#this is probably not an original thought nor am i probably the only one to have done this math

[chibinasuu]

The Lady at Baratie | バラティエのお嬢さん

From One Piece Novel: Straw Hat Stories by Ōsaki Tomohito

❗IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER❗

This is not my story. I just translated the original story written by Ōsaki Tomohito (大崎知仁) from Japanese into English. This is Sanji’s storyline that was included in One Piece Novel: Straw Hat Stories, but didn’t make it into the One Piece Fan Letter episode. It was first published in One Piece Magazine vol. 2, which is where I got the original text from for this translation. 

This is just a fan translation. I am not a native Japanese speaker (or a native English speaker, for that matter) nor am I a professional translator. My credential is as far as a JLPT N2 certificate, so please forgive any inaccuracies or awkwardness in the translation.

I’d be thrilled if you share this by reblogging within tumblr, but I'd appreciate it if you don’t copy and repost, or share this translation outside of this website.

Now, on to the story. Enjoy!

──── I ──── 

An apéritif of sparkling wine to stimulate the appetite, then an appetizer of dry-cured ham and fruits. Delicious, as expected. The second course was a seafood tomato soup, with just the perfect touch of acidity. 

If you shift your gaze out the window, a view of the cloudless sky and the calm sea spread out before you, which, coupled with the distant call of the seagulls, soothes the heart that had been worn down by life on solid land.

Good food, good location. Yes, it had been a long time since I visited the Baratie, but it really was incomparable!

However, there was one little thing holding me back from freely enjoying myself today. 

That one little thing, was sitting right before me. 

“Hmm, yes, this place is quite alright, isn’t it? The way I see it, the alcohol and ingredients they use here are not half bad either. But, you see, there’s this other restaurant I know which I would rather recommend to you. Well, it is fairly more high-end than this place, yes, but I happen to know the owner. So, if you would like to visit, I can make a reservation straight away...”

“Oh yes, I see… Is that right?” I threw in some offhand responses at appropriate times as he rambled on. Behind the cover of a napkin, I let out a deep sigh. 

This man, who had only been excessively talking about himself, was my companion for today’s meal (to emphasize, this was not a date, just a meeting over a meal). I wasn’t even sure anymore how I first met him – I think he probably approached me at a party, or something like that. Ever since then, he had been endlessly persistent in asking me out for a meal, even after I refused him every single time. I admit it was my mistake that I finally gave up and said okay this time.

Since I wasn’t looking forward to the meal in the first place anyway, I thought at the very least I should be allowed to choose the restaurant myself. So, I made a reservation at the floating restaurant “Baratie”, which I had recently been visiting less and less due to my busy schedule. Today happened to be the day of that reservation.

The man had his hair slicked back with a heavy coat of styling gel. A gold handkerchief was tucked in the front pocket of his bright, crimson suit. How do I say it, everything about this guy was just gaudy. Loud. And although he had been running his mouth off the whole time, all he talked about was,

“There’s this singer that I know—“

“There’s this building that I own—“

“There’s this dog I got that costs six hundred thousand berries a head—“

Me, me, me. It was a never-ending onslaught of boastful speeches about himself. I wished I could put him on mute just by pressing those flashy cufflinks of his. 

My rare chance to dine at the Baratie – my long-overdue meal at the Baratie had lost half its charms with Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist over here as my dining companion. 

Right now, a monologue about “this movie starring my bro’s wife’s sister” was taking place in front of me. I put on my imaginary earplugs and shut out the noise, deciding to focus on my meal instead. 

It was then that I realized. The Baratie was unusually quiet today – well, aside from this self-absorbed prick sitting before me. After taking a quick, casual look around the restaurant, I figured out the reason why. 

Just as I thought. He wasn’t here. 

That waiter, always in his black suit with a cigarette hanging between his lips… No, not a waiter. I believe he called himself the sous chef.

Sanji was nowhere to be seen today.  

Beyond his cooking skills, he was infamous at the Baratie for being a notorious skirt-chaser who was always indiscriminately hitting on all the female customers. As for myself, it wasn’t just once or twice that I was on the receiving end of Sanji’s flirting. 

And just so you know, it wasn’t just three or four times either. 

“Oh, what a beautiful lady! It’s your first time here, isn’t it? Hm, did you come alone today? That won’t do. Shall I accompany you for a glass of wine after your meal?”

“This sherbet – you better eat it quick before it melts from the heat of my passion for you.”

“Oh, you’re a fashion designer? Then, maybe I should ask you to design a suit for me! Could you take my measurements now? Should I take my clothes off? Should I strip down?”

He was pompous, and foolish, and perverted. But, somehow, he was also the kind of man that was just impossible to hate. 

On top of that, this Sanji was also famous for the strength of his legs. 

All kinds of customers dine at the Baratie, not excluding rude and bad-mannered ones. If a customer’s ill behavior went too far, Sanji would deliver a powerful kick to their table, or even to the patrons themselves. I had only seen it once. A huge drunk man, who was loudly making a scene and even reaching out to steal food from a neighboring table, fell victim to Sanji’s leather shoes and ended up sprawled on the floor, “If you could please kindly shut the fuck up, Sir.” 

Well, if he wasn’t here, then he wasn’t here. But for me, who he always flirted with every time I came here, a Baratie without Sanji just felt like it was lacking something. 

“...and that’s how it is! Funny, right?”

Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist was leering at me with a smug look on his face, and I instinctively leaned back. Danger, danger. It took everything in me not to jab my fork into his forehead.

His story seemed to have reached its punchline, and he was waiting for my reaction. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear a shit of what you just said,” was what I would’ve liked to tell him. 

But in reality, all I could say to him was, “Right. So funny. Hahaha…”

──── II ──── 

“Some customers really have no manners,” Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist grumbled upon returning from the restroom.

“There was a customer smoking at the table over there. I think smoking while eating ruins the taste of the food, and to boot, it’s just a nuisance to the other customers. If you ask me, people who smoke are the biggest of idiots. You think so too, don’t you?”

“Yes, well…”

“That’s a reasonable opinion, but if you ask me, that nasty cologne you’re wearing smells just as bad as the smoke! It’s so bad that I want to dunk you with seawater right now just to get rid of it!” 

But of course, I could only say that in my mind.

We had just finished the main dish of our full course meal (Sautéed Elephant Bluefin Tuna in Olive Oil – so rich and delicious), and now, dessert had just been served. All that was left was for us to enjoy the lingering sensation of a good meal over a coffee or a digestif… or at least we were supposed to. But with this Fancy-haired Narcissist sitting before me, my patience was quickly running out. 

This won’t do. I need a change of scene.

“Oh, going to the restroom? Take your time.”

As I placed my napkin on the chair and stood up, the self-absorbed prick gave me a wink. I gave him a reluctant smile in return (while inside, I stuck my tongue out at him), and left my seat. 

Instead of going to the restroom, I went out to the deck instead, thinking I might try to find Sanji there. But, as expected, he was nowhere to be found either. 

As I leaned against the railing and listened to the whistle of a distant merchant ship, I wished I could just stay out here for the rest of the day, feeling the wind on my skin. The gentle sea breeze carried my sigh away. Out of the blue, a shadow appeared on my left, accompanied by a telltale clunk. 

A ridiculously long chef’s hat, a braided beard. The clunk I heard was the sound of a prosthetic leg hitting the deck. Zeff, the owner and head chef of the Baratie, was standing next to me. We had exchanged casual greetings a few times before. Zeff had his arms crossed and was staring off into the distance with a sour look on his face.  

“Are you on your break?” 

I didn’t know why I spontaneously called out to him — maybe I was just longing for a conversation that wasn’t shallow and superficial like the ones I’d been having all day. 

Zeff answered while still gazing at the ocean, “No, I just needed to check something.”

“Check something?”

“Yes. I have to feel the wind – whether it is dry or humid, warm or cold – to determine the way we should prepare the food today.” 

“You can’t make good food just by staying locked up in the galley,” Zeff said with a small laugh. “You on a date, young miss? Seems like you came here with a man.”

“Uh, well, you know,” I stammered. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t a date, just a meeting over a meal, but the words couldn’t quite come out. As more seconds ticked by, even if I gave any additional explanation, it would have just come across as unconvincing. So I didn’t, and asked him a question instead.

“Is Sanji-san taking a day off today?”

“Sanji?”

Zeff glanced at me, “Well if it’s him you’re looking for, I’m afraid he ain’t here. He’s out – to find the All Blue.”

“All Blue?”

When I blinked in confusion, Zeff faintly smiled and explained, “Young miss, you don’t read the papers much, do you? That brat Sanji, he’s a pirate now. He’s in Straw Hat Luffy’s crew – that kid who wants to become the King of the Pirates. Ever heard of him?”

The Straw Hat Pirates. The name seemed familiar, but I didn’t know much about them. I was honestly surprised. Who would’ve thought that playboy would end up becoming a pirate?

“So, Sanji-san won’t be coming here for a while then?” 

“Yeah, I guess he won’t. Not until the Straw Hats’ adventures reach its end, at least.” 

“Oh, I see…”

Even I was taken aback at how low-spirited my reply sounded. Flustered, I tried to regain a lighthearted tone, “Everyone must miss him now that he’s gone, no? Sanji-san was a very lively person, wasn’t he?”

“Miss him? Don’t be stupid.”

Zeff laughed. “It’s actually a relief that the foolish eggplant is gone. He was just a walking, overdressed nuisance after all.”

His description made me burst into laughter. I certainly got the feeling that wherever Sanji went, trouble would follow. 

“And yet,” Zeff said as he stepped away from the railing, “That brat is still causing trouble for us even after he’s gone.”

“Even after he’s gone?” I asked, but Zeff was already heading toward the door leading to the inside of the restaurant without saying another word.

──── III ──── 

When I finally returned to my seat, I was met with a surprise. 

“Um… what is this?”

“My feelings. Accept it, won’t ya?”

On top of the table, his feelings – a ring adorned with a large jewel – sat in its case, glaring at me. 

“Ah, there’s no particular deep meaning behind it or anything! I just want to commemorate this first day with you, since I’m looking forward to spending more wonderful times with you from now on.” 

Then, he winked.

No. No, no, no. I pressed my hand to my forehead and hung my head.  

“Hey, hey, hey! Are you so happy that you cried? Oooh, I’m in trouble!”

No, that wasn’t it! I could only shake my head.

On the first date (or rather, first meal together), he suddenly gifted me a ring. Moreover, the ring was so bulky it could probably be used as a weapon. Oh, hell no. I can’t take this anymore – this ring, and this man too. 

A memory suddenly popped up into my tired, dejected mind – of a different “jewel” that Sanji had given me some time ago. 

Once when I came here for lunch, due to a slip-up, the wine I ordered that was listed as available on the menu turned out to be out of stock. At that time, Sanji offered me a complimentary Fruit Macedonia as a token of apology. 

“I hope you’ll accept this. Although this can’t possibly compare with your radiance and vibrance–”

His flattery aside, the Macedonia he brought over to me – garnished with a waft of smoke from his cigarette – was of the highest luxury. From the glassware and the way it was presented, to the vibrant colors of the fruits – it was like looking at a box of jewels. 

I couldn’t help but compare the “jewel” that had captivated me at that time, and the jewel that was currently glittering on the table before me. The prices of those two jewels must have been in very different leagues, but so were the impressions they left on my heart. 

“You’re gonna accept this, right?”

He gave me a look that clearly expected me to, as he waited for my answer.

I took a deep breath as I prepared to firmly set things straight with him, “Well, I–” but my voice was drowned out by a sudden loud bang of a door being kicked open. 

