#please enjoy though

[mxltifxnd0m]

heaven's in your eyes യ s. winchester

summary: you and sam are in a sticky situation and there's only one way to get out of it

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader

word count: 3.4K

warnings: vaguely set in season 3/4, fluff, mutual pining, slight angst, teasing from dean, sam in a tux (yes that's a warning), kissing, suggestive/spice, implied smut but no smut

a/n: i've had this one stuck in the noggin for a while and finally got around to writing it! this was heavily inspired by and based on the mall scene in captain america TWS between steve and nat and 3x6 episode with bela.

reblog and comment on the fic! I love seeing your thoughts on it sm 😊

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You never thought you'd be in this position in a million years, feeling the heat of Sam's hands seep into the fabric on your waist as he pulled you in closer, sliding his leg between yours as your back hit the wall. This is not what you had thought would happen when you decided to ask for the Winchesters' help on your hunt.

You had run into the Winchester brothers after you had "accidentally" killed the witch they had been hunting. You had no idea that the three of you were hunting the same witch, but you had gotten to her first. You had no clue that the Winchesters were in the same town as you. Your paths never crossed until they found you hunched over the witch's body, blood splattered over your face and clothes, with the living room of the witch in complete disarray.

You looked up from the dead witch to see two tall mountains dressed in leather and flannel standing in the doorway. You remembered their faces were screwed up with expressions of surprise and puzzlement as you stood up from the carpeted floor with a grin on your face.

"Seems I beat the two of you to it." You said to them, slightly out of breath, and stuck out a hand for them to shake, introducing yourself to the two men who you deduced to be hunters. You instantly noticed that they were gorgeous. They seemed to walk straight out of a GQ magazine. But the thing that gave away the fact that they were hunters was how they held themselves like soldiers (and the fact they had guns in their hands as they burst into the house like madmen).

Your eyes were drawn to the taller one of the two (they were both pretty tall, but you could have considered this one a giant). He had shaggy brown hair with bangs that you just knew that he had to brush away from his eyes frequently and a nose that, if you followed the slope of it, you could see how it came to a cute point at the end of it. What really entranced you was his hazel eyes that memorized you as soon as you made contact with them.

They introduced themselves as Dean and Sam, the latter being the one you found yourself attracted to the most as his warm hand engulfed yours as the two of you shook hands.

From then on, you guys seemed to cross paths at least once a month on a hunt. Whether it was a nest of vampires, a vengeful spirit, or a pack of werewolves, the Winchesters and you would end up in the same place and time and end up working together. There was this unspoken agreement that the three of you would work together if you so happened to be working the same hunt.

During these hunts, you found yourself pining over Sam Winchester. You didn't know how it happened at first (okay, you do know how it happened, but you didn't want to admit anything at first), but you noticed how kind and sweet Sam was. Sam's empathy and positivity were a stark contrast to the bleakness you were used to as you worked on hunts, but it was a breath of fresh air for you.

It didn't help that the two of you got along like a house on fire. You met someone who could understand your weird niche literary references, match you in a battle of wits, and actually enjoy learning and the research aspect of hunting. And your yearning for him didn't stop there because it didn't help that Sam was devastatingly handsome and, at his core, such a gentleman.

The realization that you liked Sam hit you like a ton of bricks. So, you did what you did best when it came to your feelings, you ran. You distanced yourself from them. You would purposely dodge their calls (Sam's mostly). It was a dick move, and you knew it since they were most likely calling for help, but you couldn't bring yourself to call back.

But with this particular hunt, you were stumped and needed help. You had tracked down a necklace from the late 17th century that led a trail of bodies behind it. You surmised that it was cursed, and you needed to get to it and burn it. The only problem was that it was sold to a small museum owner in an estate sale from the previous owner and was going to be displayed in the town's museum for its grand opening, with the necklace being the main exhibit. You had no way of getting it without being caught, so you needed extra hands.

You paced the length of the motel room you were staying out, biting your thumb as you debated on calling in for some help. You would have called Bobby for help, but you knew he would just send the Winchesters over to you anyway. After pacing around your room, you bit the bullet and called Dean.

