#And then of course there's that mystery artwork I posted earlier

[hiddlesbummmm]

Wow! It has been ages since i have posted a fic. I hope you all enjoy! It feels so wonderful and refreshing to write again❤️❤️

Warnings: SFW tickle fic. Some profanity and brief mention of sexual harassment. (Nothing explicit)

Words: 3655 Ler Loki X Lee Female reader.

Be A Man

You absolutely hated him.

You could not stand his attitude, his mischievous, his self-righteous aura. All you could think about right now was strangling this man. Maybe kicking his ass a time or two as well.

Okay, okay. You were being a little dramatic. You didn’t actually hate him. In fact, he was your best friend, who sometimes got on your nerves, but you still cared for him and loved him.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, noticing your face was red with frustration. You reached down and turned on the sink, splashing some ice water on your face to help cool your jets a little. Making eye contact with yourself again, you rubbed the sore spot on your cheekbone that was starting to bruise. It was not completely his fault, missions don’t always go to plan. You knew it was unfair to place all the blame on his shoulders, but you were still a little pissed that your partner didn’t know how to shut his mouth sometimes.

You and Loki were an interesting pair. Loki was known to be sneaky, mysterious, a little high and mighty, and sometimes a stubborn brat. Now, you knew him deeper than that and knew he was more complex and actually a caring being, but to the outside world this is how he was viewed.

You, on the other hand, were known to be bubbly, kind, outgoing, and maybe a little stubborn, but only on very specific topics. This was why you were completely shocked to hear you and Loki would be partners.

Before your partnership began, you knew very little about who this demigod was. Of course, you knew his history and where he was from, but you did not have the chance to converse with him besides polite greetings when in the kitchen or passing each other in the hallway.

One day, you received an email from SHIELD informing you that Loki was to be your assigned field partner for an extended period. You were used to working solo, but apparently, the higher-ups decided you needed someone to work alongside you, probably some new OSHA requirement or a bureaucratic policy.

Surprisingly enough, you and Loki were an amazing team. You both were stealthy, intelligent, and perceptive.That is why you were so pissed about your current mission and why you “hated” your partner.

Stationed in Greece, you and Loki were surveilling an art museum. Rumor had it that the owner was producing counterfeit artwork and selling it. Of course, this wasn’t a typical thing for SHIELD to address, but it was a critical mission because your intel mentioned the counterfeit artwork had nanotechnology hidden in the canvas backs. This particular type of nanotech in the wrong hands would be detrimental.

The mission went by flawlessly. You and Loki were disguised as a rich couple from Italy, and together you perused the art studio pretending to admire the artwork. The plan was for you to cause a diversion so Loki could scan some of the artwork with a piece of technology Tony Stark curated. The scanner was not easily hidden, so it was best if the security personnel were distracted.

Loki removed his arm from around your waist, chastely kissing you on your temple.

“I will be right across the room love. There is some fine artwork I wish to analyze, although none of this is as fine as you dear”. Loki purred, but loud enough for those around to hear.

Oh, he was good. To others in the room, you looked like hopeless romantics. Little did they know the truth.

You nodded and fought off a blush as you confirmed this was your cue to distract the security guards. Loki headed toward the back of the room while you walked over to the floor host. You had clocked it earlier that anyone who approached the host, immediately gained the attention of all the security guards, at least for a couple minutes until they deemed it safe.

“Oh excuse me, kind sir, I was wondering if you could explain the history behind this item. My husband and I are very interested in this piece”.

The host looked at you skeptically, probably because of your youthful look.

“Oh, did I mention we will be paying cash?” You opened up your purse so the man could see you weren’t bluffing.

Immediately after eyeing the cash, the man changed his demeanor.

“Of course Miss. I would be delighted to discuss this with you.” You flashed the man a dainty smile and slowly walked over to a painting in the far corner of the room.

Pretending to be highly interested in what the man was saying, you nodded and smiled intently at his every word. After what felt like a lifetime, you felt Loki snake his hands around your waist again.

“Now darling. I thought we discussed this before. The color of this painting will clash with our interior design. Perhaps we should return tomorrow and think this over before we make any decisions?”

You pretended to look upset, pouting slightly as you begrudgingly answered him.

“Yes dear. You are quite right, like always”.

Loki smiled and nonchalantly squeezed your side. You were not expecting the ticklish sensation, so you jumped back slightly and coughed to suppress your giggle.

Loki raised his eyebrows and smirked at you. Great, just what you needed! The God of Mischief knowing your little ticklish secret.

You glared back at Loki as to say “Don’t you dare think about it”. The host, who was still standing by you two, chuckled nervously and thanked you for your time. Taking that as your cue to exit the studio, you and Loki headed out.

This is when things went wrong. As you left the building, Loki still had his arm wrapped around your waist, unmoving, but you could sense the threat that loomed over you.

“Loki I swear, you even think about it and I will—“

“DAMN! Now that is a fine-looking ass if I ever saw one. Got to get me some of dat!”

You and Loki immediately turned to see a very drunk individual giving your body a look. You rolled your eyes.

Men.

You knew you had a nice body, and had been catcalled before. If you hadn’t been on a busy street trying to blend in, you would have ripped his tongue out, but you and Loki needed to get back to the safe house.

“Come on Loki, just ignore it”. You yanked on Loki’s bicep, only to find he was not moving.

“Loki, I said ignore it! We have to go!” You said through your teeth. The inebriated man was still making foul comments, but you just ignored them. Loki stepped towards the man.

“Listen here you impotent, conniving little shit. That is not how you talk to a woman”.

You yanked on his arm again as you noticed the man was getting extremely agitated.

“Loki we got to go NOW!” You urged but still, your partner did not move. You noticed his hand started to glow a faint green as Loki summoned some of his magic.

Oh boy.

You jumped in front of Loki to stop him right at the same time the drunk man was about to take a swing at Loki. He socked you solidly in the face and you stumbled a little trying to regain your footing.

“Oh, you have done it now you-“ Loki was seething more now and you had to get out of here. You yanked with all your might on Loki’s arm again and finally, he followed suit. You could hear the man yelling profanities as you walked away.

You continued down the road in silence for a few moments.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking”. You spat a little harshly. You rubbed your sore face and shot Loki a glare. Loki jumped a little at your harshness.

“I know you can take a little heat Agent. I am more concerned about why you didn’t let me demolish that cretin for slewing hateful words your way”.

You sighed. “Because Loki, I am used to being cat-called and missions always come first. I thought you of all people would understand that”.

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, sorry agent that I tried to protect you. Won’t happen again!”

Loki continued to mumble under his breath but you couldn’t quite make out what he said.

Still upset but wanting to change topics you decided to discuss the mission.

“So, what did the scanner find in the paintings? Anything good?”

Loki shook his head. With no emotion he said “The scanner found absolutely nothing”.

You stopped in your tracks. Turning to look at Loki, his face etched with frustration and disappointment.

“Well, that’s just great! We wasted our time, found no evidence to shut this operation down, and I got punched in the face for NOTHING!”

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a hand motioning for him to shut it. You were overreacting, but you didn’t want to admit it quite yet. You needed to calm down first.

Now that you were a few blocks away from the studio, you clicked a button on your watch signaling your ride to pick you up. Took only a few moments before a car pulled over and you and Loki crawled in. You were both silent for the duration of the car ride.

———————

You splashed your face with cold water one more time before deciding it was time to exit the bathroom. Loki probably wanted to take a shower and it would be rude to not allow him that.

You headed into the main room of the quaint little cabin you were staying at and made yourself some dinner. It was nearly dark outside already and your stomach was grumbling from the lack of food.

Loki entered the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom. Before entering, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“I am sorry for not listening to you earlier. I should never have let that buffoon put his hands on you”.

Loki’s voice was soft, gentle even. You could tell he was being sincere.

“It’s okay Loki. I am sorry for overreacting. You still love me right?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Loki chuckled and gave you a wink.

“Well of course. Dat ass is something to admire isn’t it”.

You let out a snort and gave Loki the finger as he walked into the bathroom. You two were most definitely friends, but sometimes you wondered if there was a spark of something else underneath. You blushed and felt your heart twinge at the thought.

You were falling for him.

But you couldn’t think about that right now. He was your best friend, partner, and teammate. You couldn’t risk losing him if he didn’t feel the same way.

You decided to play it safe. You were going to bottle up your feelings and wait for Loki to make his move first.

————————

Feeling bored and needing to pass the time, you grabbed the TV remote and scrolled through the channels to see if something piqued your interest.

“No way!” You stated to yourself out loud. “I haven’t seen this movie in forever!”

You giggled and jumped onto the couch. You had not seen Disney’s “Mulan” in ages. This movie brought back many memories of your childhood, as you watched it ample times and knew each song by heart.

Loki was still in the shower, so you had no shame in quoting the movie and singing along. As frustrated and angry as you were this morning, this movie was exactly what you needed to cheer you up.

The drums in the movie started to intensify, and you knew your favorite part was coming up. You cranked up the TV a little bit louder, grabbed your hairbrush that was sitting on the coffee table, and prepared for your solo.

Not caring if Loki heard you or not you yelled along with the movie.

“BE A MAN!

You must be swift as the coursing river.

BE A MAN!

With all the force of a great typhoon

BE A MAN!

With all the strength of a raging fire

Mysterious as the dark side of the MOOOOOON!”

You continued to sing along until a deep voice startled you from behind.

“What in Odin’s name is going on!? Is a cat being skinned alive out here??”

You threw a pillow at Loki.

“Oh shut up! I have a wonderful singing voice thank you very much. You giggled and went to grab another pillow to toss at Loki.

You knew your singing voice was horrendous, but hey at least you were in a better mood now!

Loki quickly threw his pillow back at you as you dove onto the couch to avoid being hit.

“Have you ever seen this movie Loki? It’s pretty funny I think”.

Loki walked over to where you were sitting and sat beside you. He eyed the TV suspiciously as you explained the movie was called “Mulan”.

“You really think I had time to watch a silly movie while on Asgard on a flashing electronic box? Partner, I met the real Mulan, and she was nothing like this cartoon depicts her. She was a much more intimidating woman”.

You looked at Loki with a shocked expression.

“You actually got to meet her?? That is so awesome. I bet she could kick your ass”.

Loki rolled his eyes and ignored the insult.

“So explain to me, what about that song made you scream at the top of your lungs?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Well besides it being hella catchy, it’s also kinda ironic. Back in those days, warriors had to live up to a higher standard to prove their manhood. But nowadays, men can act like wild dogs sometimes without repercussions.”

Loki mocked gasped.

“Ouch love, and to think that you are my friend when I to you am merely a wild dog!”

You punched Loki on the shoulder.

“Oh come on, you know I don’t think of you that way! But to be fair, you aren’t as swift as a river or have the force of a typhoon. God or not, that’s just not realistic.”

Loki’s demeanor changed after you spoke about this. His eyes narrowed and you saw a slight twinkle of mischievous. You weren’t intending to offend him. You were teasing him like you always did.

“Loki, I didn’t mean to offend you! I was just sayi—HEY!”

Without warning Loki had leapt from his spot and tackled you down on the couch. He was much stronger than you so it didn’t take long for you to be pinned and not able to wiggle very much. He was sitting on your hips with your hands under your back. You kicked your feet in a futile attempt to dislodge him.

“What were you saying dear? I am not swift like a coursing river. I feel me pinning you was awful fast.”

So this is what it was about. Loki felt you were bashing his manhood.

“Loki, this is not what I meant! I was teasing you! You are very much a man! I was referring to men like the guy who punched me today!”

You tried to buck your hips, but Loki was heavy enough that you barely moved. Starting to get nervous, you thought maybe threatening Loki would help you.

“Loki, if you don’t get off me, I will start to sing again. I know how much you love my voice”.

You opened your mouth to belt out a random tune, but instead of lyrics coming out, you squeaked. Loki had poked you on the stomach.

Shit. You forgot about your ticklish incident this morning.

“Loki, let’s talk about thIS.” Your breath hitched as Loki poked you again but on your ribs this time.

“Oh, agent! Did you think I would be forgetting this little secret you tried to hide from me? I was going to leave you alone today since you did get punched and all, but then you threatened me! And questioned my manhood.

So, yes you will sing Little Dove. You will sing for me as I show you how swift I can be. You will witness yourself being forced to giggle, shriek, laugh, and wiggle underneath me. And you will soon find out I do have the strength of a raging fire, and you will have no choice but to submit to my touch”.

Your face turned red and you turned your head away from Loki, trying to hide from him. Best friend or not, Loki’s playfulness was very attractive. Being tickled by him couldn’t be that bad, could it?

“Sing for me little birdie”

Loki wasted no time and was soon scratching his fingers very methodically in between your ribs. He was gauging which set was the most sensitive, not lingering for too long before switching to another pair.

You could not even attempt to suppress your laughter. The ticklish sensation was too much and you were soon bubbling with laughter. Your lower ribs made you giggle laugh while your upper ribs were far more sensitive causing you to squirm and squeak loudly.

In search of a more ticklish spot, Loki quickly changed tactics and was now pinching your sides and belly. You wiggled harder now and were full-on laughing. Occasionally having a snort sneak out of your mouth.

“Is this swift enough for you dear? Or should I increase my pace even more?”

Loki’s teasing was making things so much worse. He also was true to his word and his tickling fingers were spidering all over your very exposed torso, finding all your weak points. He managed to find a spot right above your hip that was super sensitive, and you thrashed as hard as you could trying to throw your partner off of you.

“LOKI STAHAHAHP IT”! You tried to sound intimidating, but the amount of laughter you were spewing along with your red face made that impossible.

“No thank you, I found a spot and I am enjoying the sweet sounds I am forcing out of you”.

Loki booped you on the nose and you reacted by trying to bite his finger.

“Well, that's rude! You should play nice silly girl, or this will only get worse for you” Loki tutted at you and wiggled his finger as if he was scolding a young child.

“This is me being nice-ehehe NO!”

You tried to snap back at him, but he used the same finger he booped you with to swipe under your chin and down your neck. You let out a very high-pitched squeal and shook your head frantically.

Loki tutted at you again and gently held your head in place by putting his hand firmly on your forehead.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach explode as you quickly realized you could not move your head even an inch. You giggled uncontrollably as you anticipated what was going to happen.

Loki gave you a smirk. “Oh, what a pity. If you are giggling this madly already, I can only imagine what will happen to you when I do THIS”.

Loki shot his hand towards your neck and your laughter was riddled with insults, threats, and begging. Loki belted out a deep laugh as you opened your eyes and realized his fingers had stopped just short of their intended target.

Your eyes widened.

“No Loki- hehe please!!”

“No what dear? Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again as you fell right into another trap.

“I- I uh plead the fifth!”

Loki smirked. “Not for long you won’t little birdie”.

Loki followed through this time and fluttered his fingers oh so gently on your neck and you soon lost your marbles.

Giggling, screeching, squealing. Your laughter echoed throughout the safe house whilst Loki had the largest smile on his face, seeing you wriggling and trying so desperately to move your head and protect the delicate skin he was torturing.

You caved after a couple of minutes and you felt a tear or two leak from your eyes.

“OKAAHAHAY YOU WIN! I LIKEEHEHE YOUUU!”

Loki stopped his hands and looked at you quizzically. Realizing you had inexplicably spilled the beans, you tried to backpedal.

“I uh I mean I -“

Loki cut you off as he leaned down to give you a light kiss. You kissed him back, hard. Both of your eyes gleamed as you broke apart.

“You think I didn’t already know that dear? You made it rather obvious when you blushed at the Art Studio. You can’t fake a blush”.

You blushed again. “I was too nervous to admit it, I didn’t know if you felt the same”.

Loki chucked. “Why else would I be tickling you to tears darling? Why would I have been so upset at that cretin earlier today? It’s because I care for you, deeper than a friendship goes”.

You hugged Loki and he helped you from your spot. Now sitting up and facing him, you felt the need to be cheeky once more.

“Well since you know I’m ticklish now, it’s only fair if you admit if you are ticklish as well.”

Loki scoffed. “You even think about revenge and next time I won’t go so easy on your sensitive little neck. I’ve heard that is a great spot to plant some raspberries.”

You involuntarily flinched at the thought.

“Well, at least I did learn something about you during this whole ordeal”.

Loki looked at you skeptically.

“You might be swift as a river, be strong as a raging fire, and have the force of a typhoon. BUT you most definitely are as mysterious as the dark side of the moon”.

Loki kissed you on the forehead.