The group that stormed into the restaurant was instantly recognizable as pirates at first glance. Their sunburned faces were crooked with vicious looks, and every one of them was carrying weapons. The customers seated by the door screamed and scattered at the sudden intrusion, which had the cooks rushing out of the kitchen. 

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“Is it a raid?”

Leading the charge was a cook with a twisted headband around his shaved head and another cook with sunglasses on. 

Patty and Carne. I only knew their names because I’d seen Sanji argue with those two countless times before. 

“Ughh… Haaa…”

I was wondering what made that trembling sound when I realized that it was the self-absorbed prick beside me. The poor guy’s face was drained of color, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish out of water, and he’d fallen halfway off his chair. 

Oh, but it sure was strange. I was quite certain he told me some kind of heroic tale earlier about how “I did boxing when I was a kid, and I once KO’d three, no, I think it was seven, pirates at once.” 

There were roughly a dozen pirates in the group, and a man with a mohawk, who seemed to be the captain, kicked over a nearby table and yelled, “Cooks! Bring me all the food and booze you have! Now!”

Then, with a grin, he continued, “Don’t try to put up a pointless resistance. I already knew, see? That crazy strong bastard Sanji isn’t here anymore, right?”

“If he ain’t here then so what, you son of a bitch!”

“That lousy cook had no fighting skills to begin with!”

Patty and Carne yelled in return, brandishing their giant pitchforks. 

The sea of cooks parted at the clunking of Zeff’s prosthetic leg. He stepped forward slowly, snorting at the sight of the pirates, “Hmph. Some thugs again? How bothersome. Did you think you could easily take on Baratie now that Sanji’s not here?”

“Oh look, it’s Red-Leg Zeff. What can a senile, old ex-pirate do, huh?”

Mohawk Man’s remark was bold, but for just a moment, a hint of fear was apparent in his voice and expression. No one could deny that the Owner’s presence sure was intimidating. 

At that moment, I also realized the meaning of his puzzling words from earlier, how he said that Sanji still brought trouble even after he was gone.  

Long story short, it seemed like these types of scoundrels would frequently come and attack Baratie, taking advantage of Sanji’s absence. It must be a pain to deal with these good-for-nothings, who may not even have dared come if Sanji had been here. 

Zeff continued, “If you’re here as a paying customer, then I’ll bring you as much food and booze as you’d like. If not, then get lost.” 

“Oh, I’ll pay… with this,” Mohawk Man said, drawing a pistol from his belt. 

“I see how it is.” Zeff nodded and commanded the cooks standing by, “Please escort him out, boys.”

The Owner’s words acted as a signal, and with a battle cry, the cooks clashed with the pirates. 

──── IV ──── 

The skirmish was over in no time at all. 

I didn’t know whether it was because the pirates were weak or the cooks were strong, or maybe it was both, but within a matter of minutes, all of the pirates were taken out and thrown overboard into the ocean like rotten leftover ingredients. 

Ah, by the way, Mr. I-KO’d-Seven-Pirates snatched the ring and skedaddled as soon as the battle started. I didn’t get the chance to say “See you never!” to him in the end, but oh well. 

The cooks were no strangers to fighting, and they were also used to putting the restaurant back together in the aftermath. Efficiently, they worked to replace the broken tables and chairs with new ones. It’s not as if I wanted to thank them for the spectacle or anything, but I found myself also helping to put the knocked-over tables back up. 

Then, I heard Zeff’s voice, “Apologies, young miss. What a pity that your nice date got ruined.”

I turned around and smiled at him, “No worries. I was planning to never see him again after today anyway. Besides, I was lucky to be able to witness Baratie’s famous ‘fighting cooks’ before my very eyes.” 

Zeff chuckled, “Hmph, you’ve got a lot of guts, young lady. It must be hard to find a man that can match up to you.”

I was about to make a joke about how I doubt such a man actually exists, when a face suddenly popped into my mind – a certain chain-smoking sous chef.

That’s ridiculous, I shook my head, but the image had planted itself in my head and refused to leave.

My heart beat just a little bit faster. 

Zeff continued, “Well, this is the Baratie. Stuff like this will definitely happen again in the future. Anyhow, make sure to bring a tougher fellow with you next time.”

“Hm, I wonder. I don’t think any man will be coming with me next time, though.” 

Then – a little surprised at my own boldness – I added mysteriously,

“The man won’t be coming with me. After all, I’ll be meeting him here, at the restaurant.” 

Zeff tilted his head in confusion, but I didn’t indulge him with any further explanation.

☆ translator notes:

I want to stress that not everything here was a literal word-for-word translation. I did take some liberties with some of the translations since Japanese is a very nuanced and complex language, of which lots of vocabulary and grammar do not have a direct English equivalent. But, of course, I tried to remain as faithful as possible to the source material. 

One of the things I contemplated the most was how to translate the lady’s nickname for her “date”. The lady, in her inner monologue, always referred to the unnamed man as 「おれ様オールバック」 (ore-sama allback) or 「おれ様」 (ore-sama). 

Wikipedia translates 「おれ様」 (ore-sama) to “my esteemed self”. Basically, it’s a personal pronoun that indicates extreme arrogance and self-centeredness. The man did not use this personal pronoun himself – he just used 「おれ」 (ore) throughout the story – but the lady here is mocking him for his self-centeredness. The translation I decided on for “ore-sama allback” was “Mr. Fancy-haired Narcissist” (“allback” means slicked-back hair, referring to the man’s hairstyle), while I translated “ore-sama” to “self-absorbed prick”. 

They were pretty liberal translations because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to convey those phrases in English, but I hope that was an okay interpretation!

[shidoukanae]

Did a study of a panel i like for a manga with absolutely my favorite female character i've seen yet and thought i'd post it here too in the hopes of eventually finding fans of this series when they inevitably, like me, look for more content of this story :'D

I could gush about this funny, lovestarved, absolutely downright sympathetic and villainous lady who absolutely deserves to be family with the protag for so many hours if you let me she is literally so perfect and everything I have ever wanted from female characters before.

I've gone from going "ooooo she's such a cool antagonist who is such a funny little mystery i LOVE her" to "yeah she's kind of on the insane spectrum but tbf who wouldn't be fucked up in her situation TwT" to "i WILL cry over her and she is completely in the right for doing what she's doing and i can't believe i ever believed she wasn't the heroine she's supposed to be :'D"

[formosusiniquis]

so rewatching the rashomon job (a perfect bottle episode, proof you don't need a long season to have filler eps) and what i think is interesting is that by my math hardison is 19ish during this solo job.

this is a bit of a fixation of mine anyway, for a show that otherwise runs a very tight timeline episode to episode the character ages just get sort of hand waved away. parker and hardison are the young ones, eliot is older but usually gets grouped in with them; and nate and sophie are the experienced members of the crew. any references to their past will get you some vague year point that you can slot into a general time line but you aren't getting a year point.

except in season 3 where nate tells moreau that he's got hardison a 24 year old with a problem with authority (rough quote, haven't made it that far in the rewatch yet). so we work back. the rashomon job is 5 years from season 3, you assume each season paces about a year though realistically some of the timing should stretch out a little longer but we'll average it out to a year. so that makes season 1 hardison roughly 21 and puts the crew pulling this accidental rivals job 2 years before they meet in canon.

meaning that two of our three professional criminals looked at a 19 year old alec hardison and thought that was minister bioko, someone with enough importance or money to get invited to an event like this one

[nightwngz]

Older bat! Damian with super or wonder reader who's like sheltered and oblivious to the real world and they go on a mission or smith together and the whole times she's just doing whatever he says because that's what she's used to and he's just like damnn and finds that really attractive

— 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ! ☆

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble smut. porn with a plot. dirty talk. fingering. Damian uses Arabic nicknames.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I don't know how I feel about myself today, but I decided to write this for you anyway. I hope you like it. <3

It was one of the first times you, a young girl exiled from the real world and born on an island paradise inhabited only by women, had contact with what was considered 'the real world.' You were not yet accustomed to many things, especially the existence of men, or perhaps men like Damian Wayne.

On Themyscira, you were used to following orders. When the Queen or your trainer told you to "do this," you knew exactly what to do. But when you joined the Justice League and met Batman, you initially believed you were supposed to act the same way. You soon realized that maybe you should have listened when Jon told you to ignore him completely.

At that moment, Damian Wayne, now known as Batman, was the last person you wanted to be trapped with in a situation like this. The two of you were locked in a reinforced room with no way out, where neither your strength nor your wits could help you get out. So you found yourself trapped with the one man who liked to bark orders like he was the king of Gotham.

— You really don't know what to do? — He asked, annoying you again. — Before, Wonder Women were effective.

However, you tried to heed Jon's advice; thus, you responded to him without intending to participate in his game.

— Yes, and in my land, men didn't even exist. So I'm just getting used to working with the inefficiency of one.

Damian slowly approached the box you were sitting in with an annoying grin on his face.

— In fact, I am a detective. Of course I know how to get out of here.

Your confused expression made him smile even harder at your confusion. You weren't sure if it was fair to feel like a complete idiot, but that was exactly how you felt at that moment. Besides, you didn't like him at all.

— And you never thought to open the door, or are you just trying to annoy me by making me live with you?

— Actually... — He replied, moving even closer to you. — I'm testing you. Go and open the door as best you can — He finally ordered.

And as if it were a sacred word, you stood up, determined to open the door to the room at any cost. At first, you tried to break it down with blows, but your strength wasn't enough. It was probably made of some incredibly strong material, possibly of alien origin.

— Try pulling the doorknob with your lasso — he suggested, and once again, you listened.

Damian couldn't help but find the way you obeyed like a trained dog incredibly attractive. Deep down, he felt that he had you at his mercy and that no matter what he asked you to do, you would listen.

Totally exhausted from the effort, you knelt on the ground, but you didn't give up. Feeling sorry for you, he reached over to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.

— Pretty obedient little thing. — He flattered, lifting your chin so you could look him in the eye. — You don't know how to say no, do you?

A wave of intense heat enveloped you. Perhaps it was the first time you had ever found yourself in an intimate situation with someone, as you had always believed that your body was trained solely for an impending war. Yet, when Damian was around, that was the one purpose of your training you occasionally forgot.

— If I asked you to take off your underwear, would you be so obedient, habibati?

Your cheeks reddened immediately. You knew you should avoid this kind of situation, but having been trained on the island, you understood that you had to follow the orders of a superior. Batman was more experienced than you, making him your superior, and you felt obligated to obey him.

Immediately your panties fell down under the metal skirt of your suit, exposing your pussy to the man in the room.

From what you knew about men, you noticed they often looked for specific qualities in women. However, Damian had never shown any boldness towards you. As time passed, the 'sexual tension' that Jon had mentioned began to feel more like an annoyance.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he smiled as usual. But his smile was not one of despair; it was one of desire.

He knelt down to be at the same height as you. Gently, he slid a finger down your soaked pussy while keeping his eyes on yours, watching for any reaction on your face.

You understood what he was doing and how he was touching every part of the anatomy between your legs with precision. What you didn't understand was how he was so skilled at it.

You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him gently pinch your now throbbing clit. His touch drove you crazy as you felt waves of pleasure crash against you.

— Damn, what a good girl. Sorry to tell you, Habibati... I have a weakness for obedient women.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

I’m Not Your Fiancée, Ranma [a ranma saotome with fem!reader mini series] part one

warnings: anime/manga spoilers, slight canon divergence, very mild Akane bashing.

