#and if it was because of the animated short I’m going to evaporate because it s w e a r I saw Leshycat stuff before then

[quietbrushstrokes]

Okokokokokokokok, I’m going to be so serious for a second.

HOW DID LESHYCAT (THE SHIP) START???

I. Need. To. Know.

I have been mulling this over in my head for days I sincerely LOVE Leshycat, but I cannot fathom how it came about. Did a random streamer one day pair up leshy and some yellow cat? Did a famous fan artist start drawing leshy and a yellow cat together? Is this a thing that happens a lot ingame, leshy and the yellow cat? Was it just a unanimous decision amongst the fandom? I’d say that it was because of that Animated short about leshy cooking, but I swear I was seeing Leshycat stuff before that too, so Where did it come from??

Anyway, I’m going to go draw some leshy cat stuff now. Might post it in 10-100 business days, might post it in an hour. Tootles!

[artiststarme]

Wayne's Unspoken Shovel Talk

I keep seeing shovel talk fics on my dash so I figured I would throw my hat in the ring! It’s short and I don’t love it but here we go.

~*~*~*~

Wayne liked to think that he and the Harrington kid had an unspoken understanding. If Steve hurt Eddie in any way, shape, or form, Wayne was going to kill him. Sure, he hadn’t said it in so many words, in any words in fact. However, he knew it was heavily implied through his cautious glares and thinly veiled interrogations. He may not have given him a shovel talk but that was only because Eddie had threatened to stop buying coffee for the trailer if he did.

He and Steve might watch the game together every Sunday. Hell, Wayne even dropped lunch off to the kid on the days Eddie worked at the garage and Steve left his food in the fridge. But, it was well-known to everyone that he would always be in Eddie’s corner before anyone else’s. He might approve of the Harrington boy dating his nephew but he’d gut him like a fish if he made Eddie shed a single tear.

So, when Eddie comes home crying one day, Wayne doesn’t even think before he’s pulling on his work boots and grabbing his shotgun.

He hardly makes eye contact with Eddie as he brushes past him on his way to his truck. He only stopped when a hand grabbed his elbow and turned him around to look a heavily upset Eddie in the eye.

“Wha- Wayne. Where are you going?” Eddie asked him in utter confusion.

“I’m ‘bout to go show your boy what happens when he makes ya cry.”

“What? I’m not crying because of Steve.”

That made Wayne pause. He hadn’t even thought to consider another possibility. Eddie had said that he was going to see Steve today and he assumed that the Harrington boy had hurt his nephew.

“What is it then?”

Tears started to form in Eddie’s eyes again which filled him with alarm. How bad was it if he was starting to cry again?

“I saw a dead dog on my way to Family Video. Someone hit it and just left it there on the side of the road! I stopped and tried to help it but it was already dead. An innocent animal! Maybe someone’s pet and they just left it there!” Eddie cried theatrically.

Wayne was well acquainted with his nephew’s dramatics. His alarmed concern evaporated as he pulled Eddie in for a hug. His nephew always was a bit sensitive. Wayne had learnt a long time ago that the best route to take in this situation would be a listening ear and a warm hug, maybe a pat on the head or two if the circumstance arose.

“It’s alright kid, you leave it there? We could take it to the woods and dig it a grave. Would that make you feel better?”

Eddie nodded before his gaze narrowed. “Wait a second. Why’d you have your shotgun if you were going to talk to Steve?”

“I thought he hurt ya,” Wayne shrugged.

“So you were going to shoot him! No Wayne! You can’t just shoot people that upset me, you’d kill the whole goddamn town. Next time, talk to me first. And no guns!” Eddie ranted, waving his hands around passionately.

“Hey, your boy knows what he’s getting himself into! If he hurts ya, he’ll be looking down the barrel of my shotgun. End of.” He wouldn’t be the first Munson to go to prison but he would be the last.

“Jesus Christ, Uncle Wayne. Please don’t.”

“Well, if he don’t hurt ya, things’ll be fine. He better keep his ass in line. Now go get a shovel, we gotta grave to bury.”

Eddie looked impressively distressed at his words before Wayne rolled his eyes and clarified, “for the dog. Go.”

And so the Harrington kid lives for another day.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @trippypancakes @straight4joekeery

[critterpede]

OK this is the promised rc9gn x oc au infodump. I’m gonna split this up into multiple parts, so part 1 will focus on the oc lore.

Basic info abt the story

It’s titled “White Dragon Of the West” or “WDOW” for short

I created wdow about a year ago, it was in no way created to go alongside rc9gn, any similarities are purely coincidental

Wdow is still a wip, I’m constantly changing and adding things, ive got most of the important events down like the start and the ending

Now onto the lore

Every 100 years or so, pools of a liquid magic known as “Essence” start appearing in 5 mostly random locations around the world. If a non sapient creature comes into contact with essence they people sapient, but if a human comes into contact with it, based on genetics, they either become magic (powers but no physical changes), myth (physical changes but no powers) or mystic (powers and physical changes). The safe amount to absorb is just a single drop, but if someone absorbs too much they can lose control and become an absorbed. These absorbed can cause incredible destruction, and the only way to remove essence from an individual is through a dragon.

Whenever pools start appearing so do the dragons. There are 5 dragons in total corresponding to the 5 areas where pools appear, theres the black dragon of the north, white dragon of the west, red dragon of the south, blue dragon of the east and lastly the golden dragon of the center which acts as a sort of leader to the other. No person is born naturally with the dragon gene, instead a new person is chosen every century by the previous dragon. When a dragon dies it travels to the dream realm where all the dead dragons reside, the living dragon can also enter this realm, but only through their dreams.

How a dragon removes essence from an individual is by absorbing it themselves using their white fire breath. Most of the essence just evaporates, but a small portion is absorbed into the dragon and over time the dragon will grow, but never go berserk. The dragon (usually someone chosen between the ages of 12-20) at first is about double their human form height, but they will continue to grow to the point they tower over buildings.

There is also the “Essentia Laudamus” cult (or Essamus). They believe the reason essence exists is because humans have done to much wrong and that the universe wants to switch roles so the animals are dominant species and humans are lesser beasts. Their members go through slow essence exposure so they can control their powers (similarly to the dragon), and speaking of it, Essamus is in a constant fight against the dragons, attempting to rid of them for good.

This is pretty much all the info I could rattle out of my brain, there is probably stuff I’ve missed, but if I did I’ll include it in my next post which will be about characters + smaller tidbits of info.

Feel free to ask any questions :D

[onerabong]

Chapter 38

I’m gonna keep this super short cuz i have no TIME im so mad but i have to get it out

I totally forgot about the vision Boros saw too, it’s so chilling getting reminded like this wtf

That Iryo/Boros conversation was gold, it’s just so good i don’t even know what to say. Boros still very uncomfortable as fuck around Iryo, wanting him to get out of his room(he’s so cute oh god), but Iryo just staying there. Listening. Staring Boros down with that red, red eye of his. And i loved how for Iryo, that vision he kept seeing basically led him to his doom. Like, i didn’t think of it that way, Boros hasn’t either, but for Iryo, what he said was true. Exodia was the catalyst of his failure. And it was the vision that led him to it.

‘,,But it helped you, too,” Boros points out, all discomfort of talking to Iryo gone – and replaced by the unnerving unknown of what appears to be their mutual stalker.

,,It did. It led me to you.”

A pause.

,,And what happened then?”

Iryo’s voice is cold. Freezing, even.’

I got chills reading this. It seems like such a clever twist of pov for the reader like myself, who only thought of Boros’ perspective. I just love this so much. And then right after Iryo mentions Zael himself.

Look, whenever Iryo even says ‘him’ I die. So this scene was just a continuity of emotional blows for me. It was perfect. I wanna scream. I really can’t put into words how good this conversation was. Just read the fic and you will understand.

-

Elazar is the cutest character in DM. No I will not take any arguments.

He’s cute, he’s tiny, he’s adorable, and I haven’t even gotten to his personality yet. Why is he so passionate about everything. And so normal. He’s just a regular guy that can get hurt pretty easily and that is so endearing. Why must you be such a babygirl professor. And you put that next to Einaros. Einaros. Probably the horniest motherfucker in the fic(barring Caleb), a total badass, tall, intimidating, and just exudes dominance- i don’t know what you expect me to do Lara they were made to be shipped.

‘,,Take a final look at the pretty pictures if you want – we’ll fly back to Atlas, and you’ll work on your theories or whatever while I’ll try to find out where the pirates are.”

As Einaros expects, Elazar takes his suggestion literally. He turns to the murals, looking at them one by one, spending the most time staring at the picture of the strange creature.’

I might die.

And the fight. THE FIGHT.

Are you KIDDING me why was that so good.

‘He flies out on the other side covered in bits of blood and flesh, and releases a burst of heat that evaporates all of it away in the span of mere seconds.’

This is the coolest fucking thing ever. I was bouncing on my seat reading this whole scene it was so COOL. I was blown away with how much this scene slapped.

‘Einaros changes the flow of his stellar force again – directing it as if he were conducting an orchestra-‘

I have to sit here for a few moments just to appreciate how every line in this scene is a line to marvel at.

And I dunno if I’ve mentioned this before, but the action sequences involving the Xar in this fic is phenomenal. There’s no other way to put it than to say it’s perfect. Because in the anime, everything’s all flashy and quick and you can only appreciate the magnitude of what’s going on when you really think about it. But with this fic, you truly understand the destructive force of every hit these monsters deliver. Like the way the sand crystalizes into glass with the heat. The body parts evaporating. The wind whistling. And to top it off, a recount of what happened from a regular person’s perspective. And he didn’t even see it. I’ve seen a few action sequences in fics, and none of them come even close to what DM delivers. It’s perfection.

-

I already had this chapter on my top three favorite chapters in DM, even before the fight, but then the ending comes out of nowhere to make sure i’m really dead.

There’s so much to say about the ending but really, and I keep saying this, but the best thing is to just read it. Just read that scene and you’ll see, how difficult it is to articulate what it made me feel.

If I say all the stuff I wanna say this is going to take forever so again, I’ll keep it super short and just make a list of things that killed me.

Einaros and Zael’s interaction.

