#what's the word that means a combination of like. sayings

[fictionismyreality3]

Flowers and First Dates

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, home invasions, allusions to violence

Notes: this is the longest fic I’ve written in so long and now my fingers hurt 😞

Whoever was crashing around in your store downstairs really wasn’t going to find much. It was 4am, and you had long since put away any profits for the day. Which is why it took your sleep drunk brain, eyelids heavy with a forgotten dream, to realize this was actually happening.

The sharp cracking of what you’d long since memorized to be the sound of a flower pot breaking stirred you out of your frozen terror.

Springing up from your bed, your flung the covers off in a panic, a jolt of sheer dread going down your spine when you heard a set of heavy, lumbering footsteps climbing the stairs that connected your flower shop to your flat. To you. Stumbling blindly in the dark, you pushed away the urge to turn your beside light on.

Somehow in your panic you had enough foresight to try and deceive your would-be thief into thinking you weren’t home. With shaky hands, you unlocked your phone, hitting the call button for one of your newest contacts without thought.

Price was happy for Kate. Really, he was. But the warmth and open love he saw in the eyes of her and her wife did nothing to stop the growing sour spot in his chest. And when they’d announced their plans to have a baby, even if it was just told to the small inner circle of the team, it dug the knife in John’s gut deeper.

Pushing open the door of the nearest place he could find to buy flowers, he brushed his shoes on the mat, fixing the collar of his coat in an attempt to pacify his gruff appearance.

The sound of the bell jingling brought your vision from the invoice book you were filling out.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

Jesus fucking christ.

All the air got knocked out of Price's lungs, his mouth opening and closing as he stood there like a gaping fish. You were like a ray of sunshine. All bright smiles and dainty hands, elegant movements that he couldn't help but follow with his eyes.

And fuck, that sundress you were wearing, a pretty yellow that he was sure would be permanently burned into his eyelids. Yellow was his favourite colour now.

Running a hand over his beard, John let out a huff of air, a tortured feeling screwing itself deeper into his chest. There were posies or some shit dotted along the fabric of your dress, the dress that had his hands twitching at his side as he itched to rip it off of you. He almost forgot he was supposed to be looking at a flowers for Kate, not at the flowers covering your pretty little-

"Is there something in particular you're looking for, sir?"

Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir-

Trying not to look like a creep, John cleared his throat, a sheepish smile on his face. "Just lookin' for some flowers for a collegue of mine, luv."

Luv, luv, luv, luv, luv, luv-

Plastering on a polite smile in an attempt to hide how your cheeks were heating up in a blush, you stepped out from around the counter, brushing the dirt off your hands. Helping him search for the right combination, you plucked out some myrtle, yellow roses, and daffodils. As you placed each one in the vase, you went over the meanings, unaware of John's intent gaze on your face.

He had no clue what a begonia was but god did he like hearing you talk.

By the time you were done putting together the bouquet, John seemed unable to wipe the smile off his face, his eyes on you the entire time. It was only when you started ringing up his total that he realized this interaction would remained entirely transactional unless he did something about it.

"Say, luv, y'got a lad waiting for you at home?" It was blunt, but he figured it better to rip the bandaid off, spare him the torture.

Your hand stilled over the buttons of the register. "Uh, no. I don't." A nervous chuckled burbled out of your mouth, cutting through the air.

"Y'want one?"

Shit.

The words seemed to catch in the air, lingering tauntingly between the two of you as Price kicked himself for not keeping a better hold on his tongue. Sparks of uncertantity fluttered in your chest. The piercing blue eyes staring back at you gave no relief, especially when they held just as much embarrassment as yours.

"Are you-"

"Do you want-"

Both of you spoke at the same time, John lowering his head and huffing out a chuckle. He cleared his throat, looking at the way your pretty face was heating up in a blush. He could ask a girl on a date. He'd done harder things. But with the way his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it seemed a miracle he got any words out at all.

"Look, sweetheart." He sucked his teeth, eyes darting to where you were white-knuckling the counter.

"Y'seem like a lovely girl. And I'd love to.." Why was he sweating like a teenaged boy?

"Do you want my number?"

Sucking in a breath, John met your eyes with a sheepish smile. For such a soft looking thing, you had more guts than most of his rookies.

He left your shop with a bouquet and a smile.

They were fiddling with the doorknob to your apartment now. The jangling of the metal stabbed another bolt of fear in your chest. You couldn't get to the bathroom to hide. It was across the hall and you weren't really in the mood to dart out and get spotted.

The dial tone kept rumbling through the speaker of your phone. You checked the lock on your bedroom door again.

John's head was pounding, the scent of cigarettes, rum and cheap beer punching him in his throat. With a groan, he sat up and ran a hand over his beard, the sound of his phone ringing cutting through his grogginess.

"Hmm? Wha' is it?"

A sigh of relief whooshed out of your lungs, but when you went to take a breath again, all that came out was this tortured choking noise.

Eyes darting to the time, Price glanced around the rec room at his team's sleeping forms. Nobody had his phone number aside from the people he trusted, and they were all passed out in various states of drunkenness.

"Who is this?"

His voice was raspy, weathered by his constant cigar smoking. You latched on to the sound. "J-John?"

Jolting upright, Price snapped wide-awake at your panicked tone, getting up and kicking Ghost's leg to wake him up. He was already grabbing his beat-up flannel, mind running through possibilities and reasons for your distressed voice.

"What's goin' on, luv? Talk to me."

Your lip wobbled, eyes catching on the doorknob of the closet you'd locked yourself in. You could hear them in your apartment now, drawers opening and closing as they rustled around in your kitchen.

"There's someone in my h-house."

Price grabbed the keys to his truck, molten anger beginning to bubble in the center of his chest as he let out a curse. Ghost was the first to rouse, eyes snapping open in an automatic response of hypervigilance. Spotting his captain already walking out of the door, he shook Soap and Gaz awake.

"Wha'? Was try-"

"Get the fuck up, Johnny. Something's wrong."

John didn't have to look back to know his men were follwing him as he stormed through the halls of base and out to the parking lot. He didn't have to bat an eye as he tossed Gaz the keys and barked an adress at him, not bothering to explain to you how he knew where you lived.

"John? I can hear them g-getting closer." You squeaked out, picking a a hangnail to focus on anything else.

"Luv, I need y'to listen to me, alright?"

"Alright."

Gaz started the truck, pulling onto the empty 4am roads. "Take a breath for me, sweethear'.' Your lungs sucked in air regardless of your panic. "Y'somewhere with a locked door?"

"I... I locked myself in my closet."

The sniffle in your voice tore through his heart, his fists already clenching as he thought about getting his hands on whoever was stupid enough to cause you distress. "Good girl."

Gaz shot him a look.

"Jus' keep talkin' to me, yeah?"

"Please don't hang up."

Something fell with a loud crash, a whimper caught in your throat as you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs. You could hear them getting closer and closer and soon they would-

"Darlin'?" A whiney noise came out of you. "Breathe f'me, luvie."

"John-"

Barking at Gaz to drive faster, Price countined to mutter praises into his phone, trying to keep you talking and out of the spiral of panic he could hear you slipping into.

"Ken y'tell us what's goin' on, Cap?" Soap was the only one still a little too sloshed to have put the pieces together. That, and he was a little dense sometimes.

"Someone's in my girl's house."

Johnny didn't crack a joke like he wanted to, closing his jaw that wanted to hang open as he caught the tightly contained venom in his captain's voice when he pushed Gaz to drive faster, faster. None of them had to ask for instruction. This was their captain's girl, even if they hadn't known she existed. This was personal.

Gaz shortened the 20 minute drive into 5. He could deal with the ticket later.

You were crying now, hot tears running down your cheeks as you tried to keep yourself as quiet as possible. Heavy boots stomped closer to your room. Someone was trying the doorknob. John was still talking, his husky voice running into your ear, but you couldn't hear him anymore. Not really.

You were too focused on the sound of glass shattering, a small part of you wondering if your favourite mug would survive all this. There had to be at least two people, that much you were sure of with the way the footsteps seemed to split, each pair going off to cause their own path of destruction.

"Someone's banging on my door!" You gasped, tucking your knees up to your chest. "Oh, god. John they're gonna-"

A low groan of agony morphed into a cry of anger, splitting the air. Your fear muddled mind desperately tried to catch up. They were fighting each other. Why would the theives be fighting each other?

A soft knock on your bedroom door tore you from your spiral, gentle, but loud enough for you to hear it even where you were hiding in the closet.

Blinking, the sound of John's voice brought your attention back to your phone.

"What?"

"I'm here, luvie."

What?

"Open the door, sweetheart."

"But.. but I.. you don't.." Your mouth felt dry, the words stuck like sandpaper on your tongue.

"Open the door, sweetie. Let m'see you're safe." With wooden joints, you pushed yourself off the floor of your closet, walking robotically towards the door of your bedroom. The doorknob sat mockingly.

"What if they're still there? What if they-" He cut you off with a soft shushing noise. "You trust me, yeah?" You couldn't hear the crashing or banging anymore.

"..yes." You whispered.

"Open the door."

Shaking, your fingers met the cool metal of the doorknob. You hit the lock, and before you could swing the door the rest of the way open, John was pushing his way into your room. Walking by you, he starting scanning around all while you stood there dumbfounded. Tears still drying on your face, you watched in rapt confusion as he checked the closet you were just hiding in, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain to look outside.

"John?"

Oh, you poor, sweet girl.

He pushed urge to rip the heads off the men who Ghost and Soap were now tying up in your living to the back-burner, crossing the room in two long strides. He didn't wait to take you in his arms, pulling you flush to his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

John smelt of cigars, woody and strong, the tinge of gunpowder that seemed to linger on him caused you to wrinkle your nose. His arms were around you and he kept a hand on the back of your head, preventing you from looking anywhere but his broad chest and just like that you were crying again.

"Shh.." He cooed. "I know, I know, sweetheart."

God, he hated this. Just a week. All it took was just a week and getting your phone number for you to get caught up in the messy world of his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the men who'd attempted to ransack your apartment were part of the group Laswell had the 141 hunting for the last few months. The tattoos on their hands confirming his suspiscions.

But, he didn't give a fuck about work or unraveling how they'd got close enough to find you through a phone number he got on a stroke of luck. Letting out a heavy breath, he stroked the softness of your hair, almost to reassure himself that you were safe.

"M'gonna take you with me, yeah?" With bleary eyes you looked up at him, all sniffles and sugar and he was just about ready to go stop Ghost and have a chat with the men who'd-

"I'm still... I'm still in my pajamas." Your voice was airy, trembling, something that John had seen all too well in shocked civilans. "My clothes... my.. my.." You couldn't seem to think about anything aside from how you were wearing your pajamas, your mind forcefully ignoring the state of your apartment and everything that just happened.