"Well, isn't this a surprise sweetheart!" Dean's voice filtered through your ears, and you couldn't help the slight smile that grew on your face at the sound of his cheery tone (even if you could hear the undercurrent of smugness in his words).

"Hi Dean," You greeted with a chuckle as you sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking slightly underneath your weight.

"I hate to admit it, but I need your help on this hunt I'm working on." You asked as you bit your bottom lip, waiting for his response.

"You're in luck. Sammy and I just wrapped up a hunt here, where are you anyway?"

You felt your heart start to beat faster at the mention of Sam, which made you roll your eyes at your reaction to just a name. You told him the town and the state the hunt was in, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice as Dean replied.

"We're not that far from you. Just a couple hours drive from you."

"Well, if you're up for it, I could really use the help."

"Oh, we'll be there, sweetheart. Text me the motel you're staying at and the room number, and I'll let you know when we get there."

"Will do." You told him, and the two of you said goodbye as you hung up the phone. You fell backward onto the bed with a loud exhale. At least you had a couple of hours to compose yourself and try to breathe normally. You found yourself always short of breath while Sam Winchester was in the vicinity of you (you should probably go to the doctor for that, but it's not like you had good health insurance for a physical).

A couple of hours later, you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala just outside of the motel room. You felt something flutter in your stomach when you realized that you'd be seeing Sam after three months of no contact. There was a knock at the door, and after checking through the peephole of the door, you unlocked and swung the door open to be greeted with the broad grin of Dean Winchester, his brother, standing right behind him with a smaller smile on his face.

Dean had pulled you into a short but warm hug and brushed past you into your room, making himself home as you gave Sam a hug in greeting, feeling his arms wrap around you and squeezing before letting go. You could have sworn his touch lingered as he entered your room. You bit your bottom lip and released it as you shut your door.

Once Sam and Dean were settled at the table in your motel room and you on the bed, you gave them the rundown of what the hunt was and what you needed to do to get rid of the necklace. You were so engrossed in explaining your research and what you found out that you didn't notice Sam's eyes trained on you the entire time, a fond smile on his face as he listened to you talk.

"Not that we're not happy to see you, but this seems like a one-person job?" Dean questioned.

"That's what I thought too, but I found out that the necklace was going to be the main exhibit for the museum and unveiled at the end of the night. I was going to knab it beforehand, but this museum has pretty good security, and as much as I'm good at sneaking around, I don't have the measures to handle them without backup."

"We're just backup then? Oh, that hurts more than you could imagine sweetheart," Dean pretended to get shot in the heart, dramatically holding his chest.

You chuckled at Dean before you looked at Sam at that moment and caught him rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Quit being dramatic Dean," Sam said before his eyes met yours. "We'll help in anyway we can." The soft smile that was on his lips made you melt inside.

You smiled back at Sam. "Thanks, but there's another thing, it's a black-tie event." You winced a bit at your own words.

Dean groaned. "You're telling me I have to wear a tux?"

You scoffed at Dean's whining. "At least you could still hunt in a tux, wearing a dress makes it a little more difficult to move in."

A salacious grin made its way onto Dean's face. "Ah, but it's easier access if you know what I mean." He winked at you, and one of the pillows from the bed hit his face. You heard Sam chuckle, making your smile widen.

"Shut up, Dean. It's late, and the event is tomorrow. So you guys need to buy a suit and I need to go out and buy a dress." You all but shooed the brothers out of your room and bid each other good night.

Morning came faster than you anticipated, and the three of you went out for breakfast at the nearest diner before you guys went shopping for the outfits you needed for tonight.

"So, I was thinking, if the event is black-tie, wouldn't it mean this is invite only?" Sam asked while the three of you were eating.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, I was able to get two tickets, both of them with plus ones." The sweet old lady who ran the motel had given them to you, saying that she was too old to go and wanted to give them someone. She had given them to you since you had mentioned offhandly that you wanted to visit the museum after it opened.

"Good, I'll take the other ticket and Sammy here can be your plus one." Dean said with a wide smile as he patted Sam's shoulder. Your eyes widened at Dean's words, seeing the mischief glint in his green eyes.

You pursed your lips and looked at Sam. He had an unreadable face and looked everywhere but at you.

You cleared your throat to grab his attention. "Is that okay with you Sam?"