-‘Crazy little dude but really entertaining. You’d hate him.’ (That ‘you’d hate him’. It shows Einaros knows Zael so well and I can’t get over this)

-‘Surprisingly, Zael feels himself gradually relaxing.’ (I must scream)

-‘it’s been a quality of his brother’s that’s been familiar to Zael since their earliest childhood days.’ (I must scream)

-‘Contemplating thoughts that he  kept locked behind some very expertly reinforced doors of his mindscape.’(this fucking man)

I just realized that I want to copy paste literally ALL of the lines from after this and that would not be a good idea.

Zael asking who Einaros met. I’m really not kidding when I say I was shocked, and so very emotional when I read this. It really was like getting hit in the head.

And everything that comes after. I am also realizing that no, I’m still not calm about this to write a coherent review about it. Not sure if I ever will be. I can only say that it was the most emotionally painful thing to read only second to that flashback for the brothers.

I really, really love Zael. He’s one of my all time favorite characters in all the fandoms I’ve been in. I don’t draw him much so it might not show most of the time but it’s true. So seeing him like this, this character that’s supposed to be strong and scary and antagonistic, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. In the best fucking way of course.

So along with this new development for Zael this chapter ends, having thoroughly beaten me though this rollercoaster of a ride.

I will remember this chapter for months and months.

[sing-me-under]

I feel like I need to describe how c!Ranboo, c!Bad, and c!Dream look like in my head. I’m not all that big on painting textures, and also I have like zero idea how to correctly depict the texture I’m visualizing. I don’t even think this texture exists irl anyway but I’m going to try and describe it.

Demons and Dreamons are two sides of the same coin. They’re presumably different lineages of a shared ancestor that has gone down in legends as The Void, so they share a fair few traits. Most notably, they don’t have skin in the way that most animals and players have skin. They’re more magic than organic matter, so they don’t even really have internal organs never mind the external organ that is skin. There’s something about the color of demons and dreamons (and enderman to a lssser extent) that cannot be considered tangible.

c!Bad is a void given form. Looking at him straight on, it’s like wherever his body is simply cropped out that portion of the physical world. It’s like the world is constantly warping itself around him like a black hole moving through space but never taking anything with it. The only part of him that is truly visible are his bright plasma white eyes and teeth. You could look into his mouth, but if you look too close, it’s like staring into a cavern drenched with so much blood you can no longer see the walls. Stabbing him is much the same. When he needs to respawn, his body simply evaporates like dry ice instead of bursting into colors.

c!Dream is the exact opposite in appearance. Rather than demonic pitch black, dreamons are stark white.

c!Ranboo isn’t like either of them. They definitely have a form to him and a tangible, perceivable skin that can be pinched and scarred. It’s also coated in a thin velvet of fur, similar to that of a short haired cat. It’s not like animal or even reptile skin though. Their skin under the split b/w fur is less uniform, looking something more like patterned granite. The darker pigmentation is metallic but also glassy, like a cross between black chromium and obsidian — that’s something they inherited from their endermen lineage. Meanwhile, it’s interspersed by almost glowing white speckles that shine underneath their fur like chunky glitter. Funnily enough, this iridescent quality is undercut by their constantly dusty exterior because they can’t just be cleaned and polished with water.

…. And then there’s c!Dream after he sold his skin. There’s something more off-putting, more sinister about his void skin… it’s almost like rather than his outermost layer being naturally void like Bad, it’s like his very existence was peeled away, leaving only the void. The eerie abyss is almost… visceral.

[jaanusbooktalk]

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia - Review

8.8/10 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TWs: Graphic violence, death, misogyny, ritualistic self-harm, abuse (from grandparent & cousin), colorism, animal death

TWs are ranked in order of severity (please take them seriously!)

I’m a little bit annoyed writing this review (no fault of the book) just because I had already gotten halfway through and tumblr deleted the entire thing 😭 so I’m now starting all over. That’s why it took so long for me to update again, because the moment I saw it was gone all my motivation left my body like water evaporates in a desert 💀 but I’m back, because I feel like this book is too good to not talk about - imagine the Jazz Age meets indigenous Mexican mythology meets right person wrong time!!

I’ll start off by saying this is the first book I’ve consciously annotated, since I found so many amazing lines and parts that made my heart flutter 🦋 I’m also going to talk about representation in this review (like I do in all of them) but this is coming from an outside perspective: this is not my culture or language, I am just sharing what I’ve noticed. I’ll be sharing some of my personal favorite quotes from this book as we go (warnings for spoilers will be posted beforehand!)

I barely remember what I wrote before so here goes nothing haha

The Summary:

“The Jazz Age is a time of daring dances and fast music, but not for Casiopea Tun. She is stuck in her dusty small town, performing menial chores, until the day when she opens a curious wooden box - and accidentally frees an imprisoned deity. In the company of the strangely alluring god and armed only with her wits, Casiopea begins an adventure replete with malicious ghosts, shape-changing sorcerers, and powerful magic. Her cross-country odyssey will take her from the jungles of Yucatán to the bright lights of Mexico Cjty - and deep into the darkness of the Mayan underworld.”

TL;DR A young woman and a Mayan death god embark on a life-changing journey in this one-of-a-kind fairy tale inspired by Mexican folklore.

I found this book at Politics and Prose bookstore (amazing chain) and fell in love - it had already been on my TBR, but just look at that cover! Seeing my kind of nose represented on a cover made me really happy! (Representation matters🥰🥰)

I was interested in checking out some Mexican mythology and I love when magic and the supernatural can combine with historical settings - it always makes the story super interesting. The story mainly occurs in Mexico but also crosses the border into the US eventually! I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a sequel🍀

Silvia Moreno-Garcia is also the author of:

The Beautiful Ones

Certain Dark Things

Signal to Noise

Untamed Shore

Mexican Gothic

^live footage of me trying to find the draft of this post

There is so so much I loved about this book but I’ll try to keep it short. First off, on representation, Casiopea (main character) is a dark skinned Latina, with indigenous ancestry from her father. She grew up learning about constellations from him, and more about her culture - like the stories about the Hero Twins and the gods of the Mayan underworld.

The gods are also dark skinned, and extremely handsome (this alone made me so happy, because darker skinned POC rarely get described as handsome in a divine way) and there is a lot of positive representation in that area. Casiopea struggles with the colorism she faces from the rest of her family and as a result doesn’t consider herself very beautiful (even though she is). Throughout the book Casiopea begins to learn who she is away from her family & starts to love herself more 💗

What I liked:

Instead of the usual paragraphs I’ll show you some quotes I loved - because for me what made this book great was the prose and there’s no way to talk about that except to show you 😊 also this section ALSO deleted right after I finished it and I have no energy left.

//Spoilers ahead//

//Spoilers over//

One of my favorite parts of the book was the relationship between Hun-Kamé(the Mayan death god) and Casiopea. It’s sort of like someone who has experienced a lot of the world and become jaded and numb is connected to someone who is experiencing the world for the first time. She helps him see it through new eyes and softens him, and he helps her find her footing in the fast paced world so different from her home.

I feel like Casiopea was really independent, which is why some people call it a “feminist” novel, but I think above all it’s a coming of age novel. There is an ongoing contrast between Casiopea’s youth and the ageless god’s view of the world. Her decisions are influenced by her youth and mortality, two things that Hun-Kamé struggles to understand.

Why I couldn’t give it a 10:

I can’t put my finger on anything specific, but I had a hard time getting drawn into the magic of the world. I also wished I could have seen more on Casiopea’s development as a character, since women in mythology tend to serve merely sacrificial or symbolic roles, and the story stresses that her being a woman plays a large role in her centrality to the story. Also, she didn’t seem to have a motivation other than “freedom”, so I’m hoping to see how her character develops with that freedom in a sequel. Nevertheless, I really want to read the sequel!(Hoping there is one)

I sincerely recommend to fans of:

• Kamisama Kiss (anime)

• Inuyasha (anime)

• Goblin/ Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (kdrama)

The book was inspired by the story of Popol Vuh, a Mayan story about the creation and the Hero Twins who journey to Xibalba, the underworld. I really enjoyed learning more about Mexican and Mayan culture and language, and this has inspired me to check out another book by the author, Mexican Gothic!

💗💗 this definitely won’t be the last book by Silvia Moreno-Garcia that I pick up!

[ducktracy]

Watching Porky the Rain-Maker and Sweet Si*ux back to back is so interesting because I really get to see what Avery had that Hardaway and Dalton didn’t. Obviously the latter short’s racism is the main issue, but even if you replaced the cast with, say, talking goats, it wouldn’t be very good. I always knew Avery was a comedic genius, but seeing one of his classics remade by lesser directors really made that more obvious to me. Maybe I’m being a little harsh on H+D but they’re no Avery.

VERY MUCH SO YEAH!! i felt the same way and that’s definitely why i wanted to put such a heavy emphasis on the comparison aspect in that review. as you said, it isn’t even limited to just the racism (but that sure helps!); there are many parts of the remake that i wish just straight up stole and didn’t alter because they would have been better off as a result (like the watermelon boiling gag. i guess the melon deflating in the remake is to show that the water evaporated but…)

the “don’t lean on the platform son ya bother me” gag and ending both being misinterpreted i think especially go to show the general lack of understanding—the remake’s equivalent of the platform gag feels flat out cruel and mean-spirited when the original is more witty and quick (and as i said in the review, Porky’s nonplussed reaction ensures the audience doesn’t feel uncomfortable; the joke is the priority, not the feelings) and the remake’s ending being everything Avery was making fun of in the original is very funny LOL

YOU ARE CORRECT ON BOTH. to be blunt, Hardaway and Dalton suck and Avery does not. i’m convinced Ben Hardaway is more responsible for these problems—it’s probably not nearly as black and white as i just made it out to be, but Cal Dalton directed a handful of shorts with Cal Howard and overall they were MUCH better. it sucks that 2 out of the 3 are riddled with deplorable stereotypes, but they made Katnip Kollege which i think is one of the best shorts of the ‘30s; likewise, A-Lad-In Bagdad does have a funny scene where a talent judge shoots two vaudevillians to death ON SCREEN and is very well executed, and Porky’s Phoney Express has some interesting filmmaking maneuvers that stood out to me (like a full on iris out and iris back in transition in the middle of the short, usually they just used a transparent iris wipe so to see the full on opaque, black iris out and back in i think is a really fun little anomaly.) Cal Dalton was 100% a much better animator than director, but when he wasn’t with Hardaway his shorts didn’t have the same problems as they do when they were together

Porky the Rain-Maker is definitely on the cruder side because it was a cruder time period for the studio, but it is so successful in its simplicity (and the gags actually being funny helps too.) Tex was very meticulous about his filmmaking and it’s part of why he burnt out so quickly—and why we’re sort of wading through the travelogue era in the current point of these reviews, because they were quick quota pleasers—but his simplicity and CONFIDENCE is so commendable. in some of his shorts (usually at MGM) he will go as far as to make a character repeat the premise of the plot/conflict MULTIPLE TIMES so the audience understands what is going to happen without a doubt. Deputy Droopy does this and it’s one of his greatest cartoons, again honing in that winning combo of simple plot + funny gags + funny execution. simplicity usually equates confidence; Ben Hardaway was NOT a confident director and it absolutely shows in his very meandering filmmaking style

[justsoohi]

Black Carol/Episode 1

Tomoya: ·········· (He's frozen in place by the neck)

Rinne: Oioi. No matter what, You shouldn't run away the moment you see my face?

