn’t use the hat the same way Kung Lao could but it was still sharp.

“Careful!” Kung Lao warned too late.

“Yeah, thanks.” Liu Kang dusted off his hands and frowned. “I think we might have to take the risk.” Liu Kang wasn’t sure they could avoid hurting it. Especially him. Kung Lao could block with his hat but Liu Kang didn’t have anything. If he had to strike to dodge a blow then he would. “Besides, we already know that this hurts her. We have to stop it. If this is how we have to help then so be it.” He had confidence that they could subdue this creature and free you from whatever was causing this. He wanted to ask how it had started but they didn’t have the time for explanations between dodging.

“I hate that you’re right.” Kung Lao switched his stance and swung toward the ink copy of himself. It was surreal to watch. Kung Lao fighting Kung Lao was messing up his brain. But once Kung Lao turned on the offensive it became easier to focus. He didn’t have to dodge as much. Kung Lao kept the ink copy of himself on his toes. “You handle the vortex and… wait, oh never mind.” Kung Lao leapt back, putting distance between him and his clone then dusted himself off. The ink version did the same and then lowered into his stance, weight on his back foot and fingers brushing over the brim of its inky hat. The vortex was suddenly roaring. It was as if the clone understood that Liu was going to try to break through it.

“I don’t like this, Lao.” Liu Kang joined Kung Lao, ready in his own stance.

“You don’t like this? Do you have any idea how spooky this is? She knows me way too well.” Kung Lao grimaced but part of him looked proud. With a roar, something dark emerged from the vortex and Liu’s stomach tightened into knots. It was him. Made of ink. He stood side by side with the ink clone of his brother and mimicked his stance. While it could do that it could not mimic his fire. Dark plumes of ink rose above its palms instead. “Never mind again. I think you get it now.”

The ink sprang into action and Liu Kang had to duck out of the way and roll to the side to escape the blow from his mirror image. It was spooky. Kung Lao was right. Maybe Y/N did know them too well. He threw that thought away. He liked that you knew him. But this ink clone of him was accurate right down to the dragon marking on his ribcage and the scars on his shoulder. It was a true recreation of him at least physically. It did not move quite as elegantly as the clone of Kung Lao did. Probably since your martial arts styles were so different.

He was hesitant to strike but the sound of Kung Lao cursing as he was wounded encouraged him back into action. Kicking himself to the ground, he then twisted around his brother and struck the clone of Kung Lao right in the chest. Then he twisted and when the clone came at him again, he kicked it in the chest so hard it flew a few feet back. Then he ducked back as Kung Lao appeared in front of him, twisting from the ground into his hat. Then he flipped his hat into his hands and blocked the wicked slices of his ink clone.

But Liu caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to block the clone of himself. It jabbed left and so he knocked its arm aside and spun beneath it to kick its legs from beneath it. It leapt over his feet and then flipped backwards before jumping through the air toward him. Liu turned and grasped the leg of his clone and threw it against the wall behind him. The clone crashed with a thud and fell into the sand but quickly got to its feet.

Then there was a horrible clash of metal against stone and Liu Kang watched just in time to catch Kung Lao slicing right through the torso of the ink clone of himself. It fell apart with a sickening thud. They sat and listened nervously but there wasn’t even a peep from within the vortex.

Much to their horror, the bisected clone of Kung Lao climbed back onto its bottom half and put itself back together. It seemed to struggle to maintain its reassembled form but it didn’t stop it from attacking. Without hearing anything from Y/N, Liu Kang felt more confident that harming the ink didn’t also harm you. Hands bathed in flame, he struck his clone more freely, dodging blows and making strikes. He pushed it closer and closer to the vortex. They had to stop it. This had to be doing damage. To be used so severely.

But how could they stop you? He was reminded of when Raiden had struck you with his magic. That had stopped you.

They couldn’t do that again. It had nearly killed you.

He had to get to you.

Something dark and shimmering spread over the sand of the fight pit. It crackled like ice and as Kung Lao was forced closer to the vortex, he slipped and had to spin back and duck low to correct his balance. It was ice.

Whatever that vortex was and whatever was happening inside of it, it was bad news. He had a terrible feeling and he remembered the ringing of the bell. He wished there was a way to destroy it without also killing you.

Liu cornered his ink clone and smashed his fist so hard into its chest that it tore right through it. The ink bubbled around him and began to melt and drip over his arm. He was struck on his side and pulled his arm away, rolling onto the ice. Then kicked from the side and sent further sliding on the ice. Hands bathed in flame, he cracked the ice and it melted in the area around him. The air was frigid.

He coughed, the air knocked out of him but he caught himself and waited for the ink clone to come at him. It still had a hole in its chest which was surreal. He knocked it back and ducked beneath another blow. Then with a swirl of fire he engulfed it in flames. It bubbled and oozed and fell backwards.

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the arena and Liu Kang swore that his heart stopped in his chest.

Y/N.

“We have to get to her, Lao!” He turned toward the vortex.