Hey guys, welcome to a brand new mini series! I do apologize for not being active on here as I am on my other blog, @forbidden-sunlight but I do hope to change that when things in my corner of the world slow down. Special thanks to my co-author @deathmetalunicorn1 and @syneyam for beta-reading the earlier stages of this draft!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and watch for that bucket of cold water! :3

You would like to think that your life is peaceful as it can get in a family of martial artists. Your older sisters Kasumi and Nabiki might have taken basic self-defense lessons at your father’s insistence, but they had no interest in taking over the Tendo Dojo when he passed. Akane could take over the mantle. She has the strength, the tenacity, and the temperament to discipline a smart-mouthed pupil if she doesn’t let their words get under her skin. She has expressed her hatred for men before, and it probably won’t ever subside. Not even getting engaged to a boy would help.

But your father and Mr. Saotome truly believe that having your older twin sister and Ranma, Mr. Saotome’s son, would work out their differences in this marriage arrangement and carry on the promise they made to each other years ago: to carry on the legacy of the School of Anything-Goes-Martial-Arts.

It’s been over a year since the Saotomes arrived at the Tendo household with their magical curses that can only be reversed by hot water and there has been no significant progress in Akane and Ranma’s relationship.

You don’t think it helped that Ranma had somehow ended up with three extra fiancées, too; Shampoo, the Chinese Amazon warrior who was defeated by Ranma in combat, and under the laws of her tribe she must take Ranma as her husband. Then there was Ukyo, his childhood friend whom he originally thought was a boy and not a girl whom Genma also promised a marriage arrangement to fulfill a debt to Ukyo’s father. Last but not least, is Kodachi Kuno. You’re not sure if this engagement would even count. She was more like a troublesome suitor who would cheat and use poison to get what she wanted.

Akane had a tendency to misunderstand situations or act on impulse first without giving Ranma a chance to explain himself. Sometimes there were situations where it was Ranma’s fault and he was too stubborn to admit it until it was too late. Either way, this was not a healthy relationship, and you feared it would only get worse as time went on.

You wanted your sister to be happy, and Ranma too. But is it even right to keep two people in a relationship when they were against this engagement in the first place and neither your father nor Mr. Saotome refused to listen to them?

Although you were not too keen on leaving home to go to Kyoto with your after-school club to take part in a competition, Kasumi assured you with a sweet smile that everything will be fine. She knows how hard you’ve been working to get everything ready for this event, so please do not worry about her or everyone else.

Do your best, have fun, and call from the hotel as soon as you check in so that your father wouldn’t get too worried.

So you did. You traveled to Kyoto, won the competition, and came back home early on the following Sunday morning. When you found the entire household, including an irate Akane wiggling in the arms of your father and Mr. Saotome in his panda form, something was up.

“What’s going on?” You asked immediately, throwing your overnight bag on the ground. “Mr. Saotome, Father!”

“I’m not doing it!” Akane bellowed. “I couldn’t care less what happens to that pervert! You are not gonna make me take him back! The engagement is off!  Do you hear me? Off! I never wanted this in the first place!”

“OI!”

“Nothing to worry about, little sis,” Nabiki said with a shrug. “Supposedly Shampoo mixed a love potion in some special deluxe ramen, and Ranma ate it without realizing it. When Daddy and Mr. Saotome discovered what had transpired, they hauled him back here and put a blindfold on him. They think that if he sees Akane as soon as the blindfold comes off, the engagement won’t be called off and everything goes back to normal. I had heard about your performance in Kyoto. Well done.”

“Much appreciated Nabiki.” You turned towards your father and his cursed friend, “Dad, Mr. Satome, put Akane down.”

“Sweetie, we need to do this! For the sake of the school!” Your father said with tears trickling down his face. The panda beside him guffawed in agreement.

“So you’re telling me that the Tendo/Saotome union is more important than my older sister’s happiness?” You said, looking at him in disbelief. When your father did not answer and just stared at you. “Oh, you have got to be joking.”

“T-That’s not true at all, honey! I just -”

“For the last time, Daddy, I am not gonna marry Ranma!” Akane shouted. Twisting her body around, she wormed her way out of Mr. Saotome’s grasp and stomped off, grumbling about how it wasn’t fair to be treated like this and how she wants nothing to do with jerks for the rest of her life. While your father tearfully cried out for your sister to come back, you pushed the double doors leading to the dojo open with a loud slam.

You’ve had enough of this nonsense. You’ve had enough of the bickering and chaos and the outright absurdity of treating Ranma like a prize to be coveted than a human being who can’t possibly sit for long periods of time without eating or using the bathroom. So like the fool you were, tired and frustrated, you stormed inside the spacious area, seeing a single person in the seiza position with a dark blue cloth wrapped over his eyes.

Ranma.

Your heart twisted in sympathy and anger as you slid your shoes off by the dojo’s entrance, walking inside barefooted. You kneeled down in front of Ranma and folded your arms around his head, your fingers carefully undoing the knot.

“Who’s there?!” He exclaimed. “Pops, if this is you, I oughta clobber you -”

“Easy there, Ranma.” You said. “It’s me. [First Name]. Hold on a sec, let me get this off of you, okay? This love potion or whatever Shampoo gave you, must have worn off by now.” In a few moments, the blindfold was off and a pair of piercing blue irises stared up into yours. For a moment, you could have sworn there was a shimmer glossing over those eyes before it disappeared. You swallowed. Maybe removing the blindfold was not a good idea.

Then suddenly, Ranma looked away from you, frowning. “Hmph.”

You blinked. Huh? “If you’re that mad at Dad and Mr. Saotome for this whole situation -”

“Who said I was mad?” Ranma snapped.

“Because you’re avoiding eye contact and frowning. Those are pretty obvious signs of being mad at someone.” You pointed out.

“What makes you think I’m mad at them?”

“Who else would you be mad at?” You countered.

“Who do ya think?”

“Enlighten me then, because I am not a mind reader.”

Ranma groaned. “It’s you, you dummy!” He turned to you, his face bright red. “I’m mad at you! Before you left for Kyoto, you promised to call when you got there! But did I hear anything? Nope. Nada, zip. I almost went over there myself to make sure ya didn’t miss the train! Just because we’re engaged doesn’t mean ya can be vague about what you’re doing or where you’re goin’! Think about your dad, Nabiki, Kasumi, Akane! How do ya think they’d react if something happened to ya and then never heard from ya again?!”

You stared at the pigtailed martial artist, wide-eyed at his outburst and the context of his words. Two things stuck out like a sore thumb to you immediately: While Ranma is stubborn and egotistical, deep down he is a caring person, especially towards Akane whenever she is in a pinch. But he has never acted like this towards you. And he said we’re engaged. As in, he thinks you are his fiancee, and not Akane. Similar to how your sister lost her memories of Ranma with the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique, but different. Instead of using a combination of an herbal shampoo and application of pressure points on the skull to manipulate memories, Ranma ingested the potion. But if everyone said that the Chinese Amazon had administered one that makes him fall in love with whoever he sees first…

Methinks Shampoo had concocted the wrong potion. You thought. Still…

“Ranma,” You began. “I don’t know if you were here, but I called the house on the night I got to the hotel. I talked to Kasumi, and she said she was happy to hear my voice and to have a good time before I hung up.” You tilted your head to the side. “Did she not say anything?” You watched his eyes widen, his body flinch, and then looked away from you again.

“Yeah, well, I’m still mad at you!” Ranma harrumphed.

“Then you will humor this dishonorable one by answering a random question?” You lightly teased, hoping to slice some of this awkward tension between you and him. It worked, sort of, if his silence was his way of saying, fine you can, but that doesn’t mean I am gonna forgive you unless you apologize. You sighed, scratching the back of your head. “Ranma, how did we meet?”

“What kinda question is that?”

“Ranma.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Me and Pops came to Nermia about two weeks after we went to Jusenkyo an’ got cursed. He was insistent about meetin’ Mr. Tendo and completing the agreement they made years ago, the one where I have to marry one of his daughters. I didn’t wanna do it, and that stubborn old man knocked me out before I could run like hell back to China. We arrived at yer house in our cursed forms, so everyone thought we were really a girl and a panda, includin’ you. One thing led to another. Then Pops explained what happened to us, and Mr. Tendo said our situation wasn’t too terrible. He told me to pick one of you to be his fiancee, and Kasumi and Nabiki volunteered your meat-headed sister ‘cause they thought me bein’ half girl wasn’t terrible just ‘cause she hates men. She wanted nothin’ to do with me, calling me a pervert and then you stepped up and said you’ll be my fiancée.” He shrugged. “Not that I wanted to settle down with an uncute girl who isn’t even good at martial arts to begin with.”

“I’m glad to know that you have such a high opinion of me.” You said, smiling at him, eyes closed. You seemed to take the insult in stride, but anyone who has known you long enough would see the smile on your face was anything but expressing amusement. You and Akane might be twins, but the differences between the two couldn’t have been greater. Your older sibling by three minutes could hold her on in a fight and master a technique in the blink of an eye. It took you months to basic katas, even if you practiced every day. You wouldn’t lie and say that there weren’t days when you envied Akane. She was smart, kind, super strong, and reliable. There isn’t a guy in the entire world who wouldn’t want to take her out on a date.

But if it wasn’t for her dedication to the Art and her own encouragement as she walked you through the techniques in the dojo, you probably wouldn’t have understood that it was okay to not be good at martial arts and excel in other things.

You were a valued member in your club. You were the only other person in the Tendo household who could use the kitchen without Kasumi’s supervision and cooked dinner once a week to give your eldest sister a break. You got good grades in school and didn’t get into fights. You and Akane might be twins, but there were differences that made each of you stand out, both good and bad.

Ranma seemed to have caught onto the menacing aura behind your smile, though, because the timber in his voice heightened to almost a squeak. “B-But I was wrong! It’s not you’re uncute ‘cause you can be pretty from cute, I mean!”

You didn’t think you would see Ranma in such a flustered state. Then again, you always see him arguing with Akane, sparring with his father, or getting into awkward situations with Shampoo or Ukyo.

Ranma pouted. “You might not know martial arts, but you’re good at other things. Ya make time to help me with homework or study for tests in a way that’s easy for me to understand. You help in the kitchen and try to keep Akane from causing damage ‘cause you know how important that space is to Kasumi. And ya care about others, even if I’m being a pain in the rear when I argue with that obstinate, bratty-ass tomboy of a sister you have. So,” He swallowed. “It still kinda sucks getting betrothed without my asking, no question about that. But… I’m glad that I’m engaged to someone that I-I might actually l-like.”

You felt your left eyelid twitch in anger as you listened to Ranma insulting your sister again before his words sunk into your mind. Someone that I might actually like. Might actually like. Ranma…actually likes you? Or is it the magic of the memory alteration potion that’s making him act like this? Oh, no. What are you supposed to do now?

Embarrassment scalded your cheeks, crawling up the back of your neck and making your eyes burn. You tried to hide yourself behind your hands but a certain pigtailed boy wouldn’t let you.

He gently grabbed your wrists and pulled them apart, allowing him to see your flustered expression. He smugly grinned. “Aw, c’mon. There’s no reason to hide like this after you made fun of me. ‘Sides, it’s rare to see such a cute look on your face.”

You pouted lightly at him, seeing there was no malice behind his teasing, but did not shake your wrists out of Ranma’s grasp. “Uh, Ranma,” You stammered. “Have I…ever acted like this before? W-When you flirt like this with me, I mean.”

He blinked at your question, brow furrowing. “Huh? Well, yeah. There was that one time at the skating rink. Wait, that was Akane. She wasn’t too happy with me challenging that creep Mikado when he tried to make a move on you - uh, maybe? Hold the phone. It was Akane he was tryin’ to kiss. Then, was it at the park? No. All she did was yell and throw things and accuse me of being jealous of Ryoga. Oh, what about - no, that was Akane too? Seriously, I know your sister is overprotective of you, but why is it that all I can think about is her?”