Sam finally looked at you and hummed. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay with being my date to the museum?" You clarified.

Sam nodded, his hair falling into his eyes as he did. "Yeah, it's okay." He reassured you, and the temptation to brush it away for him was at an all-time high. You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when he did it himself.

From there, the three of you finished your breakfast and went out and shopped for your dresses and tuxedos, respectively. You had found a beautiful spaghetti-strap green dress; the neckline came at a v, exposing a large portion of your collarbone and chest, a slit on either side of the dress that went up to your midthigh. There was an open back that stopped right above your lower back. This was the first time in years you would wear a dress, and when you tried it on in the store, you couldn't help but get it.

Once you guys were done shopping, you went back to the motel to get ready. Dean teased you about how girls take longer, but you didn't dignify his teasing with a response. With a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you went into your motel room to get ready and informed the boys to be prepared by 6:30 since the event started at 7.

You took a shower, shaved everything, and slipped into the dress. You did your makeup, and it was a little heavier than usual, having put some eyeshadow on your lids, smoking it out, eyeliner, and some lipstick to tie the look together. With your hair, you french braided the front of it, leaving some framing pieces out, and then took the rest of your hair and pulled it into a bun at the nape of your neck.

There was a knock on your door as you finished up, and you quickly left the bathroom and opened the motel door to see Sam and Dean in their tuxes. They both looked handsome, but your breath caught as you stared at Sam. His hair was relatively the same; it was just combed down, and some product was used to tame it. His suit fit him like a glove, and you gripped the door a little tighter as your eyes roamed his figure.

"Wow," Dean breathed out, breaking you out of your little trance. "You look great." Dean said with a genuine smile on his face. His compliment made you smile.

"Thanks Dean. You look pretty good too."

Dean scoffed playfully. "Just good? I think the words you're looking for are handsome, jaw-droppingly attractive or you know any adjective that means hot."

"Right," You drawled out. "Why would I lie to you?" You smiled sarcastically at him and laughed when his smile dropped into a scowl.

"I'll be in the car." He grumbled before stalking off to the parking lot and to the Impala.

You and Sam laughed at Dean before the two of you settled into an awkward silence.

You smiled tightly at him. "Let me get my bag and we can go."

Sam nodded, and you quickly grabbed your bag. You exited the room and locked the motel door once it closed. The two of you walked to the Impala and got in.

Once you had entered the museum, you knew you were doomed. Sam was acting like a perfect gentleman and date, always having a hand on you at all times, whether it be at the small of your back or your arm hooked around his as you walked around the ornate museum.

"I didn't get to say this earlier, but you look beautiful." Sam had whispered into your ear as the two of you walked into the museum, and you almost tripped on your kitten heels because of the sudden compliment. You felt your cheeks warm as you quietly thanked him.

The three of you decided to walk the museum and tried to find the necklace before it could be unveiled to the public. Dean had the first floor, while you and Sam had the second floor. Most of the second floor was the other exhibits the museum had. But you eventually found the necklace behind a locked room. Sam picked the lock to the door and saw the necklace in the corner of the room. The two of you carefully grabbed the necklace from the mannequin neck it was displayed on and put it in your bag.

Before you guys could get out of the room, you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. You started to panic internally as Sam looked at you urgently.

"Kiss me." You blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"Look, we don't have a way out without being caught and public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."

"Yeah, they do. Are you sure?"

You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, and you quickly pulled Sam down by his neck and placed your lips on his. Sam's hands found your waist as he pulled you in closer to his broad figure but also moved you backward until your bare back hit the wall.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against yours, and you couldn't help but feel warmth fill your chest as you kissed him. Your hands made their way up his chest and wound up on his shoulder and hair, making him scoot closer to you, his leg fitting through the gap between your open ones and gasping into his lips as his thigh pressed against your core.

The door opened, and the both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath, and turned to see Dean grinning widely in the doorway.

"Well, as much as I love to see the two of you work your feelings out for each other, we need to leave before we get caught stealing a necklace."  

Your heart starts to beat faster than it already was at Dean's words. Sam had feelings for me? You thought to yourself as you looked at Sam, who was already looking back at you and seemed to think about the same thing.