"S'okay, sweet girl." Glancing down at the state of you, John felt a pang in his chest. You were wearing an old t-shirt and some sleep pants with little bunnies printed on them. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Opening your mouth, you tried to respond, but all you could muster was a noise of agreement.

"Jus' look at me, yeah?" Steering you out of your bedroom, John kept your shaking frame tucked carefully into his size, holding your gaze with a hand on your cheek.

"Eyes on me."

He wouldn't let you see the state of your apartment, the glass and broken furniture littering the floor.

Wrapping his flannel around you, Price drew your attention with a poorly executed joke, keeping you from seeing the bloody and battered bodies Soap and Ghost were cleaning up.

As you got to the bottom of the stairs and outside, you passed by a man with a friendly looking smile and worn baseball cap.

"M'takin her. Call Kate and let 'er know 'bout the situation. She'll send you a car."

"Right, sir."

You didn't argue when he guided you into the passenger seat of a red truck, buckling you in and going over to the driver's seat himself. You didn't argue as he started the engine, pulling onto the road and taking you somewhere else. He kept a hand on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

Through the thick haze of your tears, you found your voice.

"Hell of a first date, huh?"

[p4ranormaluv]

BEWITCHED — 재윤, 제이 (teaser)

ASK TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST

TO BE RELEASED NOV. 10 OR 17, 2024

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren't sex gods or evil devils like the people warn, they've never drank human blood or even lost their virginity. in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they've touched a woman's hand and they drink animal blood. when they find out you've been blamed for their actions, the townspeople accusing you of witchcraft and sacrificing livestock, the two men try their best to help prove your innocence. in exchange, you offer them your blood.

PAIRING: vampire!jake x f!reader x vampire!jay

GENRE: smut, romance, angst, dark fantasy au

CONTENTS: vague historical setting, strangers to poly relationship (no mlm), lots of petnames, mutual love bombing? (in a good way), getting frisky in a corn maze, witches & trials, brief talk of animal sacrifices/death, biting & blood drinking, hanging, past death/side character death (with graphic desc.), ft. jungwon, more tags possibly tba

SMUT WARNINGS: two smut scenes (estimated wc 9k combined), virgin!jayke, sub!jayke, dom!reader, bedroom titles (puppy, angel, miss, etc.), jayke get turned on by drinking your blood, voyeurism (jake watches you bathe), masturbation, jay is the goodest boy, jake is a pervy cuck in disguise as a good boy, oral sex, piv, creampie (vamps can't procreate), praise/light degradation, filthy yet oddly loving sex, cock kisses, orgasm control, male squirting?, minor crying, overstim, making love, marking, more tags possibly tba

WC: estimated 20k (teaser wc: 1.1k. not proofread.)

TEASER UNDER CUT

“i don’t want you to go hunting anymore.” you state a little too urgently, the two men turning to you with a look as though you’d grown two heads.

“but…my lady, we have to.” jay explains, sounding as if he’s asking a question with how confused he is over your outburst.

“what if you didn’t have to?” you begin, unsure of how to say it.

“what do you mean?” jake asks, a rare moment where he’s fully staring at you, bashfulness forgotten as you stand before them.

“i…i could give you my blood.”

jay’s eyes widen impossibly, and jake becomes so flustered he hides his face in his hands and turns his back to you in favor of staring out the window.

“y/n! but— you…it’s…” jay’s eyes unfocus as his gaze is almost aimless, staring at nothing as you can tell he’s consumed by his thoughts. then he clears his throat and shakes his head, your interest sparked as it’s rare for even him to be bashful— at least show it.

“it’s not…to be taken lightly, giving a vampire your blood. especially since…”

“since you haven’t fed off a human before, besides when you both turned. i know.” you begin, knowledgeable from your vampiric studying.

a vampire drinking blood, especially from a willing human— it’s intimate, and can sometimes be somewhat of a sexual act. especially when jay and jake have been deprived of human blood for such a long time, it’s more likely to get…intense. and you can’t lie, the thought thrills you— but that’s not even your intention. your purpose is pure. why have the boys go out every night to struggle to fill their appetite when you’re right here?

“i’m aware of it all, jay. i still want to help you…if you want to have me.”

jake makes an abrupt choked sound that descends into a cough from your words. he knows you didn’t mean to sound so suggestive, yet he finds himself having to talk himself down, desperate to calm the growing hardness between his legs before it’s noticeable.

jay stares at you with wide eyes that resemble the night sky, holding every spark of light in his irises like stars. he bites his lip, subsequently flashing his sharpened fangs at you.

your heart stirs.

“are you…sure?”

“entirely, jay. i’ve thought of this for a while.”

“and you’re aware that it…will hurt a bit.”

you nod your head, a small smile that’s meant to be soothing on your lips. “i’m not one to be overly sensitive to pain.”

“…alright.” jay whispers, growing closer to stand before you, the tips of his shoes just beneath your skirts.

your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation, slowly pulling the sleeve of your bodice down to further reveal your neck and the junction of your shoulder, staring up at jay the entire time. the raven haired man shudders a breath, unable to control where his gaze lands anymore as he looks from your face to the smooth skin of your clavicle, and how the short ruffled hem of your blouse frames it enticingly. your breathing becomes faster as jay finally closes the small remaining distance, hands holding your waist as he pulls you against him. his nose brushes against your cheek, and you can hear him taking a slow inhale.

“you smell good, like you’ll taste sweet.” he mutters almost to himself, but you feel your body reacting to his words and his breath fanning against your neck, large hands gripping your waist more firmly. “your heart is beating faster.”

leaning further down towards the junction of your shoulder, jay mutters. “are you ready, my lady?”

“yes, jay. go ahead…bite me.”

his mouth bares as he doesn’t hesitate sinking his teeth into your flesh, making the pain not as bad but still enough to make you gasp— a burning hurt in your shoulder that turns into an odd tingling sensation as jay starts to suck.

you sigh as you try and get used to the feeling, jay’s lips pressing into your skin. his hands move in favor to wrap his arms entirely around your waist, and you find yourself having to surpass a moan at his chest being pressed against yours— how his sucking spreads that growing, pleasurably weak sensation all over your body.

“jake,” you breathily call out, wanting the boy to get a taste before you’ll have to stop.

the brunet slowly turns around, big brown eyes glossy in the moonlight as they roam over your form that’s captured in jay’s hold. your dress has lowered even more, breasts peeking out from the top as your face is contorted into an almost erotic expression.

you look absolutely breathtaking— and delectable. which is most likely why jake falls under an almost entranced state, hardly even noticing how his feet take a step forward. still— he’s hesitant, and you find yourself cooing to him with one arm outstretched.

“come, jakey. it’s okay, get your fill.”

you don’t miss the earnest whimper that he lets out before he’s suddenly in front of you, legs trembling as he stumbles to his knees beneath you. his hands are desperate and eager as he grabs your forearm, bringing himself closer until his teeth are piercing into your veins. you can’t help the pained sound you let out, jake much more messy and uncoordinated with how he bites you— and him sucking right at your veins make that pleasurable feeling grow ten fold. your cunt pulses strongly between your legs, nipples hardening as you feel like everything becomes more sensitive.

your moan is crude, but the boys only react with throaty whines of their own as they press and suck their plush lips to your skin more desperately. all control has practically been lost between the three of you all at once, your thighs growing weaker as jake presses himself to your leg, one hand wrapping around it from beneath your dress while the other still holds your arm with bruising strength that you’re sure is unconscious. jake’s legs squeeze around your ankle, and that’s when you’re made aware of the distinct hardness his cock has turned. you find your foot pushing against him without thinking, the movement so slight, yet jake is moaning out from the sensation.

one of jay’s hands creeps up from your waist to cup your jaw, tilting you more to the side before his fingers feel downward, over the veins of your neck.

“m— my lady,” he exhales shakily, retracting his teeth out of your shoulder to lick at the blood that drips down.

[nortsauce]

HHHH i need to YAP AGAIN!!!!

I love that it’s specifically stated that phoenix took performing arts (and drawing) before he went into law bc it explains SO MUCH ABOUT HIM

My guy is a performer at heart and it’s so apparent in everything he does

Bluffing? THATS IMPROV BABY! Thats a core part of acting! Learning to think on your toes and improvise when a scene doesn’t go well to get everything back on track is what Phoenix excels at!

Playing a character for 7 years takes fortitude and a mind to remember what to not say or not do to make everyone believe you ARE that character. Beanix was a performance!

Phoenix also does certain things to perform how a murder was committed like how he literally jumps through hoops in the dreaded clown case.

Hell, there’s even the part that i don’t hear a lot of how phoenix takes insults or criticism in stride, how he just goes “oh yeah, my bad i was wrong about that haha!” THATS ALSO TAUGHT IN PERFORMING ARTS!!! (He’s also just a humble down to earth guy so i mean.)

And if you wanna look deeper into his character, everything he does is a performance. Performing huge feats just to show how much he cares for his friends and family, even if he can’t say it in words.

It’s like never touched upon but he really managed to combine two of his conflicting interests and bring a whole new genre of law into japanifornia just by combining performing arts and law, and people are ASTOUNDED by his invention and think this method is genius, when in reality he’s shaking in his shoes bc he forgot his lines and has been improving the scene for the last 45 minutes!

[pluralsword]

this was really relatable to us apologies beforehand OP but this really spoke to our robot aft so;

legit been thinking for many months about adding a disclaimer to our instant messaging app profiles (and if we ever using dating apps again) that says "Don't ask me out unless you're willing to read EXRID or even just Best of Arcee plus having carefully considered the full meaning IDW1 Arcee's wiki page and that essay we wrote that one time" because literally only one person (who we're still friends with) out of more than a handful did that latter step (not specifically for this reason but it came up) and that was most we felt like someone understood us and could respect our boundaries and desires in retrospect, save for us wanting her to be able to love herself and accept that people care for and think well of her (this has gotten a lot better from what we can tell).

finding a succinct way to put that on a shirt honestly is tempting for another reason after dealing with a probable chaser cis guy recently who could not take the hint on us mentioning how much we liked the transfeminine narratives in transformers and it took outing ourselves as "sapphic/enbian" (this is just living and breathing) and plural (more difficult but in the space we were at the time not really) + a gal friend of ours (bless your heart dear pal) showing up and us lighting up to say hi to our friend for him to take the hint and he left immediately without saying goodbye or a word when I said bye. which combined with the fact he had tipped off knowing I was trans earlier in a weird way that made me wonder why would you ask me to come out for a smoke if you know it's unhealthy for me my guy kind of told me that he um well was not interested in respecting me. this is the third chaser we've dealt with so far in our life bleh.