“You can try but it sliced the crap out of me when I tried.” Kung Lao gestured to his right arm which was scraped and bloodied. If it was that bad from a glancing blow then Liu Kang would be shredded to ribbons before he got through unless…

“I have an idea.”

“I’ll keep these two busy.” Kung Lao stepped back then twisted into the ground and reappeared above the clone of himself and crashed into it. The clone of Liu was bubbling but pulled itself back together and dodged as Kung Lao threw his hat at it. Liu ran from the fight pit, taking the steps in a great leap and then made his way into the room across the hall. He grabbed an old rug from the floor and then hurried back to the fight pit.

Wrapping the rug clumsily around himself, he ran into the vortex. He half-expected it to throw him back out into the sand but it didn’t. The wind whipped at him and he ducked further beneath the rug as he felt needles of darkness piercing his flesh. But much to his surprise, he made it through the wall of shadow that was shockingly thin.

There was another figure made from ink; armored and masked. He stood over you and you held a clumsy short blade made of ink. Ice spread from beneath the warrior’s feet and he was grabbing your arm. Ink spread over it in shards just like ice. You were struggling to get free and pain was written all over your face. The ink warrior didn’t seem to notice him so he threw the rug off, bathed his hands in flame and then mercilessly struck. The ice beneath his feet and spreading from the warrior shattered. You were free of his grasp and rolled onto your hands and knees, crawling away from the ink attacking you.

The warrior struck devastatingly quick but Liu was ready. With a burst of flames he absorbed the blow and struck back. The ink bubbled and Liu twisted and threw the warrior into the vortex where it was shredded to pieces. You were breathing shakily, crouched low. He moved next to you, hands bathed in flame to try and melt the remaining ice that covered your arm.

You were shaking all over so he urged his arm around you and pulled you against him. You stiffened up defensively as if you didn’t recognize him, jumping like a dog that had been abused. Still he pulled you into his arms and held the flame steady with the other hand to warm you. You were freezing.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he whispered to try and get you to calm down. You were in panic mode and he couldn’t blame you. You stared up at him finally, dumbfounded. It took you a solid few seconds to recognize him. Then you buried yourself against his shoulder and he held you. All at once, the ink lost its power and the vortex dropped around them with a solid thud. You held your hands together between your bodies for warmth, still trembling like a leaf.

Lightning crackled through the air and Liu caught his breath though his heart was still racing with nerves. Lord Raiden stepped into the fight pit and Kung Lao looked as surprised as Liu felt. Raiden must have gotten rid of the ink.

He checked your pulse and while it was fast, it was steady. You seemed okay.

“What is happening here?” Raiden’s voice was booming and commanding like the very thunder that he was lord over. Kung Lao, a little bruised and bloodied, made his way over to Lord Raiden but his eyes were firmly fixed on you and Liu.

“Not sure yet.” Kung Lao made his way over to you, crouching close by. He carefully took your arm and pried you away from Liu’s chest. He helped you to your feet. You looked exhausted and delirious, like you weren’t quite sure where you were. Something had drained you and Liu felt the anger boil inside of him. They had to do something. This couldn’t keep happening. It was going to end up killing you at this rate. “You’re drenched.” Kung Lao grimaced. Liu hadn’t even notice. You were soaked. Probably from the ice but you weren’t stained with ink. Peculiar.

“Y/N, what-“

“Bi-Han.” You interrupted Raiden. Your voice, while a relief to hear, was spooky and broken, like you’d done a lot of yelling. Raiden was caught by a very rare moment of surprise, as if of all the things he’d expected you to say, that name had not been one of them. Then he stepped closer and so Liu stepped in front of you defensively.

“I need to see what she saw.”

“It’s okay.” You began and pushed Kung Lao off of you and moved around Liu Kang. You were so dedicated to allowing Raiden to see the truth it was both sweet and sad to watch. You were so willing to let yourself go through hell to help them. “Someone else was using my arcana. I had no control over it. I’m so sorry. I’m so… so sorry.” Tears streamed down your face and Liu felt his rage melt away. He wanted to hold you.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Kung Lao offered a goofy smile but even Liu could tell how forced it was.

“It’s not your fault.” He spoke quietly.

“Stop.” You turned to face them. Your hair was wild and you were pale. “It’s not fine. And it is my fault. This is my arcana. My curse. Someone is going to end up seriously hurt if this keeps happening!” Liu Kang wanted to argue with you but he didn’t see the point. He couldn’t think of what to say. You were right. Though he didn’t agree that it was your fault. You had no control over it. But someone was bound to get hurt, you were right. “It’s different when it’s you and Liu.” You fixed your eyes on the blood on Kung Lao’s arm. “But what happens when I’m in the infirmary and this happens? Or helping someone with a blade? Or just… getting breakfast?” You fixed your exhausted gaze on Raiden. “I can’t be near them anymore.”

“Yes. Of course. You’re right.” Raiden mulled over the idea. “We will move you further into the temple and away from others. To keep you and them safe.”