Tomoya: (Why, why, why!? This is absolutely ridiculous. No matter how I think about it, I’m so out of place?! this has to be another of anzu-san's mistakes, right? someone tell me I’m right!!)

(Anzu-san, could it be that you made a mistake this time too? I mean, isn't it so? Please tell me that's so~!?)

Yuzuru: Ah yes, Mashiro-sama. Aside from the others, you and I had a lunch box duel together, didn't we

Ibara: Ahaha. He probably sensed the shitty malignancy that lurks beneath your smiling mask, Yuzuru

Yuzuru: Rather, if anything its because you always show that smile while hiding your knife. No matter how much you tries to blend in with the world, you can't hide the stench of something fishy from me. So Mashiro-sama must be frightened that you keep coming at me

Rinne: anyhow, Isn't it because of both of you? If the seniors are so tense, he must be frightened. Right?

Tomoya: EEK?!

Rinne: Why?! I'm not doing anything to you!?

Yuzuru: You can't grab someone by the neck and tell them you did nothing. I think it's normal for him to be frightened

Subaru: Excuse me☆ Yahoo yahoo. Nice to meet you today~

—hm? What are you all doing?

Tomoya: Ah. Akehoshi-senpai! Heaven's help~!

Subaru: Eh? What? What's going on? Why did you hid behind my back?

Subaru: Ah~. Now then, everyone was bullying Tomoya-kun, right? Don't bully our cute kohai, he doesn’t deserve to be bullied~okay?

Rinne: I didn't do anything like that! I mean, why is he so scared of me when I didn't do anything

Tomoya: Ah. I'm s-sorry. I was under a lot of pressure, and it was a conditioned reflex...

No. I came here thinking it's a petting zoo with cute fluffy animals, But I didn't expect to find myself in a cage with wild animals?

Ibara: What's with the rude analogy....

Tomoya: Ehehe. I just exceeded my brain's capacity. I'm fine now. I'm starting to understand what's going on.

Let's see. I guess this means that everyone here is a member of "Shuffle Unit", right?

Yuzuru: It appears so.

Well, I can understand Mashiro-sama's confusion. It is true that I am not sure why this group was chosen... It is doubtful whether synergies can be obtained

Subaru: Eh, really? On the contrary, Isn't it more interesting not to know what kind of chemical reactions will occur?

Rinne: You never know, there might be an overreaction and a huge explosion.

Subaru: In that case, I want to make a big and beautiful explosion like fireworks~☆

Rinne: What a big shot you are. Well, I don't mind that kind of thing

Ibara: Hm? Let's ask Anzu-san to explain the rest. It looks like she've arrived

Subaru: Ah, Anzu! Yahoo yahoo☆ Yes. It's okay. We were just chatting.

Ibara: So, could you please begin by giving us a brief overview of the project Producer-dono?

Rinne: What the hell is this...?

Tomoya: ? Excuse me. No matter what angle you look at it, it looks like the only thing written on the whiteboard is "we're going to do something amazing!"

Is it some kind of trick I'm not seeing through? Is it just me who dont get it? Is this a code?

Rinne: Don't worry. It looks the same to me.

Yuzuru: Is that something that can be reassured about... I can only sense a big trouble coming...

Ibara: ....This is giving me a headache. Anyway, Anzu-san. Can you tell us more about it?

Yuzuru: Let's see..... So you are saying that one of the "producers" of the "P Agency" had evaporated, and he was in charge of this "shuffle project"?

Rinne: so? There was no one to take over the job because they were too short-staffed. Anzu-chan came to explain the situation, but she said she couldn't afford to take care of us.

Subaru: Hm~. That's why Anzu wants us idols to lead this "shuffle project."

Tomoya: Led by idols... But this project is a big one, isn't it? Even with the backing of ES, how can we do such a thing on our own?

Ah, right! Saegusa-senpai is also a producer for CosPro, right? Then Saegusa-senpai you must have a good idea...

Ibara: If I can do it myself, I'd like to do it, but... it would be difficult if it was led by "P Agency"

Tomoya: Eh? Why is that?

Ibara: Since this project is a cross-office, in order to maintain fairness, a "producer" who belongs to another office can not get involved.

In ES, which has many offices, "P agency" also plays such a role.

Well. Although it is possible for me to evade their eyes and do my own production business in secret!

Yuzuru: Ibara. Anzu-san is troubled now

Ibara: yeah yeah, in other words, I need to devote myself to being an idol this time.

Subaru: Yes! And it would help Anzu too! You've been apologizing for a long time now. It's not like it Anzu's fault you know.

Anzu, rest assured we will all work together and do our best.

Yuzuru: Yes, if this is called a job, I'll just do my best.

Tomoya: (Eh!? Wait a minute...! Why is everyone so positive~!? It's impossible for us to proceed with the project alone!)

Prev || Next

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

An Exorcist Dance - Yukio Okumura

Author Note: So this is a break from the Arima, Nobuchika, William and Claude. am I right? I remember first watching Blue Exorcist with my Twin and my god did I fall for that show. It was probably one of my first Anime's. I just read the Manga and Yukio will always be my favourite. Followed by Mephisto and Shiro Fujimoto.

“You’re coming too Yuki?” Shiemi extolled as they made their way through the cram school corridors. Truth be told the younger Okumura had no idea what she was questioning him about and if he hadn’t had a bad feeling in his stomach, he would have said yes there and then. He exhaled as he paused the thoughts that had been distracting him.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” Yukio confessed, he let his hand fall on the back of his neck as he smiled at his student. Anyone else would’ve been fine with it but he saw the disheartened expression that crossed over her features, and if he saw it so had his brother. He felt the impact before he registered it. The harsh thump had ricocheted pain through his arm.

“The exorcist dance, you know sort of like a prom or a ball. Like in one of those nerdy manga books you read” Rin jabbed. Yukio had no intention of attending a dance; he had never attended one voluntarily before, usually he would be working or studying.

“I’m sorry, I’m working on the day of the dance,” He apologised; he felt Shiemi sadden before she turned her attention to Rin.

“You’re coming though Rin; we could go together?” Shiemi raved. She hadn’t noticed the meaning of her words, or the way Rin’s body stiffened, and his blood pooled in his cheeks. Without speaking he nodded. Yukio stifled the laugh that threatened to cause ruckus through the air.

“No fair, I was going to ask you that” Yukio caught the mumbled whine that left Rin as they entered the classroom. He watched as his brother slunk his way into his seat, his pride damaged. The youngest Okumura glanced over the rest of the class; the girls sat off to one side whilst the boys nursed their wounds. It was clear Shima had once again asked Izuku to a dance, and perhaps Bon had asked [Y/N]. No Yukio refused to let that image enter his mind, but he didn’t stop the sense of joy that pricked at his mouth when he took in Bon’s rejected features.

“Well class, today I’ll be giving you back your recent Pharmaceuticals quiz- “Yukio began, his words fell short at the sudden crash. His head shooting towards the source. He watched as Mephisto’s form entered the classroom. This had become more than a common occurrence. For a second, he contemplated that the demon was keeping a particularly close eye on his lessons.

“I’m sure you’re all excited for the coming dance and I just wanted to stop by and inform you that everyone should be in attendance, no excuses.” Mephisto practically sung as he addressed the students. “Even you [Y/n], I’m glad to see your injuries from the recent exorcism have healed nicely.”

Recent injuries. Yukio’s head shot towards her. Worry swarmed the teen as he registered the bandage just peeking out the cuffs of her sleeve. He’d sat in a room with her for hours on end each day and not once had he noticed her wince in pain, nor had he heard about her going out on any exorcisms. She wasn’t cleared for any-

“Mr Okumura,” Mephisto’s voice snapped him clear of his thoughts. “Miss Moriyama informed me you’re working the day of the ball. Everyone is to attend, given how hard you’ve all worked recently, I think you deserve the break as well. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Uh, yes.” Yukio agreed. He’d let Mephisto win this time.

“I’ll be off then. I declare the cram school cancelled for today, we’ve got a dance to prepare for” Mephisto grinned.

“Don’t forget to grab your tests on your way out” Yukio barked as they all but ran from their seats. He observed them as they went, his eyes moving to the next as they picked through the pile of papers. Until the last left was hers, he watched as she cautiously stood, a brief wince falling across her face. She wasn’t in pain, she just…well he could see her eyes looking everywhere but him. “You got hurt on an exorcism” he croaked.

“If I’d told you Mephisto asked me to go on an exorcism you would’ve asked to join, plus I had Shura supervising me. It’s just the exorcism was in my hometown.” She smiled. She made her way to the front, her hand reaching for the paper. “Anyway Mr Okumura, I don’t think it matters what I do in my free time, considering how our last conversation went.”

This time Yukio winced. He felt the sharp blade of guilt turn in his gut. He called her impulsive and reckless when she stood against Amaimon. If Rin hadn’t caught the Demon’s attention your injuries could have been catastrophic. He felt his harsh shouts echo through the room as though the walls had remembered them.