I mean. I already looked like I was out in that peak 2010s undergrad degree queer showing who I am and what my neurodivergence is through pins kind of way?!!? How do you look at someone with a pin of Anode/Lug embracing + Greenlight/Lancer together not to mention various other gals (Aileron and Arcee included) and a lesbian colors Arcee and conclude 'this insert slur trans gal is primarily interested in cis men or evenly bisexual and I should totally try to follow up on this when it's very clear you're trying to leave to go home' at a transformers convention (the kicker is he did not know much about transformers so he was what. there to pick up trans women since somehow that deep cut of a takeway that transfems like transformers was disjointed from why?) lmao? lmao. lmao! its funny in retrospect but also absolutely ridiculous and concerning.

Maybe when we finish our EVA back stacks we'll have to write trans4trans on them to shoo people or something but we already know that in itself isn't enough

(note also to please not do this to straight/androphilic transfems either okay even if transness is why you're attracted it shouldn't be for fetishizing transness reasons you need to consider the full scope of what acting on attraction entails and thus value the needs and desires of the other person rather than have their worth be contingent on sexualization)

very beautiful art of gabriel btw

Gabriel in leather

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (TBA)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: after you and Eddie get...acquainted, it seems that he's everywhere. there's nowhere for you to hide when Eddie is on a mission to make your Christmas break miserable.

wc: 3.6k

cw: bickering, smoking

fic title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

if you spot the movie reference in here, i'm giving you a kiss on the cheek

Best Teacher Ever.

Your favorite spiral notebook sat in front of you, pink and white stripes lining the cover with an image of an apple and golden lettering. It was a gift from one of the fifth grade students you subbed for at another school. You traced the words with your fingers as you wondered if the child even knew what that meant.

It was five minutes to one and Eddie wasn’t here. You’d gotten here fifteen minutes ago, always keen on punctuality (and having the advantage of choosing where to sit.) Nerves crept up your neck, settling in the emerging headache you knew he was about to cause.

It would be so easy to start working on the book club without Eddie. To open the notebook and start your list. But you refrained, maintaining your self-respect. If he walked in and saw you already at work, you knew he’d start making a big deal about it. Then it would be an entire pissing contest with little to no meaning behind it. And you weren’t going to give in to his antics. Not today.

The wind chimes above Java Bean’s front door clanged against the frame as it swung open. You glanced over and found yourself inside an alternate dimension.

Eddie Munson stood there, sure, but you weren’t sure if it was him or some twisted doppelgänger sent here to confuse you. He was clad in a white shirt that read Vote For Pedro in red across the chest with black jeans and combat boots. On top was some combination of a leather jacket layered with a denim vest, littered in enamel pins. When he removed his hands from his pockets, you saw rings adorning almost every finger. 

Something churned in your stomach at the sight of him like this, hooked on the way he grabbed at his black Sony headphones, pulling them down to his neck and glancing down at his iPod. 

Maybe you could run away. Find your way to the bathroom and out whatever dingy window they had. Break it if necessary. Would they take a twenty to cover the charges?

Eddie stayed paused in the doorway, eyes scanning around the room before they found you. 

Something cranked your nerves up to one hundred as you realized there was nowhere to escape to now. Especially when he flashed you a bright smile that seemed a far cry from genuine. What a prick.

He approached you slowly, agonizingly. Placed his ringed fingers on the top of the chair across from you before asking, “Are you early?”

Your eyes kept flickering back and forth from him and the chair, seriously wondering if he was going to sit down or not. You hated the advantage he had of towering over you. 

“Uh, yeah,” you responded, trying not to cower away. 

“You would be.”

That snapped you out of your trance, furrowing your eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You look like a real person today.”

Looking down, you reassessed your outfit of a v-neck crimson sweater, dark blue jeans, and white Converse. On the back of your chair was a green parka. What did he think about your outfit? Why did you care?

“Did you think I wasn’t?” you asked, looking back up.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Just interesting to see you like this.”

You swallowed the urge to say the same, releasing a stifled breath as he finally sat down. You noticed his hair was frizzy for once, twisted into a half-assed bun. It was downright criminal that he still looked good.

“Who’s Pedro?” you asked, changing the subject.

The look he shot you made you wonder if he thought you’d shot a puppy. 

“You haven’t seen Napoleon Dynamite?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

That movie came out, what, three years ago? Approaching four? When you thought back that far, you remembered exactly what happened. Your ex boyfriend, Jason, had been reluctant to go see it with you. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do anything with you at all. But the movie theater? Yeah, forget it.

You’d dumped him a couple of months later after you caught him cheating on you. It was safe to say you never got around to renting the film.

“I was busy,” you said with a shrug.

“It’s been almost four years!”

You scowled. “So?”

“So,” he started, shrugging off his jacket. “you have no excuse.”

Oh.

Eddie…had tattoos. Six or seven up and down his arms, varying in size and intensity. You were no different, sure, with tattoos mixed and matched around your body. But he had tattoos. Perfect, cleancut Eddie Munson had tattoos. 

This felt like an ambush. There was no way he was this outside of work. All he’d ever worn were those nice button-downs. He never even rolled up the sleeves. He wore his outfits like he was some waiter at an upper class restaurant or a pretentious English professor that thought he was Hemmingway’s prodigy.

But, no. This was who he was underneath it all. 

You felt something stammer in your chest before it popped and fizzled in your stomach. 

“While this is riveting,” you said, doing everything you could to distract yourself from whatever the fuck was happening to you. “I really do think we should focus on choosing the first book.”

“I actually think we should get some coffee and food. Emphasis on the food.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, trying not to get annoyed. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you awkwardly waited in line together. You didn’t technically stand next to each other, his figure tucked behind yours. But your shoulders touched.

Your throat closed up at the contact, unsure as to why merely standing next to him felt so overwhelming. Maybe it was because he was an annoying asshole who never gave you a moment’s peace. Maybe you were just crabby without food or 

You ordered a peppermint latte—ignoring Eddie’s snort—and a blueberry muffin. Stepping aside, you watched Eddie get a black coffee—pretentious idiot—and a blueberry muffin. 

And what did you know? There was only one muffin left. It was rightfully given to you, with a promise of being heated up and left at your table. 

But as soon as you made it back to the table and the barista placed it in front of you, Eddie said, “Give me some of your muffin.”

You scoffed, pulling the plate closer to yourself. “No, go find your own!”

“Come on,” he continued, grabbing onto the other side. “Give me some of your muffin.”

You tugged on it again, simmering with frustration when it barely budged. “No, I’m fucking starved. I didn’t get to eat anything this morning.”

His grip tightened as he tried to take the plate.

“No, come on,” you grumbled, putting your other hand on the plate.

But Eddie did the same.

And in the process of fighting for the plate that was undoubtedly yours, Eddie gave a final yank of the ceramic before the muffin toppled over and onto the ground.

“Ugh,” you said with a scoff. “Gross.”

He gestured to you with the plate still in his hands. “Look what you did, idiot.”

“What I did?” you exclaimed, noticing a few pairs of eyes looking your way. You lowered your voice. “You’re the idiot.”

“You don’t know how to share,” he chided.

You scowled, leaning over to start cleaning up the mess Eddie made. “You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself!”

It took another ten minutes for you to stop arguing and start talking about the books. But then it stirred up another argument, him vetoing your choice of The Giver and you vetoing his choice of The Hobbit.

“That book is long,” you argued. “They’re teenagers.”

“Uh, I read it as a teenager,” he said with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He opened his mouth to protest but you beat him to it. “So no.”

In the end, you settled on a newer release, Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. Eddie protested that the novel was too short while you told him that that was the point. And as you bravely attempted to settle on the second book, it ended in chaos. You hated Catcher in the Rye. Eddie hated The Great Gatsby. There was nothing you could do.

You threw in the towel first in first, grabbing your things and half-heartedly wishing him a Merry Christmas before leaving. 

At last, you were left with two more blissful weeks without having to be anywhere near his insufferable presence.

But the thing about hating someone is that the more you hate them, the more you see them. Everywhere. 

A few days later, you’d been weaving in and out of the grocery aisles to garner inspiration for a healthy Christmas meal that would cancel out the eggnog and cookie coma you were likely to fall into. But as you stood in line to check out, you noticed Eddie strolling in with a shopping cart. 

You instinctively ducked, peering through the cashier behind yours to watch as he walked further and further away. Sure, the bored teenager bagging your groceries looked at you weird, but this had been life and death. And you’d chosen life.

Two days after that, you were making your way into the gas station near your apartment to get a few packs of cigarettes. You’d primarily smoked them in college before swearing up and down that you’d quit. And you did.

Until you started working full time at South Jefferson and realized just how stressful teaching teenagers all day every day was. So now it was back to the nicotine haze, barely satiating an oral fixation you’d had since birth.

There at the checkout counter stood Eddie Munson, currently sifting through coins in his hands with two packs of Marlboro Reds sitting in front of him. He was still in that leather jacket and denim vest combo, hair messy and chaotic. This time his bun sat on top of his head, stray hairs dangling down the back of his neck. There was a tattoo there too, something you couldn’t quite see from your vantage point. 

You thought about leaving but you couldn’t just go. Eddie was the exact reason why you’d gone through the rest of your pack. At home, you’d pace around and have arguments with him in your head until you won. You didn’t see that going away for the foreseeable future.

Before you could make up your mind, Eddie was thanking the cashier and turning away. As his eyes met yours, you felt that same stammer in your chest from Java Bean.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted, a faint smile on his lips.

“You’re a smoker,” you noted, glancing at the pack he was starting to open. 

He nodded. “You caught me red handed.” You rolled your eyes. “Get it? Red?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you replied, walking past him to the counter. 

He followed suit, standing too close for comfort again, boldly nudging your shoulder with his. For obvious reasons, you did not return the gesture. 

Before the cashier could greet you, Eddie stated, “Get the Marlboro Reds.” 

“No,” you said before turning to the cashier. “Two packs of those blue Newports, please.”

As you pulled out the five dollar bill from your wallet, Eddie shook his head at you. “You’re so wrong and you don’t even know. You don’t even know. I feel sorry for you.”

You ignored him as you paid and immediately walked outside. Eddie kept up with you, shoulder colliding with yours with every step. You needed to leave. You had to get away from him, especially two days out from Christmas. There was a promise of a holly jolly atmosphere waiting for you in your shithole apartment and that’s the way you liked it. No friends, no obnoxious family. A solitary affair with reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life and a new Maya Angelou poetry collection you’d snagged at Goodwill. 

But you couldn’t help yourself. “You know what your problem is?”

He was grinning. “What’s my problem?”

“You think you’re right about everything all the time.”

Eddie nodded. That fucker nodded. “That’s probably ‘cause I am.”

“You live in delusion,” you scoffed.

Lifting the cigarette box, he shook it in front of your face. “You should smoke one of these with me.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a snort before walking toward your car.

“You can’t spare five minutes to smoke with me?” he shouted after you.

Refusing to stop, you called over your shoulder, “Five minutes I can spare. But five minutes to share? With you? No, thanks. Happy Holidays and all that.”

Thankfully, he didn’t follow you.

