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luveline · 5 months

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I love your KBD universe it is soo adorable!! All the kids are written so cutely! I relate to Avery so much! I was thinking about what if mom is super pregnant and she always wants to be near Steve, like she almost doesn’t even want him out her line of sight. Always wanting to touch him and get kisses from him. Love your blog!!

kisses before dinner ♡ you're pregnant and steve is lovely

There is a silver lining to being eight months pregnant (that isn't the baby at the end) —your husband.

Steve gets soft. When the physical evidence of your pregnancy becomes unignorable, and then glaringly obvious, he treats you with exceptional care, love and tenderness. You can't get enough of it or him.

And you're like a lost puppy when he's not near. “Steve,” you say, feeling rather morose about the whole thing, “where are you?”

“In the kitchen! Do you want something?”

No, you think, just you. “What are you doing?”

“Babe, I'm making you and Ave your drinks!” A telltale plink of ice cubes knocking against glass follows. “Don't get up, okay?”

You squeeze Avery's hand where it's held in yours. “Does he think I'll explode?”

She giggles, her almond eyes lit with her laughter. “Maybe, mom.”

“Do you think I'll explode?”

“No way. You didn't explode before.”

“‘Xactly.” You'd offer to carry her, or simply scoop her up without asking, but being so pregnant actually does feel like you're going to explode sometimes and you figure it's a bad idea. “Let's go see what he's doing.”

You and Avery pick over Dove's tea party, abandoned sadly in the middle of the living room, and make your way into the kitchen, which is less hecticly messy but a tad grimy after a long week. Grease clings to the stove top and there's a cherry red stain down the front of the refrigerator. Death of a stolen popsicle.

Steve sighs when he sees you, too much love around his eyes for any believability when he chides, “You can't sit down. It's impossible.”

You push yourself back against the counter next to his hip. Avery does the same immediately, giving him a similar look, you're sure.

He tries to hide his smile with a sip of Avery's too full drink. “Here,” he says when it's at a safer level, “apple juice for you. And ice, princess.”

“Thank you,” she says, eyes wide as her open palms. She takes it and drinks at it greedily, the sweet taste of concentrated sugar enough to steal her attention. She walks out of the kitchen calling for Beth. “Come have some juice!”

“That's adorable,” Steve says.

“You tend to make them that way.”

He throws an arm against his forehead, slouching beside you, the other wrapping behind your back. “I know. It's exhausting.”

You spy your youngest under the kitchen table. The girls are fascinated with alcoves and small spaces. If they can fit into a nook, they will, and if they can't, they'll squeeze in anyhow. She breathes through her mouth over a pad of paper with a shard of a crayon in hand, drawing rather intricate things, considering her age.

“Are those flowers?” you whisper.

“Think so…” Steve lifts his head high to kiss the top of yours, his arm moving up to your shoulders. He rubs at them like he's trying to relieve a pressure you haven't announced. “You really need to stop getting up all the time. You're at risk–”

“No, the doctor said if I'm not careful I'd put myself at risk.”

“And what are you doing?” he asks, voice like velvet, smooth and soft as he looks behind your ear. He must see something, petting away a flyaway or a loose strand or something, his touch as tender as his voice.

You tilt your head away from him. After as long in love with one another as you have been, he knows you're asking for something rather than moving away, and he leans in again to kiss your cheek, rubbing behind your ear all the while.

“Let's go sit down,” he suggests.

“In a second.”

You're terrible lately but it's all his fault. You crave his affection both big and small, all the time, and in every place. You'll be off work any day now and you're sure you'll spend that time soaking him in while he runs ragged trying to get things ready. You've done it before. Steve in the grocery store looking for a hundred different things while you draw stars into the backs of his hand, or trying to fix the baby gate onto the wall while you sit on the stairs making googly eyes at him.

“My boy,” you say stupidly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Regrettably, he can't continue to dote on you like that, but it prompts him to hug you as close as he can manage. “I love you.” You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “You smell really nice.”

“I love you too.” Pine, today. Fresh. “I see what's happening.”

“What's happening?”

You think he's going to put you down. The baby hormones are making you clingy, he might say, but he doesn't. “You've realised how hot I am. You're late, but I'll forgive you. You know, ‘cos of your predicament.”

“Thank you,” you say, kissing his neck gently.

You leave a series of butterfly kisses down the column of his neck before squishing yourself into the curve of it, resting too much weight on him. He takes it all without complaint, hugging you tighter, the distension of your bump a beach ball between you that makes you unfortunately shorter, bending as you are.

His breath is a pleased sound in your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You hug until you have a strange pain in your neck; he encourages you away from him like he can sense it.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb under your eye, a millionth sweet touch to add to the mountain.

“I'm great.”

“Yeah?” He holds you in place and kisses you. “Love you,” he says, his bottom lip jutting against yours. He kisses you again, and then he pulls away completely, a hand between you both the only tether. “Time to sit down. I'm gonna take your blood pressure.”

There's no need. If anything, the way he's looking at you might give an inaccurate reading, but you think of the fawning and fretting and the rough of his fingertips digging into the top of your arm and smile, giddy. “‘Kay.”

“Come on, Dovey, let's go be mommy's doctor,” he calls to Dove.

In a rather uncharacteristic episode of actually listening, she abandons her crayons and takes his offered hand. He shoots you a quick smirk, as if to say, Yeah, I did that. It's stupid and it makes you laugh, because you couldn't love him much more than this.

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frogmanfae · 1 year

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Anthony Lockwood x GN! Reader- You Too? (FLUFF with a little bit of angst)

Summary: Anthony can't sleep at night. You can't sleep at night. Most of the time you avoid running into each other, but one fateful night of tears in the basement leads to an awkward bedroom experience.

A/n: this one is quite a bit longer than my other ones, about 4,000 words. I think it came out pretty well. Please don't make this dirty, I beg of you. It really is just awkwardness that happens to occur in a bed it isn't anything spicy.

Reader pov

There are nights where I can't bear to be in my room. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I need a break from such mundane consistency. I just need to see something other than those walls.

On these nights, I usually make myself some tea and go to the basement. I'd much rather sit in the library, but Lockwood is in there most nights. Nobody ever comes down to the basement. I'm alone with only my thoughts and my tea.

I don't quite understand why my room has this effect on me sometimes. When my parents died, my room was my safe haven. My refuge. My sanctuary. So now that I'm in a new environment, it makes little sense to me that it can feel more like solitary confinement. It makes even less sense that I'm soothed by the concrete and dust of the basement.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's probably three in the morning as I sit on the floor leaned against the wall, sipping my tea. I'm a listener, like Lucy (though not nearly as powerful) so a moment of silence is rare, but extremely calming. To use my power and hear nothing is bliss.

I've only about half way finished my tea when someone comes down the stairs, clearly laser focused on something. We're in the middle of a big case, so that's probably it. I had expected it to be George doing some late research or maybe Lucy to see if she can listen to any of the sources down here and get a lead.

To my surprise, it's the other one.

I watch silently as Lockwood pulls out several files and spreads them out on a table. He seems extra stiff, like something is really bothering him. He grumbles something in frustration before collecting the files and putting them back in the cabinet.

He walks over to my wall and sits down a couple feet away. From what I can tell, he hasn't noticed me.

I'm right here, isn't your talent supposed to be sight?

I simply continue sipping on my tea, remaining quiet and looking forward to not disturb him, though he really is an idiot if he doesn't know I'm here.

I thought for a moment that he actually did see me, but he needed space and realized I needed the same so he just didn't acknowledge it. I was certain on this until I heard him crying.

I look over at him. He's still wearing dress pants and his button up and tie. He's still got on his dress shoes. However, his hair was a mess and his hands were currently tangled in the back locks, only making it worse. His face was buried in his knees. I swear I heard a tear drop on to the floor. He was quietly sobbing, clearly trying to not alert anyone but still in pain. Emotional pain, anyhow.

I debate what I should do for a moment. I don't want to startle him, and honestly he seems like he needs this. I decide to just keep drinking my tea and not look at him. I'll let him get it all out before I make my presence known.

It lasts longer than I thought. Perhaps ten minutes? I'm not the best with comprehending passage of time but that seems right enough. Regardless of the details, it was a long time to sit here holding my breath and listening to his suffering.

Finally, he sniffs and wipes his eyes. I'm still looking straight ahead holding my cup, only seeing him out of my peripheral vision. He runs his hands back and forth over his hair a few times. I close my eyes.

"JESUS FUCKI-"

I snap my head towards Lockwood. He's now on his back with his legs closest to me, propped up on one arm and looking at me as if I'm a ghost. I can properly see his face now. His dark circles seem more prominent than usual and his eyes are red and puffy. His nose is red. His cheeks are discolored. He looks abnormally pale. His lashes have been thickened and darkened by his tears. It was truly a sight.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE?"

"I was here before you."

"AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING? YOU SAW ALL OF THAT?"

"Shhh you'll wake up the others, we both know how lightly George sleeps while we're in the midst of a case. Anyhow, you seemed like you needed it. I didn't want to interrupt. It's not like I watched you."

"But... You saw it all. You heard everything!"

"Lockwood, I hope you realize I think no less of you."

"What?"

"I- oh gosh you can't be comfortable like that. Sit up, why don't you?" He hesitantly pushes himself up and leans against the wall again. "I'm worried about you."

"Theres no need to be-"

"Bullshit. You can't keep concealing your emotions like this. It's okay to be overwhelmed or stressed or overall upset for any reason. You always act like everything is wonderful but it's not. I don't know if it ever has been."

He looks down. "(Y/n)... It's not that easy-"

"I never said anything about it being easy. Of course it's hard. I can't even imagine how you feel owning an agency so young, having all that pressure on your shoulders. It's terrifying to be vulnerable."

"Is that why you're in the basement in the early hours of the morning, drinking herbal tea?"

I hum. "I just couldn't sleep, and I like herbal tea."

"Now who's bullshitting?" The corners of his mouth tug up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You much prefer green. Herbal simply calms you down. You only ever drink herbal tea when you're upset."

"How..."

"I notice things, (y/n). Lots of things. Don't think I don't hear the kettle during the midnight hours at least three times a week. The peculiar thing is I never hear anyone go back up the stairs and whenever I go into the kitchen, it's empty."

I look down. How'd he make this about me so quickly?

"Tell me, (y/n), do you spend your nights in the basement often?"

"... No. Only when I can't sleep."

"So... Often." He nods. "Why don't you stay in the library? It's much more inviting."

"I don't want to bother you. That's where you are most nights."

"You could never bother me."

"Stop, you were the one crying a few moments ago, this isn't about me."

He sighs. "It was worth a shot."

"Now, what's bothering you?"

"Uh... Nothing, really."

"Lockwood."

"It's just the case, that's all."

"That's a lie and we both know it."