He continued to mutter under his breath, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. All you could do was watch silently before he suddenly looked up at you, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me. All of this time, I’ve been engaged to that macho chick?!”

“Welcome back, Ranma.” You said, pulling away from him. “Now that you’ve got your memory back, it might be a good idea to let Akane know that you’re okay -” You yelped when the boy suddenly slammed his fists onto the ground, his form slightly hunched over and trembling like a leaf. “R-Ranma?!”

“She couldn't care less about me, [First Name]! If it weren’t for this stupid engagement, I would have gladly left if it meant going back to China and get rid of this curse!” He snapped. “All she does is accuse me of cheatin’ when I never laid a finger on Shampoo or Ukyo, but when I help her? She gets mad and throws things at me, sayin’ she didn’t even need me! I didn’t come to Japan just so Pops can marry off without my asking, but here I am!”

“Ranma…”

“If I’m gonna get married, then I wanna be with someone that doesn’t always call me a pervert or a jerk and is just - I don’t know, nice and just listens to me instead of accusing me of something I didn’t do!” He looked up at you. “If I were given the choice all over again to pick someone to be my fiancée, I’d choose you a hundred times over Akane, [First Name]!”

What neither of you realized is that there was an audience who heard Ranma’s confession right outside of the dojo: Mr. Saotome, your father, and Nabiki. The only one who saw the whole thing happen was a cat with light pink fur and tiny bells dangling from her ears sitting by a window, her dark pink eyes narrowed in displeasure as she released a low meow. 

Taglist: @itzmeme @ottjhe @loverofyandereboys @hoodiepandaninja16 @djh4l0v3rv3r @floweringdaisie @conkiers @alee24x

[nias-nook]

Bill Cipher and The Unicorn in Captivity

Soooo, I haven't been looking at Bill related posts much since the book dropped as I have mixed feelings on what TBOB and the subsequent site have revealed about him, his motives, his backstory etc., but (and maybe someone beat me to this) one thing I haven't seen anyone talk about yet is this,

So maybe I'm stating the obvious here, but this is The Unicorn Rests in a Garden, also known as The Unicorn in Captivity. This piece was a part of The Unicorn Tapestries. Its origins are shrouded in mystery and super interesting but I'm not really gonna touch on that here.

Now there is something to be said about how this one piece, and the rest of the tapestries tie to Bill. I'll briefly go over what the tapestry meant when it was made then dive into what contemporary interpretations of the piece say about Bill and his fundamental inability to redeem himself.

Also just want to establish before we get into this that I am...Not a scholar when it comes to this stuff. I just happened to recognise this tapestry and its symbolism when it dropped on the website and had to put my thoughts somewhere. I might add more later if I've forgotten anything, which I probably have.

Given this was a piece made in Europe in the Middle Ages, it's perhaps unsurprising that a lot of interpretations of it are biblical, but we can (mostly) safely assume Hirsch isn't going for a Christ allegory here. Then again, maybe he's going for nothing and all of this is pointless.

What is a little interesting in the wake of TBOB is its ties to marriage.

These tapestries are heavily theorised to have been made to celebrate a wedding, and their comparisons of love and marriage to a hunt that inevitably leads to the imprisonment and taming of your lover. Of course, Bill quite literally suggests this method in the book with The Love Cage that he uses in Weirdmageddon, but there's a million 'Billford is canon' posts out there so let's table that as it's pretty self-explanatory. Bill and Ford have been hunting each other for decades and Bill imprisons him in a so-called 'Love Cage' to try and convince Ford to be his 'partner' (be it platonic or romantic). This is what a victory in a relationship is to him.

What I'd like to focus on is the modern interpretation of The Unicorn in Captivity as a self-imposed prison.

"Look at that little unicorn! The beatific smile. He's happy now. He gets to live in a beautiful garden."

"Yeah, in a cage."

"A protective barrier. No one's hunting him anymore. Nor can he hurt anyone with that horn of his."

This summary of the piece is taken from the aptly titled Unicorn in Captivity from another animated series, The Venture Bros. (which, by the way, if you're looking for another show that's a whimsical and fun riff on 80s pop culture with a big mystery element, highly recommend), but this of course isn't the first piece of media to portray it this way. the most notable being The Unicorn in Captivity poem by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

The unicorn is, on the surface, a prisoner. The Theraprism that Bill is now trapped in is a place he longs to escape, but that's the thing, isn't it?

He could escape any time he wanted to.

He could slip his head From the jewelled noose So lightly tied - If he tried, As a maid could loose The belt from her side; He could slip the bond So lightly tied - If he tried.

Bill, like the unicorn, is trapping himself more than the Theraprism is trapping him, but his situation isn't to be pitied, it's karmic justice. What's so satisfying about Bill's eventual comeuppance is that he's the one making himself suffer. The only thing Bill needs to do to escape is to admit he was wrong, to stop revelling in the suffering of others, but...Well, he chooses not to.

For all of his guilt about his parents and his so-called 'dark and troubled past', Bill has never regretted a single person he's hurt since. He didn't regret taking over the world, he regretted being caught. He didn't regret hurting Ford, he regretted losing him. Bill will probably be doomed to wallow in the Theraprism for all eternity, cursing his situation and blaming everyone else for his inevitable downfall. An overgrown child who once had too much power and lost it all throwing a tantrum for the ages.

But now he can't hurt anyone with that horn of his.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful. 

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through? 

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober 14

Kink(s): Spreader Bar (BDSM)

Pairing: Roommate Bucky x f! Roommate Reader

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, compromising situations, spreader bar, dubcon (barely), mutual pining/lusting, vaginal fingering, creampie, p-in-v (wrap it!!!), dirty talk, pet names (doll/sweetheart/dirty girl/babydoll), roomates to lovers

Not beta read

Summary: You get stuck in a compromising position but thankfully your very helpful roomie is able to "help".

Word count: 2.6 k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

A/N: Originally, this was going to be roommate! Steve but I really liked his softness ... so duh had to make it Bucky Boy instead. This one is going to also be a drabble series probably, but not as sweet as Steve's (at first) - Love, Grem x

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You weren’t too sure  what possessed you to open your new toy as soon as it arrived nor do you know why you thought it would be a good idea to try it out  alone. But you did. And now here you are, in your new favourite lingerie, made up to the nines, legs spread and so very, utterly stuck.

You had been feeling rather blue since your break up a few months ago. Your roommate, Bucky, had been a godsend throughout it but you just had felt like shit. But when your favourite online sex shop had a flash sale the week before, you hadn’t cared how much you spent, it was the first time you had felt something other than numb or fleeting happiness in a while. And when it arrived this afternoon, you were practically ripping the box from the delivery driver.

You had planned it expertly. Bucky was out for the day so you could try out plenty of angles, positions and rooms with your phone in private.  You had showered, done your hair and make up to match the new lingerie you had bought and felt so unbelievably hot and confident – it would be a waste not to snap some pics. Then it occurred to you to snap some with the leg spreader bar. Why not go all out?

But you’d bent too far over the back of the sofa, trying to get that perfect angle that would show off your plump ass and the bar, and now your feet couldn’t touch the floor and you’d slid too far forward  but not far enough for you to reach the floor with your arms and push yourself up. Even if you did, you risked injuring yourself somehow.

And what would happen if Bucky came home with Steve and-or Sam in tow? A cold , icy tingle ran down your spine. Uh oh. You’d never live this down – it’s embarrassing enough your crushing on your hot roommate without him seeing you like this, least of all his friends. Thankfully, your phone was still clutched in your hands and you huffed as you attempted to find Bucky's name in your contacts to warn him what he’d be walking into and to please, please, please not bring any guests home.

You: Hey, so this is gonna sound weird but I’m kinda stuck right now so if you could stay out a while longer that would be grand! X

You: and please don’t bring anyone around until I am unstuck!!!

You: Sorry x

Your face flushes with embarrassment and you mutter to yourself. You’re only snapped out of your thoughts when Bucky messages back.

Bucky: Stuck? Are you okay, doll?

Bucky: I’m on my way back. I can help.

You scream into the sofa pillow. God this couldn’t get any worse.

You: No, it’s really alright. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.

The response is immediate.

Bucky: it’s alright. I’m happy to help and I won’t judge. Promise doll :-)

Curse Bucky and his kindness and curse him for being a big, dumb, helpful idiot.

You: Fine but you need to close your eyes when you come in!!!

Bucky only responds with a thumbs up emoji and you sigh. Whatever he’s expecting to find, you didn’t know if your current position would be better or worse. You hoped better because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Bucky in that way. More than once. And the thought of him finding you like this would have had you pressing your thighs together – if you could do that right now.

It took about ten minutes for Bucky to arrive home and you were wriggling wildly and yelling at him to close his eyes when you heard his keys rattle in the lock.

“Alright, alright doll. My eyes are closed.” He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Where are you?”

“On the sofa.” You reply meekly, heating flooding to your cheeks.

“The sofa?” You can hear the confusion in his voice as he comes closer. “How are you stuck on the sofa?”

“I- uhh...” You trail, realising there isn’t much of an explanation to your predicament other than the truth.  “I was trying out something and... look it’s not important just please help and keep your eyes closed.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Fine. Fine.”

“I’m in the mid- oh!”

 in Bucky's blind attempt to reach you with his eyes closed, he’d managed to bump right into you hitting his shins painfully against the spreader bar with a muffled clang.

“Ow!” he yelped, eyes flaring open to see what he’d hit only to be graced with your ass covered in lace. His eyes trailed down your stocking-clad legs, eyes widening as they spread apart to make a perfect triangle  with the metal bar secured at your ankles. “Oh.”

The sound was breathless, his mind blank and jeans suddenly too tight at the sight before him. He’d dreamed of you like this before but this was almost too comical to be real. It was like you were being served to him.

“Bucky?” You asked shyly, shaking him from his stupor. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He says thickly. “Tell me what you need.”

Your heart beats at a break neck pace. He hasn't opened his eyes has he? Even so, his helpful comment has almost rendered your brain, and legs, to mush.

“I - um - just so my feet touch the floor,” You explain, wishing you were literally anywhere else. “Then I’ll die of embarrassment in my room.”

“What were you doing?” Bucky asked, shamelessly gazing at your ass whilst you still thought (hoped) his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure if he'd get an opportunity like this again. It was much better than seeing you in a towel or pyjamas and better yet than his own imagination. He could feel his fingers twitch, itching to reach out and grip your hips, but resisted; trying to remember you were his roommate and friend.

You face burns hotter and there’s a slight tingle in a place you know shouldn’t be tingling when Bucky is being so kind to help you through this embarrassing time. But explaining to him that you were taking boudoir photos is possibly your newest low.

“I was taking photos,” You admit sheepishly, grateful he can’t see your face right now. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire and you don't know if it's in a good way or a bad way.

“Photos?” Bucky's mouth dries out. Photos for whom? He wished he could see them. Wished they were for him. Hell, he wished he could take them. Especially taking ones that captured the very moment you came, preferably over his cock, so he could keep it close by when either of you were away - just in case he had to rely on his imagination and needed a prompt.

You swallow thickly, the embarrassment seemingly never ending. “For me. They... God,  this is so embarrassing. They were to make me feel sexy.”