“I-“He paused, his mouth closing as he looked down.

“If it helps, the anger from that argument helped me kick serious backside on the field. Especially when I was trapped between a rock and a demon. I won’t bore you with the details, I’m sure you’ll find the reports somewhere. Thanks for the test Mr Okumura, I guess I’ll see you at the dance tomorrow.”

Yukio hadn’t slept that night; he hadn’t even been conscious through his training that day as he kept pinging back to her words. He should’ve just told her why he’d been so angry after that incident. Not only had his brother lost control and been taken away in cuffs but his students had been injured. He’d been helpless in that moment caught between the threat and protecting them. He held seniority in that situation with Shura indisposed. Yet he let her antagonise Amaimon, whilst he patched the others up. She’d been hurt because he couldn’t get to his guns quick enough, she’d been both hurt and saved by his brother in the space of a minute.

Yukio stood with his back against a wall as the dance began. He hadn’t registered people trying to gain his attention as he swam in his own thoughts. He hadn’t noticed Rin and Shiemi laughing as they approached him in an attempt to get him to loosen up. To remember that right now he was still a teenager and that even the other Exorcists were letting themselves enjoy the night.

“It takes some level of antisocial to be stood in the dark at a dance.” Her voice had been the only one to ripple against his thoughts. His eyes blinked a few times before he straightened up. He smiled feebly at her. How long had she been stood there? How long had it been since he’d arrived, by the looks of the exhausted crowd it had been a while? The dancefloor had been all but abandoned with only a few remaining people dancing with one another. “Here I got you a drink but then from the looks of the teachers I think Mephisto may have spiked it. I’d give it a pass.”

“That clown” Yukio grumbled. “I’ve been thinking and about the other day. After the whole Amaimon fight. It was wrong of me-“ She stopped him. A hand on his shoulder squeezing firmly.

“Mr Okumura- Yukio its fine. I was angry too; they carted your brother off and Mephisto wouldn’t say anything. I asked him to give you a break and before you get angry, it was my choice. I went on the exorcism in your place. These injuries are my fault. But I’m fine. So fine that I wanted to ask you something. Yukio Okumura, can I have this dance?” She interrupted him. He felt the anger bubble for a while as he let the information sink in. He sighed, his head dropping for a second before he nodded.

“I mean considering all of our classmates have passed out, sure. But really it should be me asking you. At least that’s what I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.” Yukio uttered. He held his hand out to her, his eyes peering at her over his glasses as he smiled. She placed her own hand in his as they stood to the side, there was no need to walk into the spotlight at least he hadn’t felt the need to do that. Instead, he pulled her close to him as the music lulled into a slow melody.

Her head fell against his shoulder as he held her tight, their bodies swaying together. He pulled himself closer to her, his head resting atop hers as his thoughts that had clouded his mind for days evaporated. Right this instance, all he could focus on was her.

“I’m sorry” He whispered; his lips ghosted over the top of her head as he listened to the music. “I wanted to do nothing more than run after you after our conversation, I wanted to apologise and tell you that I was mad because I’d failed as both a teacher and a friend. You were hurt on my watch and I let you put yourself in the line of danger. I was mad because you mean more to me than anything.”

“I waited” Her words fell in line with the rhythm as she lifted her head to look him in the eye. “I waited for a while outside the door. If it helps, I wanted to go back in the room, and both hit you and kiss you. If you failed as a teacher, then I failed as a student.” She smiled. He mirrored her smile. Both becoming aware of just how little space there was between their faces, and just as they felt the breath of the other heavy on their lips; a shriek tore them apart.

“Mr Okumura, seriously. You rejected me for him” Bon’s voice boomed from across the hall. The commotion had caught the attention of most of the other students, bar Shima who had fallen unceremoniously asleep across a few chairs.

[deus-ex-mona]

genuinely wondering - why do you think the narumi scenes in ep 6 were ooc? (the sena scene in particular was pretty short, I didn't think there was much to say about it)

oh man, do i have ✨opinions✨ about this👀

gonna slip in a cut here because of spoilers for the hiyoko anime and some fairly unpopular (and weirdly articulated) hot takes lol—

aightt so—

my main issue with the narumi scenes in ep 6 is that it’s blatant viewer fanservice (especially for prior fans of the cec series who already know who sena and mona are). in my opinion, the scenes pretty much contributed ✨absolutely nothing✨ to the plot, aside from damaging hiyoko’s self-esteem (with regards to her “i can’t be cute :(” complex) in 4k hd.

the sena scene by itself was fairly okay, though pointless plot-wise, as she was literally just made to be there in order to be her usual cute self in front of hiyoko. would taking the scene out have changed anything in the plot? probably not, as sena could’ve just made a cute cameo in the magazines that hiyoko read later on in the episode (like yumeru did). and that’s really my only issue with the sena scene, especially since hiyoko didn’t join the dots between the sisters when mona introduced herself by her full name. hiyoko doesn’t even think “damn, i just saw a girl who looks like her, with the same last name as her, a short while back👀”, which is pretty dense, but okay—

now, mona.

maybe i’ve just been too spoiled by other non-anime mona content (e.g. the watashi, idol sengen manga + honeypre event stories + mona’s pvs) that mona’s personality in that scene seemed really off to me. her interaction with hiyoko during that crepe date seemed really awkward to me?

to be fair, hiyoko was also rather weird in that scene. she looked at mona, all but went “damn, you cute, no wonder why guys hit on you”, and talked about her cuteness complex in true tmi fashion. their entire interaction just screamed “i am totally a human and i can totally socialise with this fellow human” to me, at least.

like, i can sorta understand mona responding to hiyoko’s self-deprecating rant with a “yeah, i understand how you feel. big mood, can relate. let’s be heroines together!”, but the scene just felt rather weird after that, especially with the mutually exchanged “i like you”s. i can’t really describe this weird feeling i got from it. it’s as though the creators were trying to make a (somewhat pointless) scene cute just for the sake of being cute. sure, the scene was objectively cute, but it pretty much left me going #notmymona—

though all of that would have been well and good if it any of it was actually relevant to the plot, like if maybe some flashbacks to the scene played out/if spontaneous references to it happened (like if hiyoko went “hey my new friend also said that i can be a heroine! i’m glad i have your support too!” when aiyuu were giving her that heroine peptalk, or if hiyoko just-so-happened to recall mona’s words of “i think you can become a heroine” when nagisa told her that she was always his heroine and goes “damn, that girl was right”), but the scenes are never ever mentioned again? there’s still time for that to change in the next 3 episodes though, but i still have my doubts, especially since…

…nagisa himself is never mentioned again after episode 7??? like suddenly all of that “👀👀damn where your bf at👀👀” teasing rapport that aiyuu and hiyoko had built up over those 2 nagisa episodes completely evaporated? like yoooooo hiyoko anime what are you doing? he’s never even mentioned in casual conversation across episodes 8 and 9 (episode 10 pls change this trend i’m begging), even though aiyuu just spent the entirety of episode 7 teasing hiyoko relentlessly about nagisa? like damn, do they only make fun of hiyoko about nagisa when he’s in tokyo? even though they always make fun of her for other things all the time? how flaky.

what was i supposed to be talking about again… oh right, the narumi sisters in the hiyoko anime.

in any case, to me, the plot of the anime seems to be different separate chunks of scenes haphazardly spliced together. like, there seems to be some kind of disjointment between the scenes, even within the same episode, as though there’s barely any flow to it?

episode 6 is pretty much my best example of that. [it opens with the repaint photoshoot + that “yaaa no, i have no interest in you dawgs” thing in the shower, which is never brought up again.] [then the nagisa call, which, coolio, it makes for a decent linking scene.] [then there are random timeskips/scene jumps to juri, and then hina, which… okay.] [then the sena scene, which is never mentioned again.] [and then the mona scene, which is also never mentioned again.] [and then more nagisa references happen as heroine ikusei keikaku takes place as the last section of scenes for the episode.] like… i think that the fact that all of the scenes can even be separated like this is a little… weird?

i dunno man, i feel like i’ll detract even further from the point of the original ask into a whole bunch of “??? moments” about the hiyoko anime if i carry on…

this turned out to be a very incoherent rant i’m so sorry!!!!!!

[thedeviljudges]

the devil judge + the seven deadly sins

so, i made a gifset about who i thought falls under the seven deadly sins. and also shameless plug - please go reblog the gifset i made for this. took me ages to do.

but i figured i might as well make a meta post to correlate. so this is that post. it’s not everything i could discuss. i could be here for hours more, truth be told. but i hope it’s enough to chew on.

while i feel like a lot of these are going to be a no-brainer, i still want to talk it through because idk. i can, and i want to, and i feel like it, lmao.

gluttony

the elite are privileged and have an opportunity to indulge so much more than the general public, but in many different ways. this is shown throughout the show in the fact that they can indulge on luxury food, have political power, they can make a phone call or snap their fingers and everyone must follow their orders.

and the thing about gluttony is that there is always more to be had. you take a little and then realize it’s not enough and so you ask for more. case in point: in episode 11 when sunah suggests that yohan could be the new president, the current one gives her an alternative: dictatorship. because it wasn’t just enough for him to be an actor and the presiding president.

you’ll also know they turn in on themselves - the two other guys in the elite group. one who owns the company and the other dude - i really cannot remember their names and what they do, but y’all know who i’m talking about. it was so easy for them, when threatened, to fabricate documents to give to yohan about each other in order to get ahead. gluttony is only shared in the relationships we have until one realizes they can take a little extra of the pie. it’s the selfishness of having all the leftovers. gluttony cannot necessarily exist without someone else’s sacrifice.

lust

i kind of had an ah-ah moment when i was talking this over with @technitango​. i was trying to decide who was going to be lust because lust is portrayed very, very differently in this show than what most of us are used to. we, of course, know sunah who lusts after a life of indulgence and riches because she equates that with respect more than actually wanting it because it’s monetarily worth something.

but then i realized the public is lust because of their need for justice. i won’t say revenge necessarily because they’re doing as they’re told when given the judge show. but we can quickly see how that evaporates into something akin to bloodlust, for criminals and people who normally get away with shit, to have their fair taste at conviction for their misdeeds. we even see it with yohan’s fanboy club - the lust that comes from adoration and dedication.

and even more so, the public is easily swayed and so is the nature of lust. it follows in the vein of needs and wants, and as soon as new information is presented, however may false, so does the wants and desires of what people want sway. how easy was it for them to turn on yohan for a split second on two occasions - on two accounts of bribery.

envy

envy, above all, is about wanting what others have because you do not have it yourself. it may not be exactly what they have, but a form of it. some people don’t necessarily want money - they want what it can by, which is time, health and material goods.

sunah is the perfect example of this. she envies respect and recognition. she talks about bright and shiny objects, and that’s true to her kleptomania tendences, but more than anything, she wants to be seen as an equal because being poor with a vastly different upbringing means she’s looked down upon by those she thinks matters.

which also begs the question why she feels the need to seek validation from people in higher statuses to begin with when she can be the exception and not the rule - form her own understanding and environment to show others that the typical way of the elite is not actually all it’s cracked up to be - to which we see when she has no one to celebrate her victory with. it’s lonely being at the top. you get to your goal you thought you wanted but then what?

more importantly, sunah also envies family, relationships and simply put, human interaction. she wants to be cared for and treasured, and she looks for that in her position of power. because then all eyes are on you. because then that’s what people care about. what she fails to see is that those eyes are just as fruitless and just as wavering. to be a leader means people loving the idea of you but not you as a person.