He let's out a noise of exasperation. "Fine, you really want to know? It's my parents."

"Your parents?" I ask softly as I scoot closer to him.

He nods. "They died when I was six years old. You really have no idea what it's like to have such a great life until suddenly you don't and it all gets ripped away from you without warning and nobody will take you in so you have to fend for yourself before your age even reaches double digits."

"Actually... I think I can relate more than you realize."

"How can you possibly relate?" He almost sounds angry. I don't blame him, I never told him my story. I kept it to myself even after living with other people all this time. I moved here with a purpose, to start new. Therefore, my past never happened according to anyone else. I was another person then. I've left all of that behind, taking only the nightmares and memories with me.

"My parents were murdered when I was eight." I look straight ahead. "Nobody really wants to adopt a kid who's just began to really get strong in their talent for hearing brutal murders and death. It freaks adults out. So I was on my own until I found you guys."

His expression softens. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry, I... Wait, you were fourteen when you applied. That's six years."

"It was hard but I managed. The whole ghost hunting agent thing isn't so bad. Once you've been forced to watch your parents get nothing short of quartered right in front of your sensitive, innocent eyes, you can watch anyone else get ghost touched no big deal."

"I'm sorry, quartered?" His eyes are wide.

"Yeah, are you familiar with the French Revolution?"

"I'm familiar enough to hope you were talking about a different type of quartering."

I shook my head. "It was intense. I still think of it every time I close my eyes."

"I can't even imagine..."

"I didn't tell you this for you to feel sorry for me. I only wanted you to know I'll understand. You aren't as alone as you believe."

He nods slowly. "I see... Thank you... For sharing, I mean."

"Of course. So now that you know I can at least sort of understand what you're feeling, what's going on with you?"

He sighs. "I don't know... Sometimes I just..."

"Miss them?"

"... Yeah." He nods. "Yeah I miss them a lot. I miss them all the time but sometimes when I think about it it's not so bad, it's let me do what I've done, accomplish all of this. Other times..."

"It's mentally suffocating."

"Mentally suffocating... Yeah that's a good word for it. Like it's put a sheet over your brain to prevent it from getting oxygen, but you can still physically breathe with your lungs for the most part."

I nod. "Yeah, it's frightening. George has a book on it he was telling me about some time."

"George knows you feel like this sometimes?"

"No, but we often discuss our readings, trade books, recommend authors or titles... Things of the sort. I haven't told anyone about my past. Except you of course."

"Well aren't I special," he flashes one of his signature Lockwood smiles.

I roll my eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, your ego is already so inflated I fear it might burst."

"Oh haha you love my charisma."

"Is that what we're calling it?" I smile at him.

He laughs. Not his public press laugh, but a true, genuine laugh. One that I've never heard from him before. It makes me feel a little bit warmer with emotion.

"You know, most nights I stay awake in the library simply because I can't stand the solitude of my room."

"What?"

"I know, it's silly-"

"No, not at all! I come down here for the same reason!"

"You do?" He raises his eyebrows, sounding surprised. "I thought you just worried over cases or, well now I thought you thought about your past but-"

"No, it's like..." I think for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "Like the silence is too loud and the space is too big for just me, even though my bed hardly fits properly."

"Exactly! Like I don't have anything to focus on except for the sensory deprivation and my anxieties."

"Yes! Oh my goodness I can't believe you get it!"

"I thought I was the only one!" He laughs again, different this time. It sounds almost relieved. "Say... Maybe we could help each other out."

I raise an eyebrow. "Help each other out? How so?"

"Well, feel free to decline if you want and we'll never speak of this proposal again, but perhaps we could try spending the night in the same room."

"But..." I get that warm feeling again, more intense this time. "Each room only has one bed..."

"Yes well..." Despite the horrid lighting of the basement, I could faintly see a light pink tint spanning across his nose and blotching on other, seemingly random, spots on his face. "Like I said I understand if you decline and if that is your choice we can pretend I never said anything... However... I feel it may be beneficial to the both of us to have a... companion in the lonely, deafeningly silent hours of the night. If it works, splendid we can finally get some proper sleep. If it doesn't, we each return to our respective seperate rooms and carry on as if nothing ever happened."

"..." I nod slowly. "Okay."

"Ah- really?" He turns to face me more. "In all honesty I thought you would detest the idea."

"Do you still want-"

"Yes! I mean," he clears his throat, "uh... Yeah, the offer still stands."

"Perfect."

"Well then." He stands up and offers me his hand. "Shall we?"

"Oh you mean like right now! Alright then." I take his hand and he pulls me up. He chuckles and leads me to his room.

"I uh... I'll go take this cup back to the kitchen and let you get changed and what not."

"Oh- right." He pushes back some of his hair. "I'll only be a minute or two."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for whenever you're ready."

He smiles at me as he steps back into his room and closes the door. I swiftly make my way to the kitchen and set my cup in the sink, resolving to wash it in the morning, and return in under a minute.

I wait outside for only about thirty seconds longer before Lockwood opens the door again.

"Sorry I took so long."

"Long? Lockwood that was- wait."

"What? Is something the matter?" He takes his hand off of the door handle and peeks his head out around the corner.

"No, just... You're wearing a shirt."

"Oh, well..." He stepped aside, inviting me in, and closed the door behind me "Yes in fact I am. What about it?"

"Lockwood you've never worn a shirt to bed in all the time I've been here. It's like an unspoken principle in the house; you don't wear shirts to bed and George doesn't wear trousers."

"I didn't realize it was such a disruption of order-"

"Well- that's not what I'm saying." I sigh. I've always struggled with putting things into the right words. "Obviously it's fine if you wear a shirt to bed, I just... I'm just wondering why all of a sudden?"

"Well... I don't know. I suppose I thought you may be a bit uncomfortable sharing a bed with me when I've no shirt on." He looked down, those pink splotches returning to his face. "After all, this is only an arrangement of convenience and practicality. It's not like were... uh... going out... or anything..."

"Ah, right..." I can feel myself getting flustered. "Well... I don't mind, really. The whole point is to feel more comfortable going to sleep so if you feel more comfortable with no shirt on, honestly it doesn't make any difference to me."

"... Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, really." I smile reassuringly. "Whatever makes you fall asleep best."

He hesitates. "Well, if you're absolutely positive-"

"Lockwood, I promise you."

He hums lowly. "Alright then. But if you change your mind just tell me and I'll put it back on straight away, I swear-"

"Lockwood!"

"Alright, okay! If you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, a smile gracing his face. It isn't one of his signature smiles, it's real, quite boyish actually. He seems so young. Sometimes I forget how young we really are, but then again, all youth since The Problem has forgotten how young they really are.

I try my best to appear to be disinterested and looking away as he removes his shirt and folds it, neatly placing it in the bottom right drawer of his dresser. Of course, I watch the whole thing unfold. I'm only trying to appear as if I'm not.

"Alright, well..." He awkwardly rubs his arm. I've never seen him seem so nervous before. "I suppose now is when we uh... get into bed, then..."

"Yes it does seem like that happens now..." I slowly nod.

"Well uhm... After you." He gestures toward the bed.

"Oh no, please, it's your bed, you go ahead first." I wave my hands.

"No no I insist. You're my... guest? Is that the appropriate term for this? What do we call this?" He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Sorry, I'm a bit..."

"Nervous?"

"To say the least."

We both laugh a little bit. There really was no need for it to be so nerve wrecking. We had already agreed that if it doesn't go well we pretend nothing happened. Nobody needs to know.

"Here, why don't we just both get in at the same time?" I offer.

"Yes! Yes, that sounds like a good idea." He goes to the side of the bed opposite of me.

It's still extremely tense as the both of us climb in under the covers. There's plenty of space in between us. I'm nearly hanging off the edge, no doubt Lockwood is as well.

Fuck it.

I move onto the bed more so I'm a comfortable ways on. "Lockwood?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be frank for a moment?"

"Well I think I'd prefer you to stay (y/n) but I suppose whatever makes you happy-"

"Oh shut up." He laughs one of those real laughs again. I nearly melt.

"What would you like to talk about?"

I take a deep breath, admittedly, his joke (however stupid) managed to cut some of the tension. "This isn't going to work unless we get over ourselves and actually share the bed. Like real sharing."

He pauses. "You're right. The question is, how far are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Well..." He huffs. "If we're being frank-"

"I prefer Anthony, but I suppose-"

"Oh shut up, it really isn't funny." Despite his words, he was smiling again. "I see your point now."

"Well, what is it you were going to say, Frank?"

"Please don't." He laughs, making me smile more.

"I'm listening."

He inhales deeply. "Well, how far are we going as in... Are we simply laying next to one another and trying to go to sleep or... to be blunt, are we spooning?"

I nearly chocked on my own saliva. Blunt was certainly one way to say it.

"Well... Whatever makes you comfortable. Honestly I think it would work best if we... Uh... Did the latter, but I don't want to make you-"

"I was actually hoping you'd say that-"

He sighs, sounding almost... Relieved?"

"Really?"

"Yes, I-" he rolls over, bringing us from being over a foot apart to our noses now almost touching. "Goodness you are much closer than I thought-"

"Sorry, I-" I start to move back, but he puts his hand on my waist, gently stopping me.

"No no I uh... Well if we're going to uh... You know, uhm, we're going to have to be close anyway so..."

"Right, yeah..."

He softly pulls me closer using his hand that still rests on my waist. I move towards him until my hands are pressed to his chest and our legs are touching under the covers. His face is splotchy red again, the most intense I've ever seen it, though I can't imagine how flustered I must appear.

"Uhm... May I?" He starts to wrap his leg around mine.

"Ah..." I nod, unable to trust my voice.

And so now we lay here, about two seconds away from being puddles of awkwardness and mild embarrassment. He's warm. Very warm. It's kind of nice being this close to him.

I've always found him attractive since the moment I saw him. He is, objectively, a good looking guy.

Then I got to know him a little bit. He and I would often bicker and pester one another, some times seemingly more serious than others, but for the most part it was all in jest. Making jabs at each other is just what we do.

I think I fell for him more and more over my time here, but tonight I saw a new side of him. A side that really pushed me over the edge of having a bit of a crush on him to trying to stop myself from kissing him at any given moment.

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?" He brings a hand up to my forehead. "You're awful warm and you look... Distressed."

"Anthony?"

His gaze softened. I don't think anyone has called him that in... well who knows how long? Too long. "Yes? Is something the matter?"

"No I just..." I make eye contact with him, effectively rendering myself speechless.

He inches closer. "Are you sure? This is quite the... intimate position... I wouldn't want to make you..."

By this time, our noses are back to almost touching, but even closer than before. He tilts his head just enough to avoid colliding them.

"Make me what? Uncomfortable?" I glance down at his lips, quickly looking back to his eyes to avoid suspicion. "Anthony, you could never-"

He kisses me.

Holy shit.