There was this thing you did when you were thinking too hard about something. It started with furrowed brows, clenching together with intensity. Your lips didn’t purse, rather they scrunched up until they were barely visible. 

Usually, it was directed towards Eddie. But tonight it seemed you were focusing your mental energy on movies at Blockbuster. You looked torn, seemingly trying to decide between 28 Weeks Later and Music & Lyrics. Horror and a romantic comedy. Fascinating.

Eddie was browsing his usual slew of horror for the night when he’d looked over to spot the New Releases stand and instead found you like this. A DVD was already clutched to your chest, but you were looking back and forth from these two other films. You looked pretty, in a white sweater with faded pink sweatpants.

He wondered what you were thinking. How you were making your decision. What kind of snacks you’d pair with them, especially a few days after Christmas. The crashing blues that ensued after the holiday were apparently getting to you too, needing an escape. Just like him.

He could just ask you about your decision. It was going to backfire. He knew that. It’d been something he’d accepted weeks ago. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t like to have a little bit of fun pissing you off. It was just so easy to work you up until you stormed off. 

Eddie couldn’t understand why his presence set you off so viscerally. You seemed almost angry that he wanted to make any kind of conversation. Even if he lightly teased you, it was enough pressure to set off a landmine.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you looked at him. With that same wound up expression, eyebrows inching closer together as you prepared to explode. It might’ve been crass of him to say, but he really wanted to kiss you whenever you made that face.

And it might’ve been a bit vulgar of him to say, but he really wanted to grab your hips and push you up against a wall as you devoured one another.

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for that shit. Blockbuster was not the right place, either. He collected himself before throwing on a casual smile.

His steps were intentionally quiet, slow and steady as he came up behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You jumped, letting out a yelp before a hand flew to your chest. “Oh my god, you’re everywhere,” you breathed.

He couldn’t help his chuckle. “I’m sure you just love seeing the sight of my dashingly handsome—”

Groaning, you shook your head and said, “No.��

“Oh, I get it.” Eddie put a hand on his chest and flashed you an even wider smile. “You’re just charmed by my riveting conversational skills.”

You did something odd. Your eyes squinted softly as you swallowed and held his stare. What were you holding back from him?

“Not in the slightest.”

He gave up, pointing at the DVD in your hands. “So, what’re you watching tonight?” You went to hide the DVD behind your back but Eddie was a step ahead of you. He easily snatched it from your hands and held it up.

And he had no problem letting out a howl of laughter.

“Did you really grab Napoleon Dynamite because I told you to?”

You nearly gasped as if you were being slighted.

“Told me?” you grumbled. “You berated me.”

“It was just some light teasing,” he countered.

“Oh, sure. Of course you’d think that.”

Something clicked in his head and before he could even think about it, he smirked and said, “So you were thinking about me, huh?”

Never again would he see a sight so incredible.

There was that gasp he’d wanted, hitching in your throat before you puffed out your chest. Then your stare intensified, the one he was so fascinated by. It sparked a low-burning flame in his stomach.

He really liked the way that felt.

“I don’t spare any of my thoughts on you.”

Liar.

“So you decided on Napoleon Dynamite immediately but can’t make up your mind about 28 Weeks Later or Music & Lyrics?”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you settled on, “I only have enough to get one more.”

Another lie.

He decided to let you off easy. For now. “Well, they’re all good choices, if you ask me.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” you said bluntly.

Finally, the truth.

“You should be,” he said. “I’m the horror connoisseur of your dreams.” You opened your mouth but he beat you to it. “Because you do dream of me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You scoffed, grabbing both movies off the stand and walking away.

Okay, maybe a little too far. Noted.

“Woah, hey,” he called out, following behind you. “You can’t go. We haven’t chosen which one you’re getting.”

You looked at him like he was stupid. To be fair, he knew he was. But he really enjoyed that look on your face, too.

He enjoyed all of your faces. 

“We aren’t choosing anything,” you corrected. “I am choosing to get both and I am choosing to go home.”

“Just hold on,” he said, reaching a hand out to your elbow.

You whirled around and stopped. He nearly collided with you but stopped just in time, rocking back on his heels.

“What?” you asked.

He didn’t know what. Something kept him coming back, kept him leaning in closer just to try and understand you a little bit more. Despite having these distinct facial expressions, he still couldn’t figure out just what they meant. 

Or why you’d even think he wasn’t a good person when you barely understood him either.

An intriguing idea crossed his mind. “What if we, like, hung out?” he suggested.

Immediately, something thawed. Your eyebrows smoothed out and your lips dropped open into a small o. And he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes soften.

“You want to hang out with me?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I just assumed you had other friends. Like, um.” You looked away. “Chelsea.”

He tilted his head. “Chelsea?”

Why Chelsea? he wondered. He only really spoke to her at lunch and in passing. It was friendly, but they weren’t friends. Did you watch him at lunch? Did you think they were best friends?

Why did you care so much? And why did he care about what you thought?

“Yeah,” you whispered, going back and forth from looking at him to the DVDs in your hands.

“Hm,” he responded, looking around the store before coming back to you. “Well, I think we should go bowling.”

“Bowling,” you repeated.

He nodded, smiling as he quietly whispered, “Oh, yeah.”

Confusion spread across your face. “You want me to go bowling with you?”

“I think you said that earlier.” Eddie watched annoyance return to your face before adding, “Consider it a New Year’s resolution.”

The annoyance dissipated, replaced by your previous confusion. “How is bowling a New Year’s resolution?”

“It’s a blank slate, you know?” You shook your head. “Let’s call it a ceasefire between us. We can start over and, I don’t know, be friends.”

For a moment, you went quiet. Your eyes danced around the room, as if you were weighing your options. “How do you know I want to be friends with you at all?”

“Oh, come on,” he said with a sigh, still holding that smile. He couldn’t help it around you. “It could work, you and I. Friends. Buddies. Companions.”

You paused, your eyes assessing his. What the hell were you thinking? Why couldn’t he read your mind? There was this habit of yours to go quiet, to keep him on his toes until he went crazy.

And right now, he couldn’t keep standing here like this. 

“Well?” he asked, eyes still searching yours. “What’s it gonna be?”

A long moment passed before you sighed. “Fine. Yes. Let’s…go bowling.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I could pick you up next Wednesday around, what, seven?”

“I think we should drive separate,” you stated.

“Why? You don’t wanna be in a car with me?” All you did was nod. “You wound me, honestly. I’m not even a bad driver.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you asked, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “We’ll meet up at Lanesman next Wednesday.”

You gave him a quick nod. “Okay.”

“At seven p-m.”

“No, yeah, I got that.”

“See you then. Oh, you know what? You can tell me all your thoughts on Napoleon Dynamite while we bowl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, I’m leaving now,” you said, lazily waving at him before walking towards the checkout line.

Eddie had successfully survived another interaction with you. It was a whiplash for sure. But there was a shift. He felt it, but he wondered if you felt it, too. When you quickly turned to glance at him on your way out the door, Eddie couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

If you hadn’t noticed it yet, you surely would soon.

requested tagging: @anukulee, @twihard28, @doorlesscub00, @whisperingwillowxox

thank you to @littlexdeaths for always having the cutest dividers!!!

[chameleonwritess]

Incoming essay about Yuzuru Fushimi and why I believe he is the least normal Ensemble Stars character

Before we begin, I’d like to thank @normalestenstars both for giving me the motivation to actually write this at last, and for the polls that have allowed me to ponder over the normality of each enstars character, along with how normality would even be gauged. I’m aware that the concept will have differed from person to person, and so I’ll attempt to explain my metric of normality in order to explain why, say, Kanata, Wataru, or HiMERU aren’t my ‘least normal’ character (okay, what is it with blue hair and insanity in enstars, bc Tatsumi is kinda making the most insane list too). I'll also put the essay under the cut because... it got long. But if you wanna learn about Yuzuru, you came to the right place!

I was judging normality to be a combination of life experiences through from childhood to adulthood, behaviour, current responsibilities and activities, ways of reacting to situations, ways of interacting with the world, mental headspace and its subsequent projections, and any juxtapositions between those- particularly with regards to internal and external worlds of a character (this might not make any sense… it made sense to me but I’m hardly a most normal character myself).

First up, as Kanata was dubbed the audience voted least normal, I’ll touch  briefly on which specific aspect differed here between Kanata and Yuzuru that made me choose Yuzuru over Kanata. Both by the general audience and by the characters within the world of Ensemble Stars, Kanata is perceived as weird and strange, and his backstory explains that weirdness very well… perfectly well, basically. Of course he’s weird and outlandish given he grew up believing he was a living god. Meanwhile, Yuzuru is deemed as pretty normal by both characters and the general audience. At least on the surface! The amount of enstars fans I’ve heard call Yuzuru boring just confirms this, really. Who would ever dream of calling Kanata boring? But the characters who know Yuzuru better, or for those who finally get to interact with him more than very surface level, they suddenly uncover that oh shit hang on this guy is TERRIFYING and INSANE and what the actual FUCK IS GOING ON??? (See: Resort Live when Adonis is in the water and when Yuzuru dives to fetch him he felt like he was being followed by a wild carnivore and was confused as to how the hell Yuzuru had hidden that kind of aura up until now). Love how I said brief and then reached this length BUT essentially it’s the juxtaposition of Yuzuru’s external perception versus his actual reality that puts him on top of the weirdness ladder for me. Kanata’s weirdness is very in line with his history, giving him an aspect of normality, or at least expectedness, in my opinion (I’m in no way denying that Kanata is NOT NORMAL, though, don’t worry. My only actual denial of any not normal allocations is Wataru… but we’ll get to that in another essay xoxo)

RIGHT now let’s start with the Yuzuru focus. We’re gonna go back to his past to begin with. And no, I don’t mean the military camp, actually (although the very fact I just said those words should hopefully be clueing you in to Yuzuru’s abnormality). I’ll leave a list at the end of this of all the stories I got my facts from, as well as some key Yuzuru focussed readings if you want to learn more hehe. Saying that, I talk about Yuzuru’s past pre-military because it starts off as a wild backstory even before we get to the slightly more unhinged stuff. He was born into a family of butlers, and thus was fated to work for the Himemiyas and serve them… WHAT???? Yuzuru’s family are essentially slaves, and we know next to nothing about his parents. So many enstars characters are highlighted for having abusive families as an aspect of their abnormality and the weirdness with which they were raised, but yuzuru never gets brought up amongst those. How does this scenario even happen in the modern world???? I am SO CONFUSED and we have basically no answers. Does Yuzuru get paid?????? He’s been a butler since he was BORN so… probably not?? Is he essentially a slave???????? I suspect maybe!! We already know the Himemiyas are NOT EXACTLY THE EPITOME OF MORAL CORRECTNESS (see: they run an orphanage that filters into a fucking military training facility) so I would not put it past them. So- backstory and utter weird environment to be raised in? CHECK!!!! Yuzuru might have been raised in the weirdest environment out of all enstars characters except perhaps Kanata. Or joint weirdest WITH Kanata!! He grew up being trained to be perfect and to be entirely subservient. He had no interaction with peers, no downtime, doesn’t even have his own house given he lives at the Himemiya’s mansion. It’s absolutely insane if you stop and think about it for more than five seconds, and no one ever seems to talk about it??? Yuzuru Fushimi, man.