“people of envious nature are sometimes stimulated to seek to emulate those who have completed some great achievements and in doing so achieve something great for themselves,” according to Understanding Philosophy.

wrath

while i realize that gaon not might entirely fit the wrath trope, he certainly has his moments, and i think he’s lived with a tampered flame since his parent’s death. he just learned to briefly put it out in the form of distractions and a false sense of righteousness and justice. it isn’t until he meets yohan that someone finally gives him the okay to feel the entirety of his emotions, that lets him breath and tells him it’s okay to feel anger and hurt. and while gaon ultimately chooses not to exact revenge, his wrath is what led him to becoming a judge and walking away from his teenage crimality.

gaon transposed his wrath into seeking justice, transformed it into livelihood, and reformed his narrative so that he was no longer angry and a teen with rash emotions. it was simply redirected and never really forgotten. yohan turned that redirection back around onto gaon’s ultimate heartache. fueled with that, it became easier to justify himself and his actions.

the most pivotal moment of turning his back on this mindset is, of course, the minister’s suicide, where he takes a good look at himself and doesn’t like what he sees. at this point, gaon’s upset isn’t necessarily at yohan but at the situation in which they got themselves into. because the thing is, gaon doesn’t absolve himself from what they did. he doesn’t turn a blind eye to that and try to dismiss it. he owns up to what happened and confesses how he feels to yohan and how he has to leave for his own good, and in some indirect way, for yohan’s, too.

with yohan, his ultimately weakness, despite never admitting to it, is family. his wrath comes in the form of anger when the ones he loves are threatened. yohan lives by a moral code of loyalty because that means you won’t be abandoned, and as a child who lived with that verdict since the day he was born, it’s an ever-pressing theme of his.

thing is, wrath comes in two particular forms for yohan. again, one is family and the second is the rose-colored glasses he’s given himself in his revenge story. he’s always had a goal to presumably make right the wrong for taking away isaac, but within that, 10 years is a long time to plot revenge, to the point where it becomes so much easier to lose yourself to that, to become enraged with it and forget the initial goal all along. we see this in his inability to form the bonding moments needed with his niece and his casual throwaway comments over people’s lives - the comment he made to gaon about moving on to the next plan, and the ultimately nail in the coffin of pushing gaon to leaving him.

his fury has also led him to convince himself his own humanity is nothing short of a lie. therefore, it’s easier to justify the means to an end because of his own self-worth and self-deprecation. it’s almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy: he even admitted to gaon’s mentor that he is an abyss. he’s referred to himself as nothing but an animal or a monster - all characteristics of despondency to survive and to justify what he’s doing. sort of like a catch 22, yohan claims he’s an animal/monster and behaves as such, but because he behaves as such, it means he’s an animal/monster.

wrath for gaon and yohan are very different yet the same. they are slow-burning, and that’s a dangerous type. it’s actually interesting when you think about the fire imagery surrounding the two of them because flames are quick to lap at anything in its wake, to destroy within a matter of minutes. and yet for the two of these men, their internal fire eats them from the inside out, painfully, until they’re almost unrecognizable to others and to themselves.

sloth

sloth was a little more difficult to pinpoint because of its characteristics. it was either the minister versus the mentor, both of which i think could work in this role. however, i chose the minister simply because she’s featured more and intertwines heavily with the plot line.

soth is a medieval translation of the Latin term acedia, meaning “without care.”

the ultimate characteristic of sloth is often identified as laziness, and while it’s easy to argue that the minister hasn’t been lazy in her ability to get where she is, she became as much when she started lying to get to her position. isn’t lying known as the easier way out? it absolves you of responsibility, of putting in the hard work, of apologizing and making things right. in the end, she had a goal and found the easiest solution to get there through her lack of responsibility for the roles she more than likely swore an oath to.

but that also translates into the other attributes of sloth: a failure to do the right thing, lack of emotions for people or of the self, and the fact that it “hinders man in his righteous undertakings and thus becomes a terrible source of man’s undoing” according to The Seven Deadly Sins: Society and Evil.

while i think there are a lot of components of sloth that may not necessarily fit the minister, the apathy and carelessness are enough to showcase her aggression, despondency and restlessness when what little efforts she does put in do not go her way. another interesting thing to note is that many of sloth’s traits correspond with symptoms of mental illness, such as depression and anxiety. it’s an interesting thing to note given the way the minister chooses to end her life.

greed

i don’t know that jinjoo would’ve had any provocation to the limelight if it wasn’t for sunah’s direction, but she’s eager to please and wants to be useful. it’s only natural for her to want more because it’s clear she’s a career woman, loves her job and has a heart for serving the people.

but like gluttony, greed is also that little thing that plants itself and can take on a life of its own. you start looking for justifications as to why you can’t have more than what you do, and in jinjoo’s situation, she’s already overlooked through no fault of her own. and it’s not that gaon and yohan are doing it purposefully, which is what makes their neglect heartbreaking, because truthfully, they’re after the same thing jinoo is. sure, it looks different and the foundation of it is different, same with their motives. but they’re all three judges on a residing bench working to exact justice - even if all three of them have their own personal agenda. 

i don’t think jinoo fully aligns with greed, but she does want more for herself, and i think that’s only natural. you can tell she has a heart, and she’s keen not to be overlooked. this isn’t her pain point so much as it is she knows her worth and is more than ready to do what it takes to get where she wants. this, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a bad trait, but we can see how it leads to being deceived, especially for someone who’s been left in the dark for so long.

she is enticed by the glitz and the glamour of being a head judge, but you can tell she feels some remorse and guilt for those thoughts at times. i think her sense of greed is a battle within herself more than it is extremely outwardly.

pride

soohyun’s pride comes in the form of her imbalance with right and wrong. her sense of righteousness and justice is so far leaning, even more than gaon’s. it can be chalked up to her being a cop, but we’ve seen instances of this outside of her role within that agency. her pride doesn’t let her see beyond saving gaon and getting to the bottom of every mystery that comes her way.

it also comes in the form of impulsiveness and her savior complex, putting elijah in danger, for example, instead of waiting for backup. it’s not necessarily from a belief that she can fix things all on her own, but she sees injustice and immediately jumps in. another case in point is her and gaon watching yohan wreck the minister’s son’s car. she’s ready to go stop him, but gaon pulls her back, most likely because at that point, they hadn’t been observing the situation for very long to get a read on it. also the fact that at that point, neither of them truly knew yohan and his capabilities.

but as to where her characteristics come from, we simply don’t know beyond that of gaon. it’s unfortunate because we don’t have much of her backstory, so there is no real understanding why she so firmly believes in entities of regulation beyond keeping her friend out of jail. she prides herself on her work and what she’s able to accomplish, which is why it’s devastating to her to have to protect gaon by cleaning up his bloody handprint.

aristotle is of the belief that, “pride, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is not found without them. Therefore it is hard to be truly proud; for it is impossible without nobility and goodness of character,” from Nicomachean Ethics.

but pride for soohyun isn’t about honors or rewards. it’s for herself and her capabilities, her ability to protect gaon, and the virtues she’s set as the precedent for herself. because sometimes it’s not even about establishing morals and ethics upon yourself. it’s about feelings/intuition, logic and observation. and no, i don’t mean the feelings she has for gaon. there are things that humans do, both actions and words, that we inherently know are bad without someone telling us as much and without the rules of the world seared into our brains. there are some things we know, for a fact, are wrong to us as individuals.

for soohyun, she knows that gaon’s actions, and even her own, have consequences. from what we’ve seen, i think it can be argued that it’s really about not doing those actions to prevent an outcome - not necessarily from a place of being just and right. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand good morals/ethics, but again, we have no background of what her internal guidance actually is.

to put this in layman’s terms, we’ll use gaon wanting to stab the conman in his youth. soohyun knows it’s wrong because it will incriminate gaon and therefore she stops it. gaon’s gone to her because he sees her as a moral compass. but is her own internal navigation rooted in justice the way gaon had to find it in the judicial system, or is hers rooted in her pride of keeping gaon safe? she stops him from doing things that will get him in trouble, but is she stopping him because the action itself is wrong or because the outcome will result in undesirable consequences for the two of them?

and of course, there is a flipped argument to be had there - i’m not arguing that gaon stabbing the conman would be right or justified. but what i am saying is that for her, her worldview is the only right one, and when anyone steps out of that, even gaon, it becomes a bit of an issue: the pride she has for that is palpable.

every character indulges

truthfully, every character has at least one form of these sins rooted in their characterization. some are larger than others, but the breadth of it can be explored even further for each. and that’s what makes them more realistic and not just characters written on a page or following a linear progression of their writing deity.

the seven deadly sins are also notoriously rooted in religion. they’re also a defining feature of aristotle’s works that represent the golden mean, in which each vice is parallel to a virtue.

the devil judge is so layered, but i think at the heart of it, it’s about humanity at its core. sprinked in are the philosophies and contradictions and what it means to look in the mirror, what happens when we’re blind to seeing our true selves and most importantly, how much changes when we’re swayed by our own misgivings. it really asks us to understand nature versus nurture, that people must find a belief in something to keep them going, and how futile our hopes and desires can actually be if we’re not carefully regulating ourselves, nevermind the entities established by society to regulate us, too.

the entirety of the show genuinely begs the question as to who is truly right, who is truly wrong, and if it’s even possible to find the correct answer.