“You can’t just isolate her. That isn’t fair. And what about her medical needs? This is taking a toll on her.” Liu Kang had a thousand other concerns but judging by the relief he saw washing over you, this was what you would have suggested.

“We will ask for volunteers from the infirmary to help you. Or you will take care of her, Liu Kang.” Raiden volunteering him took him by surprise. He would do it, obviously, but he was still surprised by Raiden’s willingness to alienate you.

“This isn’t fair. This isn’t a solution. You can’t think it is. This is creating a problem to take care of a problem.” Liu didn’t like this idea. Not one bit.

“I’ll go with her. Move into a closer room. That way she isn’t completely alone.” Kung Lao volunteered. That still didn’t fix the issue! They had to do better than this.

“It’s fine.” You avoided everyone’s eyes. “I’ll be fine.” You clearly didn’t like the idea of being left alone but you also seemed to think that falling on that particular sword was the only way to keep everyone safe. Liu kept his mouth shut for the time being. This was not the time to be arguing over it. And you wouldn’t like what he had to say to Raiden on the matter.

“Come. I must see what it is that happened here. What you saw. Decipher this in hopes of unraveling more of your riddle. I must know why you knew that name.” Raiden gestured behind him and then started out of the fight pit without so much as another word. Kung Lao slipped an arm beneath yours to help you walk but you pushed it away and stumbled forward on your own. Liu Kang wouldn’t belittle you by trying to help you when you felt capable but he would follow you and watch you with his worried gaze the entire way.

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

[jackarychaoti]

DWC2021-15 - Memory/Chase

TW: Blood | Body Horror | Disturbing Images

-[ MUSIC ] -

Insanity.

In Azeroth, it was known as The Madness, The Darkening, the Dragon’s Sickness... The Nightmare. In many worlds, in millions of languages, it had endless names but it always meant the same thing. A corruption, often brought on by nightmarish feelings or situations, that ate the being alive, twisting it into something else entirely. Dragons fell particularly hard to such a toxic curse, especially.

This was no exception.

“DO NOT LET HIM GET INTO THE FOREST, WE’LL FUCKING LOSE HIM FOREVER!!”

Lokitan screamed as a mere handful of the Heran army raced upon war-bred Granondo, a clove-hooved type horse with coiled horns, best used to ram incoming enemies. Terrifyingly fast creatures that feared nothing in the heat of battle and yet they could not quite keep up with the terror streaking through the rotting fields of a dying wasteland and seemed even less inclined to get anywhere near it.

The target they hunted was a slithering creature running on all fours, bones twisted and inhuman with long tendrils of muddied hair, making the thing look even more sickly in the way that it hung over the face. Now and then, piercing silver eyes would dart back to see just how much closer its pursuers had come in the wild hunt, noting the way the warriors had begun to flank it. If only it could reach the edge of the forest, the beast would have a far better tactical advantage and a speed increase, let alone an easier time to attack those that hunted it.

“Loki!” A voice called out and soon a female rider pushed her steed up to the Dread Prince himself, eyes narrowed, glancing over in his direction. Fire blazed all around her, the snowy locks of her hair wild and free as a hellish set of crimson eyes flitted to the dark-haired rogue. “What do we do if it gets to the forest before we can reach him?!”

“You pray to your mother that we take him down before that.”

Chaos.

It was absolute chaos and he had just told her to pray to the deity that created it.

Inch after inch, Lokitan pressed forward, signaling the General’s finest men to continue flanking the beast, heels dug in harder into his skeletal Granondo to push onward and finally close in the distance of the skittering cretin running on all fours. Once close enough, the agile Prince pushed himself to crouch atop the saddle; he lunged, flickering through the very shadows to reappear right on top of the nightmarish beast. He dared not draw a weapon.

Not against this one.

The clashing form was greeted by the muddied, anemic animal twisting itself to bite hard at its would-be attacker, using the momentum to kick Lokitan right off and send him flying. That mere few seconds to protect itself was costing its safety to get into the forest. A loud shrieking cry pierced through the veil of carnage, knowing the chase was quickly coming to an end. Claws grabbed at the deep red mud below, years of war and corpses all around, the thick blood of countless soldiers meshed together with protected soils and painful, bitter rain. The slick surface had the creature try another attempt to break free, slipping the first few steps.

It was so close… The forest was but a hundred yards away.

Lokitan rolled through the slimy fighting ground, catching himself to snag at the beast’s ankle, yanking it back to throw it in the other direction. He was doing all he could to buy the warriors more time to position themselves and close in on the fighting pair.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Jack.”

Melted silver raised from under the long strands of hair while the beast hunched itself further, a deep snarl and razored fangs revealed themselves in a warning. The aggressive display had Loki push himself to stand and raise his clawed hands, exposing that he was as unarmed as he could possibly be. He stared down at the nightmare-fueled version of his cousin, his best friend who he knew was in so much pain that he had allowed the darkness to consume his heart.

“Look at me, Jackary… I don’t want to hurt you, hn..?”