And we don’t know much about Yuzuru during this time (probably for good reason- he is cagey about anything that makes it look like he doesn’t enjoy his role and boy does this time include those feelings!), but we do know from Tori that he was not naturally talented at being a butler, would make loads of mistakes, and would hide in the shadows and cry over it. Yuzuru was just a KID. He’s only one year older than Tori, but he was expected to perfectly master pretty much every skill ever. He’s way too over-competent at seemingly everything, and as easy as that is to attribute to the military training…. a lot of stuff doesn’t make sense for that. He was trained to do e v e r y t h i n g. Child abuse, yay!! That’s essentially what it is when you think about it!! Were his parents trapped like this too?? How did his parents meet?? Are they the ones trapping him in this role, or is it the Himemiyas??? Because Yuzuru certainly seems to believe that his parents hold the authority, but idk how much of that is a biased perspective from what Yuzuru saw and knew as a child.

Okay. I think I’ve set the scene for why Yuzuru is insane and weird as fuck. I’d also like to give a brief breather from the agonising lore (bc it’s military time next) to let you all know that I’m writing this whilst desperately smacking auto-live bc I’m grinding for Ghostic Treat House Yuzuru <3 fine I love you <3

That’s all the reprise you get, trauma time again! So, you’re probably aware if you only watched the enstars anime to gain familiarity with ! era lore that Yuzuru spent time at a military facility with his good childhood friend Ibara (he would stab me for saying that lol). But that’s not all! So yes, Yuzuru was sent to the Himemiya’s military facility, where they were actually trained for wars, given the Himemiya’s army are actively fighting ppl during the events of Primavera (lol so much for me saving references to the end). Did Ibara and Yuzuru actually see the battlefield? Textual evidence would suggest perhaps, because Ibara mentions it being funny how a man who can face enemy forces alone is afraid of dogs. But that could be a metaphor and it may have just been training. Either way, definitely had to learn battle relevant skills and were given brutal training. But that’s still not all! From what we can gather from Yuzuru’s internal musings (although he is a somewhat unreliable narrator like 50% of the time tbh), he was sent to the military facility to learn better discipline so he’d stop acting up and play the role of a butler properly. This, combined with the crying when he messed up, gives two plausible reasons for him being sent. 1. he was considered too incompetent and the military was supposed to train him to be more competent as a butler, or 2. he was acting out big style and they wanted to quite literally beat him into submission so he’d treat his role more seriously. There is a scarier third possibility here, but that’s coming hehe don’t worry (: 

What happened when Yuzuru got to the military? Because so far yeah this is a wild situation but it doesn’t highlight Yuzuru’s utter insanity quite as well as I advertised. Ohohoho, don’t worry. Yuzuru was somehow so naturally gifted at being in the fucking military (whilst not being naturally gifted at being a butler, I remind you all!!) that he rose up to leadership and became an instructor IMMEDIATELY. He was in charge of Ibara, and assumably other people too, despite being the same age as him (and quite probably younger than others). Is it possible he rose through the ranks because of his status? No not really. He’s a butler to the Himemiyas, not an actual family member!! And he’s essentially been cast out by them, so why would they care?? It’s also implied and makes all Yuzuru lore add up if he was just… incredibly and terrifyingly talented with weaponry, fighting, tactics, etc etc don’t ask me what military things are important i don’t know. So I’m choosing to believe that the lore all checks out and that Yuzuru was made an instructor because he was freakishly good. Now about his role as an instructor!! 

Most of our info does come from Ibara which is… likely to be negatively biased, but we also have actual flashback scenes which legitimately support Ibara’s perception. Which was, in short, that Yuzuru’s training was spartan. He was harsh and ruthless and ruled with an iron fist… but he also genuinely cared about his pupils (and again, we infer that he had multiple bc he calls Ibara his favourite pupil. Although funny if he’s his fave by default lmao). The military is also the first time Yuzuru gets the chance to be a kid, which is ironic given he is AN INSTRUCTOR IN THE MILITARY. But he gets the chance to sit and talk with Ibara in between training and attempting to murder each other (which is like the closest thing to playing tag that Yuzuru has ever participated in, I reckon). I could write a separate essay about how important Ibara and Yuzuru are to each other, but that’s for another day (pls pls pls ask me to write it pls i just need the excuse). 

We find out some interesting things from Yuzuru’s conversations with Ibara. He hopes to die on the battlefield to show his parents (haha remember that scary third option…. what if this was their plan HAHAHAH). He wants to die out of spite, and he wants to die for the freedom. He hopes he never has to return and be a butler again. He feels free at the military camp, which is ironic given the intent was to trap him there to teach him a lesson. It’s also ironic, given both Ibara and Yuzuru refer to the training camp as an awful, horrible place. 

That definitely isn’t the end of me talking about Yuzuru and military experience, but it is the end of it in this linear fashion I’m taking to explain why Yuzuru is so fucked up and weird and insane.

So, he returns from the military! Read: he is forcibly taken back to the Himemiya mansion. And when he returns, Tori cries and hugs him and begs him to never leave again because he was so lonely without Yuzuru and scared etc etc. And we know that Yuzuru looked at him crying and decided that actually, this was something worth treasuring and putting his life towards. Tori was worth serving- he cared about Tori and wanted to protect him, and he had the abilities now (and probably always) to do exactly that. Was this inspired by Ibara saying he just wanted something to treasure and dedicate his life towards keeping/obtaining? Yep!!! Same story!!! Yuzuru took Ibara’s goal and went ‘snatched, mine now’ but fr… they had such an impact on each other. So, Yuzuru is ‘happily’ being a butler now. In other words, he’s taking his fate and making it his decision, as much as he can (or probably to convince himself hmmm). But where’s the insanity here, before we reach idol time? Well, here we discover that Yuzuru contemplates murdering Tori multiple times!! As a means of escape? As a reflexive urge to kill that he’s developed/been suppressing all along? Who knows! I still can’t quite believe that this is even canon but yeah!!! It’s not always a joke when Yuzuru says scary things to Tori and threatens him with weapons! He has legitimately contemplated murdering him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yuzuru Fucking Fushimi, folks!!!!!!!!

This section is also where I’d like to discuss Yuzuru’s fear of dogs, because he also had to acquaint himself with King (Tori’s dog) during these years. Do you know the reason why Yuzuru’s afraid of dogs? I hear you ask, because I am inside your walls rn. Was there an incident? At the Himemiya’s? At the military camp? No!!! Tori says he’s literally always been afraid of dogs, and Yuzuru confirms this and gives us an explanation as to why! He says that dogs are inherently ferocious hunters- killers at heart- and yet they wear an innocent, harmless mask of being ‘man’s best friend’, covering up the human lives they have taken and are easily capable of taking at the smallest provocation. He fears dogs because he fears their true nature that they’re hiding behind their perceived harmlessness. They’ve masked their bloodlust with domestic obedience- a facade many dogs have tricked themselves into understanding as reality. When I thought about Yuzuru’s explanation for about five minutes before I started this essay, it suddenly slid into place in a way I’d never studied Yuzuru’s fear of dogs before.

Yuzuru fears himself. This checks out with the dog metaphors he makes of himself, of Ibara, that Ibara makes about Yuzuru and of himself. Obedient lapdog, untrained mutt, guard dog etc. etc. The parallels were right there. Yuzuru is an obedient lapdog for Tori… but he’s a predator by nature. A born killing machine whom everyone trusts without hesitation because of the loyal and obedient facade he parades, convincing even himself is reality. Yuzuru is afraid of the hunter he is and when his true nature might escape. I don’t read it as a ‘being afraid of when others will find out that he’s secretly evil’ sort of situation. More a ‘being afraid of when he won’t be able to stop himself & the mask will disintegrate forever and reveal the hunter within. Being afraid of when he might attack’. Ouch. Yuzuru can I give you therapy pls I’m begging. ANYWAY Tori then gets into idols and Yuzuru is dragged along to fine shows, and when Eichi sees him in the audience (ignoring the fact that his first thought is ‘damn that bitch fine as fuck, i love a guy with blue hair purple eyes and a ponytail, smash’), he says Yuzuru looks wild and rugged (i’m going off memory I cba getting Daydream up just trust xoxo), which is interesting given he’s trying his best to be a loyal butler right now. He’s not quite mastered the mask at this point, I suspect. Other things we know from this era are that Yuzuru helped sneak Tori out to go to karaoke as idol practice. I wonder how he felt getting to sing and dance for the first time.

Fun fact in case you hadn’t noticed by now- I’m not very good at staying on topic bc I loooove to go on random tangents of character analysis. I swear this is still about how Yuzuru is the weirdest enstars character… somehow….

So! We’ve finally reached canon timeline in the chronological part of this essay (HOW LONG IS THIS THING GONNA BE?? I hear you worry because, once again, i am in your walls). Yuzuru joins fine yayyy and he’s a transfer student to Yumenosaki given he’s just following Tori. So… did he even go to school before??? Given he has to follow Tori??? Did he take a year out? I’’m so curious as to Yuzuru’s history because how tf did his childhood work? He passes the fine test easily bc turns out he’s also very naturally talented as an idol. He’s very physically fit so it’s unsurprising. What’s sooo fun to know about his joining fine, though, is that he immediately knows exactly what Eichi is like, immediately gets links with the StuCo and joins Keito’s club to get In There with the top people (networking innit and also… club with bow and arrows. Tsukasa confirms he’s freakishly good wow who would’ve guessed Yuzuru would be so naturally talented with a weapon), and apparently immediately developed an escape plan for him and Tori so that if Eichi ever tried to destroy them, he could take Tori and dip. I wonder if that escape plan is still in place, now! Anyway, we also learn in this era that Yuzuru starts to love being an idol and finds he’s genuinely enjoying it. However, the reasons he’s enjoying it are… not exactly normal. He loves being an idol because he’s surprised that it’s able to spur the human emotions of anger and frustration within him (basically, he’s surprised that being an idol brought out his painstakingly buried emotions). We also learn that he’s extremely envious that Tori and Eichi were able to escape their fates laid out by their parents to pursue being idols, but he immediately tries to suppress thoughts like this. The difference between having money and not, huh? Tori and Eichi could escape. Yuzuru was always going to be trapped :( Yuzuru also starts to experience having friends for the first time (does Ibara count as a friend?? It was way wilder and more insane than that) so essentially Yuzuru’s first ever experience of normal teenager things is when he is 16/17. But at least he gets to have a pillow fight and absolutely destroy everyone! And get yelled at by a teacher!! Proud of him for having fun. 