“Now that is the most honest thing you have said all day”.

#marvel tickle fics #hiddlesbummmm fics #sfw tickle fic #fluffy tickles #ler loki #lee reader #loki tickles #loki tickle fic #ruthless tickles #tickles #sfw tickling community

[ntriani]

OQM Playlist : Life during quarantine #8

Ian Curtis by Karstein Volle Nick Triani presents another quarantine playlist while looking back at his own experience with the band Joy Division and their singer Ian Curtis, who died 40 years ago this week Covid-19 has more than any recent time given a new perspective of our pasts, a new way of appreciating what has come before in freer times. 40 years is a long time in anyone’s life. For me it’s that long since I fully immersed myself into post-punk and a counter culture that remains all consuming. My professional and personal careers have entwined – I’ve been in a position where my main interest in life, music, has also been my main vocation. That sure is privileged, but counter to this I certainly don’t take being ‘in’ music for granted and never will. It’s a fickle passion for sure and my own ups and downs have taught me much.

1980 marks an extra special coming of age for me personally. The signs were there earlier of course. By the time I was 13 in 1979, I’d met a bunch of like-minded souls in the school playground. Fans of John Peel, Two Tone Records, The Jam, the music weeklies and punk culture in general. We would all go on to form bands and play music together. We had one thing in common, we were different from other kids – we were non-conformists, weird and quirky, opinions formed by the music we revelled in.

It was a time when the musical obsession got deeper and more relevant to my own teenage experience. This bout of personal nostalgia for events long gone is brought on by the almost universal media coverage of the 40th anniversary of Ian Curtis‘s death, which was everywhere this past Monday (May 18th 2020). It felt strange to witness to be honest and highlighted what a commercial endeavor Joy Divisionhave become over the years, confirmed in recent times with duvet covers and Converse trainers adorned with their Unknown Pleasures album artwork. Through all the eulogies and critical consensus the Joy Division story has accrued over time there has been an element of that storytelling normalising Joy Division and Curtis.

It’s not really how I remember it as a 14-year-old looking for answers in my bedroom all those years ago. Curtis’ lyrics certainly fuelled my teen angst with tales of the macabre or of a dystopian Thatcher-inspired British landscape. But more tellingly Curtis’ lyrics always deflected back to his own personal struggles. This personal lyrical perspective cut through the unconventional sound of the band and to some degree humanized the Joy Division experience.

Joy Division were genuinely strange sounding – like nothing that came before or since. No one had written lyrics like Curtis, so bleak and dark yet so prescient. But even more, producer Martin Hannett managed to reinvent a sound with the basic three piece ingredients of rock n roll; drums, bass and guitar. No reinvention of those basic elements has been so startling or effective since.

Joy Division’s music is cold and can be hard work in its most daring experiments. Hannett is no stranger to visiting the finite no-go areas of the effect palette. Align the unconventional production to Stephen Morris‘s original, yet unusual drum patterns, Peter Hook‘s unique bass strumming and Bernard Sumner‘s opaque guitar shapes and Joy Division sound alien at core. You only have to hear the effects Hannett would adorn Curtis’ voice with, that voice would suffer from a use of obfuscate effects, which merely made the listener dig deeper to engage and connect whilst similarly being held at arm’s length. In most cases, Joy Division’s music is considerably uncommercial and abnormal; this is music that asks a lot of the listener.

There was also the sense of mystery surrounding the band. The lack of credits, the elegiac and beautiful artwork designs of Peter Saville that perfectly complemented the music. Kevin Cummins original iconic monochrome photography, which accentuated the 1940s charity store attire the band sported.  No one else dressed like this at the time. Reading Paul Morley‘s deep analysis of the band back in the day embellished what would become the mythical, but also, thankfully, failed to reveal too much. However much the past 40 years has stripped away at the heart of Joy Division, the music has withstood scrutiny. The music remains unaffected and still frozen in some ‘all future music will sound like this one day’ bubble. You can try and convince everyone that it was four young daft lads from Salford making this strange music, but you still can’t shatter that veneer of weirdness that Joy Division’s music delivers.

Closer was the album I indulged with the most in 1980 – a record that remains strangely dignified to the events surrounding its release. Like any of the previous Joy Division releases, Closer represented another step forward and evolution in sound – but this time with an extra layer of dark, personal insight, combined with the added benefit of a heavy hindsight. I got lost in this album.

Joy Division are an antithesis of the 2020 know-all and reveal-all of popular culture. Acknowledging this merely enhances a feeling of cognitive dissonance of how the band have been embraced by a mainstream audience. This week people were personalizing their own experiences with Joy Division lyrics on social media. I’ve also seen a man wearing a Joy Division t-shirt in my local supermarket in Helsinki. Tragedy creates special intrigue and draws people in. For me Joy Division represent that point in time where we got a new dose of cultural weirdness, a cold abstract and beautiful thing representing something we’d never really considered before: dissociative popular music that goes to the dark heart of who we really are.

#life during quarantine #OQM #Joy Division #Karstein Volle #music #playlist #nick triani

[burntetwell]

As it is The 31st of October and Halloween j have decided to share some of the most spooky and not uhh mildly threatening artwork.

-note following artwork is not actually that threatening hopefully

So yeah this is mostly a massive dump of Halloween themed art that I made this month I hope you enjoy!

Drawing of a witch: A year ago vs now

So I took art up properly about a year ago as an amature and over the course of a year I'd like to think I've gotten at least somewhat better but I'll leave that up to you to decide.

Character designs/interpretations for the characters Laura(on the left) and carmilla(on the right) from the Novela Carmilla

So yeah, I started reading this novel sometime earlier this month and my god was it fun! I love the whole mystery aspect to it with the characters feeling really layered with me personally having lots of theories about what's to happen next. Although I doubt I'll finish it during October sadly as I have tbh been a bit overwhelmed with college work and lost track of time. Also, castlevania- I watched wayyy to much castlevania. Btw apologies I hope its not but like I'm assuming as this novella came out like what over 100 years ago It probably has some form of problematic element to it although of course I haven't finished it yet so don't take me posting art of it as a condoning of such things if they are present. But if it's somehow unproblematic colour me surprised and very happy. Again, I need to finish it.

Here's a concept for my interpretation of Frankesteins monster

So yeah, I originally had to study this novel for college, but yeah, I actually really enjoyed this novel as like whimsical twink commits crimes against god. What more could I ask for. I mean yes he is amoral af and I feel bad for the monster but like I'm happy yet surprised Victor isn't on sexypeida and the monster is. Like fuck yeah good for you Frankensteins monster™.

Random vampire oc I choose you!

So yeah I ended up making a vampire oc! Is because of my hyperfixarion of castlevania? Yes there will be no more questions vampires are just plain out cool dammit. Also name is currently a work in progress so sorry if it happens to be the same name as another character or some irl person who's problematic or something.

But yeah that wraps it up I hope you enjoyed!

#halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #fanart #vampire #frankenstiensmonster #frankenstein #carmilla #witchcore #witch #artist on tumblr #oc art #art growth

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

#genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao imagines #genshin impact #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi #genshin #xiao

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg just some fluff

Heads Up- Part 12 (Joseph x Bust!Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"Are you ready to go out?" Suzi asked Caesar, as he sat atop the kitchen table.

"Really?" he replied skeptically. "I thought you didn't want anyone to see me?"

"And that's why we've got this!" Joseph exclaimed joyfully as he pranced into the room with a small carrying crate. It was quite lightweight, and across the top of one side a narrow, horizontal slit had been cut into the hard cardboard material, to function as a viewing window.

Caesar felt uneasy, somewhat queasy to the stomach if he'd had one. This was the first time he'd see the world, beyond the confines of Joseph's apartment. Well, of course, aside from that one escapade, but he didn't really get far.

"You really mean it?" he said nervously.

"Look, if you're gonna go bouncing away at night to see the world then I thought I'd let you have in on the fun with the two of us! We picked a nice place, I bet you'll love it." Joseph smiled, as he lifted Caesar off the table and gently into the box, fitting him perfectly with just a little bit of room to spare. "Just remember to be very quiet."

"Joseph," Caesar complained, as he was laid snugly into the box. "You cut the view-hole too high."

"Aw shit," Joseph groaned. "I should have measured."

Fortunately it wasn't a problem a few layers of newspaper couldn't solve, and with some cushioning beneath his neck the peeping hole was perfectly level with Caesar's eyes.

"That should do the trick," Joseph huffed, as he gently covered Caesar with the lid.

"And now...it's time," grinned the sculptor, as he carried his created companion, tucked safely into the box, out into the warm light of late afternoon.

--------

Joseph mostly got around town, and to and from the university, in his trusty old bicycle he'd gotten as a birthday present from his uncle Speedwagon. It had seen better days, but still served him well, especially after he installed a small sidecar so he could carry his art along with him on the way.

"This is fun!" Suzi cheered, as Joseph pedaled along down toward the beach-view that he and Suzi had agreed on earlier.

"Just don't let go of me!" Caesar cried, from inside the box. He laid upon her lap as she sat in the sidecar, and each time she raised her hands in excitement the hapless bust feared he might fall off.

But at the same time, as he peeked out of the narrow slit, Caesar felt a strange elation.

He was seeing the world beyond.

Buildings, cars, streets and people rushed by, illuminated in the orange light of sunset, as Joseph came pedaling along, so quickly that Caesar couldn't keep up with seeing them all. There was just such a big, big place to see, and with a little help, Caesar was going much, much further than he could possibly hop by himself.

Caesar smiled, a hidden smile from within his box that no one could see.

Perhaps it was far nicer to see the world with friends.

Perhaps he didn't have to be alone.

And yet, at the same time, Caesar felt a hint of sorrow as he admired the sun-kissed landscape gleaming in its tangerine illumination. There was a vast world out there, full of people, full of experiences, of stories in the making waiting to be told.

And he knew he could never be a part of it.

--------

"We're here!" Joseph said excitedly, as he halted near the parkway by the beach.

"And look!" Suzi exclaimed. "We're just in time for the sunset!"

"I can't see!" Caesar complained. "Get me out of this box!"

Dismounting from the sidecar, Suzi stood up and with Joseph's help, removed Caesar from the box, after glancing around to make sure nobody was around to witness them unloading their unusual cargo.

Caesar couldn't believe his eyes. They were at a quiet little corner of the beach, with the floor a smooth, wooden viewing deck. Beyond him was a view of the ocean, stretching all the way into the horizon, and hovering just above it was a brilliant orange orb whose rays Caesar felt onto his clay skin for the first time in his newfound life.

"So, what do you think?" Joseph asked as he gently laid Caesar down onto the deck, and sat cross-legged next to him.

"It's...it's beautiful," gasped Caesar in pure amazement, as he made a few hops forward.

"Whoa, easy there, Cae," Joseph cautioned. "Try not to fall in the water, I doubt you can swim," he said with a snarky laugh.

Caesar nodded, but was too absorbed in the splendor of it all to heed Joseph's dry wit. He could smell the refreshing salty breeze, feel the warmth of the descending sun, hear the waves and the wind and the calls of the birds. Just like the one time he'd left the house, except this time, Joseph wasn't trying to stop him.

And never before, in his short existence as a bodiless sculpt of clay, had Caesar felt so free.

Joseph shifted himself forward so that he was next to Caesar again. "I thought you'd enjoy this," he said, gently cradling the bust onto his lap.

The sun's rays were fading in warmth, but Joseph's arms felt warmer.

Soon the brilliant orb began to sink into the horizon, fading away into the distant mists as the deep pinks and purples of the sky began to crowd out the oranges and yellows of the sun's final rays. Caesar was awed. It was something that happened every single day, sure, but it was no less of a glorious spectacle to behold.

It wasn't long until the stars began to appear.

A few bright points, here and there, gradually emerging from the darkening sky. There were scarcely any clouds, to Joseph's delight, and soon, the night had come: enveloping them in a calm, peaceful darkness lit by the thousands of glittering pinpricks up above.

"Caesar," Joseph said softly. "Look."

He laid down onto his back on the wooden floor, after he took the newspapers from Caesar's box and gently laid the sculpture's head onto them so that Caesar could also recline comfortably. Side by side, artist and artwork lay down gazing skyward, into the infinite vastness of the night sky above.

"You know, Cae, my grandpa Jonathan used to tell me," Joseph began. "He said that as the night comes it paints over the sky, swiftly and in a rush, leaving a few spots uncolored in its hurry. I'd always thought it was a silly story," he laughed.

Caesar chuckled. "Your grandfather?"

"Yeah..." Joseph sighed, sadly. "I miss him."

"Now it's just Granny Erina and me, and really, just me, after I came to live in my flat. Mom was always away, and I'd never met my dad. But Grandpa Jonathan...he was the best part of my childhood."

He gestured to the sky.

"I like to think he's up there where he belongs, up among the stars. We are Joestars after all," he said with a mix of a laugh and a sigh, gently running his finger over the birthmark on his neck.

One he remembered his grandpa also had, which Joseph imagined was a mark, a promise, perhaps, of where he'd since returned.

There was a moment of silence as Caesar momentarily pondered.

"Do you think I belong among the stars too?" Caesar asked, after a pause.

"Huh?" Joseph turned to look at him. "Why would you think that?"

Caesar gave a melancholy pause.

"Because...because if I really am Anthonio Zeppeli, as Suzi said...shouldn't I be up there? And yet, I am here."

That one word, that had struck Caesar earlier, hit him again.

Purpose.

"I mean, if you really think about how big the universe is, and how small we are to it, it's downright humbling, and a little bit frightening," Joseph mused.

"But we're tiny specks that simply exist, and maybe, we make our own existence worthwhile," he added, stroking Caesar's shoulder stub.

"Then I guess I don't really need a purpose, then," Caesar mumbled, watching the unimaginable vastness twinkle far beyond.

"I mean, do you?" Joseph answered. "You exist for the sake of existing, and that should be enough."

Caesar smiled.

Joseph was right. Why did he have to bother figuring out why he was alive, or who he was, or why he was where he is today?

He was alive today, even though he shouldn't be.

His existence was an unexpected blessing.

He existed for his own sake. And, looking into his sculptor's brilliant blue eyes, mesmerized at the heavens, he thought, perhaps for Joseph's sake too.

"I'm glad you made me, Joseph. Whether or not I really am Anthonio or not. I'm just glad to be here today."

"However way you created me."

Joseph chuckled. "You know what they say, Caesar. Yesterday was history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift."

"That's why they call it present."

Caesar groaned.

"Oh come on, Jojo," he grumbled. "You stole it from that turtle from the panda cartoon."

Joseph burst out a hearty laugh. "So you have been watching the movies Suzi brought, huh?"

"I was bored," Caesar said, embarassed.

Joseph was just glad for the time they were enjoying together, by the beach, under the night sky, with only the glimmer of lamp posts and the now-rising moon lighting the way. It felt peaceful, and very calming, for both weary artist and lonely creation.

He wished they could do this forever.

Just the three of them.

Oh yes, Joseph remembered, three.

"Say, where is Suzi, anyway?" wondered Joseph after a few moments. "We'd gotten too busy with our little talk there... Suzi?"

A faint snore came as the only response.

"Oh great," Caesar moaned, rocking back up into an upright position with a little help from Joseph. "She slept through the whole thing, and this whole trip was her idea."

"You can't blame her," Joseph explained. "She's pretty tired."

He couldn't help a small giggle as he saw Suzi splayed out awkwardly onto the sidecar seat, dozing away like she was on her sofa.

"I think it's time we went home." Joseph said.

Rousing Suzi to make sure she was safe throughout the ride back to Joseph's apartment, the three friends made their way back, Caesar once more tucked inside his box.

As Joseph pedaled home Caesar peeked out at the view of the city through the hole in the box. The city at night looked so different.

Thousands of brilliant lights shone through the darkness, outlining buildings, illuminating streets, marking the passage of cars.

The city's lights were like the stars on the earth.

And in a way, they were among them, after all.

A sudden halt to the gentle motion of the box indicated to Caesar that they'd reached home. Soon he felt himself being lifted back into the house, as Joseph had done the night he snuck out. Yet this time, it didn't feel like a punishment, as it was when Joseph had forced him back inside. It felt like a reward, at the end of a long, grand adventure.

And at the night, Caesar knew he could look forward to end his day with another night in bed lovingly cradled in his beloved maker's arms.

Suzi sleepily staggered her way into the house and flopped onto the couch with a yawn. "Sorry about that, I hope I didn't miss too much," she said to Joseph, a little regretfully.