“Ah, right.” Bucky says absently, his mind only full of thoughts of pulling you against him. He pushed the thoughts away. You were his roommate. You trusted him to help. “But you are sexy.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Um, if you just grab my hips and pull me back I...” you swallow, mind racing to the gutter but before you can finish, Bucky's large hands are on your hips; half on skin half on lace. His flesh fingertips are rough and hot against your skin but the metal fingertips are surprisingly soft but cool and, coincidentally unbeknownst to you both, you and Bucky both stifle sounds of pleasure. You shiver as you feel yourself being pulled slowly backward, heat and an uncomfortable damp settling between your legs as Bucky effortlessly, though slowly, pulls you back to standing position.

As Bucky gives one final tug, there’s the click of your heels on the floor. Unfortunately, your heels rock back and you lose your  balance and to stop yourself from falling you stick your ass out on instinct, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady yourself.

Which would have been fine had Bucky not been stood behind you with a hard on. Your ass brushed past the tent in his jeans and you gasped.

That’s what broke Bucky.

“Fuck, doll, you look so good. All spread out for me.” He said gruffly, making you whine quietly.

“Buck.” You turn your head to look up at him, face flushed and wide eyed but God you look so perfect laced up, legs spread and bent double in front of him. You’re not sure what to say – what to ask – all you know is that you’ve been crushing on your roomie and he’s probably just said one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard in your life. Maybe that’s why you say possibly the dumbest thing that comes to mind.

“You were supposed to keep your eyes closed.”

A blush creeps up Bucky's neck as he looks down at you, hands still on your hips and intent on not letting go. His chest rises and falls with heavy pants and he grips your hips a little tighter. “Sorry doll, I just- shit. You look so good. I -Sorry.”

“It's not a bad thing,” you say quickly, feeling your own breathing become laboured. “I – I’m glad you like what you see.”

Bucky's eyes close and he stifles a groan. “Doll, don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t look at you like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here, like this.” He growls, eyes glowering down at you with heat so intense your body lights up. “Like you want to have me balls deep inside of you.”

Your mouth opens slightly as you stare up at him. You’d heard him curse before but not like that. You never thought that your roomie would say something like that to you. Your legs shuffle as you try once again to squeeze your thighs together, the needy ache between them becoming to difficult to ignore.

“Maybe I do.” You respond hoarsely. “Maybe I've thought about it.”

Bucky's grip on your hips becomes ever so slightly painful. “You have?”

You only nod and Bucky curses loudly.

You heard the click and clang of his belt coming undone, followed swiftly by the zipper his jeans behind you and God did it make you soaked just knowing he was about to have you. Your panties were tugged to your knees in one quick motion and before you could react to the sudden lack of clothing two of Bucky's cool, metal fingers sank inside your pussy without warning, making you moan loudly.

“That’s my dirty girl,” he praises, working your already slick cunt with his fingers with a smirk. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? Feel good?”

“Yes, Bucky, yes!” You moan out eagerly, jutting your hips backwards even further into him. The metal fingers curl and scissor inside of you, stretching you open in front of Bucky, whose flesh hand squeezes the cheek of your ass roughly.

"Shit babydoll," He murmurs, moving his fingers out of you slowly, teasingly dragging them along your folds to make you whine. He looks at his glistening fingers with a satisfied smirk. "I think you're ready for my cock already."

Bucky doesn't even take the time to undress fully, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he frees his cock, tapping it against your ass cheek tauntingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to angle your legs so you could feel the thickness and heat of his cock against your skin again, but Bucky's flesh hand holds you firmly in place. You huff in frustration and can feel his tip on the curve of your ass again, this time trailing cool, sticky pre-cum.

"Excited are we?" Bucky watches you shift again, your ass looking even better covered in his pre-cum than the lace. He guides his length through your folds, sighing with delight at the silky warmth around his cock, and chuckling his tip nudges your clit making you moan his name.

"Please, Bucky." Your groan is muffled into a couch cushion. The slow torture was killing you in the best way possible and you were already desperate to have him fuck you.

"Please what, doll?" Bucky asks, repeating the motion with his cock again.

You curse loudly before gasping out, "Please fuck me."

Bucky grins triumphantly. "Oh, with pleasure, doll."

He draws his cock back up along your folds and sinks into you, hard and fast, filling you to the brim and bottoming out in one thrust. Your hands dart out in front of you to steady yourself as you make a silent oh. Bucky's metal arm circles your waist, pulling you to stand a little straighter as he waits for you to adjust.

There's a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. You swallow thickly, trying to regain the ability to breathe as you relax onto Bucky's cock with a long, drawn out fuuuuck. Once you relax into him, leaning further back into him, Bucky begins to thrust upwards erratically. The slapping noises of skin-on-skin are drowned by the sounds of Bucky kissing your neck and murmuring filth that makes your eyes roll in ecstasy.

“I used to hear you and your boyfriend fucking – he never could fill you up like I can, could he?” Bucky murmurs lowly, taking a moment to pull put of you slowly and back in again, appreciating how your pussy grips his cock and sucks him back in. His words make you groan out and this time you answer before you get to lost in the pleasure to respond.

"No, he c-couldn't."

Your body jerks when Bucky slams into your pussy again and this time you're sure you're seeing stars. Your orgasm isn't far and from the way Bucky's thrusts are getting sloppier, you know his isn't far either.

"Your pussy feels fucking amazing, doll." Bucky huffs, his metal hand retreating from your waist and back to your hip. "I could fuck you all day."

Your eyes roll and you can feel your pussy grip his cock tighter; on the precipice of your orgasm and desperate to take all Bucky can give. Your face flushes at his words even though they barely register in your fucked out state.

"Please," You keen at him. "I'd love you to fuck me all day."

Bucky pulls your hips to meet his roughly, making you squeak before speeding up his thrusts again. "Yeah, doll? You would?"

You barely manage out an mmhmm through your moans, your pussy throbbing greedily around his cock. "Yes, please - fuck. I'm - I'm gonna cum."

Your arms reach blindly behind you, grasping at Bucky's hips to hoist yourself just a little bit higher; letting Bucky's cock reach a new depth in your sopping cunt. You cum almost immediately with a loud, shuddering gasp and struggle to find your breath as Bucky continues to milk his cock for a few more seconds until he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

Then the apartment is all but silent apart from your breathing.

The weight of what happened between you both setting in as you stand joined together, sweating and panting, in the living room. You think you'd laugh if you didn't think it would be so awkward. Bucky's the first to speak, clearing his throat.

"So..." He slips his softening cock from you and your eyes flutter slightly. "You needed help getting this bar off your feet?"

[bri-sonat]

Bloodied Waters

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and slight violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity and intimacy. Slight canon deviation.

Synopsis: When Brienne returns covered in traces of battle, you give her comfort and safety - and a nice bath.

A/N: This has been sitting finished since July but I haven't wanted to post it for many reasons. For some reason I don't hate this fic anymore so I am taking the opportunity now so I can't revert back to my original state, lol. As per usual, English isn't my first language and all that.

Thank you to @daydream-cement for being the most supportive and encouraging friend I could ask for, and for reading this and giving me your opinion months ago.

Two months.

It had been two months since you had seen her last. Since she rode off to fight Gods knows what battle. In this time of uncertainty, you couldn’t be sure where she was sent off to anymore.

The imminent threat of the Night King and his army breaching The Wall weighed heavily on the land and it resulted in Brienne being away more than usual – but she had never been away this long.

You couldn’t be blamed when you began to wonder if she was still alive after the six-week mark and she hadn’t returned or been heard from. No one had from the company she had departed with. And when it hit eight weeks, your worries didn't get any better. 

So, they were all either dead or still fighting for their lives. Those were the only reasons your stress-ridden brain could come up with.

If she had been removed from this mortal realm, she would have died alone. Alone somewhere. Probably in immense pain.

Even if it hurt you to even entertain the thought, you hoped her possible death had been fast. That way, she didn’t have to suffer.

Your heartbreaking thoughts were cut short by the sound of a horn, signaling that the group had returned and to open the gate. From your window, you could see a band of people on horses, three of them unmanned, which made you feel uneasy.

It was usually easy to spot Brienne in a crowd of people, but her straw-blonde hair was nowhere to be seen. The pit in your stomach that had been growing over the past weeks seemed to drop when you couldn’t find her.

Maybe the chance of her losing in battle was more probable than you had been willing to accept.

But until someone explicitly told you that she had perished in battle, you would have hope for her survival.

You witnessed as the gate was opened and the warriors rode in - the people and horses disappearing from view before the gate was once again closed.

Staring out the window and waiting for a knock on your door was only going to drive you mad, so you decided to pass the time in some other way.

Scurrying about your room, you tried finding something to do but restlessness got the better of you, and you soon found yourself waiting for that knock on the door that could either be the face of your love, or the worst possible news.

After fifteen minutes of silence, you started to land in the fact that she may not have returned, and the person who knew about your relationship was slowly making their way to your room to deliver the bad news.

You couldn’t take the agonizing pain so you left your room to venture for some hot water – hoping a nice hot bath might allow your tense body to relax. If even in the smallest bit.

When you returned to your room, hot water acquired, you were surprised to discover that there was no one waiting outside your door, nor had you met someone on your walk to or from. It was strangely silent.

The bath basin sitting in the adjacent room to yours looked more and more inviting by the second and you sprang into action before the water in your hands turned cold.

Pouring the large water cans with hot water into the vessel, you pondered how it would be to bathe with Brienne. How it would be to have such calm intimacy with the person you loved more than anything in this world.

The thought made you the tiniest bit sad and even if you wanted to keep the image in your head for as long as you could, you knew it was better to think about something else for now until you knew that the fantasy was a possibility.

You filled the rest up with the cold water from the large bucket next to the basin so it would even out to a nice lukewarm temperature.

Just as you were about to take your clothes off, a knock on the door disrupted your actions and you nearly ran to the door to open it – desperate for any piece of information regarding Brienne.

When you opened the door, you were met by a face you knew all too well, only this time, it was covered in dried blood, grime, and dirt. “Brienne, oh, Gods.”

You reacted quickly by ushering her inside your room and closing the door after her. She didn’t say a single word and her eyes were empty – apathetic and void of any emotion.

You didn’t know if the blood was hers or not but there was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you sat her down on your bed and undid her sword belt and fur cape before you began removing each piece of her dark armor, sneaking eventual glances at her emotionless face, your heart breaking each time she did not even make a move to look at you. She just stared dead ahead.

Never had you seen her like this before.

When all her armor was discarded, you were hit with the stench of iron, sweat, and mud – the smell of what you assumed to be battle. You moved your attention to her gambeson and gloves, working fast to get everything off to assess her condition – if she had been injured or not.

You remained quiet throughout your entire undressing of your girlfriend, if Brienne wanted to talk – she would. You assumed she needed some silence to process everything and just enjoy being back in a safe location.

The moment her gambeson and the rest of her clothing had been removed - you took hold of her dirty hands to guide her up to a standing position. You raked your eyes over her body and found nothing except for more blood, most likely having run down her neck and invaded the skin protected by the armor.

“The blood is not mine,” Brienne croaked out. The sudden noise made you jolt, your eyes snapping up to meet her desolate ones.

“Right...,” you responded, her statement confirming that she was not wounded in a way that would warrant blood. With your worries settled, you guided her to the other room. You had poured the bath for yourself, but she needed it more.

Slowly, she stepped in, her hand in a steadfast grip in yours as she descended into a sitting position until her entire body was underneath the surface – releasing a sigh once the water enveloped her.

You let go of her hand and grabbed a bar of soap sitting on the table next to the basin and she let the hand you had previously been holding fall under the water as well.

Brienne sat in the basin, staring into nothingness – her breathing slow. You rolled up your sleeves, kneeled next to the tub, and submerged the bar in the warm water before you began gently cleaning her skin from the stench and the mud and blood that tainted her soft skin.