This era is also where we get Yuzuru completely lying to himself, us, and his peers. Everyone is quite conscious of getting Yuzuru to enjoy his life outside of being Tori’s butler, and he’s very much manipulated everyone (including the audience even though we can compile the evidence to discover otherwise) into believing that he’s always been such a loyal and simple butler with no thoughts of his own aside from those that are wishes to serve his master. We know this isn’t true… and yet Yuzuru tries to convince us and everyone in the story that this is reality, to the point that we get people being proud of Yuzuru for coming so far. We get Tori being proud of him! And feeling guilty for him always sacrificing his life for him. Ugh I love Tori actually. The second I started reading stories about Tori and Yuzuru it hit how much guilt Tori has over Yuzuru’s fate and AGHHHH oops I got sidetracked again. Anyway. Yuzuru’s an unreliable narrator and that’s important to his weirdness, because he hides his true utter insanity from even us as the audience!! He lies to himself, to us, to his peers, everyone!!! You cannot fool me, Yuzuru Fushimi. I see through you. I’ve figured out your utter unhingedness. The complete juxtaposition between the very ordinary bland background character you depict yourself as versus the utter fucking WEIRDO that you actually are <3

Moving onto !! era, Yuzuru introduces himself in the main story by being INSANE and everyone seems to forget about it? The first thing he does is discuss how beneficial it is to show up first to important events and prepare the drinks because you gain the upper hand of knowing you could’ve poisoned them and everyone knows you could have, but that he’d never do that because everyone would indeed know it was him. And that’s one of the joys of being a butler! HELLO??? YUZURU WTF BABE????? But that’s always just glanced over. Also there’s the whole insanity of Eichi reminding us that Ibara is the only person whom Yuzuru shows this other side of himself around, and by that we mean the side where he… openly threatens extreme physical violence. Also frontline watchdogs happens. And we learn that Yuzuru still very obviously cares about Ibara gahhh. Anyway, back to insanity time, Wataei are kinda mean to Yuzuru in this era, because they do end up toying with him quite a bit, and we get a lot of Yuzuru dealing with thoughts regarding the Himemiyas and the impact of ES and stuff, because he can’t even just be an idol, he’s also essentially in charge of Tori’s responsibilities until Tori is ready, AND he’s becoming an actor because wow how surprising he’s really good at fighting roles and getting into character (sarcasm, bc… it is not surprising. hey who wants to hear me scream into a forest about wataru and yuzuru and facades it’ll be super fun I promise). Other insane stuff includes the time Yuzuru thinks Ibara is holding Tori hostage so he walks into a room and straight up STRANGLES IBARA because he knows how Ibara responds to being tortured for info so knows he’ll get the truth here. He also proceeds to reveal he’s learnt vocal mimicry from Wataru and will fuck shit up if Ibara tries anything using that trick (how did he learn that???? Plus Wataru is cagey about teaching new skills so it is either an omg yay wataru and yuzuru getting close moment or a…. yuzuru did you just analyse his ability and somehow replicate it??). Also in this era, we learn that Yuzuru accompanies Eichi with a lot of business related things, because of course he gets to be involved in the big ES happenings, and that he’s become wayyy more petty and rude to Eichi. It’s a big step for Yuzuru, who’s been forced to be so polite to his superiors. Like can you believe it. The Himemiyas’ butler being rude and passive aggressive and turning down THE Eichi Tenshouin?? He’s wild for that, but he knows Eichi well enough to know he’s safe because Eichi loves it. Yuzuru is so good at reading people. Oh yeah the other !! era moment I was going to mention was the time he took both Adonis and Hiiro in a fight. Canonically strong guys with training in martial arts/defensive techniques. And he legit scared Hiiro with how suddenly his demeanour changed from passive butler to ‘don’t hold back on me >:)’ oooo I love the utter thrill he always gets when he can go all out and attack people!! He’s so fucked up!!

And now on the theme of that, we have !!! era, because pretty much all he’s done since this new era began is fight people. In his cross scout with Kaoru, he gets disappointed in himself when Nagisa outruns him. It’s interesting to note that despite the lack of practice of his abilities Yuzuru gets outside of situations often purposefully set up so he can fight (usually by Eichi and/or Wataru like the incident in Fist of Idol Togenkyo), he still assumes himself to be… the best at any sort of combat out of everyone in his current environment. Do you know what I would give to see Yuzuru and Kuro fight??? I would LOVE to witness it, but I know neither of them would be willing to go all out on each other :(. So when Nagisa ends up out-running/outmanoeuvring him, he’s peeved. Like it’s not a surprise given Nagisa is genetically created to be The Best at Everything, but damn, how highly does Yuzuru think of his own combat abilities? It never really hit me until this point. Not only is he trained at combat, but he very much thinks/knows he’s good at it, and essentially takes pride in that fact? He’s such an interesting critter. Then we have the shuffle unit, too, where Yuzuru gets to go all out and apprehend a thief and he VISIBLY has fun doing it, as well as internally discussing as much. But we also have textual proof from someone else (a random director) that Yuzuru’s ‘snap’ is a thing. He can switch between this polite, passive butler and a bloodthirsty beast in SECONDS, and the joy he feels from being a vicious hunter is probably palpable. Other people can see him essentially change mask at the flip of a switch and become someone else entirely, and it’s wild. The fact Niki is the other person who does this is also beautiful because Niki in hunger mode is also a terrifying bloodthirsty beast. Can’t believe he won most normal, even with CrazyB being CrazyB.

I’ve finally covered somewhat of a chronological series of events for Yuzuru’s character that have led to the juicy stuff of why I view him as the straight up weirdest and least normal character. Whilst that was a lot of character analysis to do with who he is at his core, as well as his background and where he’s at mentally and in terms of progression in the story, now is for a beautiful collection of utterly unhinged things he’s said/done that make me go ‘what the FUCK Yuzuru’. Which, admittedly, I do a LOT. 

he MCs for the new year live featuring Trickstar and Akatsuki and decides to fuck around with Keito because he looks too serious. He then gets drunk on the joy of fucking with Keito and just keeps screwing with the scoring system and everything whilst Keito is seething with the betrayal

he used to genuinely think his drawings were lovely, but then according to others they looked like ‘horrifying yokai thirsting for blood’, ‘vegetables committing cannibalism’ or just ‘makes [them] anxious looking at it’ so wtf is actually wrong with his perception???

has said he feels the urge to kill Tori sometimes, but ‘a true gentleman suppresses his anger’…. JUST SIT WITH THAT ONE FOR A WHILE

He’s said he wants to dissect Wataru… medically… bc of his stamina levels

He’s also threatened to take Wataru to a secluded area and cut off each of his fingers with a bradawl. YUZURU??????

Nagisa is surprised at his dexterity when he very competently ties Jun to a pillar

He cleans ES and Yumenosaki in secret because he doesn’t trust other people to do it right. Not the most insane thing ever but it adds to his issues. Also cleaning is his favourite thing to do. Cleaning. This man has a body count and I mean in the murder sense

He loves to draw even though he’s shit at it. It’s just really funny to me that he’s very dexterous and talented at pretty much everything except the one hobby he wants to have

He can pilot a helicopter- only he and Madara are known to be capable of this

He’s the best at archery and at using firearms in Yumenosaki. And most likely ES. But he’s careful not to show off his talent and ‘true nature’ because he’s an idol and doesn’t want to scare people off

He has abs. Multiple characters have commented on this. Koga has felt them up

When he gets lost in thought he tightens his grip ridiculously tight. Figured this out due to him subconsciously tightening his grip on both Ibara’s neck during SS and Tori’s clothes during Resort Live

He speaks overly politely, but with the exact same dialect as Ibara which- i’m gonna lose my linguist status for the way I’m about to butcher this- from what I can gather is easy to interpret in a rude and sharp/passive aggressive tone. I’m going off characters who say Ibara and Yuzuru speak exactly the same, and the way Rei and Eichi highlight how Yuzuru says polite words but they’re very rude and barbed despite the politeness

His dancing is sharp and impeccable and his physical abilities are apparently ridiculously impressive, far above what would ever be expected of a butler (who’s surprised?)

His administrative abilities are incredible because he’s just overall a freakish genius apparently

He can completely hide his presence. He managed to scare Nagisa during the recent Halloween event and Nagisa is a very literal freak of nature who has been lab made to be a perfect specimen with like every skill ever soooooo terrifyingly impressive imo

Now, to conclude this insanity is my main point as to why Yuzuru takes the cake as the most insane enstars character to me. And whilst yes it’s obvious from all of this that he’s absolutely batshit insane, so are many other characters, but the reason my vote goes to Yuzuru over anyone else is because of the disparity between his public perception vs. who he is. And I mean both in game and out of game. I asked my lovely partner whose biggest flaw is not giving a flying fuck about my beloved Yuzuru Fushimi no matter how many times I yell about him what their opinion was of Yuzuru prior to knowing my insanity about him. I’d like to highlight that my partner is a big fan of Ibara, so knew about Yuzuru’s backstory at least, but was otherwise oblivious to most fine lore outside the main story, being a CrazyBP. My girlfriend said that, to them, Yuzuru was just a mild mannered butler who doesn’t come across as a big personality, especially next to the rest of fine. She said he’s very overshadowed when you have 2 characters very in-your-face personality wise and Eichi Fucking Tenshouin in your unit. Further thoughts were that whilst some characters you can soak up information of via osmosis, Yuzuru isn’t one of them.

And this was INSANE to me. Because how are you an Ibara fan and a NikiP who loves Niki’s kitchen and somehow none of Yuzuru lore has crept into your internet circles???? And this is what makes me go oh yeah. Yuzuru is the least normal character from a character perspective as well as within the narrative. How do you write a character THIS INSANE with this many unhinged things being said and done in pretty much any story he shows up in, but the fandom who don’t pay attention to him just,,, completely miss it all and view him EXACTLY AS HE TRIES TO PRESENT HIMSELF TO OTHER CHARACTERS: as a mild-mannered, overly polite butler who loves servitude?? Yuzuru Fushimi has not only bewitched the characters into believing his facade, but he’s thoroughly hoodwinked the general audience of ensemble stars too. No one believes Wataru to be normal and casual, and arguably he’s the most normal of fine (at least in terms of upbringing, consistency, motivations etc….. but also he is literally me and i’ve been told I’m devastatingly Not Normal, so maybe that doesn’t count). No one would claim to call Kanata normal. No one thinks HiMERU or Mayoi or Shu & Mika, or the twins are normal. Everyone knows, at least in part, how insane they are, whether they produce the unit and know the lore or not. But Yuzuru!!!! He has fooled you all!!!! He has fooled everyone, and that’s exactly what he wants to do but exactly what he is terrified of doing, too. He fears the utter insanity inside him, but he’s also desperate for any chance he can find to unleash it and, for lack of a better phrase, go beast mode.