"Don't worry, Caesar loved it," Joseph reassured her. "We had a little talk."

"Hmmm?" she hummed drowsily.

"Oh, just stuff, about the stars and the world and the niceness of being alive, he had a lot to say." Joseph explained. "Also he's been watching your movies, he gets references," he laughed.

Joseph felt a strange warmth to Caesar that he couldn't quite explain. His feelings had been all over the place since the handsome little piece of clay came into his life. He'd gotten to know him, and he'd come to like him.

He'd come to love him.

And Caesar, sitting close by on the floor, gazing up at his relatively-towering form, felt the same.

He loved him for granting him life. He loved him for the care and affection, and all the numerous things he'd done for him, even if he couldn't return the favor.

And he loved him for just... being Joseph.

Their gazes met, and two shy smiles crept across their faces.

Perhaps Caesar belonged with a certain star after all.

---------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #gingerreggg #battle tendency #caejose #caesar x joseph #jojo's bizarre adventure #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #hands of life au #heads up

[currantlee]

My issues with Blake’s Atlas outfit

Blake Belladonna is an ambush fighter who will avoid unnecessary combat and prefer to surprise or even backstab her opponents rather than picking an open fight. She is highly mobile, fast and can use the power of her Semblance, Shadow Clone, to make immobile copies of herself in order to distract or deceive her opponents. Her clones can be modified with dust to have different attributes, for example ice dust may be used in order to create a clone made of ice. Blake also excels at stealth and infiltrating enemy territory.

I’m focusing so much on her fighting style and her abilities because fights are an important part of RWBY. Let’s not forget that according to the fanbase, the fights speak for themselves!

However, so does character design. And if I were to show you this particular character design without you having watched the show – would you believe me that this is the same character I just described to you?

If you did,then you’re probably different than me and this character design actually makes sense to you – which isn’t a bad thing. However, it doesn’t make sense to me, not for a character like Blake and not for an environment like Solitas.

I have a love-hate relationship with RWBY. On the one hand I love the show because there are so many wonderful concepts and ideas in that show (even those seem to be borrowed from other media without an actual understanding on how the concept works most of the time). And on the other hand I hate it because it almost never uses the concepts and ideas to their full potential and prefers to do a lot of very bad fanservice instead.

That being said, I want to make very clear that everything in this post is my opinion and my perspective. I obviously dislike this character design, however, my opinion is not a universal one. If you like this design, that’s great!

Please do also keep in mind that I’m almost entirely self-taught when it comes to this topic and my primary approach when designing characters myself is practicality. This approach obviously doesn’t apply universally and it is certainly not the only way to approach designing a character.

My initial reaction to Blake’s new design

I’m not going to lie: my first reaction when I saw the V7 Artwork for Blake was: “What is this?” Not a purely negative way because there are actually elements I like, but still, the design didn’t make sense to me from the get-go, which isn’t a good thing in my opinion.

To the design’s credit, I did recognize Blake (mainly due to knowing it’s from RWBY and her cat ears) and not just because someone told me that it’s Blake. I obviously had a lot of problems with this design immediately after the reveal despite this.

Also, and I’m just going to mention this really quickly: when a few friends and I discussed the new designs shortly after the reveal, we all could agree somewhat that this design seems to be a somewhat fetishized version of Blake, despite the fact that she isn’t showing much skin. This is especially unfortunate because Blake is essentially a catgirl. You know, that type of character design which commonly tends to be fetishized. I won’t go into further detail with this however as the topic makes me personally uncomfortable.

With that right out of the way, let’s get into the actual analysis.

The Character of Blake Belladonna

To understand why I think that this character design is very mediocre at best in my opinion, I think that I should explain who I think Blake Belladonna is as a character – and not just her fighting style, which I have already described in the opening.

To be honest... It’s hard for me to characterize her. And not because she doesn’t do or talk much, but because RWBY is incredibly inconsistent with characterization, specifically when it comes to Blake (seriously, I think only RWBY can have an anti-violence character murder somebody and then jump back to the character being against violence... Without any development in between). So, I’m just going back to the Black Trailer and the first episodes of RWBY Volume 1 in order to get an idea of what she was originally like.

The first time we see Blake is in the Black Trailer, in which she ambushes a train together with a mysterious guy (a.k.a. Adam Taurus), only to leave him behind on the train at the end of the trailer after this vocal exchange:

Blake: What about the crew members [of the train]? Adam: What about them?

This established Blake as a character who, despite the violent nature of her actions, cares about others and their lives. It also shrouded her in mystery: we wanted to know why she left that guy behind. We also get a glimpse on Blake’s sass in the trailer when she tells Adam to “[not] be so dramatic”.

The first time we see Blake in the show itself is in RWBY Volume 1, Chapter 2: The Shining Beacon (Part 1), where she confronts Weiss Schnee after Ruby Rose accidentally knocked over her baggage. Note that in this scene, Blake is fairly sassy, just like she was in the Black Trailer:

Ruby: Hey, I said I was sorry, princess! Blake: It’s “heiress”, actually. Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, one of the largest producers of energy compellants in the world. Weiss: Finally! Some Recognition! Blake: The same company infamous for it’s controversial labour forces and questionable business partners.

Let me say this again: Blake is – once again – being sassy here. And the reason I want to stress this so much is because Blake is often described as shy or anti-social because she prefers to be alone, which I don’t really agree with – my approach is that she is more of an introvert, who only interacts when she wants to (which fits her cat theme very well in my opinion), something that is established within that scene.

Aside from that, the scene establishes that Blake is usually well-informed and has a strong sense of justice, which is a very important part of her character as well. She is also not afraid to speak out against injustice when she sees it.

Finally, we have the scene that is most often used in order to describe Blake as an introvert: the scene in RWBY Volume 1 Chapter 3: The Shining Beacon (Part 2), in which Ruby thanks her for coming to her help when Weiss was scolding her earlier on and the two start to have a conversation about books. Blake is established as a book lover and more of a quiet and calm person in this scene.

It should be mentioned that the scene is used to contrast Blake with the other members of the main cast: Ruby is too shy to talk to Blake at first (which is something you can’t say about Blake, because she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the situation, but more like she doesn’t want to talk and continue reading), Yang’s flashy personality contrasts Blake’s calmness and Weiss’ egoism contrasts Blake’s display of maturity.

We later learn why Blake prefers to be alone: over the course of the first four volumes, we learn that Adam was in fact Blake’s boyfriend and that they were members of an organization that turned into terrorists (after Blake left) together. Blake ran away because she did not want to hurt people and enrolled at Beacon Academy to become a Huntress instead in order make up for the bad things she supposedly did during her time with the White Fang (again, Blake has a strong sense of justice). After Blake’s friend Sun Wukong is injured by Ilia Amitola at the end of Volume 4, the two have an emotional conversation in Chapter 11: Taking Control:

Blake: This is why I left them all behind. Sun: What are you... Wait. Where am I? Blake: I am done seeing my friends hurt because of me!

She becomes very emotional in this scene, to the point where she seemingly doesn’t care that Sun is hurt, which is something you rarely see happening with Blake. This emphasizes how important her friends’ safety is to her. Also, if you think about it, Blake’s worries aren’t empty fears. She was part of a terrorist organization – and they’ll likely not let her go just like that. In fact, the White Fang tries to assassinate her entire family in Volume 5. So yeah, her worries are far from unjustified.

It should also be mentioned that Blake alludes to Belle from Beauty and the Beast, specifically the Disney version.

All in all, Blake is a character, who...

... (deeply) cares about others and their lives, even when those people are her enemies. This holds true especially for her friends.

... has a strong sense of justice.

... usually displays a calm and mature demanor.

... often approaches things very rationally and will only become very emotional in rare instances.

... usually chooses to be alone / not interact with others unless she wants to.

In addition, when it comes to fighting, Blake is a character who...

... generally avoids violence and especially open fights when she can (even though she is capable of handling an open fight as long as she is with at least one teammate).

... is intelligent, usually well-informed and capable to use this to her advantage.

... is not a heavy hitter and instead relies on her speed and mobility, especially in the air.

... can be quite stealthy and deceptive.

... is capable of using multiple weapon types and dual-wielding blades.

This, to me, makes clear that Blake was likely supposed to be a ninja / assassin type of character with elements of an illusionist (mainly due to her Semblance). This would mean that she relies on the element of surprise, creativity when it comes to taking her opponent down (which she needs to do fast or she will lose the fight) and escaping, staying hidden for extended periods of time, and finally: information.

So now that we know who Blake actually is (or rather, what she was likely supposed to be), we can talk about...

So what about her Atlas design?

General Stuff

Where am I supposed to look? Someone please tell me where I am supposed to look here because I don’t know!

There is way too much stuff without any kind of orientation going on with this design, which is a general issue with the newer RWBY designs in my opinion. However, the Mistral designs did at least have some sort of focal point, something that immediately caught the eye of the viewer.

I struggle with this a lot myself, but usually you want to have a focal point in any picture - including a character design – and ideally guide the viewer’s gaze from there. In character design, the focal point is often a character’s hair or face, because as the characters may change their outfits over the course of a series, they can’t change their face (and usually won’t change their hair too much). In other words: focal points in character designs are often the elements that make a character recognizable.

An example of this is Tsukino Usagi a.k.a. Sailor Moon with her iconic bunnytails (it are buns. Falling into pigtails. Bunnytails! Which is fitting because her name means moon bunny). Not only do they immediately draw your attention because it is a very unusual hairstyle, but the loose part also guides your view from her face to her actual outfit. It’s also an iconic element that remains mostly unchanged throughout her various different character designs over the course of the series.

Blake’s visual signifier, the thing that makes her identifiable immediately and distinguishes her from other characters looking similar to her (e.g. Cinder Fall) is the fact that she always has something on her head. In the early Volumes this used to be a bow, in the newer Volumes it’s her cat ears. However, those do not function as a focal point in this design (or honestly – at all). Which by itself is not an inheritly bad thing (even though Blake’s design admittedly doesn’t stand out much due to the lack of a distinct, outstanding element that makes her instantly recognizable and the fact that there are so many characters with a similar design to hers).

The problem with this is that there is no other focal point. As I stated previously, there is just too much going on in the design. The cat ears are about the last thing I’m looking at, and my gaze is not lingering on them for a while. This is partly because they’re just not a very intriguing element and partly because there is too much other, potentially more interesting.

Another thing about this is Gambol Shroud. Now, I will say this, I have issues with the reforged Gambol Shroud. However, incorporating the original Gambol Shroud into the artwork rather than the reforged version (even if it had been reforged in a different way than just adding yellow superglue) was a good choice on Ein Lee’s part – and just not because it avoided giving spoilers to the audience. The cat ears are just not enough to identify Blake immediately (just going by the design), especially because they’re already rather subtle in a design that isn’t as overloaded as this one and there were so many things that were changed about her character design for Atlas, mainly her hair.

Gambol Shroud takes up more space than the ears, and especially the ribbon is interesting, so the viewer’s gaze is more likely to linger on that for a while. That’s why I think that this was a really good choice.

That being said, let’s talk about Blake’s other visual signifiers, which are...

Blake’s hair and the color black

A big part of RWBY’s design philosophy is that every character has their design, name and even traits centered around one color. In case of Blake, her color is black, meaning that it should ideally be the most present color in her outfits.

Blake’s hair is also black and speaking of it... Many shows are afraid to change the characters hairstyles. Not only is hair something that’s really personal (in real life too! Which is why hairstyle changes, especially drastic ones like cuts, are often interpreted as indicators of a huge change in someone’s personality or life), but hairstyles, especially in anime, manga or similar media, can become really iconic. Just think of Son Goku’s spiky tower or, again, Sailor Moon’s bunnytails.

I will say though that Blake’s hair, before the change, was admittedly fairly simple, if not even boring, and too similar to Yang’s hair in my opinion. That is why I really welcome this change to be honest. However, I wish they would have kept Blake’s curls because I actually really liked those, and I think an updo would have been cooler than a bob.

Another minor nitpick I have is that the bob makes her look slightly younger in my opinion, which is a common problem with short hair as it tends to emphasize the face. This is why if someone has a fairly round face, short hair can make them look younger. This especialy applies to anime as most figures tend to have round faces. However, I also want to mention that due to Blake’s unique, cat-like eye shape, this problem is not as prominent as it would be with other characters (like Yang).

Then again, Blake just went through an life-changing event (she murdered her former abuser and yes, I’m acknowledging it despite the fact that I really didn’t like the entire storyline, it felt like such a waste to me). So a haircut is definitely not out of place.

Back to black though...

This design doesn’t exactly lack the color, but it doesn’t bring it out that well either. The mostly white coat (which is ironically my favorite piece in this design) takes up much space in the design. It’s just... White is generally not considered a heavy color, but I’d say in this case it is. It is too heavy for a design with a primary color that is dark.

And with that, I’m jumping to...

The Penguin Coat 

I already said that the coat is my favorite piece in this design... Also, yes, I call it a penguin coat because it reminds me on cute little penguins for some reason... So props to the coat for reminding me on cute little penguins I guess. May I mention that this actually fits with the fact that the main characters are in a rather cold climate in RWBY Volume 7? You know, since most penguin species live in cold climates... But let’s move on from the penguins.

The flaps are likely a callback to Blake’s original design, which had those funny flaps that reminded a bit of classic illusionist outfits - it also reminds me personally on some of Zatanna’s outfits (from DC Comics). And guess what, this actually makes a lot of sense considering that Blake’s Semblance is essentially creating illusions (of herself).

Coats are also often used to make characters look more mysterious. The first use of this was in one of Akira Kurosawa’s movies, which are considered some of the most influental of all time and you should definitely go watch some of these because they’re awesome. Two other popular franchises using long coats for mysterious characters are The Matrix (with Switch wearing a white coat like Blake does) and Kingdom Hearts. So it is fitting for a character like Blake.

I know a lot of people do not like Blake wearing white coats. However, I disagree. First of all, Blake has ties with the White Fang (yes, the story arc was dropped but just because it was it doesn’t mean it never existed) and second of all, they are in a snowy area. Meaning that the coat has the same color as the environment. So it makes sense, at least it does to me.

A detail I really, really love is the black patch on the back of the coat, specifically because it creates the illusion that Blake is moving differently than she actually does. While this makes things a bit harder for the viewer indeed, it fits Blake’s theme of an illusionist / ninja crossover really, really well.

All of this being said, it should not be left unmentioned that logically spoken a coat like this restricts your mobility. Especially the flaps are constantly going to be in the way. Which is why I think that the flaps could honestly have been shorter (which would possibly have taken away the “long coat” element though). I think there isn’t really a “better” or “worse” here, so this is a very minor nitpick.

All of this being said, giving Blake a coat is not a bad idea to be honest. It protects her from the cold, it is commonly used to add some element of mystery to a character’s design and the flaps are not only a callback to Blake’s original outfit, but also a clever nod to her illusion powers.

That being said... Let’s move on to the two longest and silmoutanously most annoying sections of this post. Yes, we’re finally moving on to the worst, yet most interesting, elements about this design!

The Belts

First of all, the collar belt is absolutely unnecessary and no, we didn’t need a reference to Yang’s tryhard Mistral outfit here, at least in my opinion.

The backpack belts aren’t bothering me to be honest. They don’t feel disrupting and even though they obviously don’t have a function as well (because no, this is not how you tighten backpack straps), they add some nice detail to the straps and most of all: they are part of an element of this outfit, not a standalone element.

Let’s move on to the hip belt. That is actually a belt a really like, because it holds those pouches while fulfilling a decorative function at the same time. The belt hangs loose on Blake’s hips, which looks good (especially with Blake’s hourglass-shaped body) and contrasts the rest of her more skin-tight outfit. I also really like the idea of Blake having some sort of Batbelt (you know, the equipment belts the Bat Family usually wears in the DC comics), especially because she is a ninja / illusionist. Both usually have a lot of equipment (compared to other fighters / performers) in real life. My only nitpick would be that the belt hanging loosely on her hips could get in the way during fighting - but then again, it also looks really cool, so 9/10.

But now, let’s finally address my biggest belt issue in this design: the wristbelts.

I just don’t see a (reasonable) function with these – in fact, they are the most impractical thing about this design in my opinion – and they don’t even look cool. They just... I think they look weird, uncomfortable and just really out of place.