Starting with her face and neck, you used your hands to gently apply the soap and you observed the suds turning a brownish red as it mixed with the blood and dirt on her skin.

As your eyes scanned her face, you noticed that her disheveled blonde hair had also been soiled by blood spatter and dried mud. 

“Close your eyes.” It was a gentle command, and Brienne complied – closing her eyes without question.

Using a cloth, you dunked it in the water and allowed it to soak before wringing it out – bringing it to Brienne’s face to wipe away the lather. You dipped it in the water again to rinse it, but you caught a glimpse of it before you did – the color of the froth alien on the white fabric.

With her face now clean, you moved on to her hair. 

Normally you’d utilize your own mixed hair wash for this, but you didn't wish to leave Brienne in her current state to go and collect it. Soap would have to do.

Your movements were slow and calculated as you pressed gently on the bottom of her chin, signaling for her to lean her head back. Brienne complied and tilted her head back and you maneuvered yourself so you could have the perfect view needed to wash her dirtied hair.

Utilizing one of the jugs you had carried the water with, you dipped it in the water to fill it up and used it to wet Brienne’s straw blonde hair, going over it once or twice before you were confident that all the strands were permeated.

You grabbed the bar of soap once again and dragged it against the palm of your hand – getting a decent amount on it before placing the bar to the side and rubbing your hands together. Tenderly, you started massaging the soaping into her blonde curls and scalp, making sure that all the dirt and blood loosened from her locks.

Brienne hummed as your hands mildly rubbed her head – adoring the alleviating feeling it gave her. The feeling of comfort and security. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel the corners of her lips twitch the tiniest bit as you pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to fill the jug with water to rinse the soap out of her hair.

You worked softly and slowly when you combed your fingers through her locks – pouring the water over her hair as you did, making sure that all the lather was washed away.

With her hair, face, and neck clean – it was time to wash the rest of her body.

You moved away from the head of the basin and switched to sit at the side of it again, kneeling next to it. You grabbed the bar of soap and immersed your hand into the water that was starting to turn red at this point and started to cautiously drag the bar across Brienne’s chest – removing all the dried blood and dirt.

Whilst one of your hands was in the water, the other one rested on the rim of the basin, right next to Brienne’s ear, and before you knew it, you felt her leaning her head against it. A small smile started playing on your lips at the intimate position you had found yourselves in.

You had never experienced this type of closeness with your knight before – it was incredibly heart-warming and you wouldn’t complain if you found yourself in this position again; without the blood and dirt, of course. 

Brienne’s head rested against the back of your hand at the same time as yours worked on washing her arms, hands, chest, stomach – anywhere you had seen dried signs of battle.

You enjoyed every single second of the casual intimacy. The fact that there were still new ways to be so deeply close even after so many months made you incredibly giddy inside even when the situation you discovered it in was somber.

Like it had the entire time, the only thing filling the silence in the room was the splashing of the water as it hit the sides with your hand continuing to move as it scrubbed Brienne’s skin. It remained like that for a very long time until the blonde woman opened her mouth to speak for the second time since she had come home. Your hand that was scrubbing her sides halted briefly before continuing - her voice surprising you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You couldn’t help but inquire as to why she was thanking you. What you were doing right now only seemed like the most obvious choice. You took care of each other in any way the other person needed, and you were more than happy to offer her this small service.

She was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again – her voice low, almost like a whisper. “For this... and for giving me a reason to keep fighting. It... It didn’t look very promising for a few moments, and I was... I was harboring the idea that I would never return to you again.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to Brienne’s forehead as you continued scrubbing her skin beneath the surface of the water. “This is the least I can do for you... you take care of and for me every day. I wanted to return the favor. Thank you for coming back to me. And you’re welcome. I’m glad to provide you with a reason to keep fighting if it’ll bring you back to me each time.”

Brienne hummed and whined slightly when you removed your lips from her skin. To have someone care for her in the way you did made her feel so gleeful and she was so grateful for you and all you did for her. “Still... Thank you.”

“Anything for my knight.” You smiled as you washed her and finished your response – already knowing the next words coming out of her mouth.

The blonde woman chuckled slightly and silently, having had this exact interaction with you many times before. By now, she knew you did it as a way of making her smile and it worked; every single time. “I’m not a knight.”

“To me you are. You’re my knight.” You saw the smile that crept up on Brienne’s lips at hearing your words, even if she had heard them many times before at this point. “Besides, if you were a man, we both know you’d be a knight by now. You have the traits of a knight, so in my eyes, you are a knight. Even if you don’t have the title.”

Brienne adjusted her head to press a kiss to the back of your hand before returning to rest her cheek on it again. “You’re too nice to me. Thank you.”

“I only treat you in the way you deserve to be treated. Not my fault you’re such an incredible person.” You said this in a way that made Brienne smile and blush – something that you did with ease many times over the two years you had known the adorable knight. It only got worse once you began your relationship because it made you able to be more frank with your compliments.

The blonde didn’t offer a response to your words – silence filling the room once again. The way Brienne spoke about the battle, it seemed to have gone bad, so much so that she thought she wouldn’t make it. You knew she would talk to you about it if she needed to and you had no reason to ask but a part of you wondered what happened that caused her to see no hope.

The rest of the bath went by in tranquility, the occasional kiss on Brienne’s forehead and the planting of lips on your hand mixed with the comforting sounds of water making the second part of the experience a very pleasant one.

After helping Brienne out of the now red-stained water and planting her before the burning fire in the other room to dry with a fur wrapped around her, you told her to stay put before running as fast as you could to her room to collect her comb, and dry and clean clothes for her.

You didn't wish to leave her but the clothes she arrived in were bloody and dirty, and you knew Brienne would appreciate the gesture. 

When you returned, she sat with her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms wound around them on the fur you had put on her.

You slowly approached her and sat down next to her – her folded clothes placed on your bed, the comb resting on the pile. “Hi.”

Her skin was dry now. Her hair was still a bit damp but you knew it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dried as well.

Brienne sighed and leaned her head against your shoulder. She stared into the crackling fire – the flames dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. “...Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” You wrapped an arm around her naked form and pulled her close to you. You had missed her so much and you were not ready to let go anytime soon except to get undressed to join her in bed.

“Better now... A little tired.” Brienne hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and she was exhausted at this point. The adrenaline had finally worn off completely and she felt the fatigue creep up on her like she had expected it to once she was back in your safe company.

“It’s getting late... Do you want to go to sleep? I will deal with the water tomorrow.” The sun had started setting as you were washing Brienne and it had been well below the horizon for a while now. You pressed a kiss to the top of the knight’s head and awaited her answer.

“Yes, please.” Brienne sat snuggly in front of the warm hearth, but she knew that it was much nicer to be in your embrace. It was warm, cozy, and oh-so-comfortable.

“Okay... Let’s get you covered and tucked in.” You stood up and began removing the things scattered about the bed. Brienne’s discarded armor, her dirty clothes, her cape, and her sword were swept off the mattress and placed on a round table close to the hearth. Her clean clothes and comb remained on the bed, and you squatted down next to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to get dressed?”

Brienne leaned her head against your hand and closed her eyes. “No. I want to feel you pressed against me entirely. I don’t want clothing to restrict me from sensing all of you.”

You almost melted from her sweet words. You rubbed your thumb against her skin, the pad of it grazing against the tip of one of her scars. “Alright, my sweet Brienne.”

The knight lifted her head from your hand and you slid it down her arm – leaving it to rest on her bicep. You gently rubbed it up and down as she opened her eyes and stood up.

You swiftly removed the pile that was on the bed and placed them on the table as well. You would have to comb her hair tomorrow instead. 

With the bed empty, Brienne could pull off the furs and crawl in under them – covering her bare body and providing her with warmth and comfort for the first time in weeks.

She laid on her back as she watched you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on top of your trunk.

You finally crawled into bed and cuddled up next to Brienne, her skin incredibly soft. She hummed as you slung one arm and leg over her torso, bare skin against bare skin, and rested a hand on your thigh.

Her other arm went around your shoulders and pulled you closer – your head resting on her chest.

Her rhythmic heartbeat was a consistent reminder that she was indeed alive and still with you. After two months of being apart, the whole situation felt imaginary, but her steady heartbeat let you know that it was real – that she was indeed with you. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Brienne’s hand on your thigh rested securely and her thumb drew soft lines across your skin. She smiled at your words as she kept her eyes closed to invite slumber. “It’s beating because and for you.”

Her words caused you to pull yourself even closer to her, which was impossible to do at this point. A smile and a blush crept up on your face, she always said the most adorable things and you had no idea what you did to deserve her love, but you were so thankful for her. “You’re sweet. I love you so much.”

Brienne chuckled quietly and you could tell she was close to falling asleep by her voice. “You bring out that side in me... what can I say? I love you, too. Thank you for being here when I returned.”

“I will always be here when you return,” you whispered. You were starting to feel the weeks of worried sleep catch up to you by now and you were more than ready to finally fall asleep in her embrace once again.

The only response Brienne gave was a hum and it fell silent after that.

You heard the knight’s breathing even out after a few minutes, and it signaled that she had fallen into a slumber that you hoped was a deep and restful one. You could only imagine the conditions she has been having to sleep in, and you couldn’t see them being comfortable.

You listened to her breathing and heartbeat for a few more seconds before sleep claimed you as well. Now back with a safe Brienne, you knew that you’d sleep incredibly well. You always did with her.

When you awoke the next morning, Brienne would kiss you all over to make up for two months of being away from one another. But that was up to you in the future to find out. Until then, you were more than happy to finally be with her again, and you remained clinging to your knight all night long.

------

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski (can't tag you for some reason)

[asksythe]

FGO Fes 2024 "CHALDEA Treasure Hunting" Oberon Edition Experience Video (Earphones recommended / Low volume recommended) Original Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dElTAHf0m0

Disclaimer: the translation is rushed, so there's probably room for improvement. I'm just posting this here for personal keeping since similar videos have been taken down from Youtube in the past.

Note: The context for this part of the event storyline is that Ritsuka is sent on a treasure hunt for a lost Holy Grail (as it goes) by Goredorf. She gets to choose one among several servants (Aesclepius, Takasugi, Tiamat, etc...) to go with her. Only one though. This video is the Oberon choice. Yes, it is very otome game-esque. 😁

--TRANSLATION--

Come on an unforgettable adventure with me, the Fairy King Oberon!

“It’s a steam town!”

You…you’re a 20th-century kid, aren’t you?

You should be used to this kinda thing, shouldn’t you?

Ah, well, I get how it can be so exciting. It’s just as consumeristic as your era, but this atmosphere does have a certain romance to it.

It’s an era focused on industrial design that exposes its mechanical insides.

It really is the strength of humanity to imagine such a contradictory world.

Ritsuka Choice 1: “Thanks for taking me here.”

Ritsuka Choice 2: “You really are a dependable partner!”

What are you on about? Of course, I am! With such an invitation as yours, I, Oberon the Fairy King, will spread my wings and come flying your way!

Ah, my time really has flown though. Would you be able to bend the rules a bit? What shall we do on this chance adventure! Gotta look your best though, eh! 😉 Now then, according to this steam clock, there happens to a Blessed Holy Grail located underground! If we find it, we’re bound to get a bunch of QP, am I right? Let me repay my debt to you!

However, for this city looking so mechanical, there really are a lot of stairs…Not a single elevator to be seen! Well, let’s just get over with and go down. If only we could fly, but as you know my wings are a mere decoration. Perhaps I should ask DaVinci to make me some, then? Ah no, [rest of question to self not very audible]

Ritsuka Choice 1: “Oberon…! Wait!”

Ritsuka Choice 2: “I can’t see anything!”