There was a brief pause and for a moment, the world stood still. Even the droplets of sweat and foul mud froze in place for a fraction of a second while the thing Lokitan referred to as ‘Jackary’ mulled over its choices. Heavy breaths of air pushed out, bellowed in smoke pouring from its twisted jaw that was filled with acidic drool that flopped to the ground in large globs - a clear sign of the beast’s stress.

“Let’s get you home… Let’s get cleaned up…” A leather-clad hand dared to reach for the unholy creation but within a blink of an eye, time sped back up. Teeth snapped at the grasp, claws raised to full-on attack the one being that kept the beast from the forest it was trying to get to.

“FUCKING--!” Loki found himself head to head with the writhing mass of acid-spitting, half-transformed wyrm, a Beast of Insanity that wore a Prince’s crown and who was upsetting the balance of life and death. Without one, there couldn’t truly be another. Every snap of the jowls and swipe of talons was blocked or barely dodged, up until Lokitan lost his footing.

Slipping, he found himself under those wild jaws, hands clasped the wide-open maw above him that threatened to clamp down on his face and bite his skull clean in half. Muscles ached, his posture shook from trying to push what was once his peaceful, loving cousin off him. It wasn’t until another bubbling mixture of acid was seen dripping from under the beast’s tongue that the rogue knew he was in deep trouble… He was going to have to hurt the beast or die.

One hand released the mouth and in a split-second decision, the palm shoved up hard to strike at the creature’s jawline, his intensely sharp claws sliced the beast’s right jaw, stunning and pushing it away, jarred in surprise. It left Lokitan with just the smallest leeway to raise his hand up in the air, giving a hidden signal.

The Insanity-addled creature hissed loudly but before it could turn to lunge the last few steps to disappear into the forest and become a haunting ghost, a slough of chains and ropes fell atop it, blanketing the wild creature. The engineered nets implanted themselves into the dirt below, radiating pulsations of electrical charges to stun the captured beast into a horrifying submission. The haunting screams of agony, half-human, half-dragon rang out in a near ear-shattering volume.

Only when it stopped struggling to even stand did the shocking currents of energy cease their barbaric, but effective, handling.

“Are you hurt?” The woman from earlier charged forward, sliding down from her fiery warsteed to help Lokitan up from the wet earth.

“No,” Lokitan spat out, snagging the hand to be hoisted up, wincing when it indeed hurt to put any sort of weight on one of his legs. Glancing down at it, he was sure there was likely a fracture somewhere... But now wasn’t the time to dawdle.

“Well, you’re not dead, dear brother, so…” Musing, she helped at least support the Dark Prince, glancing down at the wheezing, now bleeding beast. “This isn’t curable, you know. When someone falls to the Insanity, they don’t come back.”

“Untrue,” Loki quipped, hobbling over with his sister’s help until he was able to ease down and sit next to the captured animal. A gloved hand reached forward, pushing the black hair from its face to indeed reveal a half transformed Jackary, the silver spiral of his eyes a dead giveaway at the corruption. “There was a Priest once who fought it and contained it. Rumour has it he wanders around with a single spiral eye, hn? Fucked up shit.”

The woman sighed, almost huffing while a hand motioned down to what remained of Jack. “Look at him, Lokitan. Half transformed, his brain isn’t fucking in there anymore. Put the thing out of its misery and let the avatar of Life be passed down elsewhere. It’ll rebirth by tomorrow, save your own ass.”

“No.” Lokitan took a moment to grip the skull before him, pinning the dragon further as a small crimson glow overtook his eyes. “He was never meant to hurt anyone, it was her that drove him to this.”

“Yeah, well, she’s pretty fucking dead, now isn’t she?”

A hand waved the antsy woman off, freeing Lokitan to simply focus on the inner workings of the beast before him. It was a rare trick the Rogue had up his sleeve and normally it was used to delve into someone’s memories, to unlock what terrifies them the most to use it against them… But what if, he thought, what if he could use it in reverse?

Time ticked by, allowing the dark, shadowy tendrils of his own essence to seep into Jackary’s form, filtering through and plucking every little bit of the corruption to neatly gather it within. A simple box was made at first, deep inside the dragon’s brain. Soon it was locked away and chained relentlessly to his psyche. A personality that he could never escape from, one that in time, would briefly show a fraction of itself and be referred to as…

Naga.

“M’sorry…” Loki whispered while he worked, remolding and melding Jackary’s very essence and memories to pull him from an otherwise impossible return. It was an attempt to do this or be forced to kill him and Lokitan wasn’t sure he inwardly had the power to do that. “You were designed to never forget.. But if you always remember, there is no saving you from the corruption that has been planted within you.”

Lokitan frowned, rubbing his thumb slowly, sweetly along Jackary’s forehead, the beast had long since stopped trying to fight back. It was lethargic.