Some could argue that they have protection purposes. However, I am going to debunk that quickly because in fact, wearing something like that is actually very dangerous in combat. You see, belts usually have a buckle, right? Same with Blake’s wristbelts. Belt buckles are hard – if somebody hits the buckle in battle, her wrist could easily break from that

And yes, I know there is aura. However, aura can’t fix the fact that the belts are so broad that they limit Blake’s ability to move her wrists – which is important for someone who fights with swords and swings around with a ribbon a lot.

I also want to add that character designs should ideally work without the viewer knowing about in-universe logic (like aura). Simply because our brain is automatically, whether we know in-universe logic or not, going to assume that the logic applying to the design is the same logic that applies to our everyday life. Therefore, any element that doesn’t make at least some sense with real-world logic applied will feel weird, even if the viewer starts thinking about a justification with in-universe logic (which they have to do actively, while the real-worl logic assumption happens unconsciously and automatically).

It should also be mentioned that wristbelts as a concept per se aren’t automatically bad – there are instances in which they can work. Now, before I get into this, something needs to be brought up again: the CRWBY (meaning the people behind RWBY) borrows a lot of concepts from anime and video games, JRPGs in particular. However, they usually do so without understanding what makes those concepts work in the original. There is a great video by hbomberguy on YouTube that explains this in detail (I recommend the section Anime Homework in particular if you don’t want to watch a 2-hour-long video essay).

With the new character designs for RWBY Volume 7, a lot of people (including myself) have noticed that the concepts the show seems to be borrowing this time are concepts that are often found in Tetsuya Nomura’s character designs, particularly the Kingdom Hearts ones. Heck, a lot of people have pointed out that Nora Valkyrie’s new dress reminds them on Kairi’s dress from Kingdom Hearts II and Jaune got nicknamed Jauntus / Jaunxas for his new haircut (which reminded several people on Ventus and Roxas from the Kingdom Hearts franchise).

Saying that Nomura’s character designs might have inspired RWBY’s character designs isn’t a far stretch either: the new designs for the four main girls were designed by Ein Lee, who was known for her Kingdom Hearts fanart back in the day, before she started working on RWBY. So we know that she definitely knows this series and has, to some extent, analyzed the character designs - because she has drawn these characters herself. And even though blogpost by Kerry Shawcross about the redesign process confirms that Ein Lee wasn’t the only one in charge with those character designs, she was still the one who did the main bulk of work when it came to the new designs of the four main girls.

Let me clarify this: I don’t think that it’s an inheritly bad thing to take inspiration from something. Heck, Kingdom Hearts itself takes a lot of inspiration from other media! So the plain borrowing of concepts is not the problem here in my opinion. The problem is that the CRWBY obviously don’t understand what makes the concepts they’re borrowing work in the original.

Whenever you take inspiration from something, especially when borrowing concepts – like the concept of wristbelts in this example – , you should always, always make sure to understand those concepts and what makes them work at least to some extent. And while I believe that it is not possible to understand a concept or an idea to 100% – except for the person who originally came up with it – it is possible to get a good enough understanding to make the same concept work in another place. Does it have to work in the exact same way? No, and it likely won’t because if you re-use an existing concept, you’ll likely add your own ideas to it. That’s the interesting thing about inspiration (and also any kind of fanwork by the way).

So yeah, taking inspiration isn’t forbidden, even when it is so obvious where you got it from that the entire FNDM starts joking about Tetsuya Nomura having invaded RT (which... Quite honestly, I find that joke funny). However, when taking inspiration, you should also be aware that if two things are very similar, whether that’s intended or not, people are going to compare, whether you like it or not.

That being said – let’s compare, shall we?

So, here we have the character design of Sora (for those of you who don’t know Kingdom Hearts, he is the protagonist of the series and fights with a sword-like weapon, similar do how Blake does) from Kingdom Hearts III, and next to it, a 3D render of Blake in her Atlas character design from RWBY Volume 8. I picked a 3D render because I feel like it is fairer and Volume 8 gave us updated models for pretty much every single character (which was absolutely necessary because nobody looked good in Volume 7). I mean... They fixed Blake’s terrible hair halfway through Volume 7, which is something they usually don’t do, because so many people rightfully complained about it. Anyways...

Now, I don’t know what you think, but I have to say that with Sora’s wristbelts many of the problems with Blake’s wristbelts do not exist or are not as prominent. One of them is that in this case, the belts do not lack a function: I can immediately see what they’re for.

Sora wears those rather loose bracers in KH3 (which make sense since he fights with what is essentially a sword). The bracers are loose because Sora is rather scrawny and the bracers make him appear a little broader than he actually is. This is important for silhouette purposes since without the bracers, Sora’s silhouette would look fairly similar to the silhouette of another character in the same game – not absolutely undistinguishable, but this still makes it a bit easier to differentiate between the two characters.

Back to the wristbelts though: without these, the bracers would eventually fall off or constantly be in the wrong place. It should also be mentioned that Sora’s wristbelts are not even half as wide as Blake’s are, meaning that they don’t restrict the movement of his wrists as much as Blake’s do.

On top of all this functional stuff, they add a nice spot of yellow to the bracers, which not only does make the bracers look more interesting, but serves two purposes:

Designwise: the only other place where you have yellow are Sora’s shoes. If it weren’t for the wristbelts, the addition of the color would seem very random – and if there wasn’t any yellow, the design would look way more boring. However, there is another reason for the yellow.

Gameplay: Kingdom Hearts III is an Action RPG and Sora is the protagonist. Meaning that he is the playable character for most of the game. Since it’s an Action RPG, it involves fighting, which can be really chaotic. That’s where the yellow comes into play: you need to know the position of Sora’s hands and feet in order to have precise control. Yellow is a signal color (meaning that it is very bright) and the yellow Sora wears is also very saturated, meaning that it is unlikely that it appears anywhere else in a frame (even though it’s Kingdom Hearts and thus really colorful).

And yes, Blake’s wristbelts could indeed have a similar function. However, I personally feel that it doesn’t work since black is her primary color, meaning your eye is not immediately drawn to her wrists (even though the belts are a contrast against the white of Blake’s coat). Black also isn’t a signal color, so if that is what they were going for, they should have gone for an electric purple, a bright red or yellow instead.

For fairness’ sake, here is a nitpick about Sora’s wristbelts as well: the placement of the belt buckles. Because the way they are placed, the are an additional risk for injury. While replacing the wristbelt with velcro would certainly be the best option in regards to safety here, I also acknowledge that a wristbelt simply looks a bit better. That being said, to minimize the risk of injury, the buckle should be placed on the inside of the arm, next to the palm. That’s the spot where it is the least likely to get hit and cause (or worsen) an injury.

Blake’s wristbelts have the same dangerous buckle placement (which doesn’t make this any better) and are, as I have already said, pretty much non-functional. They’re unnecessary, obstructing and the only reason why they are there is because someone thought it would look cool (which... No, it doesn’t, it just looks weird).

And before someone says something about Blake’s wristbelts holding the sleeves of her coat together when the sleeve zippers are opened: why are the sleeve zippers even open? They’re at Atlas. It’s supposed to be freezingly cold! Why does she have her sleeve zippers open? It makes absolutely no sense!

The Zippers

Speaking of the zippers: why are there so many zippers in the first place?

Again, most of those zippers are not functional. Somewhat of an exception is the long zipper on Blake’s coat, which... Ein Lee herself has admitted that she shouldn’t have designed it to go all the way down because the coat is not meant to be zipped all the way down (Ein Lee, seriously... What were you thinking designing this?). So it’s basically only half-functional.

What is worst about this is that the one zipper that should be there – a front zipper for the catsuit – is not there. In other words: Ein Lee should have swapped the long coat zipper for a longer chest zipper on the catsuit. Yes, there might be a back zipper hidden underneath the coat for Blake to get out of the catsuit. But imagine the pain of opening a back zipper every time you want to pee. Which I can tell you is a pain, even if you’re more flexible than me. Therefore, a chest zipper would be way more practical (and there are ways to prevent it from accidentally zipping open, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

The rest clearly don’t serve the purpose of getting in and out of the catsuit or coat. The only purpose they could theoretically serve is ventilation.

Let me stress this: Atlas and Mantle are located on Solitas, a continent that is essentially the North Pole. It is really cold (according to Weiss in RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 3: Ace Operatives the cold of Solitas can kill you in a matter of hours without protection or aura). Even with moving around a lot, ventilation is not needed, especially not with outfits like these. I mean... They don’t look very warm to be honest. If there were thick jackets, fur and just more stuff that implies that these clothes are easy to overheat in, then yes, we could discuss about ventilation zippers. But like this? No. At least not with me.

And I’m not going to discuss aura now because of the stuff about real-world logic I already explained in the section about the belts. Also, quite frankly, aura as a concept is a mess of its own and another thing the writers can’t seem to keep consitant, but: if aura can protect you from extreme cold, shouldn’t it be able to protect you from overheating as well? Shouldn’t you rather wear warm clothing because if you run out of aura, you’re going to freeze if you don’t? It won’t hurt you because as long as your aura is up, you’re not going to overheat.

So yeah. Even with in-universe logic applied, there is no point why there should be so many zippers. The risk of overheating is technically nonexistent, so you can’t use “they’re fighting all the time, they could overheat if their clothing is too warm” as an argument.

That leaves the option that the zippers are meant to be a decorative element. Now, I will say that this can work - however, it doesn’t work in this case for multiple reasons.

First of all, if they are purely decorative, then why are the sleeve zippers open all the way? That implies a function, which, as I have established, is nonexistent because no ventilation is needed with and without in-universe logic applied. That leaves the sleeve zippers to be unnecessary because they fulfill neither a decorative nor a functional function within the character design.

Secondly, the zippers, especially the leg zippers, are obstructing Blake’s movements – again. Yeah, we already had this with the wristbelts. Logically spoken, a skin-tight catsuit like Blake is wearing needs to have a lot of stretch in order for the wearer to move properly, especially in the leg area. However, a zipper doesn’t have stretch, it’s static. And because it has to be sewn into the fabric, it also affects the fabric’s stretch. If you want to see how, I suggest taking your favorite pair of ideally skinny jeans (since those usually have some stretch) and trying to stretch the fabric around the zipper area. And keep in mind that those denim fabrics only have a fraction of the stretch that a catsuit usually has!

Third, and this kinda goes in line with the first reason, the zippers are not visually misappropriated. This might be a bit of a weird one to understand, so let me show you two designs in which decorative zippers are used, one being yet another character design by Tetsuya Nomura and the other being Blake’s original character design.

In both designs, the decorative zippers are visually misappropriated. What I mean by this is that while the zippers are there and might even work in the intended way (opening and closing a piece of clothing), they are placed in a way that makes it very clear that the zipper is not intended to function in the way zippers usually function.

In case of the left design (which is Kairi’s design in KH2) that means the decorative zippers are placed upside down. Now, that doesn’t mean that they are completely unfunctional (meaning that they might be unzippable). However, zippers are usually placed the other way around, except for sleeve zippers – which makes our brain assume that the zippers might not function in the way zippers usually do.

In Blake’s original design, visual misappropriation is handled a bit differently: the sliders aren’t visible (they’re covered up by the flaps of her vest), which also makes out brain assume that the zippers might not work. Again, there is no way to ensure that they truly don’t, but our brain will assume it.

What makes the lack of visual misappropriation worse in the case of Blake’s V7 outfit is that there are unzipped zippers (the ones on the sleeves) which look exactly the same as the other zippers. This implies to our brain that yes, all the zippers are functional.

Now, this is also the case with the KH2 design of Kairi. However, due to that tiny detail that is the visual misappropriation of turning the decorative zippers upside down, our brain will not assume that the decorative zippers are functional. In fact, it’s the other way around: due to the one non-upside down zipper being slightly opened (implying to our brain that it is functional), it contrasts the fully zipped... I can’t say up, so zipped down decorative zippers. And this is actually a great example on how much impact such tiny details can have.

Last but not least, the leg zippers are visually disruptive. Not only because absolutely no one would place zippers on catsuit legs like that, but also because they draw your eyes somewhere your eyes are not meant to be drawn to (which is an overall problem with the V7 designs to be honest).

Now, someone pointed out on a podcast that the zippers help follow the movement of Blake’s legs. But let me ask one question about that (that was also thrown in in the podcast by the way): why does it have to be a zipper then? It could be a simple seam! Or the next thing I’m going to discuss, which are...

The Kneepads

Not going to lie, many people including myself seemed to be really confused about those because from the artwork alone it wasn’t clear whether Blake is wearing boots or kneepads. Fortunately we know from the Concept Art that those are meant to be kneepads now.

That makes my main question about those kneepads: why are they black? Seriously, why are those kneepads black?! And why are they the exact same shade (because yes guys, there are actually shades and tones of black as well) as the catsuit? I really don’t understand why they did this, because usually Ein Lee and the RT designers seem to have more of a tendency to never put the same color next to each other when they create a divide in a character design. So just... Why didn’t you do it there?

As I said, the kneepads could also serve as as visual indicator for Blake’s leg movement - without disrupting the entire design. As I said, by “different color” I mean a different tone of black (maybe a bit brighter than the catsuit is), they don’t have to be signal red, white or yellow. Yes, that joke was intended.

And that marks my transition to the final thing that bothered me about Blake’s new look. I already said I’m going to talk about it earlier, so now let’s finally get an answer to the question:

What’s the deal with Gambol Shroud?

First of all, I have to praise Blake’s backpack. I didn’t want to put this into a separate section because I literally have nothing else to say than “I love it because I think it fits the thought that Blake, being a ninja / illusionist needs lots of equipment and I LOVE the fact that it doubles as a way for her to carry Gambol Shroud around!”

That being said, my happiness about how Gambol Shroud is being handled in Volume 7 ends exactly there.

As you remember (or you don’t if you didn’t watch RWBY Volume 6 Chapter 12: Seeing Red), Gambol Shroud was cut in two pieces by Adam. When this happened, a large portion of the FNDM including myself were incredibly exited for Gambol Shroud’s upgrade. In fact, my exitement for the upgrade even overshadowed my distaste for this particular scene which I am not going to include because there is a lot of blood involved.

Summary of what happened: CRWBY deliberately had an anti-violence character murder someone who was unarmed, portrayed it as a heroic action and then never talked about it again despite the fact that this event should have traumatized both of the characters that were involved into this. Which... I just want to say that even though Adam allegedly abused Blake, which was never officially confirmed by the way, it is not okay. Murdering Adam out of self-defense? Sure, that would have been an interesting new arc for both Blake and Yang. However, this wasn’t self-defense and as I stated before, it was never talked about again, so there goes the story potential. But anyways...

The exitement for the upgrade in relation to this scene overshadowed my disdain for it for a very particular reason: I believed that it might be foreshadowing to Blake wielding not only one but two dagger-like weapons in the future.

Unfortunately, this turned out to be false and all we got instead was this:

Yes... They simply fixed the blade with yellow superglue... Which is not only incredibly uncreative and lazy in my opinion, but it’s also highly unrealistic: the blade is bade of metal. Once it is broken, even a fix with superglue won’t make it last long before it breaks again.

I think that turning Gambol Shroud into two daggers, maybe connected by the ribbon, would have been a better route to go. And if you still wanted that catana (because this joke is fun), you could always design it in a way that Blake can connect those daggers to get a full katana again. It would also allow for her to still use the catmerang and the pistol as well as the ribbon and the sheath.

I also think that Blake wielding daggers rather than a full katana would contribute to her ninja image. It’s way easier to sneak a knife or a dagger into some place than it is to smuggle a sword in there. Which is why historical assassins nearly exclusively used dagger variations – including the historical ninjas or shinobi.

Finally, it would have given Blake the chance to evolve her fighting style. At this point, Blake has fallen far behind with what she can do in comparison with her teammates and this is partly because the CRWBY seems to be mostly clueless about what to do with her, leading to Blake swinging around in combat most of the time. A whole new weapon type could be a fresh start for creativity with Blake. And yes, this is me talking in good faith because we all know that RT wants to save money and that is a huge part of the reason why every character’s moveset, including Blake’s, has become so incredibly boring.

Conclusion

Dear RoosterTeeth! Please fire the person with an unhealthy obsession with way too many belts and zippers in character designs before the FNDM makes even more jokes about Tetsuya Nomura having invaded your company. They were funny in the beginning, but they’re getting old. Thank you!

And now for the real conclusion...

Blake’s new design has a lot of problems, but almost all of them come from the same source: a lack of understanding for what makes the concepts the design uses work. This goes from concepts borrowed from other media (belts and zippers) to the concept of Blake as a character overall.