Sam leaned down. "We'll talk at the motel." He whispered in your ear before pulling away and sending you a smile. You nodded and followed him out of the room, Dean leading the charge out of the museum.

You were nervous and antsy the entire ride back to the motel, having destroyed the necklace in the woods right beside the museum. You stared at the back of Sam's head as Dean drove, wondering what the hell was going through his head.

When you guys made it back, Sam had you followed back to your room. Dean noticed, and he started to make some teasing remarks about the two of you to keep it down. All you and Sam did was flip him off and go into your room.

After the door shut, you and Sam were standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other in a charged silence. You don't know who moved first, but the two of you were entangled in one another, hands pulling at clothes, lips, and teeth on jawlines and neck. Hips grinding into one another, low moans and groans filled the air as the two shared a passionate embrace.

Later, after the two of you cleaned up, you were tucked into Sam's side, resting your head on his bare chest, absentmindedly tracing his tattoo with your fingertip. At the same time, his hand trailed up and down your arm and shoulder and kissed your hair occasionally as the two of you basked in the comfortable silence.

"This isn't a one time thing for me you know?" Sam's voice broke through the calmness of the quiet room.

You turned your head to look up at him. "Really?" You asked him, and you could feel the corner of your lips threaten to twitch up into a smile.

Sam nodded a sheepish smile on his face. "I know I don't have the best track record, but I really like you." He said with a slight blush beginning to grow on his cheeks.

Sam had told you about his experiences with love in a late-night conversation you two had shared a couple of months ago. You could understand since you also didn't have the best experiences with love either and confided in each other about it.

But at Sam's admission, you couldn't help but smile widely as Sam. You moved from Sam's side to straddle his hips. He sat up a little, and you threw your arms over his shoulders.

"Well, you're in luck because I really like you too Sam Winchester." You leaned closer and brushed your lips over his.

You felt Sam grin as you pecked his lips. "Really?" He teased, his hands resting on your bare hips as he slowly moved them against his growing bulge under the sheets.

You kissed him hard before trailing your lips down his jaw and neck. "How about I just show you?" You mumbled against his collarbone and nipped at it before your lips trailed lower and lower down his body.

Maybe calling the Winchesters for help wasn't a bad idea at all.

[sleepyy-dakota]

Look, this is not the first time I've drawn a man in a Maid dresses' body pillow and I. I will admit that yes.

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[zephyrchama]

I wonder if humans and demons in Obey Me! might have different taste receptors and experience taste slightly differently. Not for all things, but for really random stuff, like how some people irl enjoy cilantro and others think it tastes like soap.

Lucifer trying to pridefully power through the dinner MC made for him and failing because he's already gone through five drinks trying to mask its taste, and MC is getting suspicious.

"What is this incredibly sour vegetable? I've never tasted anything so... acrid."

"You mean the sweet potato? Are you saying this sweet potato is what's making your lips pucker?"

"There's absolutely nothing sweet about this potato."

[rystiel]

shipping chart thoughts

(billford always happens and they always break up. ford was obsessed when bill was his muse, then bill is obsessed after they’re no longer together and he realizes what he lost) (this dynamic is just canon, really)

(fiddauthor is always present at some point but in one route they end up together after canon events, and in another route fidd moves on) (it’s possible that they had a thing in college but consider it “typical college experimentation” because it’s the 70s and denial is strong. they still go through canon events)

(fiddlestan only happens during the fiddlestan route. otherwise canon events stay the same and they barely actually interact with each other. in the fiddlestan route they work together in the 80s and grow old together)

(billstan isn’t really romantic but it is a one-sided obsession. bill just can’t stop obsessing over the stans… for very different reasons…) (dare i say an unrequited kismesis dynamic?)

(ford and stan are brothers. that’s it. leave them out of the shipping dynamics.)

(fiddlebill isn’t really included here but i feel like the only way this would happen is if bill was possessing ford and wanted to fuck with fidd by using his crush on ford against him) (this one’s basically only possible if it’s fiddauthor-adjacent)

[tee-dohrnii]

Growing feelings

---

Question for my galemancers: when did YOUR Gale catch feelings?