“I am taking this from you, Jackary. This thing that turned you into something you aren’t.” Lokitan cooed, almost fondly at his twisted cousin as each memory leading up to a certain event was plucked and stolen away and yet what Lokitan hadn’t realized was that in making such a small hole in Jack’s memory, it served as an endless void. A slow-drip leak that would cause him to forever forget things after a while. A blessing and a curse in the future, but at that moment, when Lokitan gazed down and saw the beginnings of Peridot return to those eyes, he knew it was the best decision he could have made.

---

Darnath quietly clamped the journal closed with a small squeeze to the spine, the entry had been written in a far different font and form which made him think that perhaps Lokitan had written it instead. But... Where the memory that had been stolen was placed was beyond the Dragonsworn.

Stormy grey pools glanced at the snoozing blond curled against his side. Jack, in an elven form, had been cozying up for a small nap while his Knight read, blissfully unaware of what haunting stories Darnath had been refamiliarizing himself with once more. The Champion glanced to the spine of the journal, noting the number upon it, and raised his vision upward. The book he was really looking for must have been the one right before this… Maybe that one held the answer he was looking for.

| - @daily-writing-challenge - |

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twelve: And We All Fall Down

I know I say it every time, but thanks for all the support for this fic so far. It means a lot :)

As usual, you can find this fanfic in full on AO3 here. 

And if you’re reading this for the first time, hello! This is a Chishiya x OC/female reader fic, and I hope you enjoy!

--------------------------------------

That evening, I didn’t leave my room. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Niragi’s face, the glint in his eyes as he turned on me. The image flashed in my brain over and over until I felt sick. He would try to kill me out of revenge. That was a fact. And that night, I drifted in and out of sleep, trying to stay awake just in case he burst through the door to finish what he started.

But he never did.

And then there was the marks he’d left. When I looked in the bathroom mirror, I flinched back, seeing another girl’s face. The skin of my neck was purple and red, like splotched lily pads of bites, marks and bruises. My cheek was blue and cut from the way he’d backhanded me, and my ankle wasn’t much better.

If I left my room, people would stare. They would know. Some of them had seen me being dragged into Niragi’s room.

As the alcohol wore off, it became easier to realise how stupid I had been to get drunk enough that I could barely form proper sentences. The way he’d been pretending to listen… how he’d kept refilling my glass… even how he’d licked my cheek right before he had pulled me away from the bar. The scared faces in the hallways, they knew what was going to happen.

They pitied me.

And now, if I left my room, they would know.

The morning after the incident, I stayed holed up in my little cave, drinking water from the bathroom tap in a poor attempt at curing the intense hangover that was turning my mind into slush.

I didn’t have any knives or items I could use as a weapon, but I did manage to find a screwdriver that somebody had left in a drawer. It wasn’t exactly much protection against a rifle, but it was all I had.

But this wouldn’t last. I would have to face them eventually; my visa was due to expire. For now though, I passed the time by translating what I could of The Metamorphosis. The kanji seemed simple enough, but some of the clunky phrasing threw me off.

‘“気がかりな夢. That must mean anxious dreams.’ I followed the kanji closely with my fingertip. ‘But where’s the bit about the cockroach?’  

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

I held my breath, clutching my screwdriver until my knuckles turned white.

There was another knock.

Oh god, this is it. I’m going to die.

And then the person called out. ‘It’s Kuina!’

The relief I felt was a cool breeze, washing over me. ‘Come in.’

The door opened and Kuina entered. She took a seat on the end of the bed, but she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she was looking at me in the same way my mother used to at times.

There must’ve been a full minute where neither of us spoke, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject.

Then at last, she said quietly. ‘Apparently Niragi’s been throwing a fit. Someone scratched his face… and I’ve heard some rumours.’

I tried to swallow against the lump in my throat. ‘What did you hear?’

‘People say they saw you drunk, that Niragi took you into his room.’ She paused, tentative. ‘Did he—’

‘No,’ I interrupted. I could feel my upper lip beginning to tremble. ‘I got away before he could. He was going to though. He said it was because of Chishiya. He wanted to… you know, get back at Chishiya. Not that he would care, anyway. We had an argument.’

It was that part that upset me more than I thought it would. The fact that no matter how many times he had helped me or saved my life, he wouldn’t give a damn about what Niragi did to me. If Niragi wanted to get back at him, he’d chosen the wrong method entirely.

‘Ah…’ Kuina tilted her head back. I could feel the questions just threatening to spill from her lips. She wanted to know, but she also didn’t want to ask.

I didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. ‘Can you see anything that mentions a cockroach in here?’ I pointed at the line of text I had been studying.

She seemed visibly confused by the sudden switch in subject, but she still walked across the room to peer at the book. ‘I can’t see anything that mentions a cockroach.’

I raised a brow. ‘That’s hard to believe. The cockroach is the main character.’

Kuina squinted, then nodded. ‘It says “匹の��大な毒虫” instead’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

‘Giant poisonous insect.’

Snapping the book shoot, I tossed it onto the table. ‘I want words with whoever translated this,’ I said, laughing harder than necessary.