Anthony Lockwood is kissing me.

I'm in Anthony Lockwood's bed.

I'm kissing Anthony Lockwood!

"I'm sorry-" he pulls back. "Oh no... I shouldn't have done that... Shit... Oh shit I'm so sorry-"

I kiss him again. "Shut up, will you? I just had a life altering moment here and I'm trying to enjoy it."

"You- you liked it?"

"Of course I did. Anthony, I've liked you since... Well I suppose there wasn't a single moment I could pick out but-"

"I love it when you call me that."

I smile. "Call you what? Anthony? Well that is your name."

"It hasn't been used in years. Not by itself, anyhow. It sounds nice coming from your lips."

"I like your lips." It takes a moment to register what I just said. "Wait, I didn't mean-"

"You like kissing me~" He teases me, putting on his Lockwood Smile.

"Oh shut up!" I put my head on his chest to hide my face. "Of course I do..."

"Well... You know what I would like more than just kissing you?" He carefully lifts my head up with two fingers under my chin.

"Hm?"

He hesitates for a moment. "I'd like to be your boyfriend."

"What? Really?"

"If you'll have me, that is-"

"Of course I'll have you, you prick!" I lightly punch his chest. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you that?"

He shakes his head. "I can't say I do."

"Well there wasn't a specific time but I think I started to think about it more and more around the time we were working the Brentic case."

"The B- (y/n) that was at least a year and a half ago."

"I'm well aware."

"... Huh."

"What?"

"I think I've known since the Dalkins case."

"Lockwood, that was long before the Brentic case-"

"It seems my charm worked then."

"Oh shut up! Go to sleep!"

He laughs a bit. "So... Are we...?"

"... I think we are..."

"Wonderful! Splendid! Perfect! Grand! Fanta-"

I laugh. "Anthony shut up!"

He goes quiet, but the smile remains on his face. "Do we tell the others?"

"... Nah. It's funnier if we just let them figure it out. But we don't necessarily have to hide it either."

He nods. "It'll take all my self control to not shout it from the rooftops."

"Oh hush." I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "Get some sleep, lover boy. You clearly need it."

He kisses me once more, shorter this time, before closing his eyes and pulling me closer to his chest. He falls asleep surprisingly quickly, his breaths going even and his mouth falling slightly agape in no time at all.

I watch him for a moment. Once again, he really shows his age for only a second. I push some of his hair away from his face and place a kiss on his forehead, causing him to stir just a bit.

Before I know it, my eyelids feel heavy. It becomes increasingly harder to keep them open, to stay awake. Soon enough, I'm drifting into sleep with pleasant dreams to greet me and Lockwood by my side.

How lucky am I?

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v1x-holo · 3 months

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ENA THEORY - POWER OF POTLUCK.

"What's the meaning of.. FUN?"

This abstract nonsense world of the internet that never ceases to amaze us.. We all know how fun it is to make ENA HCs and theories! ENA is one of those things that's as written super vague so everyone gets something different out of it & the story is often unimportant if it even exists. I believe that deep inside there's some logic through implications and only. You have to think outside the box and more conventionally to get something out of it n I just love to hyperanalyze content that has hidden or no lore. I think I'd be cool to share my own take on some stuff. In today's episode…. ba dum tssss I wanna discuss about the meaning behind the latest episode: Power of potluck. Like, the meaning behind the "joy" roaming throughout the entire thing. First of all. This episode seems to be the biggest source of the real meaning of emotions and the life on this universe. The "implications" are also pretty much forward, the straight-up Therapy thing took me aback pretty much LMAO- u just don't see this showcasing style of deep significances in the ENA series at all. Anyhow, let's start! 1) THE NAME MEANING:

Potluck is apparently a food gathering where many people eat at. This has a strange connection with BBQ. Idk yet why Joel decides to connect ENA with dishes n such. However, just like I said before about "Potluck", people enjoy and share food with others. In the ENA episode everyone tries to support ENAs journey to the " Fun" with any way they can, one giving her instructions, other dancing… They have that sort of positive connection, just like in Potlucks! :]

2) THE MASKING

While the while journey of ENA searching for the "Fun", you see her having a mask stuck on her blue side's face. The sad side is neutrally negative, low-down, sad, pitiful n such. The mask THOUGH is more of silly, hyper, and a sneaky lil goober. Jokes aside, we all know how much ENA dislikes her emotions, especially her blue side's. The mask, full of not necessarily happy emotions, but enough to mask such gloominess, works as a replacement for her sad side. However, one can't mask it all forever and you eventually can't hold it inside at some point. That's where ENA got sensitive again when she got rid of the mask, and couldn't bottle up her emotions anymore.

Near the end, the therapist finally gives us an answer for the "Fun": "The greatest of fun can be found in the little moments." So, what's the meaning of the "Fun"..? In other words, enjoy the moment of the small, joyful things. Go have some fun with your friends, chill a bit, do something you enjoy. Even if you don't have the respect from others, the luxuries and the fame, you better enjoy the little things. These are what are worth in life. Pretty much similar with irl, ain't it?… Despite ENA being surreal, it's never far away from reality.

… That's all guys :] Hope you liked it. Here I also put some lil things from other theories that I liked, so credt to them as well lol :]

#ena #ena joel g #dream bbq #ena dream bbq #temptation stairway #auction day #joel guerra #extinction party #joel g #ena fanart #ena theory #Theory #ENA theories #power #ena power of potluck #bunny power of potluck #power of potluck

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hopefull-mindset · 3 months

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I've started reading The Great Gatsby (I've fallen into the reading classical literature trap 😔. I really need to finish Crime and Punishment.)

Anyhow I think it's really interesting how Asagiri chose to characterize many of the people in BSD. Especially after learning that irl Fitzgerald was more of a cynical person (at least towards the end of his life) than his animated counterpart. And it made me think of all the other characters of the show and how their characterized.

What was Asagiri's purpose as he came together with these characters? Why'd he have some characters act as their irl counterparts while others act more like the characters they wrote or people in their lives?

These aren't really questions that I wanted the answers to they were moreso just thoughts that I had. I'd love to have a peek into this man's mind and how it works

I think a lot of us have fallen into that trap LMAO. This is my favorite topic though. I could talk about this forever because Kafka Asagiri is an interesting person who has integrated a lot of literature into this one series. I don't know what goes on in this man’s mind and I know these aren't literal questions, but I am interested in sharing what I know!

As you've pointed out, some characters do act more like the people in these works written by them than the actual people. BSD isn't purely just taking these authors, their relationships, and then implementing them just like that. it also takes these authors’ literary personas, their impact socially, and their works to make them into who they are. Asagiri is doing this because it makes it more interesting, but also imagine writing about this authors where most of them lived depressing lives with qualities that don’t make uh, the type of story you want to tell.

I’m impressed with how creative he is.

I’m trying to limit myself on how much I should talk about this, but I fear that I’ll leave out important bits about how Asagiri incorporates these people into the work. I’m also just jittering and excited. Like I almost forgot to bring up the fact the reason BSD has a war narrative is because it takes Japanese authors from Meiji to Shōwa era, so about the time Western influence kicked in, forcing them to modernize and keep up with the rest of the world during what is a fairly short time for huge development like this, to post-war Japan where, you know, the Occupation of Japan is happening and they have to intake the traumatic repercussions of everything before that.

This can make The Great War functionally WW2, but obviously not a one to one match. I’m not a historian or anything, but this should come to mind for anyone who’s in the know about some Japanese history. Now that I’m bringing it up though, Mori’s attitude during the flashback with Yosano is put into context because he pretty much says himself that he needs his country to realize that they keep up with the rest of the world and that the battlefield is changing, and real life Japan did not care about how they did that.

With N, Chuuya, and Stormbringer too. I’m almost hesitant to bring this up because it’s so serious, but yes, Japan did do lethal human experimentation for that same purpose to keep up with the rest of the world and prove themselves.

Ahh, I went off track. Sorry, we were talking about how Asagiri writes characters, right? There is a lot of crossover between the real authors and their writing, so it’s sorta hard to tell with people like Dazai where the work influence ends and the the real person begins.

For me currently in my classic lit research period, I’m almost upset at myself for barley reading anything by Ryuunosuke Akutagawa because he’s my favorite character. I’ve just been so caught up doing my Oda Sakunosuke essay that I don’t have too much time for other authors. I’ve also picked up “The Similitude of Blossoms: A Critical Biography of Izumi Kyōka” recently (and A New Hamlet by Osamu Dazai, but that’s not important).

Ah, how much should I talk about.… hmm… how about Chuuya as an example of Literary Voice vs Real Person…. Lucy Montgomery and Edgar Allen Poe for Social Impact (for Japan specifically)…. and then.. Oh whatever, I’ll figure it out. One day I’ll talk about Kyouka, but not now. I’d feel ill prepared.

If you’ve ever read a poem by Chuuya Nakahara, taken in the emotion and deep feeling, and then found any fun facts about his interactions with other authors, there’s a huge contrast between those two modes that can be jarring. Im sure you can tell how that carries over to BSD. I’m impressed by how Asagiri is able to balance both the brash attitude of Chuuya and the inner literary voice that voices the emotion and care he has in him.

Edgar Allen Poe is slightly more obvious than Lucy’s influence (or maybe it’s Lucy’s, ah it depends), but both pop out at you when it’s pointed out. He was one of the first American authors to be introduced to Japan and fairly popular, but mainly we would point to Edogawa Ranpo as the most blatantly influenced by him and who his name is quite literally attached to. While Lucy Montgomery isn’t attached to anyone in particular, Anne of The Green Gables was wildly distributed in Japan when there were few english children books and became a hit.

There’s a television series too if you search for it. Any redhead, pigtail-braided girl you see in some Japanese media is because of her! It’s probably why these two have the most presence in the story currently compared to other members of the Guild and work with the Agency at times.

There are times when Asagiri will use influences outside of the author’s own catalog to create them, some literary like Albert Camus’s The Stranger and The Myth of Sisyphus (in writing characters like Dazai or Fyodor, I could make a post about that), and some just of his own anime/manga interests in other series like Jojo, Cowboy Bebop, Black Lagoon, etc. if you’re familiar.

I’d feel bad if I don’t at least show one example of this so, how about an Odasaku example with The Long Goodbye by Reymond Chandler? I was going to avoid talking about him until the essay, but I can’t help myself. Many have pointed out these parallels before, but Asagiri did point it to be his favorite book last year in an interview.

If you’ve noticed that the presentation for Dark Era in the anime comes off like a Noir film just like how Untold Origins came off like a black and white samurai film, good job! The Long Goodbye is a Noir novel about a detective named Phillip Marlowe who is unable to let go of a case involving a friend that was accused of murdering his own wife, but supposedly commits suicide and confesses to it before Marlowe is able to leave custody. By the end of the book, he uncovers the real perpetuator (a past lover of Terry Lennox’s before he was ever called by that name) and finds out where Lennox really is by poking into the story of where the message he got was sent.