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[hauntingofhouses]

Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

[ruporas]

asking and receiving (bonus below readmore)

[ID: A black and white, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood. In the first panel is a close up of Wolfwood's mouth as he says, "Vash". Accompanying it is a close up shot of Vash's eye, widen and cheeks flushed. Wolfwood presses a knee against the open space between Vash's legs and says, "Tell me everything you want from me." Wolfwood's face is equally as flushed. He continues to say, "I'll give it to you. Everything." As he talks, a wide shot shows the both of them in white space. Vash is sitting, leaning a little back with both hands pressed against the surface he's sitting on. Wolfwood is in his white dress shirt, stripped of the blazer. He's still leaning in with one knee in between Vash's spread legs, his right hand touching Vash's lips and his left hand behind his back.

The shot closes in on Vash's mouth and Wolfwood's hand against it, pressing down on the lower lip as he says, "You have to ask though. Go on." His hand moves down to Vash's chin, gently holding it. With a shy and uncertain expression, Vash hesitantly asks, "Um... K... Kiss... Please?" Wolfwood, without wasting a second, leans in and kisses him and indulges by pressing deeper, eliciting a small noise of surprise from Vash.

Wolfwood moves away from Vash first and with a smile, asks, "What else?" Vash tugs on Wolfwood's left sleeve, wordlessly budging Wolfwood to give him his hand that was still behind his back. In the next panel, Vash utters, "Hold me..?" He's holding Wolfwood's left hand with his own while his right hand is reaching for his waist. Wolfwood complies, moving his left hand to Vash's shoulder and his right hand continues to touch Vash's cheek. Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

More comfortable now, Vash leans in to kiss Wolfwood. Wolfwood catches him immediately, pressing his thumb against Vash's lips to stop him before demanding, "Hey. Ask." Vash looks back in surprise and Wolfwood meets his eye with a quiet, insistent look. They're quiet for a moment before Vash leans in again and curtly requests, "Kiss. Me." Wolfwood says "Good", smiling as he lifts his hand away, and meets Vash's lips. In the next shot, Wolfwood had adjusted his position, sitting on Vash's thigh. The hand that was once on Vash's cheek has moved its way to Vash's nape, pushing away the collar of his jacket with his pinky. His other hand continues to grip on Vash's shoulder. Still kissing, Wolfwood asks again, "What else?"

In the next shot, Vash is starting to turn, moving Wolfwood with him. Vash asks, "Let me on top of you?" Wolfwood says, "Mhm" before asking again, "What else?" The next panel shows a close look of Vash's face. He's looking down, flushed and shy just as he had been at the beginning, but now, more decisive. Vash asks, "Wolfwood... Let me have you..?" A panel of Wolfwood taking Vash's hand into his, pulling it towards his chest. The next panel shows Wolfwood lying down where Vash had laid him. Vash's hand is on Wolfwood's chest, covering the cross of his rosary while Wolfwood's hand lingers against his, loosely pressing Vash's hand in place. He looks up at Vash with a shy smile of his own, flushed cheeks. He says, "All yours."

A panel shows a close up of Vash's tender gaze before he leans down to be closer to Wolfwood. The final shot is a front view of their positions, Vash's face turned away from the viewer; Vash is leaning over Wolfwood who's lying down with his right leg draped over Vash's legs. Wolfwood's left hand holds onto Vash's left arm. With finality, Vash says, "...Mine." End ID]

[ID: A follow up bonus comic in a looser, sketchier style. They're laying comfortably in bed when Vash asks, "What was that earlier?" referecing to the start of the previous comic. Wolfwood glances away and says, "To get you used to it. Asking. And getting what you ask for. Since you're alwasy hesitant about it." Vash's eyes widen, tight lipped. Wolfwood continues, "Knowing you, it'll be a tough habit to break..." When he says this, Vash can't help but laugh, unable to deny it. Wolfwood slowly brings a hand to Vash's cheek and continues to say, "So I'll keep trying -- whatever ways I can... to get it through your thick skull." Vash takes Wolfwood's hand with his, kissing the the palm gently. Wolfwood's eyes soften and holding onto Vash's cheek, he leans in to try for a kiss. Vash says, "Hey..." before stopping Wolfwood's lips with the back of his hand, a smug look on his face, "Ask." Wolfwood's embarrassed and with little irritation, asks, "Really?" Vash smiles, saying, "You're in need of practice too." They pause for a moment, Wolfwood looking contemplatively, before he's leaning in again, asking, "May I please kiss you?" Vash looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes." The comic ends with a "chu", indicating an off-panel kiss. End ID]