[prof-peach]

If you could cross over two of your favorite games, which would you choose? Please explain, why that crossover would be a good match.

Oh you’re going to regret asking this one, I’m bout to GET SERIOUS.

So Pokemon, obvs, I love the whole world it’s built in, but the games imo are REALLY boring, I haven’t enjoyed one a lot since gale of darkness, the main ones just are a little too linear obvious plots, pretty standard setups for story and style. Speaking of style, the games lack personality, the models aren’t animated well, moves have no dynamic energy or visual difference at times, and the turn based battle style just feels kind of, I don’t know, old? Slow? Just doesn’t suit what I enjoy personally, gives me a FInal Fantasy vibe and I just cannot stand the speed at which things happen in those games, plus not into 3rd person ‘let’s build a team of people’ much, but that’s a problem for another time. With this all in mind, the game I wish would happen is like gen20 Pokemon, far future sadly, I doubt I’d see it in my lifetime but god I’d be happy if I did!

Ok so take the newest Zelda graphics, the visual treat that was BOTW, open world, puzzles, not JUST combat, you got side missions, hunt the chickens, find missing pets, parcels, items, whatever. Love it! The horse taming?! Amazing you funky little game. Now take the bad guys and beasts from that. And put Pokemon in instead. Give them the diversity, the life and believable natures that BOTW gave the animals, I followed a frog in BOTW for 15 minutes, and it was a great experience, it felt like it was believable. Above world spawning, ACTUAL difficult gameplay, rare spawn rates, make dragons hard to get again, cmon, it’s too easy now, make it so we need a certain set of Pokemon for certain tasks. Water types big enough to carry you will be able to get you to new areas, rock types that can help you climb mountains faster, or break through blocking boulders. Actual towns with more than 4 houses in them, shops, barns, farms, homes. Like little link with the heat, maybe ice types would struggle in volcano areas, or bug Pokemon not be so comfortable in gale force winds. Give the weather more of an effect on your partners. Mounts, don’t even get me started that Pokemon Let’s go had you able to ride any of the larger species, but swsh did not???? Bitch please, give me my rideable Pokemon. The wild area too was far too closed, limited, online was laggy and a mess, camping is limited, let me do more with my team. Pokemon for me is all about the actual creatures, how they live with humans, and the many wonderful things they’re capable of. Yes of course it’s cool they can fight, but like what else you know?

I’d love a game that lets me buy a plot of land, maybe plant things, custom build things. I’m a sucker for the fallout4 settlement builds when they’re modded to hell and back, they’re fun! It can be a really calm and creative process. If I could do that and skip the main campaign and all the battles for a bit? Amazing, it sound perfect for me. I am that distracted hoe collecting flowers while the kingdom burns in the background. Side quests are everything to me. Let me give homeless people enough money to get them in a home? Let me adopt Pokemon that are stray around the town? Plz oh plz bring me a Pokemon game that allows me to work WITH my team to do more than KO other species. I want to save and buy a plow for my buddy gogoat, and grow amazing foods to sell to get currency to spend in decorations, to spoil my team. Give me actual game consequence, if I ignore that sick and injured Pokemon I find in the wild, later maybe it’s family don’t want to help me out with a different problem, too stricken from grief. I am all about the average bits, the old women who need help, the lost pets board in town, the general day to day stuff. Let me get cosmetic items for the Pokemon I keep, cute outfits, special gemstone items, let me actually live with them, or even feel remotely like they’re realistic.

Ok so in game, if it’s looking like BOTW it’s pretty beautiful but also stylised, I’d have it so you can send out a maximum of 3 Pokemon from your 6, using bumpers and such to throw them out. If you hit the trigger you switch from controlling the human trainer, to the Pokemon you’ve targeted with a standard lock on targeting system. You then can be the leader, but be the Pokemon. You could technically defeat the game without a human if you wanted, which incorporates the mystery dungeon games I think, and caters to that crowd. I’d love to see the use of attacks out of battle, things like using water gun to grow plants, using ember to start a campfire faster and stave off the cold. There’s no consequence to Pokemon anymore, and I think that’s where it’s lost me. I have to admit I miss the days of a poisoned pokemon fainting if you don’t heal them soon enough, I miss gym battles that were actually tough, damn, try picking charmander in red and beating brock without grinding in viridian forest first, it’s not easy. And I loved that. Yes it’s a child’s game, it will never be difficult again, but god it’d be nice to have a bit of a challenge, or maybe a difficulty setting, so some could play it with hostility turned off, great for kids, or you can be n adult like I know so many Pokemon fans are, and play it on expert mode and ACTUALLY have to work hard to beat the game. Alternate skill trees anyone? Train gun a fire type to ACUTALLy combat water moves?? Please! Cmon! It frustrated me that every challenger has pretty much a systematic set of moves to use to win. Grass opponent? Fire attack spam until you win. It’s dull, so at least with very difficult tricks to either find or learn in game would make it more achievable if you can send that fire type in and I don’t know, train them so much the heat evaporates the water mid-battle and you suddenly have a shot at winning. Pokemon has taught me that if you work hard enough you can achieve something, but the games just have such strict ways to win. Feels wrong.

In terms of battling, let us BE the Pokemon, let us learn to dodge, train our speed, train our defence, make a team of truly tough Pokemon instead of just, average? Some species have a cap on their skills, a squirtle has lower stat points than a Charizard, but you can’t ever change that? Let me choose the Pokemon I believe in, and let me work with them until they’re just as good, if not better than the game tanks. This would also make online battles more interesting. Everyone picks the top trio. Fairy, dragon, legendaries. And yknow what? It’s boring. That one IRL fight with the monster Pacharisu that won in the world tournament with follow me and the situs Berry? Unbelievable, I love that little rat so much because of this, so let us all have a chance to build a team that’s strategically viable, strong, and potentially a winner formula, even if they aren’t fully evolved, or the biggest Pokemon in the world. Yeah maybe you have to grind way harder with your unevolved Pokemon, but you get to the end game and win, because you put love and time into species that you enjoy, not just good fighters.

Unfortunately I am beholdent to Todd-idiot-Howard, and I love the Eldrescrolls and fallout games (before they got dumb, not that I don’t play the new ones. 76 I’m looking at you, you big asshole game.) honestly I hate online games, so none of that junk, just a good old fashioned open world sandbox game is plenty. Games for me are an escape from others, not an invitation to socialise. To each their own of course, and I do play online games sometimes, just pretty short lived ones, over watch and rdr2 for example. Would they be sometimes better on private servers? Yes of course, fallout76? Want to play with others? No. I do not. Please leave me alone. And if you buy a private server you’re feeding the monster that is Todd Howard, the man the myth the asshole, then we’ll get more bad games like 76. I just so desperately want the Pokemon company to see what a beautiful potential game they’ve got on their hands, that could be suitable for far greater audiences, but instead they’ve focused on the kids. It’s fine, it’s functional, but it’s lost to the fans from day 1, that are all 20+ years old now and want something meatier to play, something far more broad and inclusive. I also hate that there’s no wheelchair option in any Pokemon game. Like cmon, it’s not hard to include that.

In short, BOTW + Pokemon, with a sprinkle of open world sandbox to it, less fighting, more fun. Or, at least both options. Sure, go fight everything, great, but I want to farm carrots over here with 6sunflora, plz let me have some peace.

Edit: I forgot about harvest moon, chuck some of that in there too.

SECOND EDIT: someone in the comments mentioned to put this in Unova? Plz love yourselves, this game would be ALL MAPS. Stuff one singular location, this is the ideal game, put every map in it, join them, put islands in, make them more explorable, more detailed!

[sunnnfish]

SUNNNFIIIISHHHHH MY DEAR LOVELY FRIEND SUNNNFISH YOUR TIMING IS EXCELLENT AS ALWAYS I’ll beat the shit out of school for you by the way WAAAUUUUUGHHHHH your wonderful artist brain with the cinematography it’s like I’m THERE. YOU REALLY GET ME WITH THIS. been making an active effort to really pay more attention to ping pong as it’s own Theme recently. hopefully I’m successful. but YEEESSSS the gathering of clouds was intentional—I specifically wanted to tie it into the stiffness of his bones to justify the neck cracking, it’s strangely intimate physicality like that that I really like inflicting on masato Sorry king—but THE THREAT OF CLEANSINGGGG something about the way you interact with my writing just sends new threads of thoughts unspooling all over the place. cleansing’s a threat because—perhaps in part influenced by the way his tashiro-of-the-mind just unfucked up his neck—he doesn’t really want to be cleansed. he could get out of the coffin and go for a swim, but he doesn’t want to. so he doesn’t. CAN’T READMORE IN YOUR ASK BOX I’m stopping now. love you though I’m in the car and have been brainstorming directionlessly for hours but here you are reminding me why I like this quarter of my mindpalace so much. love you!

GIVING U A KISS MY DEAREST BEST FRIEND DIRTBRAIN…. Any and all existentialism I was just feeling has evaporated and I’m normal now <3 how I wish I had any skill/energy at all to animate a short film exactly how I see it. I would do it. anyways ping pong Themes… I will cry I love ping pong. And the gathering clouds !!! I can like. Feel the pressure in that scene. It’s easy leaving tashiro after club. The pressure is building. It’s a normal day at the train station. There’s a sound of cicadas and the murmur of a crowd. He looks up at gathering gray clouds. Slowly closes his eyes. A silence that comes like a deep, quick breath in. All of a sudden it’s pitch dark and he can’t move and it’s like a phantom is around him, pressing his bones and cracking his joints. Pressure pressure pressure until the neck— it’s not a sudden jolt, more like waking up. he slowly opens his eyes as the train rumbles in and rain starts coming down. The murmur of the crowd and cry of cicadas returns as he pulls out his phone. He doesn’t want to be cleansed, not by the running water at least. Maybe a chiropractor would be better. More physical more real—a concrete release of pressure. ANYWAYS. Didn’t mean to have another mind movie moment but here we are. I love you themes I love you parallels I love you metaphors and that hanzawa masato post is full of it all. It’s just. The violent body in all your writing is just so. GOOD. God. It’s VISCERAL and SENSATIONAL and it’s AWESOME and I LOVE IT. And I love YOU !