Uh…did you say something? Sorry sorry, my attention must’ve drifted elsewhere.

Oh…our faces must be close, aren’t they?

Are you alright?

Man, you should look at your face! It’s a shame it’s so dark. If I had a camera, I would’ve taken a picture. Oh no, I meant nothing by that. Really though, it’s just I’ve never seen your face like that. It’s not your nerves in battle, nor the fear of death! Don’t look at me like a child there…ah, never mind. Putting it into words just takes the fun out of it.

More important than that, it’s that the two of us are alone down here. No fearsome enemies to be seen. Just us two enjoying a trip on this road together. The path seems to get narrower from here. Grab my hand and let’s head in! Don’t get too far from me, okay? Come on, give me your hand.

It’s really dark now. This must be the lowest level. Just one way to go now. I think it should be quite simple now!

Mm? Hmm? That’s what? From the back? Oh no, something unexpected happened again! Quick, Master!

This is a stubborn one! And it’s gaining on us to boot!

Ah the light’s starting to come through! Keep going!!!

There’s no way forward!

Get down, Master! Your hand!

Master and Oberon hold onto each other as they fell down.

To the bottom of the deep, deep darkness they went.

Sigh…the artist drowns in his art. Good grief. Who would’ve thought the road would be destroyed. Well, guess I’m just used to falling. It’s just a little [something] more than usual now.

O-----www.. Ah Master, are you alright?

After all that, there are an unbelievable amount of flowers here, aren’t there? More than enough for a lifetime! Flowers are always blooming somewhere you know? Water. Sun. Flowers. Bugs… Green. It’s all a cycle.

Yep, that was me who set the grail there. Let me know when you go an adventure, okay? Ah, the request itself was true! It’s just…you weren’t as calm as I thought you’d be so it didn’t go exactly as planned. Today is a very blessed day for you. That’s import-

Marine Nemo: Captain! I found Oberon! [We found him!]

Prof. Nemo: I believe Oberon is continuing to reject our transmissions~

Capt. Nemo: Ah, we finally connected! Oberon, is Master alright? When you went down, our signal got cut off.

Oberon: Oh my, I didn’t know about any of that! Master is alright and has even taken a Holy Grail! It’s no problem at all!

Eng. Nemo: ‘n that case, get yer ass back ‘ere already! After that, spill yer guts! Nurse Nemo: If either are injured, I can attend to you, so please feel free to ask.

Capt. Nemo: Everyone! Be quiet for a moment. Oberon, Master, above all else, I’m glad you’re safe. I really do want you to take your time to enjoy the town. If you would be so kind, could you take some photos for future reference? There must be so many vehicles in the Steam Town, certainly.

Oberon: Yep! We’re happy to bring souvenirs to you, Captain! After all, we gotta lift the engineer’s spirits too eh!

Eng. Nemo: I-It’s not like I’d want a motorbike or anything! Well…I have been thinkin’ ‘bout some extra parts for my Penguin Potter, so…

Oberon: Okay then! I’ll be right on the lookout for it! Well then, see you at Chaldea then.

Bakery Nemo: I’ll be baking a warm basket (of bread) for you then!

Oberon: Well right then. Let’s go back to the surface and let’s stroll around the town til the sun goes down! So messy and covered in grease and full of all kinds of shady shops it may be though. They’ll all become beautiful memories though. After all, as long as there are unknown worlds about, that means there are wonderful adventures to be had, right?

[hystixia]

-> WRITING COMMISSIONS <-

-> if you’re interested in supporting me in any way please read below for details and prices. reblogs are appreciated and any type of help or support are appreciated as well.

i never thought i’d have to do this but my living situation has gotten increasingly worse and i am facing being potentially homeless sooner rather than later. i don’t have a job due to no sort of transportation and any money i had originally saved up has been pocketed by my parents and i am unable to get back nor am i even allowed to touch the money i did rightfully earn. so i am reaching out in this way to make some sort of money to get by and survive at this point. any type of help is greatly appreciated and i thank you for even reading this at all. it means a lot :,)

-> PAYMENT METHODS <-

my cashapp is $hystixia

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cashapp & paypal are the only ways of sending payment at the moment. these are the only options for commissioning for now.

-> COMMISSION DETAILS <-

commissions will always be open. there are no slots or deadlines to meet to get a commission. feel free to get one whenever and if u want to!! if you’re interested in commissioning please read the details below and dm me!! dms are always open for any questions during the process as well so don’t be scared to ask abt anything to do with your commission! :)

will do: nsfw, sfw, dark content, long fics/oneshots, chapters ( for more info check below ) + potentially more. can be discussed in dms!!

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if you would like to see chapters for rampage come out sooner you can also send tips ranging from $5 or more to help out in small ways and also get more chapters way quicker!

payment is sent after discussing details and specifics + a rough short draft/snippet is shown to confirm that you’re satisfied with what you will receive in full. commissions may take anytime between a day to a couple weeks. like i mentioned before i’m struggling terribly right now and so its even harder to find time to write but i promise i will get any and all commissions out as as i possibly am able to!!

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once payment has been made and i have started working on your commission, there will be no refunds allowed. so please be positive you want to commission something and you’re happy with the draft i offer before paying.

i’m sure i’m probably missing some things as i’ve never had to do this and i’m sure this is terribly formatted and set up so i do apologize for the sloppy format :,) i do however appreciate all of you for all the support you’ve given me thus far and i am sorry for coming to u all in such a way. i never thought i’d be in this position but here we are. if you’ve read this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time to read through all of this. any type of help is appreciated whether its thru commissions, tips, reblogs or anything of the sort. i appreciate every single one of you for all you’ve given me :,) you truly have no idea the impact u’ve all left on my life since i first started writing fics on tumblr. i hope u all have a wonderful day/night wherever you are <3

[letsatomicbanana]

Have any headcanons about my boy Ink sans??

Oh boy, i sure do!

It's yapping time!!! but it's bellow the 'read more'

(spoilers: It's long as hell)

-First of all, Ink can not stand normal texturized clothing and textures (like cotton, fur, silk etc...) which is the reason to why their clothes are always created by him and is used a more paint-like 'esque' to it. (which is canon).

- Case in point, he suffers from 'unable to have normal fashion tastes' disease. He's the type of motherfucker to wear baggy pants under a dress, sandles with socks on, a crop top over a long sleeved shirt etc... They does not care nor follows society's fashion sense/brands, he only gives a damn if the clothes are comfortable or not lmao.

- Genderqueer, no explanation for that one (c'mon, just look at them) also AroAce but that's already canon.

- He definetly has a whole collection of autographs of random sanses that he managed to get. (The obvious one is fell sans but he prob forgot to who the other's belongs to).

- Besides from being able to speak french, they can also speak fluent mandarin and japanese!

- Has a whole collection of random objects he found while travelling AU's. It's not anything particulary useful or collectible (like toys etc..) more so 'things he found interesting' (like that one chesse from the ruins)

- Since he has a canon hyperfixation on Underfell, i like to image that he defends the AU with his whole tiny body, empty mind and non-existent soul (he can't STAND uf slander, it makes his blood boil lmao). Also, they treats fell sans like you would treat your favourite fictional babygirl male character as.

- Definetly engaged in the consumption of illicit drugs at some point in his life, you cannot tell me that this curious asshole never had any interest in drugs, even if it's just recreational consumption. Very open to any options, but they has a thing for marijuana, alcohol, and nicotine (it makes him ADHD go bonkers).

- Now that i've mentioned it. He has ADHD-C (combined type), probably got diagnosed because he saw a random 'Does your child have ADHD' pamphlets hanging around in the wall of some random AU they visited, which made him to be deeply curious (he thought they didn't had it) and eventually diagnosed with it. Note! He's currently unmedicated (i think he would have a problematic history with medications, if i'm going to be honest). (him having adhd is kindaaaa canon??? semi-canon at least)

- Also has undiagnosed Autism and ASPD (sociopathy) in which he has no idea that he has lmao (i made a whole post about this too). Note but i'm killing anyone who says that Ink is evil due to being 'sociopatic'.

- Doesn't engaje in social gatherings of any kind unless extremly necessary, he's energetic but an introvert at heart (this is canon btw).

- Has a better conection to inanimate objects than people, oh! and he's also Objectum!

- They're an ISTP! Which stands for 'Introvert', 'Observant', 'Thinking' and 'Prospective'.

- A lot of times deeply wonders to his apparent lack of family and AU, he won't admit but he's feels a sense of envy for other sanses that have brothers. They also often wanders through the vast multiverse looking for his original family/AU, but he can never find it :(

- Extremly sensitivite to any topics of discussion/conversation that relates to his soullessness, he also cannot stand being called 'emotionless' or a 'tragedy' because of his condition. Has a tendency in de'humanizing' himself over his lack of soul.

- Since he has a very hard time understanding social interaction, they often uses their interest in art as a way to form attachments with people, like painting them outfits or portraits (insert the 'Im bad at people, but i am good at tech' entrapta quote). Art is his special interest!

- He's a very dedicated brony and their favourite pony is Derpy Hooves/ Ditzy Doo!! She's literally him, for real! If he was part of the fandom at it's peak popularity in 2012-2014, they would prob be those famous fandom artist/musicians!

- Reast in piece Ink sans you would've loved Dungeons and Dragons. (/ref)

- Besides from their obvious interest in drawing/painting, he also has a deep interest in music! He canonically can play the flute but he also enjoys playing the trumpet, the piccolo and the clarinet!

- They're generally extremly under-responsive or otherwise sensory seeking to any kind of sensory stimuli. He's also a very oral artistic and often chew/bites on stuff for stimulation. Can often fall into Nonsuicidal self-injury style of stimming such as picking or pulling,when overwhelmed/underwhelmed.

- Another headcanon that he has PICA, where he often eats/craves for things that are not food, like crayons (canon).

[pinazee]

And down the stretch comes murder

I wanted to take this moment to highlight the adorable child actors they got- Liam James and Carlos McCullers II. They are so perfectly cast as Shawn and Gus and they do such an amazing job! Im so impressed by them 👏👏

The whole spitball incident really highlights the differences between Shawn and Gus’ ethics. Shawn feels guilty for thinking he got the wrong spitter and ruined Jimmys life while Gus actually did it and feels no remorse at all. Perhaps it’s because Jimmy tortured Gus more, but it’s also come up a few other times i believe, that Gus is not above revenge nor is always willing to do the right thing if it interferes with his safety or his own code of justice, whereas with Shawn it’s like he can’t rest until he’s made things right. This, in addition to the ways he looks out for people (helping Lassie solve a case without him knowing, helping juliet find some kids without getting paid, standing between Gus and a gun), I think is why i tend to be more drawn to Shawn. I love tender-hearted morally just characters. Im not saying he’s always riding the high horse (pun intended), simply that at the end of the day you know he’s going to do the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, i love a morally ambiguous character too, and if I’m honest Gus’s outlook is certainly more realistic, but if i had to pick a favorite, i want the reliably good and wholesome over the self-serving. Not that im saying Gus is selfish at all, but of the two Shawns more our hero, even compared to his own cop father. I think Juliet is the only one who comes closest to matching that above and beyond heroism. I think the only reason she’s a step below is because Shawn simply notices others more. Thats all. If Juliet had Shawns abilities she’d be just as on top of it as him, probably more so. Actually she might get overwhelmed by seeing it all and not being able to help everyone. I think it’d be really hard for her to ignore sometimes. Which, okay I’m going down a tangent, but do you think Shawn had to learn to shut it off sometimes or like, learn to walk away? Cause i imagine day to day Shawn’s seeing people dealing with grief, abuse, or pain and with as kind as he is, it must be hard for him to ignore. Like if you’ve ever seen Daredevil, I’m imagining a less dramatic version of that haha

Henry will take any opportunity to point out Shawns failings or try to make him feel less than. Shawn tells him he’s there for a case and instead of asking him about it, Henry goes right back into you never could be a good handicapper because you lack the patience and follow-through it takes to put the time in and research. Also, the line “i let him talk to me” just doesn’t sit right with me even if the guy did turn out to be a skeeve. This kind of stuff makes me think Shawn either learned how to respect people from his mother or refused to treat people like his father. Probably both, though i hate to give her credit for anything haha

Look at his smile when he sees Lassie feed the horse. He’s so warmly amused by him. I wasn’t a Shassie shipper originally (as i just didn’t ship ppl in ye olden days) but i think I am now. I see it guys, I get it haha

These scenes are what makes the episode for me! I love them! We get to see both Shawns interacting and how he utilizes his vast memory, taking a peak into his mind palace so to speak. Plus he literally answered that common question of if you could go back in time what would you tell your younger self? (“Think big!”) I know they never really intended for this to be like a deep scene (nor expected certain fans to overanalyze it haha) but i like how he approaches the kid version of himself with a certain degree of amusement. Like I imagine if i was seeing my young self I’d probably be rolling my eyes at my sheer stupidity, but Shawns a lot kinder to himself haha Also little Shawns line “I thought I’d be bald by 20” was fucking gold! I wish I had better words for why this works so well but all i have is that it does and its brilliant.