[orbmanson7]

Happy birthday, Re-Animator 💉

Here's everyone's yearly reminder to read the beautiful two-part article "The Homoerotic History of Re-Animator" (Part 1 & 2) by thegorezone, because it's amazing and absolutely worth it

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[egophiliac]

still absolutely losing my mind over Lilia

[bogkeep]

i reread captive prince trilogy for the third or fourth time recently

[blackjackkent]

@astreamofstars suggested my next dive into the parsed dialogue files should be looking at the various Vicious Mockery lines available for player characters, and the ways the different companion character VAs speak them. This turned out to be quite challenging, as there are a LOT of them!

There are a total of 97 unique Vicious Mockery lines, each of which was recorded by all ten companion character VAs PLUS all twelve custom character VAs, for a total of 2,134 recorded lines, which is wild. (This is not including Ethel's 60 unique Vicious Mockery lines as well, which brings the total to 2,194.)

In this video, I've collected all 97 VM lines across all ten companion VAs, along with notes (where applicable) on things like

references to Shakespeare (or other pieces of media)

places where BG3 continues a time-honored tradition of the series by butchering archaic English grammar

interesting inconsistencies between the VAs or with the written dialogue

(If you notice any references I missed, please let me know and I might edit the video! :D )

In making this video, I ended up listening to all these lines a LOT, and I do love that some definite patterns emerge which are very on-brand for the characters in question.

Astarion often sounds deeply disdainful and at times almost bored. He barrels through some of the lines as if he doesn't think the recipient of his insult is even worth his time. (Also him calling someone a "parchment-pallored villain" is a bit rich, don't you think? :P )

Gale is deeply pleased with his own cleverness and laughs at his own jokes.

In my opinion, Dave Jones by far most Understood The Assignment; Halsin bellows out the lines like a Shakespearean actor playing to the back row and really relishes the language.

Jaheira is in full mother-tiger voice and clearly ready to kick ass and take names; she's not messing around. (With one exception - I have been laughing over Tracy Wiles's reading of "Mouthier than an arse, twice as full o' shite" for the entire duration of this project, because solely for that line she sounds like she's been possessed by some unknown force and is utterly baffled by the words coming out of her own mouth.)

Karlach reads most of these lines as either battle-cry or schoolyard taunt and seems utterly delighted in both cases. I enjoy that she adds a fun roll on her r's to sound all mockingly fancy.

Lae'zel generally sounds like she's about to rip someone's throat out and often seems completely oblivious to the humor involved, even on lines like the delightful pun, "As the leg, you'll end in defeat."

Minsc definitely doesn't know what most of these words mean but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I enjoy that "Mouthier than an arse" becomes "mouthier than a butt" only for him. XD

Minthara, like Lae'zel, is mostly not coming at this from a place of amusement; she's MAD. She sounds like a judge handing down sentence in the most disdainful manner possible. (That said, she has my favorite deliveries on some of the lines with timing-related humor: "Thou art saucy... as gruel," "Thine eyes! Pools of tepid piss," "Like a summer's day... thou art sweaty," etc.)

Shadowheart just sounds deeply offended that her target is existing anywhere near her. She's practically spitting on all her plosive consonants and it's delightful.

Wyll sounds remarkably fierce given how nice a dude he is, but a lot of his lines have some righteous indignation (appropriate for a former noble and the Blade of Frontiers) - or he just sounds like he pities his opponent. His reading of "It vexes me to know of you" is my favorite of the whole cast; he just sounds so disbelieving of his target's stupidity.

Overall I think my favorite of these lines is towards the end: "Your body's a temple - to an idiot god!" All ten companions really stick the landing on that one. :D

Thanks for watching! Hope you enjoy.

(Got requests for other investigations into BG3 dialogue? Drop me an ask and let me know! )

[astorythatwritesitself]

yes good day hi I am being COMPLETELY normal don't look at the tags about this Valentine's YCH from @valkblue 😭