Yuzuru Fushimi, folks. He is one hell of a character and I hope you’ve enjoyed my ridiculously long essay on exactly why he is the craziest son of a bitch in ensemble stars. At least to me <3

And now for an incomplete list of references because I legit forget where half my knowledge comes from, I just read it once and forever absorb it into my brain:

! Era:

RESORT LIVE!!! lost of Yuzuru insight

Noble game. A lot of Yuzuru, specifically within his Butler context

GANG!!!! This is the backstory & ibayuzu lore story and it kills me every time

Flower Fes. Not huge on Yuzuru lore but gives an insight into his beginnings at Yumenosaki

Toyland. Yuzuru’s drawings and feelings about being an idol come up here. As well as Tori’s guilt about Yuzuru

School Trip. Aka Yuzuru unreliable narrator the novel

!! Era:

FRONTLINE WATCHDOGS!!!! It’s the Ibayuzu lore of !! era. !!’s answer to Gang

SS finals. It’s really long so specifically the chapters with Ibara and Yuzuru are where the lore is

Fist of Idol Togenkyo. I didn’t mention it much here but it covers Yuzuru’s acting and fighting quite well

Tempest & Primavera are the fine stories that discuss Yuzuru’s current role in ES and Tori’s life best but I didn’t reference them loads

Fair Waltz. It’s a short scout story but it’s so good for Yuzuru & Eichi dynamic & Yuzuru fighting

Grand Slam. There’s like one chapter during the sports festival about Yuzuru and guns lol

Yuzuru idol story episode 3. Ibayuzu reflect on their past & I cry

Seasoning as you like (Niki idol story). Niki’s kitchen revealing some of Yuzuru’s violent tendencies

!!! Era

Intelligence. Cross scout with Kaoru where the Nagisa incident happens

Ballade of the Lost Ones. Shuffle Unit!!!! Yuzuru goes wild!!!

[dripdowndrop]

The Bimbo Bounce

There’s an implicit understanding around the idea of a bimbo that it is an easy thing to be. A bimbo doesn’t have to worry about very much, certainly not thinking. They are free to bounce, bubbly, brainless, and spend their energy focusing on the more fun things: sex, for instance.

Bounce.

I respectfully disagree. Thoughts can be very pesky things, and ridding yourself of them isn’t always a simple task. Many bimbos subscribe to the philosophy wherein the process of bimbofication involves having their brains removed, their intelligence compromised, their thoughts turned to bubbles to float away into the ether.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Which isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with that, of course. But a bimbo doesn’t necessarily need to be absolutely brainless, nor even to have their intelligence drained at all…and certainly not permanently. Part of the appeal is often in the transient nature of the transformation.

For now, we’ll focus on the brainless sort of bimbo. Perhaps later we can explore the alternatives.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

After all, there is something to be said for allowing your thoughts to become bubbles, creating that light and airy feeling in your head. It is, I suspect, a little easier to feel like a bimbo when those thought-bubbles begin floating and bouncing around in your head, and especially once they begin to pop.

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

But what happens when your thought-bubbles are being stubborn, when they don’t behave like the slick and oily bubbles that pop so simply? There are a few options. First, let’s consider another kind of bubble: bubble wrap.

You know what I mean, I’m sure. You’ve felt the enjoyment of popping that plastic packaging to release the air sealed inside. You’ve also found that some bubbles are easier to pop than others – sometimes you can roll the wrap along your fingers and appreciate the sound of so many rhythmic pops, but other times you have to apply some additional pressure before you receive that anticipated reward.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Some of the bubbles can be downright frustrating, I know. The reward for normal bubble wrap is that giggly, somewhat silly, glee; it’s a lot of fun, and downright cathartic. But for your thoughts? The reward is becoming a brainless bimbo, and feeling the combined physical pleasure and mental relief when the thoughts pop and escape, leaving that wet, pink lust behind.

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

It’s a very compelling reward, isn’t it? You’d happily apply as much pressure as it takes to pop those thought-bubbles, but perhaps you aren’t quite sure how. There’s a line here about how that might mean you’re already more brainless than you expect, but we’ll skip that for now. Instead, consider the source of the pressure.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Pressure around your thought-bubbles can come from the simple act of bouncing, of course. It can come from my words flowing steadily into your mind, perhaps repeating like an echo that escalates until the pop. In the first case, you’ll simply bounce a little harder; in the second, repeat my words either aloud or in your head to ramp up the pressure. But those aren’t the only methods.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

You see, we can also soften the surface of the thought-bubbles. You want to be a bimbo, after all, or you wouldn’t be here – you certainly wouldn’t have made it this far into a script designed to make you a bimbo. But I expect it’s more than casual want. You find the idea of becoming a brainless obedient bimbo arousing. It turns out that arousal softens bubbles…don’t take my word for it, though, let your focus shift to the intensity of that arousal, and feel the way the resistance inside your thought-bubble changes, as if the pressure is suddenly coming from both sides.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

Now there are three methods to ramp up the pressure on that stubborn thought-bubble of yours: bounce a bit harder, repeat my words to yourself, and focus on how aroused being bimbofied makes you. The bubble-wrap doesn’t stand a chance, especially when you recall how intensely rewarding that pop is going to be. Raw pink pleasure drenching your suddenly vacant head, freeing you to be the giggly, bouncy, brainless bimbo you want to be.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

Brainwashed bimbos bounce blankly.

Blank brainless bimbos bounce.

As rewarding as the pop will be, wouldn’t it be better to feel that over and over again? Of course it would. There’s a less common method of making bubbles easier to pop that we’ve just unlocked – making a single, large bubble into a bunch of much smaller ones. Even if you’ve already popped the thought-bubble, it’s surprisingly straightforward to imagine any remaining thoughts, brains, or some part of your body covered in bubble wrap.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Lots of tiny bubbles are much easier to pop, as you know, which means all you’ve got to do is pick your favorite method: bouncing, repeating my words, or feeding your arousal. Then the fun can really begin…you get to bounce, chant the bimbo mantra, or touch yourself, and enjoy the immensely satisfying sensation of all of those pesky thought-bubbles popping in rapid succession.

I’d tell you not to worry about the implications of being bound by bubble wrap, or the inherent silliness of the concept – but we both know you’re already past that, or giggling about it while you obey. So instead, give in to your chosen bubble popping method.

Bounce whichever way you find feels the best, repeat my words again and again, or bring yourself to a bubbly pink bimbo orgasm. Or, perhaps, try every method just to make sure you don’t have any pesky thought-bubbles left by the time you’re finished.

As for the transient – sorry, big word, let’s go with “temporary” – nature of the transformation, I’ll leave that up to you. When you’ve finished popping bubbles for me, you can drift awake with your decidedly un-popped brain functioning normally…or you can “wake” in bimbo mode for awhile, free to be bouncy and bubbly and giggly and horny for a few hours before the effect fully fades.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Either way, as always, like, reblog and enjoy.

[vivemonroi]

Can we talk about Hallelujah and how it represents Solavellan? We've long considered Hallelujah as the hymn for Solavellan, but I never fully realized how deeply it might reflect their love.

I combined lyrics from Leonard Cohen’s version and Rufus Wainwright’s rendition to get a "full picture."

Content spoilers!

I imagine that it’s Lavellan singing to Solas, sharing how she sees him and his story.

Now I′ve heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor falls, the major lifts The baffled king composing Hallelujah

The "baffled king" could represent Solas and his god-like status during the Evanuris era. Even with his power and knowledge, Solas could be seen as someone vulnerable, struggling with the burdens of his choices. This reflects his grandeur and his inner conflict, showing that despite his god-like status, he was still susceptible to doubt, regret, and even love.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

Now that we know more about Solas and Mythal’s relationship, I think that the "her" mentioned is actually Mythal, and Solas was willing to do anything for her. This includes obtaining a physical body and standing by her side no matter what.

She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

But eventually, Mythal leaves Solas, who remains attached to her. She "broke his throne," meaning she pushed him to rebel; she made him cut his hair… and now the guy is bald. Clearly, this represents his betrayal.

The Hallelujah signifies the deepest, most sacred love — he still loved her, even then. But their relationship was ultimately toxic for both of them.

Maybe I've been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the marble arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Now Lavellan is singing about herself and her life before Solas. She was alone, especially after the Conclave and becoming the Herald of Andraste. The Dalish rejected her, and humans weren’t her people — much like Solas himself, upon awakening to a world that was no longer his.

With him, she discovers a love deeper than any she has known, she realizes that loving someone is not a "victory march." Her love for him is filled with pain and bittersweetness. It's hard to love him, yet she love him still.

There was a time you'd let me know What's real and going on below But now you never show it to me do you?

This is about the time they shared during the events of the Inquisition. He taught her about the Fade and the ancient gods, but after Trespasser, he vanished, concealing his true self beneath the mask of Fen’Harel.

And then there’s the line, “you’d let me know what’s real.” Remember what Solas said after they defeated Corypheus, just before he walked away forever?

“I want you to know that what we had was real.”

And remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Both could represent the time they shared or her attempts to reach him after Trespasser. The "holy dark"— maybe the Blight?

You say I took the name in vain I don′t even know the name But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?

She didn’t know his true title, the Dread Wolf, a part of his very nature and ancient past. Yet she wonders: if she had known, would it have changed anything?

Now there's a different versions for Lavellan who want to save Solas and Lavellan who want to stop him.

The redeemed and happy version.

There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn′t matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

At first glance, it may seem like the holy love, the holy Hallelujah, represents his love for Mythal, and the broken one for Lavellan. But I think it's the opposite: Mythal is a god, yet their love is broken; Lavellan is mortal, but her love for him is divine. Both of them have the power to redeem him, in different ways — one through letting go, and the other through allowing him to be loved.

I did my best, it wasn′t much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I′ve told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

The words point directly to Solas, she tries to convince him, that their love can find a way to endure. She isn't like Mythal, she accepts him, his nature. But he's afraid, he's not allowing himself to move forward.

And even though it all went wrong I′ll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Even in the end, Lavellan still holds onto her love for Solas, with nothing on her tongue but their sacred love.

She is his future.

Now to the grim and sad version

Maybe there's a God above And all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

He deceives her, and all that love has taught her is sorrow. Mythal' and Solas' history confirms that.

She remains steadfast, standing in his path, even if it means his end, because her love and his history taught her "to shoot at someone who outdrew you."

And it′s not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who′s seen the light It's a cold and it′s a broken Hallelujah

In this version, their love is doomed to be cold and broken. There is no light. She has given up on him, yet the suffering remains, deep and unrelenting. Still, it is a Hallelujah.

He is all alone, facing his most terrible fear. Yet he believes he deserves it and it's the only thing that can redeem him.

Thank you for reading this! I know I’m being delusional, but it helps me sleep at night.