He comes in with a new look and identity, and he asks if it’s too early for a gimlet. They say their last few words to each other, Marlowe flipping back and forth from acknowledging him as Terry Lennox and as a person he never knew, and then Marlowe tells him that “he’s not here anymore”. Marlowe had already told him goodbye when it was sad and lonely, so Lennox does the same here. That ends that mutual, long goodbye and he never sees Lennox again.

The immediate response I’ve see about this is how it parallels the relationship between Dazai and Odasaku. In The Day I Picked Up Dazai, just like how Marlowe brings him to his home to clean him up and meet up at the same bar for the next few months of their friendship, Odasaku also does so with Dazai and drinks a Gimlet for reasons he doesn’t know. In reality, Gimlets are a representation of the friendship between Marlowe and Lennox as it’s Lennox’s favorite drink. It makes it a little painful when Marlowe ignores him when he ask to go get a gimlet at that same bar they always went.

BEAST is more hyper specific about it by having Dazai ask the same question that Lennox asks when he gets smoked out and Odasaku asking for a gimlet with no bitters, which is specifically how Lennox takes it. Odasaku does not drink the gimlet at all though, showing that there is not friendship to start or accept or say goodbye to, as Lennox does ask Marlowe to drink a Gimlet to say goodbye to him in the letter. Just like TDIPUD is like their beginning, BEAST is their ending without ending because BEAST Dazai is not the same person he was friends with.

Odasaku fulfills being a detective and Dazai is the tragic friend with a past he doesn’t say anything about. Great. Now what I think people are missing when they entirely focus on Odasaku and Dazai when they talk about Lennox and Marlowe is that Lennox is narratively also Andre Gide.

If we were to split Lennox into three people just like his three identities, this is what it would look like:

The Friend: You help him out and don’t judge for his faults, in turn you go out to a bar with each other. It’s uneasy, but it’s worth a lot to the both of you. Eventually you have to part ways in death. (Dazai & Terry Lennox)

The Unknown: Is he someone you know? He acts like it, but he looks nothing like what you’ve encounter before. Maybe in some world you were, but that’s not now and it’s too late for this goodbye to be playing out. You let it happened though and you never see him again when he walks out that door. (BEAST Dazai & “Señor Maioranos”)

The Soldier: The past is right around the corner and its come to bite you in the ass. White hair and war memories haunting him with a scar as a reminder, he’s a reflection of you but maybe not. Who knows? (Andre Gide & “Paul Marston.”)

The initials “P.M.” of both his past name and Phillip Marlowe’s is meant to clue in how Eileen (the past lover) is connected to Lennox by her thinking of Marlowe as her past lover as she attempts to seduce him in some trance. What I’m trying to note here though is that you can take this as Lennox being another reflection of himself. It’s easy to do that reading for both Dazai and Gide as they’re both his foils and are purposely similar, but Gide aligns more with this past identity than Dazai does and retains his white hair.

Uhhh, wasn't planning to make a mini-analysis in the middle of my talking but okay. I'm leaving it off there. I went blank a lot while writing because I didn’t know what I wanted to comment on. There's too much to say about this large cast. I have way more literary fun facts and ideas to say, but nah.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #mori ougai #bsd analysis #bsd meta #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd lucy #oda sakunosuke #odasaku #bsd beast #the day i picked up dazai #andre gide

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kalims · 2 years

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‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "if we ever break up I'd go back to my ex because I love them too much—you're my ex stupid."

premise. let's all pretend that in a state of emergency at the word of "breaking up" some are gonna lose all logic and not register the ex part. (I also was rather busy as of late so hence why this took so long to publish :D)

"if I broke up with you, I'd go back to my ex."

characters. malleus, trey, ace, deuce, leona, lilia, and vil.

cw. established relationship, fluff, crack, nothing too triggering so this is safe to proceed with.

🏷 : for @vyndiesel

malleus draconia

"I do not understand. are you implying you will?"

malleus doesn't have a single idea on why exactly you're telling him of your.. possibly future plans. for your information, he did not consent to knowing how your life will go if you guys do end up breaking up. which is honestly something he'd do over his dead body.

he'll automatically think there's something wrong going on cause why else would you make such an idea? did he do something that displeased you? if so, can you pretty please tell him so he can apologize and fix his non-existent mistake?

says something like 'then I apologize if I did something wrong. please don't leave.' and it's kinda sad cause this joke completely flew over his head and if you mentioned something about it he'll look up respond with. "but there is nothing flying over my head?"

his clueless self is enough for you to immediately deny his assumption.

oh. so he will be the 'ex'? honestly he only knew whatever that meant through lilia and his people would normally call them past lovers.. oh well, now he thinks that this is a sign that you would never leave him so = happy dragon.

trey clover

"well, will you?"

unlike malleus, trey has the brains and experience to come to the conclusion that you're playing a joke on him. he's that perspective to be able to discern what is true, and what is false. not the justice kind of course but like an eye for truth or sorts.

or maybe it's just that you share the braincells with the adeuce first years and he just so happens to be the one who's 'supervising' them when you're not around. he knows their tricks, and to be frank it's like you three + grim all collectively share the braincell.

plus.. who's to say that he hasn't been one of the people at the end of pranks. for a strict dorm, heartslabyul holds a few students who are too mischievous for their own good. yeah, he's looking at cater.

anyhow he's still a little suprised by your bold statement but who wouldn't honestly? just straight up admitting to your spouse, implying a break up is shocking itself. you aren't trying to actually break up with him, are you?

silence blends with his mind and it eventually fixes his logic. won't really tell you that he knows now and waits for you to tell him yourself. partially cause he wants to mess with you & see your reaction. a payback of sorts? goodluck putting him with him though :)

ace trapolla

"is this foreshadowing or something?"

truthfully ace's humor which is admittedly dark at times usually is the one to remove him from sticky situations, lessening the times where there's an atmosphere he doesn't want to deal with at all.

he's dumb (you are too <3) to put it simply, out of all of them he & deuce would be at the bottom to figure out the joke and won't get it at all cause he's too occupied about the breaking up part practically flying above his head and making fun of him.

literally will keep on pestering you throughout the day, I say that cause I think he's in your classes? unless I read the dialog wrong in the story. if you're chilling in your assigned seat he kicked the person who's supposed to be beside you to ask you more about "whatever that was about."

he's paranoid. and his mind will not be at rest until you fully explain whatever you meant by that! so you'd run out of patience with this mf and go: "ace. if we broke up who do you think is gonna be my ex?"

actually pauses to think about it. "oh. me?" "yeah." "...i knew that."

deuce spade

"did I do something wrong??"

thinking that he fucked up in the most unknowing way ever possible 🤝 deuce spade. it's like ace but he only yearns to ask you about it cause he thinks it will only make things worse by pestering you more about it.

goes to ace and the boy is like 'wtf are you talking about bro' cause it's literally 3 AM in the morning and your statement kept him up all night, ace just happened to be breaking the rules by staying up all night. so while chilling in bed ace just gets urgent spams from deuce.

since it's from text which means it's more clearer to register instead of text, and ace isn't the one in the relationship with you: naturally he gets it pretty quick but still messes with deuce by agreeing with him. "yea dude they're totally gonna break up w/ you, u fucked up horrendously"

HE DIDNT SLEEP THAT NIGHT??

so you feel bad cause you can see the darker patch of skin under his eyes and he's visibly trying not to look miserable. "so you're not mad?" "of course not." GIVE HIM HUGS OR ELSE.

leona kingscholar

"shut up you're disturbing my nap with your disturbing thoughts."

or, a translation for you : what the hell are you talking about, I am actually disturbed and perplexed by your words so I'm gonna pretend I don't care and that it totally isn't messing with my head.

you know what's the leona way to solving problems or things he doesn't wanna even think about? ding ding. if you thought it was sleep then you're completely right, just sleep it away for temporary relive!

until his dream had you both breaking up. he stayed up and reflected on his own life while grumbling.

well. you won't even dare to break up with him when you finally see how mighty he is won't you? he'll just have to show you how much you are cherished in his arms, and what you'll miss on if you break up.

"did you know you'd be the ex?" "..." silence and a little embarrassment. all this effort for what, a joke? he hates you. /j atleast the totally non-existent worries will fade away.

lilia vanrouge

"how mean.. going back to them just like that and leaving me in the dark.."

catches on the fastest. he applauds you in his mind on the attempt to catch him red handed though. it's a very smart idea!

so he just resorts to making you feel sorta bad cause he's quite entertained at the moment and you're the one that started this game anyways. wouldn't it be boring if he just catches your words and does nothing at all?

oh no. two can play at that game dear prefect. meanwhile you're confused at why lilia is suddenly more clingy than before. it seems like he's really intent on proving that there's nothing here to leave. nothing worth to anyways.

or an alternative : lilia gives you the cold shoulder for a 'prank' as well. it's only fitting for him to return your oh so cruel one atleast two times worse. after all, that's how things work in twisted wonderland.

will be very pleased when you finally start apologizing to him for the joke and just happily showers you in love as if nothing ever happened.

🚩

vil schoenheit

"you'd really leave someone like me? hmph. how crude. leaving your queen all alone."

he's offended really, are you seriously gonna leave him out of all people? the most beautiful man you'd ever lay your eyes on? and for what? don't you see what kind of jewel he had so graciously let you keep and admire everyday? for free?

vil starts looking a lot better than he used to, and his "used to" was always crazily beautiful in the first place and now he looks like a perfect sculpture god himself carved. like his skin is literally glimmering and smooth.. his hair looks much healthier.

it seems like he's put more serious effort into keeping himself healthy and beautiful. hell he was doing great academically but now he's better. geez, if you'd known your words would be able to pull this kinda power you would've not spoken in the first place.

^ cause it's worrying how much he might've exerted his energy.

"but vil you'd be the ex if I broke up with you." "that's even worse. don't you dare break up with me."