Kuina smiled awkwardly, unsure. I didn’t know what was so funny. There was nothing especially funny about the words. In fact, they were utterly devastating. I was devastated. Then I realised I wasn’t actually laughing at all. Kuina’s arm made its way around my shoulders, as her fingers brushed through my hair comfortingly. She didn’t speak, but just having her there was enough.

‘I’m sorry.’ I wiped at my face with my sleeve. ‘I just, I don’t know what to do. Or even how to react.’

She shrugged. ‘How you’re reacting is fine as it is. There’s no one way of going about it.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, sniffing. I probably looked a sight for sore eyes, and my hangover was still raging. ‘I’m scared of running into him, Niragi, I mean. And Chishiya too, I don’t want to see him.’

How I’d behaved back then was shameful, the way I’d snapped and screamed at him, even though he was stating things I already knew deep down were true. He had been right, but I hadn’t wanted to hear it. Yet despite that, I was still hurt. Right off the bat, he’d dismissed everything I felt, smiling as my anger only grew stronger. He had been in control of the entire conversation, and I’d walked right into his web.

Kuina played with her quit-smoking aide sheepishly. ‘Well, actually, I admit, I didn’t just come down here to see if the rumours were true. I also kind of need to speak to you about something… we both do.’

This was the last thing I wanted. Facing Chishiya again was bad enough after our argument, but now that I was covered in Niragi’s pawprints, it was much, much worse. ‘Kuina, I really don’t want to see him.’

She held up her hands, and bargained, ‘you don’t have to speak to him, or say anything at all. I’ll even talk to him for you. Just hear us out.’

The thought of seeing his smug face again sent dread through me. He’d probably take one look at these bruises and call me pathetic. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I really did, even if I didn’t know why. But since it was Kuina who was asking, it was hard to refuse.

‘Fine.’ I nodded stiffly. ‘But I’m not speaking to him.’

--------------------------------------

The rooftop burned under the glare of the sun, the heat radiating through the soles of my shoes. I had to squint, as the brightness clashed with my awful hangover. Standing at the edge, looking down on the patio, Chishiya had his back to us. However, there was something off about his appearance that I couldn’t place at first. Everything about him seemed as normal, except it didn’t. He was wearing the white-grey hoodie that I had painstakingly washed and dried.

Is he trying to taunt me? I wondered.

But the thought flew out of my head as he turned around. When his gaze fell on me, his expression changed. It was one that I had never seen before, as his eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly. It was completely unreadable, and it lasted no more than a few seconds, before he looked away.

He doesn’t look too smug… unless the hoodie’s an apology? I dismissed the idea immediately. I can’t see him doing that.  

He kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke. ‘Before you storm off again, there’s something you probably want in on.’

I glanced at Kuina, and she nodded reassuringly.

‘We’re leaving the Beach,’ Chishiya said.

My stomach fell. Was I was hearing this right? He couldn’t leave, neither of them could. It would only end in disaster. And Kuina… she was my only friend here. What would I do without her?

‘Things are getting tense between Hatter and the militant faction.’ He continued. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Hatter dies and this place turns to chaos. That’s why we plan on stealing the cards and leaving before that happens.’

What?

My head spun and Kuina’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, steadying me. ‘It’s a lot to take in,’ she said, ‘but we’re telling you this for a reason. We want your help… and we also want you to come with us.’

‘We’?

I swallowed, my eyes darting to Chishiya. He was finally looking at me. But it was strange. His expression was unusually guarded, suddenly more serious than I had ever seen it before. I couldn’t see any of his usual slyness, nothing to suggest he was telling something other than the truth.

‘We’d be killed immediately,’ I whispered to Kuina. ‘If something goes wrong, they’ll shoot us on the spot.’

She smiled bitterly. ‘With Hatter gone, we’ll be killed anyway.’

‘Niragi approached you before the Two of Spades game, didn’t he?’ Chishiya said. ‘I’m sure it was about me. As was this.’ His catlike gaze brushed over my skin.

He wasn’t wrong. Niragi had his eye on Chishiya, and given the slightest opportunity, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him captured, tortured and eventually shot. And after yesterday, I had a target on my back too.

I have nothing to lose.

‘Okay,’ I said, at last. ‘I’ll go with you. But first you need to let me know what the plan is.’ Stubborn as ever, I directed my words at Kuina. I still wasn’t prepared to deal with Chishiya just yet.

He seemed to notice this as he stepped away from the roof edge and walked to the door. He kept his head down as he passed, avoiding all contact with me. ‘You’ll have to talk her through the details. I’ve got something I need to do.’  

And with that, he left us alone on the rooftop.

---------------------------------------------

Kuina and I must’ve spent at least an hour up there, sitting and watching the other residents flirt, drink and splash around in the pool below. She walked me through the basis of their plan. It wasn’t complex or particularly detailed. Once Hatter had been murdered, the militants would likely force the other executives to put Aguni in charge, at which point there would be a speech with all the Beach members to announce Hatter’s death. The speech would keep the militant faction distracted, and we’d use the opportunity to break into Hatter’s room and steal the cards from the safe. Chishiya had assured Kuina that he knew what the code was. How he knew was still a mystery.