Furthermore, parts of the design (especially Gambol Shroud) show a lack of creativity and an overall lazyness. I mean, why put thought into how to avoid a void (ha, the pun!) in your character design or use a creative way to fill said void when you can just add a useless accessoiry?

Let’s get concrete. Here is what should be fixed in my opinion in order to make this a better character design:

Less zippers! The leg zippers and sleeve zippers can easily go completely. The front zipper of the catsuit should be longer than it currently is. And if you really want additional jacket zippers, then make them so it are clearly pocket or ventilation zippers (meaning that they don’t go all the way down to the hem – also, don’t have skin showing underneath if that is the case).

No wristbelts! For the reason I stated above. The other belts can stay, even though I am admittedly not much of a fan of the collar belt. I’d also say to tighten the hip belt a bit because the way it hangs loosely on her hips right now, it’s going to be a nuisance at best.

Make it look warmer! With fluffy parts or just anything that doesn’t look like plain, thin fabric. They’re at the north pole and I don’t care about aura, a character design has to make sense without knowing in-universe logic.

No heels! Yes, not even wedges. They are a nightmare to walk long distances in, let alone fight. Even the show itself acknowledged this in Volume 2, so time to apply this knowledge – after eight seasons of having characters who do a lot of acrobatic stuff run around in heels.

Give Blake gloves! It’s cold and quite honestly? I love to give infiltrator / ninja / spy characters gloves. Simply because you don’t want to leave fingerprints anywhere, do you? So gloves would be a win-win.

Do something different with Gambol Shroud! I don’t care what it is – dual daggers would honestly be cool, but who knows, someone else might have an even better idea than that! I’m open to anything, as long as it’s something different, and not just the superglue solution we got in canon.

Those are the major issues in my opinion. Fixing them wouldn’t exactly make this my favorite character design ever – honestly, if I was the character designer for RWBY, I’d do the entire outfit completely different. But I’m not and I’m not going to design an alternative because honestly? I’d rather save the ideas I have for alternative Blake outfits for OCs or characters from other media that I actually care about. As I stated before, I have a love-hate relationship with RWBY and I’m not particularly fond of the way things are being handled in the show as of late (*cough* the fact that they absolutely had to show Oscar being tortured *cough* That’s not dark, that’s just tasteless in my opinion, especially when so much other important stuff gets ignored for something like this).

Anyways, if the issues above were fixed, then the design would at least make sense to me and I think I could even say I like it – because all in all, this is a bad design in my opinion. The issue is just that while this design comes with some good ideas any concepts, it doesn’t execute them very well (which is the issue with RWBY a lot of the time).

Anyways, that was my mustard on the topic. I apologize for any language mistakes since this posting wasn’t beta’d and English is not my first language. Thank you so much for reading, especially if you got through this entire thing.

#RWDE #Meta #RWBY Meta #Character Design #Blake Belladonna #Fandom #Gambol Shroud #Long Post #The joke that Tetsuya Nomura invaded RT #The Jauntus / Jaunxas joke #I know these are getting old #But there is actually some KH stuff in here #Because I'm a hopeless KH Fan XD #I guess #RWBY #That last tag is for my blog index

[kaleidodreams]

2020 Fanfic In Review

Idea taken from @floraone! (FYI, if you saw this yesterday, I’ve deleted the original and reposted it again now that the glitches that were plaguing my Tumblr the past couple of days have been fixed.)

1. List of fics completed this year:

Sailor Moon

Selenophilia Series Taste Test Adventures In Babysitting Better Than A Unicorn Dahlias and Coffee Real Parents Awaken Shopping Trip Usagi, Mamoru, and the Three Mattresses Bad Day Blues Meet The Grandpa The Return of Nurse Minako

A New Future

Do No Cry For Me

Distraction

Stoplight

Investigation: Mystery Date

Kaleido Star

Friends With Benefits

Heart to Heart

Yuri!!! On Ice

What Happens In Vegas

A Morning Proposal

Reunited

Taking The Plunge

Perfect Idol

I’ve Been Thinking About You

Triple The Love

Confusion

The Bonds We Choose (WIP)

And a few more fics for the upcoming YOI Rare Pair Week, but since those won’t be posted until next month, I’m not going to list them.

2. Number of words written: I don’t really keep track. Posted? Around 130,000 or so, I think, but that doesn’t count unposted stories (like the Rare Pair fics I mentioned) and chapters. Plus, some stuff I posted this year was actually written earlier, so… 150,000 to 200,000 seems like a good estimate.

3. Your most popular fic: It’s always hard for me to judge popularity because there’s different ways you could look at it, but I’d say “Distraction” was probably the most popular at FF.net and “A Morning Proposal” at AO3.

4. Your personal fav: Probably my WIP, “The Bonds We Choose”, but of the completed stories… I actually really love “A Morning Proposal” even though it’s just a short, fluffy ficlet. I’m also quite proud of my two Sailor Moon Smutember fics, “Distraction” and “Stoplight”

5. Your fav scene: This is a tough choice… Probably the scene in “The Bonds We Choose” where Otabek takes Yuri to an open house and surprises him by asking Yuri to move in with him and Mila. I’m a bit of an HGTV addict, so it was really fun to write Yuri making snarky comments about the interior design.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you: “Do Not Cry For Me”, without a doubt. Most ironic title ever, because there was a period of, like, three or four days back in August when I’d start crying if I even THOUGHT about that fic because I hated the first chapter so much. (And that is NOT a normal reaction for me, BTW. I’ve never cried in frustration over a fic before that I can remember.) Just ask everyone on the SS Bang Discord. I was a mess. It was so bad that I got to the point where I wanted to drop the fic altogether and start a new one (I came up with “Stoplight” as a backup story) even though 1) my artist had already drawn a rough draft of the artwork and 2) there was only a couple of months left until posting. With the help of my beta and a couple of others, I managed to get it to the point where I wasn’t exactly thrilled with it, but I at least thought it was okay. Then a couple of days after I finished posting it, I had another sobfest over it because only one person left a review over at FF.net (and it wasn’t really a review; just a prediction of what they thought was going to happen). Which, in hindsight was pretty silly because I know FF.net was having problems the week I posted, and I actually received the most comments I’ve ever gotten over at AO3 (thanks mostly to @teamvanessacloud and @vchanny-og being nice enough to leave a comment on all seven chapters *hugs*) and a decent amount of kudos, but something about that one single FF.net review really got to me and seemed to confirm my fears that it was a terrible fic. I don’t know… That fic messed with my head so much, y’all. (Probably didn’t help that it’s probably one of the most depressing things I’ve ever written. You guys know I love angst, but maybe that was TOO much angst.)

7. A line of writing you’re proud of: I have two picks for this, and both are actually from my Smutember fics.

First one from “Distraction” - After a weeks-long drought, they indulged in each other like weary travelers drinking from an oasis, almost frantic as they writhed together on the bed.

And the other is a piece of dialogue from “Stoplight” - “Your vow of chastity during our previous lives didn’t stop me from loving you, Rei,” he reminded her. “A lack of sex sure as hell isn’t going to stop me from loving you in this life, either.”

8. A comment that touched you: I’m not sure if “touched” is the right word, but I was really happy that a lot of people praised “Distraction” for its realism even though I actually don’t have any personal experience with sex. I guess I did all right, though! *laughs*

9. Something that inspired your writing: I can’t really think of anything in particular, honestly. Oh, wait, “Dahlias and Coffee” was kind of inspired by a piece of Taiki/Setsuna artwork! Which, of course, I can’t find anymore to link to, although I know I reblogged it a while back. I know the artist’s name was Alex Asakura, though. (EDIT: Now that I’m able to search my Tumblr again, I found it. This is the picture.)

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc): Despite all the tears, I guess I am kinda proud of myself of rewriting it to the point that I no longer hated the first chapter of “Do Not Cry For Me”, and I actually do think the ice-skating battle is the best action scene I’ve ever written. Also, finishing “Friends With Benefits” – one of the reasons I decided to return to fic-writing after a long hiatus was the desire to finish that story, so I’m glad I did, even if the fandom is mostly dead!

11. Do you have any writing goals for next year?: I’d like to finish “The Bonds We Choose”. Other than that, maybe get back to one of my Sailor Moon WIPs. Oh, and maybe learn to stop hating writing kissing scenes so much? *laughs*

#fanfiction #questions #sailor moon #yuri!! on ice #kaleido star #sailor moon fanfiction #yuri!! on ice fanfiction #kaleido star fanficiton #meme

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Rent and Grafitti

First, Previous (Chap 19), Ao3

Word count: 1553

Warnings: semi-grafic description of a gory picture

Mum closed the door behind her staring at the ground in front of her.

"Our rent was paid," she said numbly.

"What?" Luan asked surprised.

Janus forced himself to act surprised as well.

"Yes, Mx Johnas said it was paid a few days ago. He was confused when I tried to ask him for a little more time to get the money together."

Janus managed not to smile proudly. He had faked Mum's handwriting for the letter, even if he hadn't actually signed it. Their landlord knew Mum's handwriting. He had learned to fake both handwritings and signatures in English five years ago.

It was a far more useful skill than most people thought.

While he and Luan prepared dinner Mum and Luan continued talking about the mysterious bill payer until a phone beeped in their bedroom and Mum left to check whose it was.

"I'm not sure why," Luan spoke quietly, clearly not meaning for Mum to hear him, "but I have the feeling you have something to do with this."

Janus froze for a split second.

"What makes you think that?" he asked. "Where would I even get that kind of money from? I don't even have a job."

Luan shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't know how you spend your free time. Maybe you picked it up after that heist? Maybe you found a different way to earn money. You're a clever kid. I wouldn't put it past you."

"I didn't do anything though," Janus lied.

"Alright, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

"Babe?" Mum called from the bedroom. "Your boss is calling."

Luan dropped his head with a sigh before pushing off the counter to leave the room.

Janus took over the pan and mum came back into the kitchen.

"How was your day, anyway?" she asked. "Did you meet up with any friends?"

For a moment he contemplated lying but he decided to be honest with her for once. She deserved to know at least something about his life.

"No, I had detention."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"Mr Heller called this trans guy in my Latin class a girl and a fake boy so I called him out on it."

"And he gave you detention?"

Janus nodded not looking at her.

Mum put a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you were in the right anyway, don't you?" she asked, pride in her voice.

Janus smiled up at her. "Yeah, of course, I do."

Mum pulled him close in a one-armed embrace. "How did I end up with the best son in the world, huh? I'm sorry I've been so busy lately."

"It's fine," Janus said. "I'm old enough to take care of myself."

She was quiet for a moment.

"That's what I'm afraid off," he caught her whispering before she went to set the table.

Luan came back in a little later saying that his boss had ordered him to come immediately and that they shouldn't wait for him to eat. He looked as done as possible with the world as he put his coat back on but Janus knew that his boss wouldn't ever get to see that glare.

Mum turned on the TV saying that maybe 'those thieves' had struck again and they could pick up a bit of cash if it was nearby. Janus chuckled knowing full well that this wouldn't be the case.

It had almost been a month since their bank robbery and he and Virgil had more plans already but it'd take time. They couldn't risk getting arrested, running into some supervillain, accidentally making the mafia their enemy or running intro Heartrate and his sidekicks. Neither of them were fighters after all.

At least as far as Janus was aware. At this point, he doubted anything about Virgil could surprise him anymore.

Mum switched through the channels until she finally found the news.

Some guy Janus didn't recognize had died at the age of 78 and Mum told him that he had been hot when she had been young.

"And- this just in - Professor Logic is on his second heist this month!"

That caught Janus' attention. Prof Logic wasn't the type to conduct heists often.

Security footage of the inside of the Central Bank showed Logic shoving a man towards a vault with a gun to his back. The man shook as he began opening the vault. The Professor looked up as if something had caught his attention before turning towards the camera. It looked like someone had brought it to his attention even though there was no one there with him. He aimed and the footage cut off.

After dinner, Janus helped Mum clean up the kitchen and she went to bed.

Janus let his pet snakes, Deklan and Desmund out of their cage and let them drape over him as he sat down on his bed and picked up his phone.

Four unread messages.

Two from the girl he was assigned to do a presentation with asking when and where they should meet up to work on it which he didn't even open so she wouldn't know he had read them - he didn't feel like texting her back - and two from Virgil he opened without hesitation.

The first was a badly lit picture of a graffiti of head, detached from the neck, with what looked like blood dripping down and something he couldn't really make out in the left eye. The second was a single question mark.

Janus didn't need more to understand what Virgil wanted to know.

 Looks cool

 What's with the eye?

He waited if Virgil would respond for a few minutes and left the messenger app to go to his browser - oh.

He had forgotten what he had looked u earlier.

The colours of the nonbinary pride flag illuminated his face - or was it their face?

"They," Janus whispered, trying to picture someone using the pronoun. "Their name is Janus."

They sat up and pet Desmund, letting their fingers slide over her smooth scales.

'They' sounded nice.

It made Janus smile.

But did that really mean that Janus was nonbinary?

'He' didn't exactly feel bad after all. Just not as good as 'they'.

With a sigh Janus began to scroll through different posts made by nonbinary people, scanning most of them only briefly and dropping a like here and there on the ones that came so close to home it was almost weird and a few nice artworks.

 It's okay if it's just a phase.

The phrase was in the same font, in the same colour as everything around it but it made Janus freeze, thumb on the screen, ready to scroll on.

Instead, Janus read the post.

The message was simple.

That is was fine to experiment with pronouns, labels and names, even if you came to the conclusion that you were cis the entire time. At the end was a smiley face and the words that had stopped Janus.

 It's okay if it's just a phase.

"They," Janus whispered again and clicked on the comment button.

 Thank you

Then they switched back to their messenger app.

Virgil was online and had read the texts but not replied yet. Not that it mattered.

 Can you meet me at Winblae by the park in 15?

Janus hesitated before sending, watching the 'Typing...' blink in and out of existence next to Virgil's contact name before finally tapping the small blue button.

The two arrows turned blue right away.

The 'Typing...' disappeared again.

 sure

 emergency?

Janus couldn't help a small smile.

 no, just need to talk to you irl

They brought their snakes back to their cages and noticed that their fingers were shaking slightly.

Virgil wouldn't mind, right? He wasn't transphobic. Or enbyphobic... right?

They took a deep breath, grabbed their jacket and climbed out of the window.

They would be fine.

It was just a coming out.

To their best friend.

It would be fine.

Virgil was already at the park when Janus got there.

He sat on a swing and stared into the cloudy sky.

Janus took a seat on the one next to him.

"So, what's up?" Virgil asked, looking at them. "Did something happen?"

Janus took a breath and let it out watching it turn into fog in the cold air.

"Kind of," they began. "Nothing bad though, don't worry. At least I don't think it's bad. I just... I've been thinking lately..."

"A dangerous past time," Virgil commented and it startled a chuckle out of them.

"I think... I think I might not be a boy," Janus finally managed to say.

Virgil was quiet for a moment.

"Are you... something else?" he then asked.

"I'm not sure but I think I might be nonbinary."

The statement hung in the air between them and Janus wished they could take it back and stuff it down, deep down so it'd never reach the outside world.

"Do you want me to call you by different pronouns then?" Virgil asked.

"Maybe they/them?"

"Okay," Virgil nodded to himself. "A different name?"

Janus felt a weight fall of their chest.

"No, I think Janus is fine."

Virgil smiled at them.

"Okay," he said.

Yeah, this was fine.

"So, where did you spray that head?" Janus asked. "Because the pic was shit."

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

#sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #platonic anxceit #coming out fic #janus is nonbinary #my writing #au #woethough au

[countdown-to-destruction]

Inuyasha Sequel: a rant

Put this up this earlier on a post I re-blogged, tried to edit a part or two where I didn’t like the way I had phrased it, and ended up messing up the whole format I wrote this in. Luckily I wrote this as a draft earlier anyways! So I did a some fixing and now I’m just copy-pasting it again and making it a text post instead. This will be very long and a little nit-picky but I wanted to make a post ever since I heard about the upcoming sequel to Inuyasha, Hanyō no Yashahime. I did put a TLDR at the end for those who don’t want to read everything. Not sure how many people in the fandom still follow me and will see this, as it's been a long time since I was actually active in the fandom, but it's hands-down both my favorite manga and anime of all time and I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately so I had to post something. Before reading this be sure to read all of the translated character bios for Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha so that this makes sense.