[regrettablewritings]

I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood (love that damn asshole) but if you aren't feeling writing for him then I give this up to authors choice. But from the current ships numbers perhaps: 3 (because I wanna get fucked up), 9 (because I have to), 10 (because I would like to know your thoughts) and 11 (because I am wildly curious)

("I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood" Translation: "I want a daddy to spit in my fuckgng mouth" Sorry, I don't make the rules about language translation.🤷🏽‍♀️)

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope:

You'd always kind of sort of lived in a fairytale. In hindsight, though, you probably had to: It's what probably made being with his stupid ass a bit easier. Kind of like you were living in one of those stories where a monster that terrorized some bucolic tiny town could be brought down to size by a soul of pure heart. Maybe even regain his human form.

If only your story had had a happy ending.

In a way, Nevada felt he was to blame for that; clearly, sticking with you had really only encouraged that type of behavior, or so he thought.

And now look where that ended you: All that gross-ass makeup to make you look like your last moments hadn't been agonizing (the coroner insisted it had been quick, but Nevada called bullshit); those stiff clothes that you never would've worn unless you had to (Nevada never would've put you in them if he had more of a choice); eyes closed, never to see the telltale signs of the one you left behind coming undone (actually, in a sick way, Nevada didn't necessarily mind this; it spared him the humiliation).

There wasn't even necessarily any sign that you had been targeted; the general theory really was that you'd been taken out by a stray bullet. But in some part of him, Nevada couldn't believe that. He didn't want to. It just made so much perfect sense in his mind: You were just minding your own damn business, walking home after a shift ended a little later than expected. You were the very picture of innocent and unsuspecting, all vulnerable and without him. In short: That was the perfect time for some rival gang or some shit to take a shot at you.

And the thought made Nevada's blood boil to the point that it evaporated into the air, further polluting these fucking New York skies with his inner toxicity being exposed. He'd make whoever did this to you choke. But not before roughing them up a lil bit. Maybe cut off some fingers. Some toes . . . Maybe a pound of flesh as payment if there was any time left, who knows.

But first, his men had to find them.

To say that Nevada does not take your passing well would be an understatement. He's somehow more violent. Somehow a lot less tolerant of bullshit (and he already wasn't before). If anyone so much as blinks wrong, they run the risk of having a nearly feral fuck jump at them and attempt to rip their face off.

His men, who already feared and respected him, dare not occupy the same room as him any longer than they have to. They miss you as a person, of course, but they never knew just how much of a hold you had on their boss until that hand was gone.

Sure, he goes through the usual motions seen in others, like sitting in his chair, downing copious amounts of whatever was left in his liquor cabinet. And, of course, there's the stages of grieving: He's eternally stuck oscillating between guilt and anger.

He was supposed to be the one that got killed out here, him! Not you: Sweet, kind, patient, hard-headed, stupid-assed you! He got that, why couldn't God get with the program on that!? He was the dealer, the gang leader putting himself into all kinds of problems with others; you were just some innocent bystander who happened to get caught in his web, decide they liked it there, and inexplicably stuck around.

And now you're dead. He was being selfish, you were being stupid, and now you were dead.

He stares blankly at nothing before humming with a sip of whatever the hell is in his glass now, he doesn't fucking remember. Can't taste it anyway; his sense of taste disappeared, floated away with your spirit the moment he learned of your passing.

The pure-hearted soul that kept the village safe was gone; all that remained was the carnivorous beast, ready to rampage and raze the town to the ground.

9. Which one swears more?:

Just in time for the 20210 Summer Olympics, we have a new category to observe: Fucking Goddamn Cussing Up a Shitstorm! Representing Washington Heights, we have a cussing prodigy, Nevada Ramirez! Also representing Washington Heights by way of duel citizenship between the apartments, we have . . . You!

Okay but in all seriousness, Nevada is definitely the gold medal-winner here. Science indicates that cussing helps to relieve stress and for as collected as Nevada likes to appear in front of others, 5'9" is not a lot of space for stress to go. He's constantly bottling up that shit! What's worse, though, is that the fucker makes it sound elegant.

How does he make "fuck" sound so gentle when it leaves his lips with a cold-eyed glower!? Who the hell knows!

Erstwhile, you're a pretty good runner-up. Even if you were a big cusser before getting with Nevada, you could never catch up with him -- he's just had way too many experiences where he felt the need to pepper the ambience with some cursing. And if you weren't as into it before . . . I'm sorry, boo, but you'll be picking up that nasty habit of his like you were picking up the torch for the Cussing Olympics. Bon chance!

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other:

Noah . . . How did you know I was planning to do a preference on what characters watch with their S/Os? Not that I can confirm or deny that Nevada was in that one but --

Nevada didn't really watch TV a whole lot before you two got together. It was a mix of him not having a lot of time and him not having a lot of care to keep up with anything. Everything is so goddamn serialized, what's even the point?

Really, the only reason he bought subscriptions to streaming services was to keep you entertained for when he had to be out the house or some junk. But there were a few too many times where he'd come home late and find you curled up on the couch.

". . . The hell're you still doing up --"

"Ssh!"

". . . Did you just --"

"Yes, now sshhh! I'm about to see who this chick picks to go to bed with."

Of course, 'Vada is pissed; people don't shush him, he shushes them! What the fuck could be so interesting that you'd do that!? He takes his glare from you to the screen . . . and about thirty minutes in, he gets it. He'd never say it out loud, but deep down, he knows why you like Love Island. It's stupid, it's trashy, he hates these dumbass twenty-somethings making drama out of nothing, and for fuck's sake will somebody talk to the girl with the dark skin and short hair she's the hottest one there --

Of course, he tries hard not to show his interest, taking seats next to you when you're watching "because he's tired", adding his own commentary "because these pendejos need to know better", etc. And, of course, it doesn't fool you in the slightest. As amused as you are, though, you don't tease him about it; you're afraid that if you do, your stubborn boyfriend would put up a fight in the form of leaving you to watch your silly little show by yourself. And you really don't mind sharing the show with him . . . No, solitary watching is reserved for your cartoons.

Nevada may let things with you slip to a point but the moment he learns you like to watch anything animated, he's on your ass with the ruthless taunting. Which is like the pot calling the kettle black because 'Vada's secret pleasure is even worse: daytime soap operas. Admittedly, there's some sentimentality connected to them (he remembers being at his Abuela's house and seeing her get really into some telenovelas), but the fact of the matter is really more that he's invested in the drama and bullshit going on between all this lunatics who we're supposed to buy as being doctors or CEOs or whatever over-glamorized positions they're supposed to have.

He doesn't actually get to watch them often but . . . hey, that's what he pays certain grunts to do for him.

Okay I had way too much fun writing these so lemme just cut myself off now. Thanks for asking!!!

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House - Part 7.1

This one's a little short and a little subtle, but I thought I'd whet your appetite for more mayhem this week. Going for a weekly update schedule on Tuesdays for as long as I can keep it up!!

There is a small time jump here; it’s been a few days since the last chapter. 

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ivar has really nice knives. You’ve never seen him cook, not since you moved in and not before, but you know the set of expensive Messermeister knives in the grey canvas case belong to him. They are just a dream to use, better than anything that you could afford.

You know that the knives belong to him because he gave you very explicit instructions for their care. “No one else is allowed to touch them,” he told you during the first week after you moved in, running his fingers down the longest blade as he showed them to you, “but I will allow you that privilege if you follow all my rules.”

There’s a problem today. His breath hitches when he opens the case; your body stills. “Y/N, what is this?”

You inch forward, peering over his shoulder with apprehension. His fingernail is tapping at the wide blade of the chef’s knife.

“Did you dry these with a cloth, right after you cleaned them?”

There are a few translucent white circles marring the blade, the kind that are sometimes left behind after water evaporates.

“I—” your throat is suddenly dry. “I must not have.”

“Evidently not.” He turns the knife around, offering you the handle with a significant look. “Wash it again.”

He doesn’t seem angry, and the tingling in your body is not exactly anxiety. “Of course.” His eyes linger on yours, even after you look down to carefully take the exquisitely-crafted tool from his hand.

You turn to the sink, listening to Ivar gather his ingredients behind you. This morning he had surprised you with a long, very detailed shopping list for what is apparently his signature pasta sauce. Details as in brand names, and specifying the amounts down to the ounces. You have never seen the boy cook before, but today you’re learning why he would even own expensive knives.

I cook, he had said almost defensively as you teased him about the uncharacteristic request. But do you think that animals like my brothers deserve to enjoy my skills?

Your cheeks warm now as you contemplate that statement. It meant that he considers you to be worth cooking for tonight, doesn’t it? You rub soap on the knife carefully from the back edge and glance over at him.

Ivar is inspecting the fresh herbs you bought. You hold your breath, but he gives them a little nod and moves on to the onion and garlic. You dry the knife and bring it to him.

“Good girl.”

Even just those simple words have your body thrumming. He’s not a dick about it, he just likes things his certain way, and that submissive streak in your soul is just loving every opportunity for Ivar to keep telling you what to do.

He sets the knife down, then holds out his hand. “Give me that towel.”

He folds it twice and lays it on the table in front of him. He pulls a tool from the bag that looks like a round little sword. “Oh,” you say, “does it need to be sharpened?”

“This is not for sharpening,” Ivar says, his voice cool and still, like he’s preparing a ritual. “This is a honing steel.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a common mistake. But we don’t want to sharpen a knife too often. Sharpening removes some of the metal. This,” he says, setting the tip of the steel against the towel and holding the hilt up vertically with his left hand, “is for honing.” He lifts the knife in his right hand and sets it at a close angle against the steel. His fist grips the hilt of the steel firmly, while his fingers curl more loosely, elegantly around the handle of his knife. He draws it down the length of the steel in a firm, deliberate movement. “Honing merely aligns the sharp edge of the blade, so it doesn’t blunt itself by curling to one side.” The blade crosses to the other side, sliding down in another brisk line. He builds a rhythm, every movement deft, controlled, and faster than you would have felt safe moving that blade around. “There.” He admires the edge with a satisfied nod. “Bring me the teak cutting board, from the bottom of the pantry.”