It would be dangerous, but I wasn’t worried for myself. I was worried for Kuina, and dare I say it, Chishiya too. Even though he made me so mad and so hurt, I didn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him. It was hard to admit, but I actually cared. Perhaps more than I wanted to.

What a shame he doesn’t return the favour, I thought glumly, as I made my way back to my room after parting with Kuina.

The Hunting Season game had only given me a two-day visa, meaning mine was due to expire tonight, and knowing how nervous I was, Kuina had promised me she’d meet me down in the lobby.

Let’s hope I’m not put in a group with Niragi.

When I opened the door to my room, it took me a moment to realise that something was off. The air felt different, like someone had been in here.

And then I saw it. On a chair by the window was a stack of books, and as I approached them, a heaviness inside my heart lifted. The first book was an intermediate Japanese language textbook, seconded by an English-Japanese dictionary. The third was the battered, well-read copy of Wuthering Heights. But that wasn’t all. Tucked beside them on the chair was the Walkman-turned-taser that I had last seen in the Tag game. It had a small post-it note stuck to the top.

“For Niragi, next time.”

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I clutched the taser. With the edge of my sleeve, I wiped away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was crying, whether it was the shock of Niragi’s attack finally catching up to me, or the knowledge that Chishiya actually did care, even if just a little bit. It was a small gesture, his coming into my room and leaving these items, but it meant the world.

Part of me wanted to go and find him, ask him about it, and even thank him. But I didn’t get a chance, as the announcement for the games sounded throughout the hotel.

[tiesandtea]

Simon Gilbert

Simon Says

We interviewed Simon Gilbert, Suede’s drummer, whose book So Young: Suede 1991-1993 is a journal and photographic document of the band’s early years that will be published October 8th. So Young has foreword by journalist Stuart Maconie and a vibrant, lively text by Simon himself, documenting his move from Stratford-on-Avon, his hometown, to London, the audition with Suede, life in the van, the early success years and the many amusing things that come with it. It is one of those rare books that make an outsider feel like they were there, in the van. Or in absurd mansions in L.A. belonging to industry types. Or was it record producer(s)?…

The conversation extended to Coming Up, Suede’s third album that turned 25 this year and drumming. Simon’s witty, often, one-liners contrast with my more elaborate questions, proving an interesting insight into our way of writing/replying.

by Raquel Pinheiro

So Young: Suede 1991-1993

What made you want to realease So Young?

I was searching through my archives when researching for the insatiable ones movies and found lots of old negatives and my diaries. They had to be seen.

When and why did you start your Suede archives?

As you can see from the book, it stared from the very first audition day.

From the concept idea to publishing how long did it took you to put So Young together?

30 years … I’ve always wanted to make a book since I was first in a band.

What was your selection process for which items – diary entries, photos, etc.- would be part of the book?

I wanted to form a story visually with a few bits of info thrown in here and there, also most of the photos tie in with pages from the diaries.

Which methods, storage, preservation, maintenance, if at all, do you employ to keep the various materials in your archives in good shape?

Boxes in an attic … one thing about getting the book out is that I don’t have to worry about the photos getting lost forever. It’s out there in a book!

Other than medium what differences existed between selecting material for The Insatiable Ones documentary and for So Young?

Video and photos … photos don’t translate well on a TV screen.

Do you prefer still or motion pictures and why?

I prefer photos … they capture a particular moment in time … as video does, but there’s a unique atmosphere with a photo.

So Young’s cover photo has a very Caravaggio and ballet feeling to it. Its chiaroscuro also contrasts with the images inside.  Why did you choose it for the cover?

It was a striking shot and I wanted the book to be black and dark …it fitted perfectly.

How many of the photos on So Young were taken by you?

Probably about 3/4 my 3 school friends who were there with me at the beginning Iain, Kathy and Phillip took a load of us onstage, backstage, after  the gig, etc., photos I couldn’t take myself.

So Young can be placed alongside books like Henry Rollins’ Get in The Van and Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, that not only chronicle and show the less glamorous, more mundane side of being in a band, but also totally immerse the reader so deep in it that we are there, feeling and going through the same things. Was your selection of materials meant to convey that “band being your(our) life” sensation?

Yes, exactly that. I was fascinated by photos of bands, not on the front cover of a magazine or on TV. The other bits of being in a band are far more interesting.

In the foreword, Stuart Maconie mentions the brevity of your diary entries which, as someone who keeps diaries, I immediately noticed. Do you prefer to tell and record a story and events with images?

I haven’t kept a diary since the end of 1993 … looking back on them they can be a bit cringeful … So, yes, I prefer images.

Contrasting with the diary entries brevity your text  that accompanies So Young is lively, witty, detailed and a good description of the struggles of a coming of age, heading towards success, band. Do you think the text and images reveal too much into what it really is like being in a band, destroying the myth a bit?