When I first heard that Inuyasha would be getting a sequel I was excited! But after reading up on it, to be completely honest I'm not feeling this sequel anymore. I know it’s an unpopular opinion but hear me out. Firstly, it seems like Rumiko is mostly involved in the character design aspect and the writing is up to Katsuyuki Sumisawa. The music will be produced by Kaoru Wada which is great! And from what I’ve seen and read online a number of others who worked on the original series will reunite so hopefully the story will go well. However, knowing Rumiko isn't personally writing and not knowing how much input she has or will give makes me unsure about watching. The original Inuyasha anime followed and was based off of the events in the manga, and there was no manga prior to this for it to be based on. Depending on what happens this could be an alright sequel or a total miss. Unfortunately sequels in general are known to be disappointing in some way. 

Secondly, if I hear anything about Rin being the mother of Sesshomaru's twin daughters I'm out. This part will be a SUPER long and in depth explanation on why I think this way, feel free to skip if you're not interested. Please don't come for me on this, I'm here to explain my thoughts and feelings on the sequel and the theories around it so far, not start an argument. I'm more than aware that there's plenty of controversy out there on this pairing and personally I do not support it. I never saw their relationship as more than a friendship, or something akin to child and guardian as Sesshomaru and Jaken are basically Rin's caretakers up until she goes to live in the village with Kaede. He definitely cares for her deeply but I can't see it in a romantic way, being that Sesshomaru isn't even a character focused on romance to begin with. He learns compassion through Rin's second death but that doesn't mean he loves her romantically. As a reminder his main goal is to seek power and be powerful, and it's stated that he needed to learn compassion and grief in order to mature. It's what helped him learn to wield the Tenseiga at its full potential. In addition, she was really young when they first met and still was when she went to live with Kaede. The idea of Sesshomaru (an adult) having romantic feelings for a kid under ten years old (around eleven at the end of the series, and still a literal child in all ways) and waiting for her to age with the intention of marrying her sits totally wrong with me. Age wise I realize that Inuyasha is decades older than Kagome and that his father was much older than his mother, Izayoi, as well. The difference here is that Kagome was a teen when she met Inuyasha (who not just physically, but more importantly mentally was also a teen) and clearly Izayoi was old enough to conceive Inuyasha and give birth. As far as the audio dramas (more specifically "Asatte") go they're generally considered as an outtake reel and are essentially parodies, or a form of satire. Some will debate on this but realistically there’s plenty of reasons this is true, and those who take the time to properly check them out understand that. For me I've always had a headcanon that at some point in her teen years Rin would inevitably develop a one-sided crush on Sesshomaru and that he would ultimately set boundaries and reject her, seeing her as more of a close companion than a love interest and wanting her to live with someone she can grow old with. He gave her the choice to follow him and it's most likely that she would, but I think that once she began aging he would want her to have somewhere to settle, given that he enjoys roaming and seeking out other powerful beings to battle. It's strange to me that they decided to give Sesshomaru hanyō/half-demon children in general but based on the artwork we've seen it's fair to guess that they might have made Sesshomaru and Rin a pairing in this sequel.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I want to clarify that if you ship them together I'm not writing this here because I want to hate on your ship for no reason, or in order to create an argument on if the pairing makes sense, these are my thoughts and opinions on the matter and I’m voicing them because it’s what I believe. I already know that somebody won’t like this and will take it personally. People usually say that once Rin is an adult the pairing is acceptable but I disagree. I find it quite creepy that someone would think it would be alright for an adult to wait around for a kid to grow up with the intention to marry and/or sleep with them. Watching from a distance is the same exact thing, after making an impression on the child... let’s not normalize this. In this situation it would be grooming. We all have our own opinions when it comes to our ships and fandoms and I try to respect that but I can’t get behind this one.

Next we have the apparent lack of parental figures for the heroines. Where are the original Inuyasha characters at? Moroha's character bio says she barely knows her parents (Inuyasha and Kagome, our former main protagonists) and has been alone since she was young! It makes me think either something has happened to them or some kind of bizarre event separated them. And sorry, not related, but why does she transform by PUTTING LIPSTICK ON?? That part threw me for a loop.

When it comes to Setsuna and Towa their parents are absent too. I find it difficult to believe that Sesshomaru wouldn't keep track of his children given how he treats Rin and reacts to her going missing in any capacity. Especially if he happened to be fond of whoever their mother is. One daughter works as a taijiya/demon slayer for Kohaku and the other mysteriously transports to Kagome's era and is raised by Sota (I thought we had finished with the time jumps when the well closed but apparently not. When the Bone Eater's Well closed after Kagome's return it gave a sense of finality and closure to the story, and showed that Kagome had chosen where she was most happy and felt she belonged. I think that bringing the theme of time travel back into the sequel makes it feel repetitive, like something right out of a predictable fanfic. Props to Sota for taking in and raising a child who showed up out of nowhere though).

Another thing that came to mind when I read these character bios was why Inuyasha and Kagome's daughter and Sesshomaru's daughters are the exact same age. Of course there's nothing wrong with that. It only struck me as odd because suddenly everyone is having kids at the same time. And so far there's no mention of other characters like Sango, Miroku, Shippo, Jaken, Kaede, or Miroku or Sango's three children or where they are. One might expect that a story focused on the children of some of the original Inuyasha's main characters would feature appearances from those who had important roles in the previous series and their children. Which brings me around to wondering what made twin daughters a trend? Two sets of twin girls is a unique choice (Sango and Miroku's twin daughters. For such a small group of parental characters, what are the odds of two sets of twin girls? Where is the creativity and again why the repetition?).

Lastly, Sesshomaru's daughters lack some of the common yōkai/demon characteristics we see on Inuyasha and other characters. Their ears are human, and they have no markings or otherwise (that I noticed) with the exception of Setsuna's mokomoko/fur which is similar to Sesshomaru's. So perhaps they take more after their human mother? Given that Inuyasha seemed to inherit strong genes from his father it's interesting that they did not. Their ages also interest me as they appear to age the same way as humans do. Yōkai/demons are known to have a longer lifespan than humans and appear to slow down or almost stop aging at some point. Perhaps this confirms that the slowdown in aging occurs once they reach the equivalent of a human teen? 

Overall Inuyasha was a fantastic manga and great anime on its own, and I never got the feeling that it needed a sequel. As a stand-alone it was everything it needed to be. I thoroughly enjoyed both formats of the original, though I do have a tendency to disregard certain parts of the anime. I always preferred the manga more when the anime dragged out certain scenes (Shichinintai/Band of Seven arc for example) or straight-up excluded, changed, and added others. Taking that into consideration the sequel might end up being the same for me in that way, but rather than one scene that plays out for too long or an excluded, altered, or unnecessary added scene, if it’s not any good I’ll simply disregard it altogether. When the anime comes out I certainly plan to try watching it out of loyalty to the fandom, and due to the fact that it's "technically" canon (without Rumiko being the writer I don't necessarily consider it canon, much like how some folks do or do not consider the movies canon) but I get the feeling that I'll wind up giving up on it in disappointment.

TLDR; Overall I'm left questioning if the sequel is worth watching (for me) given what I've read and heard so far, but nonetheless I will give it an optimistic try! I'm currently wondering how much we'll see of the original Inuyasha characters, if we get to find out what happened to them, if the number one pairing I'm not fond of will make an appearance (and cause me to drop the whole thing), and questioning parts of the character backstories and designs (why is there a repetitive and recurring theme of time travel and does it end up hindering or ruining the story, why do the protagonists all lack parents, and why do the hanyō/half-demon characters lack common yōkai/demon traits and does it make them more human than demon?).

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #sesshomaru #please don't be sessrin #kagome #a feudal fairytale #internal screeching #my thoughts #my opinions #unpopular opinion

[capnjay21]

A House is Never Still 1/6

Five years ago, Emma Swan disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Killian Jones’ disappearance, well, not so mysterious – given the denizens of Storybrooke all but blamed him for her murder. Drawn back to town by a series of strange events, he soon realises the story of what really happened the night she vanished is beginning to unravel, and what’s more: it isn’t over.

A/N: It’s @csrolereversal​ and @cshalloweek​ time! I’m so excited guys, this is my first time submitting anything for an event and I’m bouncing off the walls about it.

This fic is dedicated, of course, to @hollyethecurious​, without whose wonderful artwork it would not exist. Thank you for your creation, and for giving this chapter a much needed once over! Please go give her some love! 

Chapters will be posting weekly. Enjoy! 

Rating: T Warnings: mentions of suicide, canonical character death, and some Spooky Business™.

AO3

-/-

1 -- a house is never still

Present Day

Even after all this time, Killian felt something of a chill run down his spine as his Chevelle sped over the town line.

He had kept himself driving through the night, only stopping once for gas a little ways outside of Portland as he’d felt it would be better if he stayed focused on the road; that way he wouldn’t linger on the reason why he’d packed a few meagre belongings and gotten in the car in the first place. Naturally, with the long, empty and deathly still roads of upstate Maine rolling out in front of him, it had backfired completely and the only thing he had been able to think of since his journey began was the destination that awaited him. It was difficult not to mull on the anxious tone of the voicemail that David had left him, babbling and nervous and unsure. Impossible still to not dwell on its subject.

There’s something – I have something you need to see.

For the last hour the roads had been slippery, the rain-slicked tarmac a reminder of the storm that had hit the area earlier in the day, and a considerable amount of his attention was spent ensuring his back tyres didn’t slide out with every tight corner. Fatigue nestled around his shoulders like an old friend, urging him to shut his tired eyes and relax, but he did his best to ignore it. In the dark, the trees towered over the road in distorted, twisting shapes and the shadows cast by his headlights were just barely visible through the mid-autumn mist.

No, Storybrooke was exactly how he remembered it.

Suddenly the car radio burst to life and Killian jolted at the sudden disturbance, his movement causing the car to swerve dangerously onto the other side of the road as the tyres jerked to follow him. One hand scrambled with the volume on the radio as the other wrenched the wheel to regain control, and after a brief moment of wrestling with both he managed to restore the tentative peace he had endured for the last few hours, only his hammering heart an indicator that he had lost it to begin with.

The low, barely distinguishable synth of Yaz’s Only You was still pouring through the tinny speaker.

Killian, far more alert now and willing his racing pulse to slow, flicked it off.

It was an old car and often prone to such dysphoric outbursts, but that didn’t lessen the way the hairs at the base of his neck stood on end.

Piss off, he thought mutinously, ghost.

God, he needed to sleep.

Before long, the winding country road began to recede, and a taste of the Storybrooke suburbia began to trickle forth with a few dwellings by the side of the road, sporadic lots that quickly opened out into fully-fledged streets lined with house after house. He had agreed to meet David as soon as he got into town, although he doubted the man anticipated it being quite this late. Still, he didn't wish to waste any time. After a minute or so of tracking down the familiar turns, Killian was soon pulling his Chevelle into park outside a large, two-storey house. Once a brilliant white, dirt and age had weathered the paint until it was scratched and peeling. A single windmill lay spinning in the front yard.  

Killian tapped a brief message into his phone, before stepping out of the Chevelle and leaning against the bonnet while he waited. He didn’t wait long. After a few moments, the front door opened and David Nolan emerged, careful to shut it behind him as quietly as possible. Undoubtedly there might be a person or two inside not quite as thrilled to see him as the young man rapidly descending the stairs. He was wrapped in a thick coat and his breath was coming out in quick bursts of condensation.

To Killian’s surprise, the first thing David did when he reached him was pull him into a fierce hug.

He’d been expecting a lot of mixed emotions, certainly – trepidation, anger, disappointment. It had been a long time since he’d left the town under a similar cloak of night to the one currently slung over it. To his shame, he realised the entire drive there that he hadn’t once considered that David might be pleased to see him. Once again, he hadn’t given the man enough credit. Hesitantly, he returned the gesture with as much warmth as he could muster.

Some things, then, could still feel like home.

“Thanks for coming,” David said, once he pulled back.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

The other man waved away his apology. “Don’t be ridiculous… you look exhausted.” David tilted his head, as if finally noticing the way his eyes were desperate to wink closed again. “Were you driving all night?”

Killian let out a breath of mirthless laughter. “Something like that.”

Try all week.

David gestured to the house behind them. “Do you want to come inside?”

Tempting, certainly tempting. Still, he shook his head. “I doubt that’s wise.”  While he might have been wrong about which reception he should be expecting from David Nolan, he was positive where the rest of his family was concerned, his suppositions were entirely correct. For a moment the conversation stilled, and as Killian stared out into the dark road behind him he decided there was little point in not being upfront about the reason he had been summoned back to Storybrooke.

“So,” he began, “is it her?”

David’s countenance changed, a stiffness settling in his shoulders while his expression morphed into one of reluctance, of uncertainty. David Nolan had always been dreadful at masking his emotions, it made perfect sense that two years apart wouldn’t have had any impact on his attempts at duplicity. His lips parted, as if trying to perhaps voice a hesitant refutation, but Killian didn’t let him.

“You wouldn’t have called me if it weren’t.”

The other man shut his mouth, folded his arms. The wind whistled down the wide, empty street, sending gusts of curling, copper leaves up into the air. Killian waited.

David seemed to reach a decision. “It’s late,” he said, instead of an answer. “Let’s leave it for the morning, after you’ve had some rest.”

It wasn’t such a bad suggestion. He was exhausted. The answers he so desperately wished to claw from David Nolan could wait until he didn’t feel like any stiff wind might knock him over. He conceded the delay with a nod and a tight smile, one that David gratefully returned, and pushed away from the bonnet. As he tugged open the door David retreated a few steps back up to the house, wrapping his coat even tighter around him.

“It’s really good to see you, Killian,” he said, offering him the ghost of a grin that was almost – well. Almost sad. He then opened the door and slipped inside.

“Likewise,” he murmured to the shut door, and dropped down into his car.

The engine growled to life underneath him as he made to pull away from the curb, but as he paused out of habit to check behind him for any oncoming traffic, he thought he saw the trail of something white disappear behind one of the trees. It was brief, like the flash of colour from a light blinking out of sight. The trail of a dress disappearing from view. He was sure enough that he’d seen it to give him pause, for his hand to drop to the handle of the door as if he were making to get out again, but not quite enough to follow through. His hand tightened for a moment, but soon gradually released it.

It was late, he was exhausted, and he was seeing things. Or, as was often the case with him, he wasn’t, but whatever he’d seen he didn’t want to be dealing with until morning. Screw the brave thing to do; he was staying in the car. Giving the spot he had seen it one last lingering look in the mirror, he drove away.

The clock on his dashboard read just a little time before midnight, and while he considered spending the night in his car – it would be far from the first – truthfully he wished to avoid any run-ins with the Sheriff’s department where possible, at least until he’d reacquired his bearings. That left only one establishment that would remain open for a new patron so late into the night, and he realised with a jolt that his hands had steered him down the familiar roads before he'd really had a chance to think too much about it.

The exterior of Granny's Bed & Breakfast was barely visible, but from what he could make out nothing really had changed. It was made of the same chipped brick and shattered tile, the brush around the entrance long overgrown after decades of ill attention. The proprietor had always behaved like it was a complete mystery that business was never doing well, but hidden away behind the diner as it was and sheltered by woodland, most newcomers to Storybrooke would scarcely even know it existed.

Killian pulled into one of the parking spaces towards the back of the building, taking only his rucksack from the boot and leaving everything else. Although wary of such a choice at first, he felt everything else would probably be safer in his car than at Granny’s, not to mention aside from one disappearance presumed-murder several years ago, the crime rate in Storybrooke was almost non-existent. He clambered the steps and moved inside.

A loud bell rang out heralding his entrance, and he winced at the volume of the sound. Granny never wished to miss out on any potential customers. It was for that reason that the very same woman came bustling down the stairs with almost alarming speed, broad grin in place ready to welcome whomever had disturbed them so late into the night – until she realised who had done so.

Granny Lucas, small as she was, was a formidable woman. When her eyes narrowed with distinct venom, Killian immediately wished he had just decided to stay in his car.

“I have the right to refuse service to anybody that comes in here, just so you know.”

This was much more the kind of reception he had been expecting to receive from David, but it was late now, and he was tired, and he wasn’t ready to fight.

“Please,” he said. “I’ll pay whatever rate you deem is fair. Just for tonight. I can find somewhere else to stay tomorrow if need be.”

“If it’s that easy sunshine, you can stay somewhere else tonight, too.”