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trashpandacraft · 7 months

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i really like seeing posts about how other people are processing their fibre, so i thought that i'd add ours. we bought a couple bags (about three kilos—this photo is only half) of raw fleece at sheep and wool, and now have it all washed out and cleaned up.

the most helpful boys in the world were very interested in what we were doing, and frankly far less suspicious of the large tub of water than i would've preferred for them to be.

anyhow, about a kilo of fleece got dumped into the tub and arranged to be as aligned as possible. in future washes, i didn't bother with this and didn't find that there was much a difference, and certainly not sufficient difference to justify the time and effort spent carefully laying it out.

i imagine that this is different if you're washing a whole fleece and things are already more or less aligned. if you're washing a bag of of fleece that's just been plopped into the bag, i would suggest not bothering.

the small bag at the end were some locks that we'd picked ahead of time to see if they washed up nicer. (spoiler: they did not.)

worth noting is that we have one of those bathtubs that's short but deep, so this isn't as much water or space as it looks like.

if you've ever wanted to see how water-resistant wool is, here's a great example. these photos were taken the next morning, and some of the fibre was still totally dry, despite having carefully pushed it all underwater before we headed to bed.

after about twelve hours of soaking, this is what we had—the water doesn't look that dirty in the second photo, but you can just barely see a cloud of dirt at the edge of the mesh bag we were using to hold the wool in place in the tub. (it was just laid on the bottom of the tub, and meant that we could easily move the wool up or down the tub, or lift it out entirely, without having to move it much.)

anyhow, soaking water from this batch went into a bucket to feed my wife's plants. (and then the next batch i fucked up and drained it. 🤡 it's amazing they put up with me, tbh.)

wool got moved safely away from the water, and then it was time for the hottest tap water we could manage. our tap runs at well over 60c/145f, so we didn't bother to try to make it any warmer. as it was, i was very grateful that we'd bought the extra heavy duty kitchen gloves.

we added a couple splurts of dishsoap (palmolive) to the tub, then carefully let the fleece spread itself out again, which doesn't take much encouragement, thankfully. and then we fucked off for a while.

twenty minutes later, the water looked like this.

my hand's in the water to about my knuckles in that photo, and as you may notice, it very much appears that i have no fingers.

second wash. our friend the very large mesh laundry bag helped hold the fleece first away from the drain, and then from the tap, and we did it again just like the first wash.

another twenty minutes, and we had this.

you can almost believe that i've got fingers! progress!

this post offers a great look at what it looks like when lanolin is leaving a fleece. we have incredibly soft water, so most of their findings weren't especially relevant to our washing, but the visual guide is fantastic, especially since it took them so many changes to get things clean.

so again, drained, refilled, and resoaped, then left to sit for twenty minutes. and this time, i came back to this!

a whole entire hand! fingertips and everything! i was sort of surprised, honestly, since fine wools have a reputation for being really lanolin heavy, but after this batch of fleece i went down to two washes, and feel like it was more than sufficient for 90% of it. (there was a chunk of merino/bond cross in a later batch that was a little shorter and more lanolin heavy, and likely could've used a third wash, but i'm using that to make rolags and it's going fine, so whatever.)

anyhow, fleece clean! rinse time!

this looks like fleece in water, because that's what it is. we did two rinses, and that seemed plenty sufficient to get out all the suds.

next we spread it out as gently as possible onto a cheap sweater drying rack and hung it on a giant screw that's sort of inexplicably sticking sharp-end-out of the eaves of our porch. (and you'd be like 'that sounds normal, lots of people have screws or whatever to hang things,' to which i'd say 'it does! except that there are three of them and the placement is utterly bizarre, and this is the only one that you can hang anything from.' my best guess is christmas lights, but why a screw? why sharp side out? how sharp side out, at that?)

wool, drying! and the hated roses that have been blooming all fucking winter and are continuing to bloom and are getting bigger and now have spawned more roses somehow, and now we have a bunch of red roses, too. when we moved into this place a year and a half ago there were only white roses. we don't know where the red ones came from, nor do we know why the roses are suddenly VERY TALL—see how in this photo, they don't even clear the top of the wall? now they're like 50cm over it. eighteen inches over it. why. i hate them.

i will continue to hate them unless they become tall enough and self-support enough that they accidentally shade our office, in which case i will hate them slightly less but i'll be mad about it.

and now we're done! that's a lock of nice clean wool! all we did before this photo was fluff out the tips a bit.

i combed some out, and it's pretty good!

nice little nests of combed top. the wool's slightly different colours because, like i said, it wasn't a fleece, it was just fleece, if that makes sense, so there's a bit of a range of colouration in there. but there's much less loss than i'd expected, even combing it out, and all up this was a much easier and less miserable process than i'd feared it would be!

i've put off buying raw fleece for a long time, partly because i've mostly lived in apartments and haven't had a ton of space in which to wash it, and partly because i'm disabled and was afraid that doing it would be too much physically, but it turns out that i probably could have done this a lot sooner, and also that it's not really that hard on the body. the worst of it for me was bending over the tub to fill/refill and then get the wool onto the drying screen, which was a little rough, but definitely not so rough i wouldn't do it again.

(we then did this several more times to get all the fleece washed, and i can already tell you: we're gonna do it again.)

this is the first time i've done raw fleece that had lanolin in it, so please don't take this as an authoritative resource, but that's what we did, and it worked really well and was a lot easier than i'd feared, so i figured i'd share.

#spinning #handspinning #hand spinning #fibre processing #fiber processing #fibre prep #this was fantastic and i loved doing it #i'm very excited to see what we make with it #though i think a lot of this is going to be experiments with processing the washed fibre #but next year there will be even MORE fibre!!#i'm very excited

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therobotmonster · 2 months

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What do you get when the 6 Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman decide to pull a Brady Bunch and a Johnny Quest at the same time?

You Get the Bionic Six.

Impossible to find streaming in high quality anyplace, but a bunch of eps in pretty decent quality hit archive.org.

Decent animation, an earworm themesong that I am so frightened of I muted it while taking its screenshots. The Bionic Six is a lost 80s gem. Not like, a diamond or a sapphire, but like, at the very least a citrine, or a really nice tiger eye that's all polished up in a riverbed? Anyhow...

I joke about the premise. It's not Steve Austin, it's Jack Bennett. It's not Jaime Sommers, it's Helen Bennett. It was a serial number filing but it absolutely is someone's 6MDM and Bionic Woman fanfic where they got married and both had and adopted a bunch of bionic kids.

The story, however, involves Jack (already bionic) and his family getting irradiated by an alien spaceship (the 80s was a hell of a drug) in the Himalayas, with the family going comatose except for Jack, thus requiring the family's upgrades.

This explains why a bunch of children would be turned into cyborgs, but it does not explain why those upgrades came with superpowers. That seems to be down to the grandpa-figure of the group, Professor Dr. Amadeus Sharp Ph.D, which, I gotta say, that's a chef's kiss cartoon character name right there.

Putting both Professor and Doctor in front of your name is exactly what I'd expect from a guy that's like "these children are comatose... I think I'll give that one the magnetic repulsors..."

As for the family proper, you've got Bionic-1/Jack Bennet, the literal team dad who suspiciously has all the bionic powers you'd expect from Steve Austin, with a touch of Reed Richards gray on the temples.

You have, ahem, Mother-1/Helen Bennett, who doesn't have the Bionic woman's powers because they'd be redundant. But she is a lady in an 80s team cartoon so she's got... say it with me folks... psychic abilities!

Also, if I had a nickel for every brunette be-bobcuted supermilf in a red jumpsuit named Helen I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it does lead to some obvious crossover concepts that the r34 community have thus far failed to provide. I'd commission something but, as established, I've only got the two nickels.

She also stands out by having a codename that is calculated to make villains deeply uncomfortable with using it, thus putting them on the back-foot. Just takes every deathtrap situation to a weird place.

Their (at least initially) biological children, Sport-1/Eric Bennett and Rock-1/Meg Bennett establish the pattern of there being a bionic kid for every interest. Sport-1 has magnetic attraction-repulsion powers, and uses lamposts like baseball bats all day, every day.

Rock-1 was literally designed to be cartoon Cyndi Lauper and has speakers built into her shoulders for sonic attacks. She is also super-speed runs the fastest.

IQ/J.D. Corey is adopted, and doesn't do the normal naming convention. He's an unusual character in 80s toon terms, as he's both the smartest member of the team (per the codename) but also has the most powerful super-strength. You don't get the smart AND strong combo that often, and you'd expect the Sport-1 to be physically strongest but it seems he's more the Mario of the team.

Karate-1/Bunjiro "Bunji" Tsukahara is a foster kid who got dragged into all of this, and has both the most greatly enhanced super-agility and also actually knows how to fight without powers.

They also have a robot ape named F.L.U.F.F.I. who wasn't in every episode.

The story structure is an 80s toyvertoon take on Johnny Quest, with the whole family having toyetic super-powers and vehicles, and instead of a cavalcade of one-off baddies, you get a recurrent cast lead by Dr. Scarab, who is Sharp's brother, and is after Sharp's superior bionic knowledge.

Mad science, not even once.

I have vague memories of Scarab's pursuit of 'trionic' technology, which assumed both that the 'bi' in bionic was for 'two' (reasonably understandable assumption) and that that if two was good, three was logically better, while never really establishing what third thing was being mixed in (baffling even to my childhood self).

On top of his drone robots, called "Cyphrons" (not Cylons, Battlestar Galactica Lawyers, cyphrons), Scarab had a host of modified goons, most of whom where combinations of dumb, strong, and ugly.

The main stand out being Madame-O, who is a cartoon femme fatale of the classic variety, who punctuates her sentences with 'Darling', uses a harp to shoot energy blasts, and can disguise herself as other people, because why be good at one thing when you can be confusing at several?

The animation is pretty good for the time period (It was a TMS animated show!) and it has that weird mix of self-aware and totally earnest that makes 80s cartoons fun.

It was, like most of them, an advertisement for action figures. In this case from LJN, the gimmick of which was they were G.I.Joes that were mostly made of die cast metal. A lot of the characters were pretty chunky, to the point that a FLUFFI could be bring down an assailant if you chucked it at 'em just right.

Oh, and the whole family could join hands to pull of Deus Ex Machina bullshit. It's a trip.

Go watch ya some cartoons.

#bionic six #80s cartoons #80s retro #nostalgia #Tokyo Movie Shinsha #TMS productions #バイオニックシックス #Baionikku Shikkusu #the 6 million dollar man #the bionic woman #cartoon transhumanism #toyetic #LJN toys

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gaycrittercentral · 1 year

Text

They're done!! also fuck you tumblr how dare you eat ALL THE INFO I JUST PUT IN HERE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

sigh. Anyhow here they are!! My first stab at drawing the seven heavenly virtues AU, which was actually going to be a set of references for a different drawing of them, but then I ended up coloring these instead. Lmao I'll finish the other drawing another time. All that's missing here is Max drooling over them all fjkdsljgslk;fhsh

Also, my handwriting fuckin' sucks so feel free to check the alt text/image description if you need a translation! Anyhow I'm boutta ramble about them a LOT so the rest is under the cut hehe

I'll be the first to say that color is not my strong suit, or at least that I'm not confident in my color choices, but I'm honestly pretty happy with how most of these turned out! probably my favorites are Chastity, Patience and Kindness, just because they get to be a bit unique (and also because conceptually I like them a lot hehe). I almost feel bad giving my favorite color to Diligence bc he's a loser, but whatever, somebody had to get it and he fit the vibe best lmao. Also, funnily enough, he and Temperance are the only ones who ended up having the same hue as their vice counterparts! Weird, huh? Oh actually there's Humility and pikaflute's Pride, they're both indigo teehee. But yeah, I wanted to match colors with the vibe of each virtue, so it didn't end up being a one to one thing with the vices.