[o-uncle-newt]

I think that the thing is that Sayers a) always has SOME kind of a point if you don't take it too far and b) she's such a good and convincing writer that while you're reading, she can basically convince you of anything just by saying it. I noticed this when reading Unpopular Opinions, her book of essays, which are great but which rely a lot on "I am saying this and making it sound true so it is true, you have to trust my Vibes." And guess what, for a bunch of it I absolutely trusted her Vibes, even after I thought about it for a while with the book closed! She's just a fascinating combination of an incredibly clever and often actually wise person who combined that element of herself with weirdly nostalgically conservative politics. Always SUPER fun. (At some point I need to do my Sayers and the Jews essay but I want to do some reading first.)

The thing with Bunter is that I don't think there's much discrepancy there- the relationship between Wimsey and Bunter where Wimsey treats him somewhat like an equal wouldn't be the same if Bunter didn't already go out of his way to treat him as a superior. Wimsey can make the overtures of semi-equality because he knows that they aren't in equal positions- not in the sense of it being false or rubbing it in, but him also being more sensitive to their class differences because he's aware of them. (Incidentally, I was just reading Clouds of Witness and Wimsey stops Bunter before he can accidentally "forget himself" and insult the Duke's intelligence... as though that would be a step TOO far.) Sayers often returns to this well of "when everyone knows their place in society then everyone is happier," with the corollary being that the place of the aristocracy is to be friendly and condescending (in the non-negative connotation) to the common people and servants in a way that shows that they value them and are looking out for them. In Busman's Honeymoon, she basically has Harriet say this outright and appreciatively about Peter slotting into the role of local squire; and Murder Must Advertise, a book that seriously annoys me as I mentioned earlier, has this scene:

“Well,” said Mr. Smayle, “Tallboy always says that Dumbleton is a public school.” “I daresay it is—in the sense that it has a Board of Governors,” said Ingleby, “but it's nothing to be snobbish about.” “What is, if you come to that?” said Bredon. “Look here, Smayle, if only you people could get it out of your heads that these things matter a damn, you'd be a darn sight happier. You probably got a fifty times better education than I ever did.” Mr. Smayle shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said, “I'm not deceiving myself about that, and I'd give anything to have had the same opportunities as you. There's a difference, and I know there's a difference, and I don't mind admitting it. But what I mean is, some people make you feel it and others don't. I don't feel it when I'm talking to either of you, or to Mr. Armstrong or Mr. Hankin, though you've been to Oxford and Cambridge and all that. Perhaps it's just because you've been to Oxford and Cambridge.” He struggled with the problem, embarrassing the other two men by his wistful eyes. “Look here,” said Miss Meteyard, “I know what you mean. But it's just that these two here never think twice about it. They don't have to. And you don't have to, either. But the minute anybody begins to worry about whether he's as good as the next man, then he starts a sort of uneasy snobbish feeling and makes himself offensive.” “I see,” said Mr. Smayle. “Well, of course, Mr. Hankin doesn't have to try and prove that he's better than me, because he is and we both know it.” “Better isn't the right word, Smayle.” “Well, better educated. You know what I mean.” “Don't worry about it,” said Ingleby. “If I were half as good at my job as you are at yours, I should feel superior to everybody in this tom-fool office.” Mr. Smayle shook his head, but appeared comforted. “I do wish they wouldn't start that kind of thing,” said Ingleby when he had gone, “I don't know what to say to them.” “I thought you were a Socialist, Ingleby,” said Bredon, “it oughtn't to embarrass you.” “So I am a Socialist,” said Ingleby, “but I can't stand this stuff about Old Dumbletonians. If everybody had the same State education, these things wouldn't happen.” “If everybody had the same face,” said Bredon, “there'd be no pretty women.”

To me, this is kind of the summation of Sayers's whole attitude toward class and education as relayed in the books- if you stay where you're meant to be, you're taught the way of dealing with your class and privilege/lack thereof in life, how you're supposed to relate to others, etc. If you socially climb then you end up in uncharted territory where you're a) not meant to be and b) made to feel out of place, which you then end up pushing onto other people, making them feel uncomfortable.

You can kind of see where she and others who look at it so nostalgically like that are coming from- as depicted/essentialized here, part of Wimsey's privilege also meant responsibility for those beneath him, and part of a more "common" person's commonness meant, or should have meant, a sense of security. While MMA goes a lot into anti-consumerism in a way that's hard to deny, in Unpopular Opinions her essays get a lot more into it as a problem in that it destroyed the normal order of work- where instead of having a hundred shoemakers all (apparently) happily making 10 pairs of shoes a day, you have five shoe factory managers and forty-five miserable and overworked employees making two thousand pairs of shoes a day and fifty people without their "proper job." It's a totally different angle on the issue that rings a bit more false when the ideas of both class essentialism and, as you note, bio-essentialism are removed from the picture.

...And of course that's what makes Parker so interesting! On one level, Sayers clearly doesn't believe in an "aristocracy can only marry aristocracy" kind of a thing because Peter marries Harriet- and in fact there's a through line in the books about Gerald and Helen's marriage being a cousin-inbred disaster with Harriet pointing out in Busman's Honeymoon that the injection of common blood into Parker and Mary's marriage made their kids basically normal. So that's not inconsistent. But it's also so interesting that Parker is himself this innately religious, conservative kind of a guy- in many ways more so than Wimsey, who describes him as a "perfect Victorian"- and he himself, in two separate books, is insistent on highlighting the class lines that exist between him and Mary as a barrier between them, with Wimsey essentially having to give him permission to a) have interest and b) later act on it. Though, of course, in the end he actually DOES act because Wimsey suggests that his indecision is making Mary unhappy... so it really is about love and not permission, I suppose!

What's fascinating to me is that at the end of Strong Poison, when Peter is trying to convince Gerald that Parker's suitable for Mary, he makes the point that Parker will climb the ranks and will likely eventually end up with a title/knighted. Obviously, to a degree that's him trying to speak Gerald and Helen's language, where they REALLY care about that kind of thing. But it does I think speak to something else which is that Wimsey and Parker seem to have become friends because Wimsey saw something in Parker and let him in. And I think that your point about Parker kind of earning his way out of the lower/middle class by being not just smart but dedicated and, in his way, intellectual is very solid. It's made clear that he had a decent grammar school education, works to transcend it while also not being pretentious about it, tries to improve his French, reads religious commentaries, is conservative socially... it's like Sayers is drawing a sketch of someone who isn't trying to climb but is trying to be the best of the kind of person who he innately is, while also having the talent to back it up. And THAT is what makes him worthy of Lady Mary. Because, of course, upon marriage she descends to his level in terms of lifestyle and such (even with all that money behind her for their kids later). He's not trying to climb so he's allowed to.

I just re-read Gaudy Night, and it's interesting how it feels very relevant and very dated at the same time. There's so much discussion about a woman's "place" and whether a woman can (or should) still have an intellectual life/job outside her husband if she's married, and it seems like many of the academic women in the story feel on some level that they have to choose one or the other. On the one hand, this debate, again, feels very dated in an era where most women do have jobs regardless of whether they're married or not. On the other hand, women still are frequently expected to put their families before their jobs, while men are usually not; and women are still frequently expected to sacrifice their own careers and interests for the sake of their families, while men are usually not.

The "question" of whether women belong in academia no longer seems to be a question in mainstream culture, but women in academia still don't get the same amount of respect or opportunities as men. And while British and American society no longer demands that unmarried women remain celibate, I think there is still a great deal of discomfort at the idea of women who choose to remain single, and with the idea of voluntary celibacy in general.

It's also interesting that the Senior Members of the college (all women) seem to more or less jump to the conclusion that the college "poltergeist" is expressing some kind of psycho-sexual frustration born of celibacy and academic isolation, when in fact it's someone seeking revenge. It seems like even though these women have been in academia/running the college for decades, they still harbor some insecurity over the legitimacy of their profession and lifestyle.

And then, of course, there are the casual mentions of eugenics and the one woman who thinks execution is wrong and that murderers should be used for scientific experiments instead (because that's more humane somehow??). There's also the instance where one of the porters (who is otherwise very likeable) says that Britain needs "a Hitler" who will put women in their proper place. Interesting times...

Idk, Gaudy Night fascinates me because there's SO MUCH going on in it that even on my second read, I think there's a lot that I'm probably missing. The various philosophical debates in it make me really curious about what Dorothy Sayers' own views were.

[drawfee-quot3s]

that's no skin off my teeth

- julia

[aropride]

u can literally talk abt ur own experiences with transphobia and people being violent or bigoted or cruel towards you because you're a trans man and people will compare you to deranged conspiracy theorists for daring to say you might experience discrimination. it's fucking crazy like what level of internet brainrot do you have to have to think it's helpful on any level to deny someone's experiences and call them conspiracy theorists because they're a trans man and "men aren't oppressed" or whatever

[eternal-reverie]

I just got psychic damage by hearing Lauriam’s name on youtube pronounced as “larry-am”

[monster-noises]

Anyone out there got a solution for when you're feeling really stuck with your art and everyone and their mother tells you the solution is to do studies and figure drawings and other such things but even just thinking about doing those things makes you Spiral and want to Kill Yourself?

[krikitunes]

Hey, squeaker! (/affectionate /p)

I don't normally do stuff like this but I saw you liked Aizetsu and Gyutaro as a QPR and I have shipped them in secret since before I saw that. So it made my day to find. As an aro-spec person, I don't really see QPRs talked about much either and most people kind of just don't care about them as a result.

Anyway,

-> the actual point of my submission is that you recently reblogged one of my arts with the tag "good luck charm" as you were denoting affection to it for helping to uplift your mood during difficult times. It really warmed my heart, so I wanted to make something intentionally for you in that vein of "good luck charm".

I know your original tags were in reference to an endouma doodle, but I wanted to toss you something for one of your rarer pairings. (I was shocked to see it in the wild!! /pos)

Hope your week gets better, man!

I COULD COMPLETELY BURST INTO TEARS,!!!!!!! THEYRE SUCH DORK ASSES I hope someone stuffs them both in lockers they probably already do it to eachother as some odd affection ritual. Weirdos. OBSESSED.. sincerely I do not have the words to describe how MUCH I appreciate this 😭😭😭! Since you sent this things have thankfully gotten better so thank you!! Your charm worked!! (Things are still scary and new! But im feeling much better :-})

actually I am drawing a little something right now for you .holdon.

they're stargazing :-}.. I have so many little things in my head of these two but I wanted to make something quick right this second in exchange because AGWAA!!IM GRATEFUL!! I'll keep them close to my heart for EVER💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[lotrmusical]

listening to chappell roan and found myself thinking, wholeheartedly and sincerely, 'i wish i could play this album to a.e. housman.' late-victorian poet and classical scholar alfred edward housman. i want to hear his thoughts. about pink pony club

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

When British writers come up with an American character’s dialogue and give them the most painfully British things to say with their American accent and inflection and it makes the actor come off as stiff. :P