I think the myth of being in a band is long gone … Reality is the new myth…

In So Young you write that when you first heard Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols music was to be your “future dream”. How has the dream been so far?

Still dreaming … lose your dreams and you will lose your mind … like Jagger said.

Is there a reason why So Young only runs from 1991 to 1993?

Yes, I bought a video camera in 1993. It was so much easier filming everything rather than take a photo, wait 3 weeks to get it developed and find out it was blurred.

So Young has a limited deluxe numbered and signed edition already sold out. The non deluxe edition also seems to be heading the same way. How important is it for you to keep a close relationship with the fans?

So important. I love interacting with the fans and is so easy these days … I had to write replies by hand and post them out in 1993…

Playing Live Again & Coming Up

Before Suede’s concert at Qstock Festival in Oulu, Finland on 31.07.2021 you wrote on your social media “cant fucking wait dosnt come close!!!!!” and Mat [Osman, Suede’s bassist] on his “An honest-to-goodness rehearsal for an honest-to-goodness show. Finally”. How did it feel like going back to play live?

It was great. Heathrow was empty which was amazing. A bit strange to play for the first time after 2 years …., but great to get out again.

Coming Up was released 25 years ago. How does the record sound and seems to you now compared with by then?

I haven’t listened to it for a long time actually … love playing that album live … some great drumming.

Before the release of Coming Up fans and the press were wondering if Suede would be able to pull it off. What was your reaction when you first heard the new songs and realize the album was going in quite a different direction than Dog Man Star?

Far too long ago to remember.

Coming Up become a classic album. It even has its own Classical Albums documentary. Could you see the album becoming a classic by then?

I think so yes .. there was always something to me very special about that album.

Is it different to play Coming Up songs after Suede’s return? Is there a special approach to concerts in which a single album is played?

No … didn’t even need to listen to the songs before we first rehearsed … They’re lodged in my brain.

Which is your Coming Up era favourite song as a listener and which one do you prefer as a drummer?

The Chemistry Between Us.

Will the Coming Up shows consist only of the album or will B-sides be played as well?

Definitely some B-sides and some other stuff too.

Simon & Drumming

If you weren’t a drummer how would your version of “being the bloke singing at the front” be like?

Damned awful … I auditioned as a singer once, before I started drumming … It was awful!

In his book Stephen Morris says that all it takes to be a drummer is a flat surface and know how to count. Do you agree?

No.

Then, what makes a good drummer?

Being in the right band.

Topper Headon of the Clash is one of your role models. Who are the others?

He is, yes … fantastic drummer.

Charlie Watts is the other great …and Rat Scabies … superb.

She opens with drums so does Introducing the band. Your drumming gives the band a distinctive sound. How integral to Suede’s sound are the drums?

Well, what can I say … VERY!

Do you prefer songs that are driven by the drums or songs in which the drums are more in the background?

Bit of both actually … I love in your face stuff like She, Filmstar …, but ikewise, playing softer stuff is very satisfying too.

You’re not a songwriter. How much freedom and input do you have regarding drum parts?

If the songs needs it, I’ll change it.

Do you prefer blankets, towels or a pillow inside the bass drum?

Pillows.

Do you use gaffer tape when recording? If so, just on the snare drum or also on the toms? What about live?

Lots of the stuff … gaffer tape has been my friend both live and in the studio for 30 years.

What is the depth of your standard snare drum and why?

Just got a lovely 7-inch Bog wood snare from Repercussion Drums … sounds amazing. It is a 5000 year old Bog wood snare.

Standard, mallets, rods or brushes?

Standard. I hate mallets and rods are always breaking after one song. Brushes are the worst …no control.

How many drum kits have you owned? Of those, which is your favourite?

5 … my fave is my DW purple.

How long to you manage without playing? Do you play air drums?

7 years 2003 – 2010 … and never.

Can you still assemble and tune your drum kit?

Assemble, yes …tune no …have never been any good at that.

You dislike digital/electronic drum kits, but used one during the pandemic. Did you become more found of them?

Still hate them … unfortunately,  they are a necessary evil.

When you first joined Suede you replaced a drum machine. Would it be fair to say you didn’t mind taking its job?

Fuck him!

Brett [Anderson, Suede’s singer] as described the new album as “nasty, brutish and short”. How does that translates drums wise?

Very nasty brutish and short.

When researching for the interview I come across the statement below on a forum: “If you’re in a band and you’re thinking about how to go about this, get every player to come up with their own track list & have a listening party. I’ve done this, not only is it great fun, it’s also massively insightful when it comes to finding out what actually is going on inside the drummer’s head!”. What actually is going on inside the drummer’s head?

Where’s my fucking lighter!

And what is going on inside the drummer as a documentarist head? How does Simon, the drummer, differs from Simon, the keen observer of his own band, bandmates, fans, himself, etc.?

There is no difference … I’m Simon here there and everywhere…

What would the 16 years old Simon who come to London think of current Simon? What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t smoke so much you fool!