“Granny!”

He heard the admonishment before he saw the person who gave it, but a moment later Ruby Lucas had thundered down the stairs and emerged to join her grandmother.

She glared at her, fiercely. “You think business is good enough to turn anyone away?” The young woman immediately reached behind her grandmother to retrieve the heavy, cob-ridden guestbook and dropped it with a thud in front of Killian. She smiled at him, kindly, handing him a pen. “Particularly a friend.”

“A friend?!” Granny blustered.

“Here,” Ruby began rummaging for a key behind her, “you can take the square view.”

Killian hastily began writing his name in the book, before Granny Lucas either had a chance to assert her authority or pluck the pen out of his hands. In his haste, it became little more than a scribble. The ink smudged across the page made him think of the flash of movement he had seen by the Nolan house.

He needn't have worried. Granny Lucas let out a highly disgruntled noise, before clearly deciding she wished no part in it and stalking into the back room.

“Thank you,” Killian said, once she was gone. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Ruby gave him a look; a rueful, warm thing. “Don’t be silly. This is your home, too.”

The key she had handed him was the same as any other the inn provided, but it still made him ache. It was hung on a large metal keyring, the engraving of a swan at the top of it before receding into carved silver roses and thorns.  

“Come see me in the morning,” she suggested, “I’ll make sure we get you something good cooked up for breakfast.”

Killian thanked her again before mounting the stairs. He later realised, on closer inspection, that the silver swan was also engraved with another message.

Welcome to Storybrooke.

“Well,” he muttered, slipping the key into the lock, “we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

-/-

October 14th 2014 – 5 Years Ago

Emma’s desk jolted as two strong hands thwacked down on it with force.

“I’ve found it.”

God, just when she was beginning to make progress.

Unimpressed, she lifted her gaze from the calculus textbook in front of her, after all this time still a puzzling, blurred mix of numbers and symbols that was only just starting to penetrate her mind, as easily distracted as it often found itself. Given she had left a desperate plea on the sign by the quiet study section of the library that she was not to be disturbed, she fixed her would-be guerrilla opponent with an irate stare.

There, with his dark hair stuck up at all angles as if he had spent the last hour running through it with an agitated hand, eyes wide and bright but distinctly pleased with himself, like the cat that had worked out just which dressing complimented diced canary perfectly, stood Killian Jones.

Of course he’d be the one disrupting her precarious peace.

“Don’t tell me – it’s hot cocoa, with cinnamon, and you’re about to hand it over.”

She held out her hands expectantly, offering him the sweetest smile she could muster.

Killian didn’t buy it for a second, and when he made to continue with that same eager glint in his eye, she cut him off.

“—Because that is the only reason I’ll accept you bothering me right now! Killian, you know how much math is kicking my ass, I have to work.”

“I know, but this is –”

“‘This is more important than hairspray to Regina’ better be how that sentence ends.”

“Aye, it’s—”

“More important than hairspray to Regina, say it.”

“Swan—”

She waggled her pen up at him threateningly.

“Say it.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Killian snapped, snatching her pen from the air with a huff of impatience. “Yes, it’s more important than – hair products, or – or David’s truck. There.”

David’s truck was a brand new (second hand) 1973 F-Series. It could manage nought to sixty in eleven excruciatingly painful seconds, but David could not be prouder of it if he’d birthed the thing and raised it himself, rather than receiving it as a seventeenth birthday present from Ruth.

Emma surveyed Killian carefully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “That’s a pretty serious allegation you’re making, Jones.”

“Aye, and I mean every word of it.”

“I caught him singing to that truck the day before yesterday.”

“Every. Word.”

After a pregnant pause, Emma decisively shut the textbook.

Immediately pleased, Killian reached hurriedly behind him and scraped a chair across the vinyl floor so he could join her at the table.

“I found it,” he said again, and he had that same excited, agitated look on his face, like the news was practically spilling out of him to tell her.

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“It,” he continued, “Brooke House.”

Whatever jest had been waiting to spring from the tip of her tongue died immediately on parted lips. She watched him for a few seconds, trying to check the sincerity of the remark the same way she always did – but no, Killian wasn’t trying to trick her. Whatever he’d found, he genuinely believed it to be Brooke House. Which was impossible.

“Brooke House,” she said carefully, knowing how much of a touchy subject this must be for him, “doesn’t exist.”

Killian shook his head fiercely.

“It’s there. In the north woods, just like Liam said. I was hiking on the White Pine trail when I heard –”

“You were hiking?”

“Yes, when I heard –”

“Like, honest to God, timberlands and a windbreaker, hiking? You?”

Killian let out an exasperated sigh, and Emma could see she was rapidly getting on his nerves, causing him to react far too violently for her to continue the passing jest. While ordinarily she would enjoy getting her friend so riled up, there was nothing ordinary about Brooke House. Especially, she realised, since whatever he had stumbled across he sincerely believed to be the missing piece of a puzzle he had lived for years without.

With that in mind, she sobered up quickly. She should give him the attention he deserved.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Carry on.”

He couldn’t even spare an ounce of his nervous energy on feeling grateful.

“It was so strange, Emma. I don’t even remember when I left the trail. I must have been walking for at least ten minutes or so off-road – that’s how long it took to get back – but I suddenly heard this… creaking. Like the way the sign for Gold’s shop moves.” With an almost supernatural precision, the sign for Mr. Gold’s Pawnbrokers had a tendency to rock back and forth at the same pace, no matter how high or low the wind whistled down Main Street. “And I just… knew. So I followed it and there it was – Brooke House. Near the edge of the ravine.”

Emma chewed on her lip. “Okay.” Killian wasn’t a liar, or she’d never known him to be. So, he found a house in the woods. That didn’t necessarily make it anything more than a holidaymaker’s cabin. “How do you know it’s… Brooke House?”

“There was a sign.”

Emma sighed. “Oh, well that’s convenient, isn’t it?”

Killian frowned at this, but she knew at least one of them had to point it out. Killian had searched those woods a hundred times, more – the whole town had given a crack at it once the Storybrooke Mirror had sensationalised the whole affair, and nobody had ever found it. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that this was all some elaborate prank from somebody caught up on the story – somebody uninterested in the emotional weight it carried for those to whom it meant more than a spooky episode in the town’s history.

Those like Killian Jones.

“It’s the real deal, Emma,” he insisted, firmly. Emma remained doubtful. “I just know it. Don’t you trust me to be able to tell the difference?”

It wasn’t a matter of trust. It was a matter of knowing just how much even the possibility that it actually existed must have been fucking around with his emotional state all the way from the trembling moment he had stumbled across it to right now.

Hope had a funny way of making somebody see a ghost – they had all learnt that the hard way.

“Liam wasn’t crazy – and this is the proof.”

Emma remembered when Liam Jones had died. It had been four years ago, just prior to the first time she met Killian. He had driven his car over the edge of a ravine near the boundary of the north woods, close to the town line, and had crashed into the river beneath. The coroner had ruled that death would have been near instantaneous at the point of impact.

After an investigation, it had been declared a suicide.

Not for the first time, Emma couldn’t imagine what kind of damage that knowledge had done to Killian.

But Emma also remembered a scared, lonely twelve-year-old who, even while processing the sudden death of the person closest to him, had found it in himself to be kind to somebody even more frightened than he at all the harm the world had wrought her.

Probably without his notice, his hand had crept across the table to hers and linked their fingers together.

Emma noticed, though.

“Will you – come back with me? To see it?”

To an imaginary house in the middle of the woods, on a hunch that its contents might pertain clues to his brother’s mysterious suicide?

For him, anything.

“Of course,” she said, and Killian visibly relaxed. When he released her hand she realised it was throbbing a little from how tight he had been clutching it. “Just, erm… let me drop this stuff back to Ruth’s.”

She started haphazardly gathering her strewn out study materials.

“Thank you,” he added quietly. “I’ll meet you by the trail end?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

-/-

Present Day

Killian rose far earlier than he had been intending, but something in the town was preventing him from catching even a fading vestige of sleep. It was something in the air, a thickness, a sensation which hung heavily around him. As if from the moment he had crossed the town line he had become a pulse of disturbance, and with every twist he made in the scratchy sheets at Granny’s sent out waves of ripples out into the ether, like a beacon to his presence. He felt exposed, and he’d spent much of the last few years fighting to remain out of sight.

He had considered calling David, but even with his work at the shelter he couldn’t be expected to be as cognizant as Killian prior to six o’clock in the morning. Instead, his eyes heavy with the taunt of sleep, he had gone for a walk.

There was much of Storybrooke he wanted to see again, and the more he considered it, the less he wanted to be visiting them at more populous times.

After emerging from Granny’s Bed & Breakfast, he stopped briefly to check the handles and the windows of his Chevelle. It didn’t look like it had been broken into, and a quick glance in the boot abated his concerns for his equipment. If David was to be believed, he wasn’t sure what he’d need – possibly all of it.

The morning was bleak and grey, a dark cloud lurking towards the south of the town threatening to open up onto the streets below with little warning. Deserted, the only noticeable movement was the scatter of crisp, golden leaves across the centre of the Main Street as they were ushered further down by strokes of wind. He wrapped his coat tighter around him. The clock tower stood exactly as he remembered it, proud and unchanged, but it was the room underneath that interested him most.

The library had closed – not that he was surprised. There had been a significant decline in interest as most turned their attention to the new age of internet research and Netflix even while he had lived there, and it had been cobbling together its running costs through sparse donations from Storybrooke’s more sympathetic residents. Now it looked as if somewhere in the last five years it had conceded defeat, and the windows were now clumsily boarded up with a chain looped around the handle of the door.

Through cracks in the panelling, Killian could still spot the abandoned rows of books lining the shelves, now doomed to gather dust and little else.

Don’t tell me – it’s hot cocoa, with cinnamon, and you’re about to hand it over.

He winced.

The chain appeared weak, or a sturdy pair of pliers could probably make quick work of the lock; either way, he could definitely break his way in if need be. Given his less than warm reception from Granny the night before, he doubted he’d be able to conduct his study with any real privacy in a room at the bed and breakfast and he should be considering alternate locations. The library’s closure actually presented something of an opportunity.

There was one other place he had wanted to return to, but trepidation stayed his movements. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Besides, the town was beginning to wake, and it would be better if he got off the streets.

Going back the way he’d come, Killian quickened his pace but went a block further, rounding the corner to head into Granny’s Diner instead of the residential entrance – he sorely hoped Ruby had meant what she’d said about that cooked breakfast. The sign on the door beckoned open, so he slipped inside.

To his relief, Ruby was stood behind the counter, just beginning to tie her apron around her waist. When she saw who had entered, she offered him a reassuring smile, tying the bow off at the back with a flourish.

“Coffee?” she asked, brightly.

God, he couldn’t be more relieved people like her were still in town.

“Please.”

He unlooped his scarf from around his neck and dropped it on the counter, hastily warming up from the space heater Granny liked to keep on full blast above the counter as the months turned colder. The older woman had always been a little tight with her purse, but while she invested in central heating for the bed and breakfast at the behest of many a desperate customer, she had insisted the heat from the griddle and oven should be enough to keep the diner at a comfortable temperature. The space heater was the only concession she made, which usually kept the barstools constantly occupied at peak times and otherwise.

Ruby soon approached with a mug and a pot of steaming coffee, and Killian thanked her as she handed it over.

“You’re up early,” she mused. “Granny said she went to wake you about half an hour ago, but you weren’t there.”

Granny went to snoop, more likely. What kind of proprietor tried to wake their customers before seven? He shared a knowing look with Ruby, who had the good grace to look a little sheepish on her grandmother’s behalf.

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Is it the guilt?” called a sharp voice from the kitchen.

“Granny!”

“Worse,” Killian bit back loudly, “your mattresses.”

Ruby looked part irritated, part flustered, and cast an angry glare at the door to the kitchen. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Killian, “just give me a sec.”

She disappeared through the door into the kitchen, and Killian watched through the pass as she exchanged some harsh words with the elder Lucas, who soon huffed and stormed out of sight. Killian thought he heard the connecting door to the inn swing closed.

“Sorry about that,” Ruby continued, marching back out to the counter, a forced cheeriness there that barely masked the fury he could see dancing behind her eyes. “Granny’s got some work to do, but Floyd will be here in like, ten minutes, and he’ll kick off the breakfast rush.”

“Fine by me. She’s, ah, still the firecracker I remember.”

Ruby sighed heavily. “Wouldn’t let a silly thing like a triple bypass slow her down.”

Killian smiled over the rim of his coffee. “Of course not.”

They passed a few contented moments in silence, Ruby running a cloth across the counter and switching on the milk steamer, and Killian had just about settled himself into it when she spoke again.

“So,” she began, “what brings you back to town?”

He was tempted to suggest Granny’s snooping should have given her an indication, but the words stopped dead on the tip of his tongue once he turned to look at her. She was concentrating perhaps a little too hard on the glass she was currently polishing, staring fixedly at the way the dishcloth had folded in on itself as she pushed it inside, determinedly not looking at him. It was too nonchalant, and everything else in her posture suggested her attention was still aimed solely at him. Lowering his coffee back to the counter, he realised why.

“You know,” he observed, “don’t you?”

Ruby refused to meet his eye.

“You do. Maybe I should be the one asking you questions.”

“I don’t know anything,” she insisted. “No more than anyone else in Storybrooke.”

Killian clicked his tongue. “I’m hardly what you’d call a local anymore, love.”

The waitress seemed more reluctant still, throwing a wary look at the door out to the kitchen. Granny Lucas hadn’t reappeared.

Eventually, she decided to continue.

“I’ve just – heard things. Rumours, mainly. People have been losing stuff they have no sense losing, hearing things they have no right hearing. Nobody has hiked in weeks because of some freak weather, and people are saying the trails are haunted. You know how Storybrooke gets in October.” Like most rural towns, every other house seemed to have a ghost story of its own.

Although, Killian thought to himself, at least one of them was true.

“Then there’s what happened to David, but I bet you already know about that. The moment he told me I had a feeling you’d be back.”

She wasn’t wrong, but Killian had a feeling there was more to this than she was letting on. He told her as much.

“It… it was only once. But as I was locking up two nights ago, I thought – well,” she bit her lip, “at the edge of Main Street, I thought I saw –”

The loud clanging of the bell over the door, along with the slide of the shutters against the glass, startled them both. Ruby almost dropped the glass she was holding, and Killian merely willed his racing heart to slow. Most importantly, he wanted her to continue talking.

“What did you see?”

Ruby shook her head tightly, quickly moving across to the other end of the counter to serve the new customer.

“Ruby –”

“Two coffees to – oh!”

With a start, Killian recognised who had just walked into the diner at the exact moment she realised he was sitting there.

Clad in a soft, lavender coat wrapped tightly around her, a grey scarf wound around her neck and a familiar looking beret atop her cropped dark hair, Mary Margaret Blanchard was staring at him wide eyed, a gloved hand having flown to her chest in surprise at the sight of him.

Gone were the softer edges of her jaw that he remembered from the last time he had seen her, replaced by the distinctive shape of womanhood, the muted hazel of her eyes just a little darker than he remembered them being. Clearly she was no longer the girl he had known when he was scarcely a boy himself, and this woman stood in her place, staring at him as if he were a ghost.

He wondered what she must see when she looked at him.

“Oh,” he echoed her, once he’d gathered his wits, “hello.”

“Hi,” she greeted weakly, uncertain. Five years had passed, and she was just a little less sure of them than he was. “Um two – two coffees to go, please.” This she directed at Ruby, who was happy to have an excuse to busy herself away from Killian’s inquisitive eye.

“I didn’t know you – how are you, Killian?”

He smiled; Mary Margaret’s first thought was always one of kindness. “I only got into town last night. I’m well, thank you.” Mary Margaret returned his smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Remarkably, she looked rather like she’d prefer to be anywhere than the tiny space of air three feet away from Killian that she was currently occupying.

Odd, he thought, when they had all once been so close.

“And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m – I’m good, too. Great, really. I work at the elementary school now.” Her body pivoted, as if intending to point out of the window but realising halfway through that it was pointless, as the school was all the way across town and, besides, he knew exactly where it was. “As a teacher.”

He almost said it. He almost did.

Emma would have loved that.

Instead, he offered his own congratulations. “That’s bloody brilliant,” he grinned. At least one of them had been able to get exactly what they wanted. “Amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“Cream?”

Mary Margaret wrenched her gaze away from Killian. “Uh – sorry?”