Btw I kinda based Patience on that one episode of the cartoon where Sam passed out for fifteen years and woke up a monk, lol. But also I just reeeeally wanted to put him in that bathrobe, also from the cartoon, because um. Well. um. open bathrobe Sam....I don't even like men but like.......

Also there's a roll of toilet paper behind Humility because he's locked in the bathroom, poor baby. Oh and it didn't come out all that clear but that's a trowel Kindness has in his hand, he's helping with about a million things at once fjkdlsgjdlskh. I'm love him

Oh and tbh while I like most everybody, I really think I need to give sin Sam a more original design. Like, let's be honest, if he had some five o' clock shadow, no hat, and his tie back, then he's just noir Sam. And that's great I guess because we all know noir Sam was hot, but like, I don't wanna just ride his coattails. For that matter, if anybody has ideas for potential redesign elements, I'd be interested in hearing them! Can't promise I'll go with them because I'm horrifically picky but I'd love to hear anyhow hhhhfkdlsjfldshfs

ummm and that's it I can't think of anything else to say and I've kept myself up entirely too late doing this so hope y'all enjoy byeeeeee

#also sin sam absolutely shoplifted that spiky collar from a hot topic lmao. I'm keepin that #oh and temperance probably has a liver-shaped patch on him somewhere I just didn't include it lmaoo #sam and max #sam and max freelance police #freelance husbands #my art #seven heavenly virtues au #oof. I shoulda been asleep ages ago. pray for me at work tomorrow shjgksdlfsh

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stedefxckingbonnet · 6 months

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So this is gonna be entirely too much info but like. I've fallen into reading your reader x Izzy fics and I LOVE them! I've been going through a hard time with it getting to Christmas and having no family, and the Izzy fics just make me feel lighter. So mostly just thank you thank you thank you!

Now the cheeky bit - is there any way we could get a Male reader x Izzy with a pride and prejudice element. My friend said something about Con O'Neil as Mr Darcy and I damn near swooned. Either like a Colin Firth wet white shirt scene or like anything like the Matthew Macfayden Darcy (The hands! The sopping wet pathetic man!)

If not, that's more than okay! I still love your work so much! And again, thank you so much for it!

Hi, anon! First of all, I completely understand how rough the holidays can be, especially without family around. My heart is truly with you during these times and I hope you can still find joy, peace, and love this winter. If you ever need anything, I am always in your corner. I know I'm just a random writer on Tumblr but I truly do care for you, each and every one of you, for that matter! I'm happy I could even bring you a sliver of joy with my work. Thank you endlessly for reading, and I am sending an abundance of my love your way <3 feel free to message me if you'd like, I'd love to be your friend! My messages are always open, everyone! But if not, that's okay too. I'm just happy to share this with you!

Anyhow, I absolutely lit up at this request—I love Pride & Prejudice! OFMD and P&P intertwining is honestly heavenly, I got so excited to write this that I put a pin on another x reader I was writing (never fear! You will all get this one by the end of the week if finals don't absolutely drain me!). This one is reminiscent of Pride & Prejudice and the vibes it emits, but more so, my own spin on it, as well as twists and turns. Like, Izzy honestly exhibits more of a Lizzie in this one but it's also very clear his actions parallel Darcy. I really, truly hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

Lastly, speaking of the holidays, I'm thinking of writing some holiday headcanons for Izzy or a few x readers regarding the holidays with Izzy! So stay tuned for that! Thank you everyone for your everlasting kind words, understanding, patience, and encouragement with my slight delay with writing in the past week.

My Gem | Izzy x Male Reader

Warnings: slight angst, some strong language, slight enemies to lovers, not so in depth research of 1700's aristocracy (even though I'm a damn dramaturg, but we'll look past that for now), made up my first non-canon canon character because just referring to her as "she" felt inhumane, brief mentions of fake suicide note, kissing

Word count: 2324

Thoughts of the first mate of The Revenge were absolutely consuming you. Devouring you alive, plaguing you—you truly couldn't get him out of your head no matter how hard you tried. Oh, yes, you tried. But there was no use. Daydreams would always swirl in your mind and they would only increase tenfold throughout the course of your days.

You were grateful that you at least didn't have to carry the burden of breathing the same air as Israel Hands anymore. You would even collapse being within ten feet of him, let alone seeing him every single day. Your chest ached even at the mere thought of the man.

To say you were confused by his last actions toward you was an understatement. Confused, embarrassed, miserable, even flattered...You couldn't get Izzy Hands out of your head. You couldn't get his hands out of your head...

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"So you really are doing this, then."

"Yes," you nodded. "I am. I don't belong here—"

"You are a damn great pirate," Izzy almost seethed. "I'll be damned if I believe you really want to go back to that...lavish lifestyle."

You looked slightly frantically behind you in hopes that no one heard Izzy's dig at what was about to be your life again. You hesitantly looked back at Izzy, almost biting your lip in disbelief. "I just need to do this."

"Really? That's all you have to say?"

"What—what else am I supposed to say?"

Silence loomed between the two of you. He nervously fidgeted with the coat that Stede had lent him to disguise himself as an aristocrat. He couldn't wait to toss it back into Bonnet's arms, but he needed this in order to see you off safely, without any suspicions of what you had been up to in your absence from the life you were born into. He knew full well that you were making a mistake, but that you couldn't be convinced of this. His chest ached upon realizing that you wouldn't change your mind, that he wouldn't be able to change your mind.

"Goodbye, Israel."

Instead of responding, Izzy carefully intertwined his fingers with yours as you were about to step up into the carriage. You froze, yet began to melt into his touch, his warmth. You finally met his eyes just as he let go of you, and before you knew it, you were riding off into the distance, Izzy becoming a small speck fading from your sight. Before he began to fade out of view, you caught a glimpse of him flexing his hand by his side as he watched you depart.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You scoffed as the yellow carnation was pinned to your coat.

"Is something wrong, sir?" one of your dressers inquired, concern washing over his expression.

You almost laughed at such a question, thinking back to all of the late nights you spent studying flowers and their meanings, dying to tell him how this marriage was going to be doomed if you had to wear a yellow carnation. At the last minute, you decided against it, holding your tongue. "Everything is perfect. Thank you."

He nodded, exiting the room as soon as he finished dressing you. You turned toward the mirror, a frown falling onto your lips upon seeing your reflection. You had never dreaded a coming day like you dreaded tomorrow. Before you could internally lament further, a rhythmic knock was heard from your door. Genevieve—future wife. How delightful. It's not like you dreaded it every time she walked into a room, let alone walked over to your side, and it's not like you could tell she dreaded you all the same.

"Yes. Come in," you sighed, plopping down onto your bed. Only, it wouldn't be your bed anymore—you would share it with her, come tomorrow. Your solitude would be interrupted and put on pause forever.

Genevieve quickly rushed in, making sure to shut and lock the door behind her. She fixed her hair a bit as she did so.

"What is it that you want?" you demanded softly, your brows furrowing.

"Hello to you too," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow—"

"That makes two of us, Genevieve! Finally, something we can agree upon," you laughed, falling backwards onto the bed.

"Will you let me finish?" she crossed her arms without realizing it. Once she had in fact realized, an expression of guilt overcame her as she untwisted herself. A guilt you had never once seen her bear. You sent an apologetic look her way. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, nor the rest of our lives together, but I just wanted to say that you are lovely. I don't hate you. I just hate this."

"I don't hate you either," you sat up carefully, your head sort of spinning as you did so. "Far from it. This is just an...unfortunate situation we've found ourselves in."

"Yes," she agreed, carefully placing herself beside you on the edge of the bed. "You know, I would love you, if you were...there's no way to dance around this. I would love you if you were not a man."

"Oh!" you realized, looking over at her, relief crashing over you. "And I would probably love you if you were not a woman, quite honestly."

Genevieve gasped in delight, wrapping her arms around you as she laughed happily. You couldn't help but smile upon her embrace.

"Who is the lucky woman?" you playfully smiled, nudging her shoulder. You watched intently as you watched the pigment of her face turn rosy.

"Well...we've known each other since we were babies," she sighed happily. "But our families have been dear friends since before we were even conceived. It would never work out."

"Take "never" out of your vocabulary this instant!" you exclaimed, shooting up off the bed and onto your two feet.

"What are you planning?" Genevieve tilted her head.

You rushed over to your desk, filing through all that had piled atop it until you found a quill, some ink, and some parchment.

"We can't say you've run away—no, that would give hope that you're still alive and then you would be seeing wanted posters with your face plastered across trees anywhere you go," you sighed. "No. We'll fake your death instead. And you'll run away tonight."

Genevieve bit her lip concernedly. "Are you sure this will work?"

"I'm certain," you assured her. "Are you able to communicate this plan to your love before midnight?"

"Yes, she is coming to the rehearsal dinner tonight and I'm sure we'll sneak off to the gardens," she nodded.

"Wait—is that why you and Alice go there every time—"

Genevieve's hands flew up to her face, covering it as she giggled.

"My goodness!" you couldn't help but share the laughter. "Wow. I am not surprised, honestly."

"What about you?"

"Have I ever snuck off to a garden to—"

"No!" Genevieve rolled her eyes playfully. "Do you love another?"

"I..." you sighed. "Well, it's complicated."

"I've got time."

"I'm kind of upset with him at the moment. And I'm not sure how he feels about me. And I didn't realize I love him until after I left—"

"One thing at a time!" Genevieve tilted her head back to laugh. She place a hand on your shoulder. "Why does he have you upset?

"He held my hand before I left." you admitted, staring out the window as you spoke. Most days, you would have the curtains closed in order to mask the view of the ocean, as it would only bring you feelings of sorrow and regret.

"And you really question how he feels for you?!"

"Well, he's not like us," you frowned. "Believe me, I'm glad he's not. Though I just don't think he understands what a touch of the hand means to someone like me."

"You may come from different worlds with different values and rules, but holding hands is still an expression of affection wherever you come from," Genevieve pointed out.

"He did wear a fancy ensemble just to see me off safely..."

Once again, Genevieve's laughter filled the room. "You are blind!"

"It's just hard to tell with him!" you protested, laughing along with her. "He's hard to read. He's...very easily irritated."

"Is he like that when he's with you?"

"Less so, but yes," you shrugged. "He is a complicated man."

"But his feelings for you are apparent."

"My god, I need to go!"

"Yes, you do!" she encouraged you, patting you on the back.

"I can't right away. I have to get in contact with someone first, and if both you and I are found missing or dead by morning, it's going to be terribly suspicious—"

"You will find a way. I know it," she assured you. "Let's go and oversee the menu for tonight. I'm starved."