You didn’t even know they had a “teak cutting board.” You and Ubbe have been using a scarred plastic one that looks ready to crack in half at any moment.

You find the board wrapped up in the back; when you pull it out you want to cry. The rich shades of amber and honey in the woodgrain are just gorgeous. “Why do you have such beautiful things?” you say softly as you set it down in front of him.

“I like beautiful things.” He catches your eye, and there’s no way he’s not including you in the sentiment.

You smile and look away, smoothing your hands down your skirt just to give yourself something to do. Your movement draws his gaze, and a thick, satisfied look suffuses his eyes as he admires your outfit. Inspired by your little domestic 1950’s housewife fantasy, you’d bought yourself a vintage dress, royal blue, complete with full, knee-length skirt, fitted waist, and sweetheart neckline. Now that that fantasy seems to be coming true, you couldn’t resist putting it on today, even if your only plans consisted of staying home and cooking with Ivar.

He drags the knife across the steel a few more times.

“How do you know it’s sharp enough?”

He flashes you a grin, the one with the sadistic edge that makes your knees a little weak. “There is one test,” he lifts the knife in his competent grip, “to see if it can shave an arm hair . . . hold still.”

His eye glitter as you take a step back from him, sucking your arms up tight against your ribcage. Even though the idea of Ivar holding cold steel against your body is making your heartbeat quicken, a little warmth gathering between your legs.

He cocks his head, don’t you trust me written all over his smirk. He savors your discomfort for a moment, before speaking again. “Or, we slice a piece of paper.” He takes a flyer off his stack of mail on the table, something unimportant with Act Now! in big block letters at the bottom. Grasping it at the top between two fingers, he lifts the knife and slashes down quickly through the vertically-suspended page.

It slices neatly in two, the outer edge fluttering down to the floor in front of him. “Wow, that is sharp.” You wanted to say something infinitely cooler, but how exactly do you tell someone “your knife skills are turning me on right now?”

Ivar frowns at the lower portion of the 9-inch blade. “I felt a catch toward the bottom.” He turns back to the honing steel and rasps a few more precise passes.

He may be pretending this is still a normal conversation about sharpening, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he looks up at you again. He tips his head dramatically to the side, looking you up and down until your cheeks start to heat up.

“Seeing something that you like?”

You stammer out two answers at once, so the sounds you actually make are non-sensical.

“Do not forget that I can tell when you are turned on.”

You finally notice your mouth hanging open, and you close it.

He inspects the blade’s edge with an unnecessary flourish. “You into knives?” he asks casually. His predator’s eyes watch carefully from under heavy brows as you flail about for an answer.

“Mmm,” you say, completely uninformatively. “Um, you mean like, sexually?”

Ivar nods slowly, as confident as you are flustered.

“There is something—something about it,” you babble, trying to push through your embarrassment well enough to be honest, “but not like… I’m not saying I want to get cut up right now.”

Ivar’s mouth makes a soothing sort of sound, his gorgeous lips puckering up. “Of course not. But there’s something about—” he hefts the knife in his hand, “—the threat inherent in a dangerous object, isn’t there. Even though I’m not even threatening you with it right now.”

You gulp. “Yes.”

His head is waggling, eyes narrowed over his smile. “Come here.”

It’s simultaneously the best and worst thing he could possibly say to you right now. You want to trust him, but you really have no idea what Ivar Lothbrok will do to you if you come within arm’s reach of him. You make a small sound.

He makes a beckoning gesture.

The heavy knife is resting against the cutting board; when you step toward him Ivar leaves it there and opens his arm to pull you in close. With a hand on your waist he guides you to face the cutting board, your back against his front. The stool he’s sitting on is tall enough that he can still see from behind you, and his arms up come up around either side of your body.

“One more test. I want you to feel this one.” His voice is rich and low, so close to your ear. “Did you know that if the knife is sharp enough, cutting an onion won’t make you cry?”

“No,” You say brightly, through a burst of exhaled air. You’re relieved, although maybe just a little bit disappointed, that the topic of conversation is back to cooking, and not secret dark kinks that you might not even be ready to admit to yourself. Ivar’s body brushes softly against yours as he places an onion at the center of the cutting board and sets the knife against it.

“Here,” he says, wiggling his right hand just a bit. “Take the knife from me. Keep it lined up, but do not cut yet.”

You do as he asks, and his hand ghosts over yours, covering your grip on the handle.

“You barely have to push down. Slide it forward slightly, and the blade should sink right in.”

His guiding hand follows as you do, and the onion comes apart easily.

“Good. Keep going. We want this one finely diced.” He keeps your body pushed forward with the pressure of his from behind. Is he making sure your face is right above the onion, ready to take in all the fumes that usually blind you with tears after the first few slices?

You get the skin off and keep slicing, as instructed. The little approving noises Ivar is making into your ear must mean that your method is correct, so far. And, miraculously, your vision is still clear.

“A dull blade crushes the onion cells, releasing the chemical that makes you cry. A sharp one slices through so cleanly that this barely happens. Are you feeling anything yet?”

“No,” you say. Not from the onion, at least. The way Ivar’s body is wrapped around yours, his breath warm on your neck, has you feeling all kinds of things.

Ivar coos. “Then I’ve done well. And so are you. Even finer, please.”

You pinch the back of the blade between your fingers and chop quickly. Ivar has released your hands, placing his own about your waist instead. When you finish, you set the knife down and he coaxes you to turn around.

He inspects your face. Your eyes had started stinging just a little during that final pass, but no tears have formed. His tongue clucks, softly. “Honestly I’m a little disappointed not to get to see you crying. I think we’ll remedy that later.”

You just about quiver in his arms.

You were supposed to be his sous chef today. I mean, that would only be appropriate given the roles that you two like to assume with each other in every other context. And it is Ivar’s recipe, after all. But once he knows what watching him use a knife does to you, he performs all the rest of the dicing and chopping himself. You’re relegated to walking back and forth across the small kitchen, fetching and washing and lining up the neat little prep bowls as Ivar fills them with each of his ingredients.

He watches you all the while, in between bouts of extreme concentration on his work. He says nothing about your dress but you catch him admiring its twirl as you spin through the kitchen.

Watching him chop the garlic is almost unreal. Ivar’s not one for that garlic press contraption, and clearly he doesn’t need it. He takes a second knife from his collection, one that’s flatter and a little more squared. His slices are just about paper-thin, and he’s minced them and scooped the little pile up on the side of his blade so fast you just have to stop and stare as he does it again for each clove. His hands are large but elegant, their subtle strength readily apparent as he handles the blade with impressive agility.

“Why did you switch knives?”

He tilts the tool in question in his hand. “This is called a santoku. Japanese knives are great for speed, and the fancier skills. But for most tasks I prefer the weight of the chef’s knife. These German-made ones feel so good in the hand.”

“They really do,” you agree. “How did you get so into cooking?”

“Just a hobby I picked up for a while.” His eyes meet yours. “I am enjoying having the excuse to remember my skills again.”

You almost can’t bear to keep looking at his face, his angelic visage just beaming his delight at you. For the second time you flush, and duck your head. You’re definitely not used to Ivar being so . . . direct about his feelings for you.

He saves you from having to respond by issuing his next order. “We are ready to start cooking. Measure a tablespoon of olive oil into the pan, turn the burner on high, and help me get my stool next to the stove.”

He puts the garlic in first, stirring it briskly to, as he explains, suffuse the oil in its flavor. Next come the onions, and there is something about the way his wrist cocks as he keeps everything moving in the pan that’s almost as fascinating as his knife work. His rhythm remains steady as he directs you to add each ingredient, his other hand lightly teasing at your waist, or your hip, or your leg at the bottom edge of your skirt every time you move close to him. He pretends he’s not doing it, but there is mischief behind his eyes. By the time a thick red sauce is filling the wide pan, you’re about ready to skip this dinner and see what other treats he’s got planned for your night in.

The apartment door swings open. Ubbe enters noisily, slamming the door shut behind him. “Smells so good, Y/N! I’m starving, what are you—” He cuts off when he rounds the corner into the kitchen, and sees Ivar sitting by the stove. He takes in the luxury kitchen tools spread out on the table, and you in your housewife dress and your kitten heels. He pulls back just a little, like maybe he’s thinking he shouldn’t intrude. But then he leans one forearm against the wall and grins. “You’re making the sauce, bro?”

Ivar rolls his eyes. “Yes, Ubbe.”

“I can’t fucking wait.” He turns to you, his wolfish eyes bright. “This is gonna be the best spaghetti night you’ve had in your life.”

“It is not spaghetti night,” Ivar says crossly. “We are having gnocchi. Also, I didn’t think you were going to be home.”

Ubbe shrugs. “I don’t have anything going on.”

“Ubbe,” Ivar chides, shaking his head as he speaks. “Don’t you usually have a date lined up just about every night?”

Ubbe is only looking at you. “That just doesn’t seem very interesting anymore.”

Ivar makes a dismissive sound and nudges you. “Time to add in the spices, Y/N.”

You tear your eyes away from Ubbe, and all the things that you might just be imagining are lying behind his eyes. He walks away as you lift the last prep bowl, headed back toward his room. You sprinkle the herb blend over the sauce.

“Now we simmer,” Ivar says, turning the burner down low. “But we must keep stirring.” He slides the spoon quite precisely around the edges of the pan, then spirals it through the middle. “Can you do it this way?”

You take the handle from him and attempt to replicate his practiced movement. After a little adjusting, he leans back with a satisfied sound.

“Keep that up. No more than sixty seconds between stirrings.”

He reaches for his crutches, and you lift a brow in silent question.

“I want a shower before dinner.” He gets to his feet, then leans down to murmur low into your ear. “I am planning a long night after that.”

How can he slay you so well with only a few words?

The corner of his lip is quirked as he shifts his weight back into his crutches. “After ten minutes, start the water boiling for the gnocchi, too.”

Read On

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