Nice try Psych, your Canada is showing ;)

Heres some completely irrelevant info. The difference between a dreamcicle and a creamcicle: both are orange flavored, but dreamsicles had an ice milk center while a creamsicle was ice cream. And dreamsicles are no longer made.

I like this addition to the background. Its so cute. (Sidenote: this screenshot makes it seem like Shawn is the babyfaced assassin)

P.S This is the second episode ive seen him hold this frog. That is all.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

A beloved mutual said something that very much tickled my noodle, making me think on it.

This was on the heels of a thing about ivantill not being romantically requited in canon (which I agree with) but the original post was mostly focused on the fact that, at least I believe, Till didn't reciprocate Ivan's feelings. Which, I mean, they loved each other, but not necessarily in the same way. Now, a friend and mutual of mine (@alien-til-i-stage) actually makes the argument that it doesn't *matter* whether or not either of their feelings were romantic or platonic or whatever, because they loved each other and they had a monumental connection and that's what matters. Now, I love that to bits, that's so incredibly real, but at the same time I am nothing if not a dog with a bone so I actually want to talk about my thoughts on this.

Now, I don't think it's at all bad or wrong or even controversial to say that Ivan might not have had romantic feelings for Till. I think it's really fair to question whether or not Ivan really loved Till romantically, especially given that they were never taught about relationships and undoubtedly, their only real example for "romance" was Mizi and Sua. I would argue that Ivan actually does have a little bit more probability to know about romance due to his background (growing up on the streets) as well as his knowledge background (enjoying literature. While literature doesn't necessarily have romance in it, a lot of dramas do depict some kind of romantic relationship) but that's really neither here nor there.

I'll get down to the real point of this post, which is my thoughts on whether or not Ivan actually had romantic feelings for Till in the main, canon universe/timeline of ALNST, and I would say yes. I admittedly haven't really questioned whether or not Ivan's feelings were romantic or something else but when I do think about it, I would say that my answer is "I believe Ivan." I believe it's romantic because that's what he says it is.

As much shit as I give him for being an unreliable narrator, one of the few things that we can trust Ivan's thoughts on? Himself. Obviously disregarding the way that he thinks of himself as someone horrible and shallow and monstrous but like, he's self aware. He's introspective. While he never explicitly says that his feelings for Till are romantic, it's heavily implied with both his behavior (sweats in looking at the birthday kiss comic and the fact that apparently his excuse for asking about that was "kissing is popular in the garden rn" which is pretty flagrant in it being about mizisua) as well as the symbolism/allusions around him, the fact that he directly compares himself and Till to Mizisua, it's heavily heavily implied that he believes his love towards Till to be romantic, at least, in part.

(two images with extremely different vibes but basically, example of the symbolism/comparison and example of the behavior) (also "thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions" anybody??)

To give a little context, I am autistic and I'm on the aroace spectrum, two things I also headcanon Ivan to be, and so the fact that he believes his feelings to be romantic, if he thinks he knows what he's feeling, I am inclined very heavily to believe him. I find cataloguing and defining my feelings very difficult, especially in a way that allistic people understand, so I often end up using metaphors to communicate them because I am very rarely able to pinpoint my feelings and be like "oh yeah I am happy right now." This is especially true when it comes to my feelings about other people, because of how much I know about biases, perspective, first encounters, etc, I tend to get really, really in my head about stuff.

So basically, tl;dr, the reason I believe Ivan about his feelings for Till being romantic is that very rarely do I ever say "I have feelings for this person" without doubting myself and double checking and running it over in my mind for hours upon hours because I am neurotic as hell and I kind of feel like Ivan wouldn't be so certain on the Till thing if he hadn't thought about it a lot.

tagging @bluemoonscape per his request <3 love you pookie

[randomgirlyoudontknow]

No one will probably read this, but as a long-time fan of ATLA (as in, I literally watched the show as it aired in 2005-2008), I wanted to share my thoughts on the live action. Let it be known that I am far from an ATLA purist––the original certainly had its own flaws and aspects that didn't age well, in retrospect. Despite the generally negative reviews I've seen from the fandom, I was actually very satisfied with this adaptation! But I’ve seen people saying that the characters were butchered, that it’s a soulless and superficial reproduction, and those who liked the live action aren’t capable of thinking/watching critically, which I wanted to push back against (I mean, I’m working on a doctorate in literature…I am quite literally incapable of watching anything uncritically).

The shift in tone to a darker, more mature one was a positive change, imo. It is definitely a much angrier show than the original, even if some of the characters were not as fiery as they should have been (*cough* Katara *cough*). Overall, while there were certainly decisions made that I didn't agree with (mainly related to pacing and narrative), I thought the cast and crew really captured the spirit of the original, and even added depth and nuance to parts I felt were initially lacking.

In general, I really appreciated the added emphasis on the cost and suffering of war and imperialism, as well as the depiction of the physical effects of bending. Now, I realize this is largely a matter of personal preference––for example, I'm very interested in depictions of war in fiction (I mean, my dissertation partially covers the impact of WWI on avant-garde art & literature, so...). But I've seen several claims that the live action glorifies war and violence in a way that is meant to traumatize the viewer, and I simply don't think that's true? While the original handled war, genocide, trauma, etc. in a phenomenal way for a kid's show in the early 2000s, it was also still sanitized when it comes to death and injury, to an extent that I feel like we, the viewers, almost lose sight of the fact that bending KILLS. Sure, we were exposed to its after effects, like the death of Katara and Sokka's mother or Zuko's scar, but there's something to be said actually seeing and acknowledging the very palpable danger that something like firebending presents.

I've even seen someone say that the show's depiction of "gratuitous violence" constitutes a "profound misunderstanding" of the source text, which I think is frankly a bad faith take. The death and violence, though more realistic, is still not a major focus of the show, nor is it glorified in any way. A glorification of violence would look like indiscriminate killing and maiming for the sake of edginess (looking at you GOT). We would see graphic depictions of death and injuries, which simply does not happen in this show (they even joke about the fact that we never see anyone die in Ember Island Players). War and fighting are still treated with the same depth and gravity as the original, only this time, the severity of its consequences isn't obscured from the viewer.

I also thought the show's handling of trauma (especially Katara's) was excellent. The choice to have Katara's mom's death revealed in flashbacks (specifically when around firebending) was something that really stood out to me. And the new characterization of Bumi, which I realize was quite unpopular, was another change I quite appreciated. His bitterness and cynicism seemed more in-line with someone who had endured 100 years of war and the suffering of his people at the hands of a brutal imperial force. Lastly, I was pleased to see the narrative attempt to address the role Iroh played in the Siege of Ba Sing Se (something that was absolutely missing from the original). The Earth Kingdom soldier confronting him and calling him a butcher was a powerful moment, for me. I truly hope the show continues to dive into this aspect of his character in future seasons.

Speaking of characters, I loved that we got extra background and insight into several of the characters. Zhao, for example, was unexpectedly quite funny, and his actor really did a phenomenal job of fleshing him out and making him feel like a real person (as slimy and smarmy as he was) rather than a stock, cartoon villain. And I have to give kudos to the actors who played Sokka and Zuko––they both did an incredible job of embodying their respective characters, in a way that felt highly reminiscent of the original. In particular, I thought the handling of Zuko's backstory was truly outstanding––perhaps even better than the original.

All in all, I felt the live action did a really nice job of balancing the darker sides with the light. While I've seen fans complaining that the show doesn't have the same goofiness and lightheartedness, I actually thought the humor worked really well––it was one of the few times I felt the overly ironic, Joss Whedonesque one-liners actually fit. Sure, the humor was a lot drier and more toned down than the original, but I nonetheless thought it carried the show's spirit well (loved that they let Sokka say “ass” not once, but twice). There were moments when I genuinely laughed out loud! I also appreciated how, despite the more mature tone, hope, friendship, and harmony still remained the most important aspect at the end of each episode.

There's a lot of room for improvement, but I was overall very satisfied with the live action, and I'm very glad that the series has been renewed. I'm very excited to see what the cast and crew does with the rest of the show!

[agentrouka-blog]

Can Jon take Sansa’s name by marriage? Even if he could, to me, it seems that he’ll remain as a snow, (yk he’s motherless, friendless, oathbreaker, turncloak, etc etc, all his speech of that), so if they have children, then they will be bastards? Or is it possible that they inherit their mother’s name? (Maybe King Bran ends up legitimizing them) The whole topic of bastardy and names is very interesting but confusing 😭😭😭😭😭😭

While it is not common, I don't think it would be utterly unthinkable for a man to take his wife's family name, especially if he is a bastard and she is of a nominally higher rank. Though that wouldn't be strictly necessary. Jon could remain a Snow and have Stark children if he is married to a Stark.

Bronn doesn't take the last name Stokeworth when he marries Lollys, but any child they have together is bound to be a Stokeworth, most likely.

Changing one's name is definitely possible, in general:

"I will, ser," said Leobald, and only then raised the matter of Lady Hornwood. Poor thing, with no husband to defend her lands nor son to inherit. His own lady wife was a Hornwood, sister to the late Lord Halys, doubtless they recalled. "An empty hall is a sad one. I had a thought to send my younger son to Lady Donella to foster as her own. Beren is near ten, a likely lad, and her own nephew. He would cheer her, I am certain, and perhaps he would even take the name Hornwood . . ." (ACOK, Bran II)

A child born in wedlock is not a bastard, even if a parent is a bastard. And people have changed their last names specifically to make this distinction:

 "She was the fairest treasure of the Maidenvault. Lord Oakenfist the great admiral lost his heart to her, though he was married to another. She gave their son the bastard name of 'Waters' in honor of his father, and he grew to be a great knight, as did his own son, who put the 'Long' before the 'Waters' so men might know that he was not basely born himself. So I have a little dragon in me." (AFFC, Jaime I)

Then there's the story of the Karstarks, whose name evolved from the original Stark name (though no bastardy was involved).

Names can be flexible.

Plus, by the time we get toward the ending of the books, there is bound to be room for some changes in social mores and traditions, given the levels of general upheaval. They will not just return to the old status quo completely. Not in terms of female inheritance, probably, and not in terms of bastardy.