You laughed as she jokingly linked arms with you, leading you out into what you were about to leave behind once again.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

All had gone according to plan—you saw Genevieve and Alice off safely, and falsely mourned your fiancée the next day, and for only a few days after before Stede caught wind of your message. As soon as he had, you scurried to the beach, only bothering to bring a few possessions with you. You hadn't even bothered to leave a note—nothing attached you to the aristocratic life anymore. For good this time.

"Captain!" you exclaimed, almost out of breath. "Thank you. I'm so, so sorry."

"No need to apologize to me," Stede assured you warmly. "Believe me, I get it."

"I wish you warned me—"

"Oh, you wouldn't have listened," he teased. "I do regret having done the same thing you had, but if I hadn't, I never would have gotten closure with Mary and bade farewell to that side of me fully. You had to do the same."

"And you and Blackbeard—he forgave you?"

"We're working on it," Stede laughed. "He has, mostly."

"Do you think Izzy will ever forgive me? How is he?"

"Go see for yourself," Stede suggested kindly. "He's on watch tonight. I'll be in my quarters should you need anything at all."

Before you could thank him again, he vanished into the darkness. You smiled, though you could have swore your heart stopped upon the sight of Izzy Hands. You almost choked on the breath you had taken before gaining the courage to waltz over to him. Before you knew it, you were beside him once again. Izzy jumped upon sensing your presence.

"Jesus fuck," Izzy mumbled.

"Hello to you too."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, Izzy, I'm happy to see you too!"

"I'm serious—what the fuck? You just up and leave and then you're back. Is this some sort of pattern? How long will your stay be this time, perhaps only a day, maybe two—"

Without much thought, you found your fingers laced between his once again. Izzy's train of thought stopped in its tracks and all he could focus on now was the feeling of warmth that had been yanked away from him ever since you left, and that now, it had been restored. A warmth he thought he would never get to experience again, nor experience at all. Whenever he spent countless days and hours reminiscing upon it, he scolded himself, convincing himself that he should be grateful he got to feel that at least once in his life. It was one more time than he ever expected he would feel it. It should have been enough, but it wasn't even close. His heart began beating out of his chest—what was this feeling he couldn't quite place? He knew it all too well and he was tired of pushing it down to drown. Eventually, you softly removed your hand, and you noticed Izzy's hand flex by his side once again.

"Did it mean something to you? When you held my hand before I left."

"I was giving you a boost onto your ride," he shrugged it off, turning away in hopes that the darkness would hide his smile.

"Right," you laughed. "Izzy, seriously. I have been going crazy. Every single day, wondering if you ever understood what such a gesture meant to me or if it meant absolutely nothing to you."

"Of course it meant something to me, dammit," Izzy sighed. "You are such a fool if you thought for a second that it didn't."

You laughed breathlessly, relief overcoming you instantly as you pressed your forehead against his. The way the moonlight shone upon his face made him even more breathtaking, even more earth-shatteringly beautiful. You couldn't believe what your eyes were allowing you to see, and you couldn't believe how warm you'd felt. You almost swore you'd never shiver once again. Your lips softly grazed his forehead before you pressed another kiss upon his cheek, before resting your forehead against his once again, your eyes fluttering shut, butterflies flying around in your stomach as you reached for his hands once again.

"Mark my words. I will never, ever leave again—"

"Shh," Izzy gently whispered against your lips. "We can talk about it later."

"Later," you nodded gently as finally, your lips collided. Your heart did pirouettes as your lips danced against one another's. In the darkness of your vision, you caught a glimpse of your future aboard The Revenge, with Izzy. You had never seen so clearly, until now, that you had finally found the place you were meant to be after denying it for so long. You had found your family and your lover, and they were all gathered in the same place. This was a luxury that would always beat the fancy balls you attended, the gold-laced coats you wore upon your back, the gems you were gifted often. Izzy was your gem, and he made your life shine brighter than it ever had.

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crazypsychonerdstuff · 1 month

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Excuse the extremely detailed request, but if you are ok with it, could you do a Black Hat x reader oneshot where the reader is a demon/eldritch abomination similar to Black Hat and they work for him and they both have feelings for eachother but neither of them say anything for a long time and it eventually takes reader getting injured in some way for him to confess to her?

For some background to where the idea came from, My horse pushed me over the other day into a patch of nettles and they stung my hand and arm pretty bad and I had a reaction that meant I needed to get antihistamines from the doctor because it was so bad. while I was recovering, I was struggling to do everyday tasks as the grip in my hand was affected, and I kept dropping stuff and not able to grip thinklgs like door handles properly! It got me thinking how would our favourite eldritch horror react if the person he secretly cared about was injured? Not enough to put them out of action completely, but more just an inconvenience that was affecting their day to day life?

I also remember thinking at one point "what if he kissed it better? Like, his kisses literally made it better? eldritch saliva having healing properties or something?" Idk. It popped into my head and it seemed like an interesting concept at the time!

Sorry if this is too detailed or weird! You don't have to write it if you don't want to! I just don't see many active blogs that write for Black Hat at the moment!

-🍉

Oh no! Hope you're feeling better now! Bad horse!

Sorry this is so late btw... it's been sat half finished in my drafts since before Christmas! 😱

Hope this will suffice! It's been too long since I've written anything other than headcanons!! I think the extra detail and context actually helped me write this, so thanks!

CW: mildly suggestive? If you squint? Thought I'd mention it just in case. Eldritch abomination licks your hand. So if that makes anyone uncomfortable, I guess... 🤷

Anyhow, without further ado:

CRASH!

That was the fourth time you'd dropped something today. Luckily though, it was almost time for you to retire from your cleaning duties for the night, but before you had chance to pick up the dropped items, Black Hat growled at you, his fangs showing in a vicious snarl. "What's wrong with you?! you're being even more of a klutz than usual."

You growled back, not intimidated in the least by the other eldritch creature. "I hurt my hand earlier, but what do you care?"

Black Hat huffed and rolled his eyes, his voice becoming softer than you though possible for him: "Why didn't you say something? What did you do?" he put his pen down and turned to face you fully; 'was he actually implying he was going to listen to me?' You thought in disbelief.

"I fell in some of those damned 'killer nettles' of yours when I went out to fetch something." You snarled back, fangs showing slightly in agitation, though any malice remaining in your voice no longer directed at the other Demon but at yourself for your own clumsiness.

His face dropped, the remainder of his malevolent snarl transforming to a look of pure worry, something that looked unsettlingly foreign coming from him: "You bloody idiot! Why didn't you tell me? Those things cause paralysis, you're lucky you're not human, or you'd likely be unable to move for days at the very least. You could be dead!"

You were taken aback by his clear concern, thoughts rushing through your head 'Was he alright? This wasn't like him. Was this even Black Hat sat in front of you right now?' You looked at him not quite sure what to say or do. "Sir?"

"Come here. And don't call me 'sir' when we're alone." His voice was quiet, and despite maintaining his usual air of confidence, the eldritch being refused eye contact, instead looking to the papers on his desk.

"But Si- Black Hat..." as if you were not already confused, his lack of spite really threw you off guard.

"Just come here, will you?" he held out a gloved hand to you. "I just want to check the damage it's done. I'm not going to bite you." If you didn't know better, you'd have said that a small smirk played on his lips at that last comment.

Hesitantly, you took a step toward him, reaching out your injured hand to rest it in his outstretched one. The moment your hands came into contact with each other, he gently pulled you over to where he was sat, the suddenness of the movement causing you to lose your balance and fall into his lap.

Black Hat grinned. "Not so bad, was it? Now, let me see the damage." He turned your hand over in his own, which was surprisingly warm. You'd always imagined he'd be cold for some reason...

You breathed an internal sigh of relief when his attention was no longer on your face and instead on your hand, for by now, you were certain your face had become a shade of red to rival a tomato.

"It could have been a lot worse, but luckily for you, your reactions seem similar to my own. Without treatment, it should return to normal in a few days." he looked back up at you after assessing the damage done to your hand, "but..." and he paused, bringing your injured hand up to his lips and softly kissed the stinging wound.

If you weren't blushing before, you sure as hell were now. 'Who was this man? And what had he done with my boss?' You thought, a mild panic seeping into you at the out of character display of affection.

Ok, so it was no big secret that you had a crush on the other demon, so needless to say, you quite enjoyed the affection he was practically showering you with - for him at least - but it still seemed wrong, or at least a little off; this was not like Black Hat at all.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to shut it again, unable to form words as his forked tongue slipped out to gently lick the stinging red patch covering the palm of your hand and part of your wrist, all the time maintaining eye contact. Despite the embarrassing position, you were beyond grateful for the fact that you were sitting down as you was positive that, had you been standing, your legs would have given out the moment his lips touched your skin.

"... But, with the appropriate remedy, it should be better by tomorrow morning." The eldritch creature smiled, actually smiled - not his usual malevolent, twisted grin - at you. "As you know, to lesser beings, an eldritch being such as myself's saliva is positively lethal, but to a creature of a similar nature, it has rather potent healing properties." The eldritch's arm around your waist tightened slightly, pulling you back against his firm chest.

"Black -" your voice was barely above a whisper, too stunned to say much else.

He purred quietly next to your ear in response before nuzzling into your neck affectionately. "You have no idea what you do to me, my dear."

his quiet voice, along with his breath fanning over your burning skin, sent pleasant shivers down your spine, and it took all of your willpower not to lean back and melt completely into his warm embrace. "wha-what's got into you, sir? Are y-are you feeling alright?"

"Never better, my love..." He hummed, leaning his chin on your shoulder. "I regret not telling you sooner, it's been torturing me since you came to work for me..." he paused for a moment as if considering whether to actually tell you or not. "...I love you."

those three words stunned you into complete silence. what had Demencia put in his coffee?!

"Sir... I-I'm not sure what is wrong with you, but you are not yourself... I think maybe I should get Flug." not that you didn't like the attention you were getting from your boss, just that it was not like him at all and you were by now convinced that somebody (Demencia) had somehow gotten him drunk for some terrible prank.

"Look, don't get Flug there's nothing he can do. It is true that I love you and I have ever since you came to work for me..." it was Black Hat's turn to avoid eye contact. "I know, you find it hard to believe, and so did I for a long time, but I guess flug has his uses after all, as it was his slip up that gave me the confidence to finally confess." The eldritch abomination suddenly didn't seem so terrifying to you. In fact, he seemed, dare you think, quite sweet.

You finally gave in and melted into his embrace; "I love you too, Black Hat." You brought your hand up to the side of his head and tilted your own so that your lips met his own.

#my writing #black hat #black hat x reader #villainous #villanos #x reader

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sunchaserwings · 5 months

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Incoming rant about The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Herlock Sholmes from The Great Ace Attorney, and the BBC Sherlock (no major spoilers ahead I promise).

A preface before I begin; I was never a big fan of Sherlock Holmes or any adaptation of the stories. I've seen Elementary although I was very young so I only have the vaguest of memories of enjoying it, and my roommate had me watch a couple BBC Sherlock episodes when I was a tween/young teen. My mother claims she tried to get me into Sherlock Holmes but I'm rather skeptical. Anyhow, onto the story.

Back in March my boyfriend bought me the Ace Attorney games for my birthday which included the Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (or Dai Gyakuten Saiban for those who are still stuck on the pre-localization names ;p). I was on my flight home from my birthday trip after I got the news my manager fired my brother while I was out of the state and figured why not, I'd start playing the first TGAA game on the flight. I'd probably enjoy myself and I couldn't sleep.

Second biggest mistake of the year (first biggest was trusting Les Schwab to do my brake job). I. Was. Hooked. I played the first case and fell in love with Kazuma instantly (he's so Zero shaped!). I played the second case and realized that calling him Zero shaped was way too accurate. We all know what happened there. Most important to this rant, I met Herlock Sholmes (more on my opinions on him later). I could barely put the game down but I had to take a break due to finding a new job and getting adjusted. I ended up finishing the game in June or July, one of the two. I finished the final case of the first game in one long 12 hour gaming session it was that good (my back didn't thank me though).

Now, the man of the hour: Herlock Sholmes. I didn't think much of him initially. He was simultaneously charming and annoying in the second case but as I played more he grew on me. I cried when the start of 1-5 happened. He clawed his way up into like the top 7 favorite characters at the time. The ending of the game with him playing his violin made me bawl my eyes out. I. Loved. This. Game.

It took a few more months to start and finish the second game. In between Adventures and Resolve I played Skyward Sword, Minish Cap, and some others so I had a healthy break. I came back to play Resolve and finished it like two months ago. It hit me in the gut just as hard as the first game did although there are a great many things I'd tweak and do differently. But Herlock Sholmes... man, he's not my favorite but he's up there underneath Kazuma and Van Zieks.

Anyhow, I finished the game but the hyperfixation had started and would not let me go. I've never been one to go out and seek fanfiction due to... personal stuff but I had a feeling I didn't want to go probe the depths of AO3 yet for fear of crying. I started a graveyard shift at my job which severely limited my ability to talk with people about stuff and also there's so many major spoilers but very few people I knew had played the game. A thought occurred to me, however. What about Sherlock Holmes audiobooks? I have an auditory processing issue which has made listening to audiobooks hard but I decided to give it a go. Perhaps it would satiate the TGAA hyperfixation hunger.

I found the ones produced by Magpie Audio, expertly narrated by Greg Wagland. Go check him out, he has over 77 videos of Sherlock Holmes audiobook recordings and all of them are a minimum of 40 minutes, often times far more. I went through over 30 hours of audiobook in a few weeks listening to these. Sherlock Holmes is such a good character and I can understand how and why he took late Victorian England by storm. And you know what the best part is?

Herlock Sholmes is the most faithful adaptation I have personally seen as a character of the original Sherlock Holmes.

They got so many of Sherlock's little idiosyncrasies right and you can tell the entire team were genuine fans of the books. I listened to Mr. Wagland's narration *and I saw 221B Baker of the games*. Especially the jack knife impaling the communications to the mantle being referenced in the game? The sheer mess of the flat? It's so good!

My roommate (whom is also a Sherlock Holmes fan) noticed my newest hyper fixation that spawned off of TGAA and that reignited his Sherlock Holmes obsession. He was a fan of the BBC Sherlock and now recognizes it was not a very great show but it's a comfort media for him nonetheless. He just dragged me into rewatching it and... okay, it's playing into a lot of inaccurate Sherlock tropes I don't like but goddamn Martin Freeman carries the whole show. I love his John Watson because it feels like a reasonable version of a modern, younger Watson. He feels real in a way. I do like the fact that even in the first episode, it's established that John and Sherlock can make each other laugh and smile just like in the books. I don't forgive them calling Sherlock a sociopath, however (speaking as someone with a brother that has been diagnosed with being a high-fuctioning sociopath). He's AuDHD to the max and deserves recognition in that department.

All of this to say, I can trace my current Sherlock hyperfixation back to Mega Man. Finding Mega Man in 4th grade led to watching the Ace Attorney anime in late 2021 which led to playing The Great Ace Attorney and that led to listening to Sherlock Holmes. I don't know why I decided to make this post but maybe I might start live blogging this shit? All in all, this is going to be a wild ride.

#tumblr ate the first half of the original post so i had to rewrite my sleep deprived ramblings #feel like i talked too much #fuck it this is my own blog #my blog my rules #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #herlock sholmes #the great ace attorney #tgaa #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs #ace attorney #sunchaser rambles

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seeingteacupsindragons · 7 months

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Apparently by "later" I meant, like, five minutes. I should filmed the box opening because I kept making comments, but here we are.

The Goods:

I tried to be conservative, a little.

This one wasn't blind; I knew it would look like this. It's a mirror. No, I don't wear makeup. I wear contacts; that's enough justification, right?

Anyway, onto the blinds. First ones I opened were postcards that I'm going to keep and treat as bromides instead of postcards. These were the options:

And what I got.

I pulled these left-to-right and honestly after I got William, I was hoping for Louis, but this is fine, too. I don't get blinds unless I'd be happy with all the options.

Next were keychains of character eyes from the covers. They're in black and white, but they have little plastic gems and colors at the edges.

I opened Moran first and it was wrapped in red stuff and I was like "William?" but I could see the black gem so I was like, Okay, no, that's Moran. And, hello, Moran.

Then I got to Louis, which had a red gem, and I was thrilled at the idea of William to match him, but I could see the purple, so was a little confused until Louis popped out. Maye the gems match the eye color?

These are acrylic and I already have two metal YuuMori keychains on my keys, so I don't think I'm going to use these at the moment. I don't think they'd hold up well.

Next! Locket charms with characters portraits from the covers. These were wrapped in plastic inside the blinds and closed so I had to work to see who was in them.

Not bad. I do like Bond and Herder. No dupes yet, but also no Sherlys.

And then, uh.

Coasters. So. I did order 5 of these, even though there were like, 52 some options, because what was I gonna do with 52 coasters? But turns out they came in packs of 5, so I have 25 now, and 6 dupes.

Anyhow.

This was a good start!

Lots of Albert in this pack.

Annnd we're starting to dupe, but still a good selection. I love that Louis, and I got Bench Sherliam.

More good stuff.

More dupes.

So here's my collection of dupes. Not sure what to do with them at the moment. They're cardboard-y? I'm not sure I'd put something wet on them, but they might be sturdy enough for that.

I could sell them???? For??? Not a lot, probably. Or do a giveaway, maybe? For...something? I don't know. They're not bad dupes, at least, although I know people probably care less about the Patterson one.

I also discovered I accidentally cancelled my calendar order somehow and had to replace that, so we'll see when that shows up.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot

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miixz · 9 months

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Okay this will be rambly as it's been too long since I've tried to put my thoughts in a coherent meta sort of thing, but I've come to the conclusion I might like how the whipping is treated in erha.

(for anyone following the official english release, beware of spoilers ahead)

It was something that threw me off at first and made me doubt I'd ever really like Chu Wanning, I even compared him to Shen Jiu around that time, but looking back at it having read erha in its entirety I can look at it with a different perspective.

While I do like how having Chu Wanning whip Mo Ran so early on helps present him as the terrible teacher of Mo Ran's altered memories and deceive the reader, I think it's also an interesting side of him as a character that he did that in the first place. To me, it seems that Chu Wanning is one of the people who have bought into the myth of physical punishment which seems to exist in his society. It's not a belief shared by everyone, Mo Ran certainly doesn't buy into it, but it isn't a belief Chu Wanning seems to have taken from within himself or even one that he fully agrees with.

There are rules on Sisheng Peak which include whipping as a punishment, we see this as the system Chu Wanning uses as a guideline to base his decisions on, not only for Mo Ran but himself as well. His punishments aren't chosen entirely on a whim.

Chu Wanning looked up to shoot him a glare. The Jielü Elder shut up. “In accordance with the rules, the punishment for this transgression is two hundred strikes, three days of protracted kneeling in Yanluo Hall, and three months of confinement,” Chu Wanning stated. “I do not dispute the transgression, and I am prepared to receive the punishment.” Dumbfounded, the Jielü Elder glanced left and right, then curled his finger. The doors to the Discipline Court closed with a thud, leaving only the two of them standing face-to-face in the silence. “What is the meaning of this?” said Chu Wanning. “How do I say this… Yuheng Elder, it’s not like you don’t know—the rules may be rules, but they don’t really apply to you. The doors are closed; this stays between you and I. What say we just let it slide? If I actually strike you and the sect leader finds out, he’ll have my old hide.” Chu Wanning didn’t feel like wasting his breath, so he simply said, “I hold others to the rules, and I will hold myself to the same.”

Now, that doesn't excuse him, I wouldn't say that's what the story is trying to say and I'm not either. It's more that to me that's part of what makes it forgivable when to other characters it isn't.

There are characters like Madam Yu from MDZS who are clearly using that punishment excessively and unnecessarily, out of cruelty, which I can't forgive. Chu Wanning, however, I'd say is more misguided, which earns him a different approach.

Although he doesn't look remorseful when we first see him whip Mo Ran, we learn later that he was and tried to make up for it in his own awkward way. One of Chu Wanning's most defining traits is his immaturity (in my interpretation anyhow), he is a man that was raised not to be his own person and hasn't been living with others for all that long and it shows.

Huaizui seems to only have taught Chu Wanning shallowly, to the point of lying about the state of the world outside, because he was never meant to be his own person who has complex relationships with others. It makes sense though, why would he do that when Chu Wanning was only a vessel for someone else's soul?

So when it comes to making those difficult decisions, like how to discipline his disciples, he is sometimes lacking and refers to the guidelines that he has. With whipping being an acceptable punishment in his sect and his own issues with anger, I see how he arrived at that punishment at times.

It's an awful thing to do, but I like how it's a mistake that humanizes him and explores his upbringing and the places where he falls short.

And Chu Wanning himself knows, on some level, that this is the wrong way to go. That's why he feels guilty and makes Mo Ran wontons to apologize, but he lacks the ability to choose another course of action, most likely because he's never been taught how.

(And this is something that he does improve on somewhat throughout the book, especially in regards to how he treats Mo Ran, who challenges him to think about these difficult questions and to work on his emotions the most.)

In the end, I think Chu Wanning is someone who truly wants to be a good teacher and a good person that help others, which he does often achieve, but sometimes he is held back from that by his own shortcomings which themselves are connected with the ways in which he's been failed by others (especially those who were meant to care for him).

#erha #erha meta #erha spoilers #chu wanning

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