“Cream,” Ruby repeated, not unkindly, “did you want it?”

“Oh, yes. Thanks.” She reached absently up to straighten her beret.

Deciding to take the encounter as an act of providence, Killian figured he might as well make the most of it. If even Ruby had been detecting something had shifted in the air, then somebody like Mary Margaret had to have almost as many explanations as David.

“I was hoping to run into you,” he began, “I was wondering if I could ask you –”

“Killian, I’m going to stop you right there.”

To his surprise, her interjection had been decisive, and left little room for argument. It was the sort of voice she had always saved for when she wanted to put her foot down, when things were ever getting a little too far out of hand and she had decided to put a stop to it. It probably served her well in the classroom, and the sparsity of its use had meant they had always taken her seriously when she used it.

And she had used it now.

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head to the side and encouraging her to continue.

Mary Margaret hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

“I’ve put it behind me,” she said eventually, with the same directness. “All of it. And I want to keep it there.”

She could do that? Like it was even possible?

“So if that’s the reason… if that’s why you’re back in town, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me. Not until you’ve found your peace, too.”

Peace, that was what she called it. Putting a lid on something too painful to carry and shutting it away where it couldn’t hurt her – if that was peace, he wanted no part of it.

“Have you?” she asked, almost hopefully. Found your peace?

In answer he merely shrugged, rueful and tired. “What do you think?”

Two coffees were placed on the counter in front of Mary Margaret and after a long moment she broke eye contact and reached forward to take them.

“Take care, Killian.”

She turned to go.

He made to go back to his own coffee, now lukewarm and bitter since being left untouched for a number of minutes, but paused as he watched Mary Margaret hesitate, then pivot on her feet to take one last look back at him.

She smiled, and he knew this was genuine.

“It really is good to see you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

He returned the sentiment, and before long the door was chiming and clanging shut behind her, the shutters bouncing off the back of the wood.

Killian couldn’t work out how he felt. It would be decidedly easier if he was angry, and for a number of moments he tried to be. Tried to be furious that she could leave it all in the past, that she could throw everything they had all been to each other into a place where she couldn’t see it, David included. But the fury wouldn’t come. Only the same tired melancholy he had carried with him for years, begging for him to let it all go. Not everybody could carry a torch as enduring as that, and it had been draining him for almost a decade – first Liam, then Emma. He couldn’t resent Mary Margaret for wanting to preserve her strength for the next phase of life, not the last.

It just wasn’t that easy for him. Or for David.

Which just left Regina.

After a moment, Killian suddenly remembered Ruby had been about to tell him something, but when he turned back to the counter he found Ashley, another waitress, in her place.

“Where’s Ruby?”

“She said she had to go prepare a couple of rooms in the Inn for some guests checking in later.” Ashley grinned, and proffered a fresh pot of coffee. “Refill?”

Rather dazedly, he realised the tired jukebox in the corner was now spitting out the second verse to Only You. Once he noticed it, he zeroed in on the sound. He gritted his teeth. 

Shaking his head at Ashley’s offer, he rose from his stool. He had work to do.

-/-

October 27th 2014 – 5 Years Ago

A large mug of a bitter, foul-smelling liquid was placed in front of him.

“There,” Sheriff Humbert said, settling into the seat across him. “You said you were tired. There’s a coffee for you.”

With difficulty, Killian raised his tired eyes from the steam curling out into nothingness from the mug, and tried to stare the sheriff down. He was sure the effect was less than pitiful, what with the dark circles that had settled uncomfortably underneath his eyes, red-rimmed and barely blinking open. Sometimes when he tried to focus on the Sheriff, he found his gaze drifting six inches or so to the left, and his thoughts were becoming muddled and bleary.

Only one thing remained crystal clear in his mind. Over and over, the scream that battered and ricocheted around his skull.

(Killian – Killian, don’t –!)

When he spoke, the words scratched the back of his throat and his voice was hoarse – he had been yelling all night, and in the pastel pink glow of morning that trickled through the barred window, he needed to rest.

“You’re not letting me go?”

The sheriff folded his arms. “I’m not satisfied yet.” Bloody fuck this man was coming after him like a rabid dog. Emma was – Emma was – gods knew what had happened to Emma, but Killian would have much preferred he was out there looking for her and not trapped in here under the doubtful scrutiny of the town’s only detective. Damn Mary Margaret and her insistence on this.

He knew at this very moment the woods were being combed through by any of the denizens of Storybrooke awake and aware of what had happened, and he longed to join them.

“So, let’s go over it again,” the sheriff continued. “You and your friends are out in the woods in the middle of the night for – well, god knows what. Then Emma Swan just – disappears?”

Her wrist stained red, angry welts erupting across her forearm. Eyes as dark as obsidian.

Killian wanted to cry. Already had. Had wept for hours as they tore through the forest.

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

“Yes, she disappeared.”

“Your friends say she was with you when she went missing. That you were the last one to see her.”

“I was.”

The sheriff spread a hand, inviting him to continue. When Killian was not forthcoming, he pressed. “So, what did you see?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Killian snarled, even as his voice trembled and cracked. “Aren’t you the police? Shouldn’t I be asking you for answers?”

A wave of nausea rose from his gut to his gullet, and with difficulty he pushed it back down as he pressed a hand to his forehead. It came away wet, drenched in sweat and dew.

“Why were you out in the woods?”

He took a deep breath, tried to force himself to sound normal. “We were just messing around.”

“At midnight?” The sheriff stared at him doubtfully. “Near a ravine?”

The ravine, he knew he wanted to say. No use in either of them being coy about just why Killian, a seventeen-year-old, had become a target in this investigation.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Were you drinking?”

“No.”

“Had you been drinking?”

Killian’s gaze snapped up angrily. “No.”

Sheriff Humbert clicked his tongue. “Had Emma Swan been drinking?”

Without planning to, Killian’s fist swung down and slammed on the table, hard.

He’d not let an asshole like Humbert disparage her.

“Nobody was bloody drinking, alright?”

“What other reason do five seventeen-year-olds have to venture into the woods in the middle of the night?”

His wrist was still sticky with blood, and he knew he stank. His leather jacket had been flung onto the floor within five minutes of him being shut in the interrogation room, but his shirt was still foul with sweat and earth. He knew how it looked, but he hadn’t been thinking of that when the four of them had finally agreed to admit this had spiralled far out of their control.

Emma was gone. And they needed help.

But they shouldn’t have come here.

“Emma is missing,” he spat at the detective, fury and misery overwhelming him, and he felt the humiliating sting behind his nose that he knew would preface hot tears as his shoulders began to tremble. He had always felt things too deeply, that was his problem.

I’m not finished, Liam had snapped, don’t you walk away from me.

“You should be out there bloody finding her, not grilling me!”

“Emma is missing,” the sheriff agreed sharply, “and I assure you, I’m doing everything in my power to find her, but for that I need you to stop fighting me.”

Killian could scarcely remember a time when he hadn’t been fighting.

Don’t tell me – it’s hot cocoa, with cinnamon, and you’re about to hand it over.

The sheriff drummed his fingers on the table. “Are we on the same page, Mr. Jones?”

Wiping his eyes, he nodded mutely.

“You and your friends reckon she disappeared around midnight, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Then why did no one come to alert the station until five?”

(Bring her back. You bring her back right now, Jones, or I swear –!)  

Killian swallowed. “We were – trying to find her.”

“You were trying to find her,” Sheriff Humbert repeated.

“We didn’t think it was serious. At first. We thought she’d just wandered off.”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“And you say no alcohol was involved?”

“No.”

“Then why in god’s name weren’t you a little more concerned that your friend had just – disappeared? If you had told us sooner, we might have –”

The door to the interrogation room burst open.

Dr Archibald Hopper (MD) stood in the doorway, quivering with a barely suppressed rage which he directed solely at the sheriff. Killian, far more overwhelmed and relieved to see him than he had ever been in his entire life, finally gave way to the weariness of keeping his emotions at bay and felt tears begin to spill down his cheeks. He quickly covered his face with his hands, but could hear the furious exchange between the social worker and the detective.

“Sheriff Humbert, I must insist you stop this instant. Killian, don’t say another word.” A pause. “How dare you?”

The sheriff was unapologetic. “He’s a witness.”

“He’s a minor, Sheriff, need I remind you. And he has been through quite enough today already.” Killian dropped his hands, and he could tell the moment Archie realised he’d been crying. “Do you have any idea what kind of irreparable harm you may have already caused this poor boy? Killian, get your jacket.”

Forcing his stiff limbs into movement, Killian knocked his chair back with a loud scrape and reached for his discarded jacket. It was torn in at least three places he could see.

“This was a voluntary interview, Dr Hopper – Killian came to us. A girl is missing.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Archie replied hotly. “That girl was put under my charge long before she became your case, Mr Humbert. And I will not have you waste valuable resources in here interrogating a child when you should be out there, finding her.”

He ushered Killian to the door who went, willingly. He felt as if he might be floating, was more relieved to have somebody else take charge; he almost staggered into Archie as he was led out into the hall.

“If you approach this boy again without my express permission you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

“This isn’t over,” the sheriff growled.

“Oh,” Archie scoffed, a hand landing heavily on Killian’s shoulder as they began marching down the hall, “it really is.”

Killian tripped over his feet as he tried to keep up, and caught only the side of Archie’s stony expression as he looked over at the man. He had never seen him like this. Ever since he had moved into the group home Archie had been nothing but mild-mannered pragmatism, had endured a thousand wild tempers from Killian over the years with nothing other than an infuriating level of understanding, to the point where it had occurred to him on more than one occasion that it wasn’t even possible for Archie to get angry.

It had also never really occurred to him that the man cared a whit for him beyond that which his profession demanded, but perhaps that had been more Killian’s tendency to close himself off to the possibility. Emma had taken a long time to penetrate, too.

At the thought of Emma, another wave of nausea rushed over him and he tugged on Archie’s sleeve as they left the station, stopping in his tracks and hunching over the flowerbed near the entrance. He retched three times, but nothing came out. There was nothing for his body to expel. He realised he was hungry. Famished. Archie rubbed a gentle hand on his back until he felt well enough to straighten.

“Killian,” he said gently, much more the man he knew than the hurricane that had whisked him away from Sheriff Humbert. He stooped to meet his eye, and Killian could see the sorrow that had settled softly behind the rim of his glasses. “I’m going to ask you this only once, because I trust you to be completely honest with me.”

Killian nodded, quivering in the brisk air of morning.

Archie’s mouth was set in a thin, concerned line.

“Do you know what happened to Emma Swan?”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

It was a good thing Archie Hopper trusted him.

“No.”

Even if he shouldn’t.

-/-

October 20th 2019 – 6 Days Prior to Present Day

After a few moments, David realised he was awake.

Awake, but he couldn’t move.

As if there were some yawning gap between his impulses and his actions, when he tried to rise to a sitting position or even twitch a finger, he felt nothing stir. His ears had popped or, at least, that’s what it sounded like – the regular hums of the old house, the refrigerator, the electric heater on the landing that Ruth always insisted on leaving on, were unusually muffled and a distant ringing had settled there instead.

The room was dark as pitch, only a crack of light from the streetlamp outside falling against the opposite wall, and he knew Ruth must be asleep. Once again he tried to lift a hand, unconsciously intending to mop some of the sweat from his brow, but when nothing happened a swell of panic began to rise within him.

And all at once, he understood he was no longer alone in his bedroom.

With his eyes fixed on the ceiling David couldn’t turn his gaze to the unknown assailant, lurking as they were just at the end of his bed, but he could hear the gentle swish of fabric against the floor, the beams of light from the window winking in and out as the figure passed in front of them, and he began to breathe harder. He was desperate to take deep, gasping breaths but his lips refused to open further than a sliver, and the more he tried to regain control, the more agitated he became.

“Stop,” a gentle voice whispered, “it’s alright.”

David froze and his heart soared, but was immediately clutched by an intense and terrible terror; because he knew that voice.

Something touched his right hand, cold and dead and strange, clutching onto him tight and when David tried to flinch away he managed the barest flicker of movement. Pulse racing and bolstered by the progress, David focused all of his energies on his neck, stiff and unyielding, needing to turn and get a look at the intruder.

As their grip overtook his entire hand, with an enormous effort he managed to tilt his head.

Their eyes locked for a split second, and the darkness stole his cry.

The intruder stared at him intently. They wanted him to remember.

“Bring me the dagger.”

He blinked, and like a spell had been lifted David lurched onto his right side, gasping for air and resisting the urge to retch, a clumsy hand fumbling for the lamp at his bedside and slamming the switch. Warm light bloomed through the entire room, but David was alone again.

His mind kept whirling, replaying the image over and over and trying to process what he had seen – but that stranger, he couldn’t forget them. It was a face he’d spent every single day over the last five years desperate to remember and cherish forever.

It was Emma.

Not caring for the lateness of the hour, David scrambled for his phone left charging by his bed, and called the only person in the world who might believe him.

After stumbling his way through a greeting on Killian’s voicemail, he tried to get to the crux of the thing in the least alarming way possible.

“There’s something – I have something you need to see.”

#jay writes #cs halloweek #cs role reversal #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #killian jones #emma swan #a house is never still #this is also my first halloween-y fic ever #SO pumped

[germanicseidr]

Hermunduri

The Hermunduri were a Germanic tribe from modern day Thuringia, Germany. They appear to have a mixed ancestry of both Germanic and Celtic. Their neighbours were the Cherusci, Marcomanni, Semnones, Chatti, Osi and Lugii.

Little is known about this tribe, not even the names of their leaders are known. This suggests that they had little to no military contact with the Romans. They have however been described as excellent trading partners.

Their name means spearmen, her means spear and munduri men. Interestingly, Hermunduri later became Herman which in turn changed into the word German. The Hermunduri tribe was part of the Suevi confederation until the tribe disappeared.

One of the earliest mentions of the tribe comes from Strabo in 20AD. Strabo spoke about the Langobards who were located near the mouth of the Elbe. The Langobards had close relations with the Hermunduri and the Semnones, they were both located further up the river Elbe.

In an earlier post of mine about the Quadi tribe, I mentioned how they tried to rebuild the Marcomanni confederation in 50AD. This failed because Rome instigated an insurrection to stop this threat. The insurrection was led by the nephews of the Marcomanni leader and with the support of the Hermunduri tribe. The Marcomanni leader, Vannius, died mysteriously and the nephews took over. One of the nephews, Sido, became leader of the Hermunduri.

A fight broke out between the Hermunduri and the Chatti around 58AD. Both tribes fight for control of the river that flows between them, the river contains a lot of salt which was used for trade. The Chatti suffered a defeat in the following battle. Both tribes had vowed each other as enemies to the Gods Tyr and Wodan. It is most likely that the defeated Chatti army were sacrificed to these Gods including their horses and possessions.

Tacitus has also described this tribe in 98AD. He calls the Hermunduri as perhaps the best of the Germanic tribes because they had an extensive trade relationship with the Roman empire. Interestingly, individuals of the Hermunduri tribe were the only ones who were allowed to visit Roman cities without armed escorts.

Here is Tacitus' description of the Hermunduri:

"Nearer to us is the state of the Hermunduri (I shall follow the course of the Danube as I did before that of the Rhine), a people loyal to Rome. Consequently they, alone of the Germans, trade not merely on the banks of the river, but far inland, and in the most flourishing colony of the province of Raetia.

Everywhere they are allowed to pass without a guard and while to the other tribes we display only our arms and our camps, to them we have thrown open our houses and country-seats, which they do not covet. It is in their lands that the Elbe takes its rise, a famous river known to us in past days now we only hear of it."

In 166AD, the Marcomanni wars break out which involves the famous Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, who spent the rest of his life trying to win this conflict. The Hermunduri tribe was dragged into this conflict and they eventually ceased to exist as an independent tribe around 200AD. There is a theory that the remnants of this tribe later formed the Thuringii tribe, it makes sense if you look at the Hermunduri's geography. They lived in what is now modern day Thuringia.

Unfortunately, there is no artwork about the Hermunduri so I have included a map which shows the location of the tribe.

#germanic tribes #Hermunduri

[biointernet]

Father Time Exhibition

Father Time Department at MHC Virtual Museum

“Time is a created thing. To say 'I don't have time,' is like saying, 'I don't want to.” ― Lao Tzu Change of days To us is sensible; and each revolve Of the recording sun conducts us on Farther in life, and nearer to our goal Not so with Time--mysterious chronicler, He knoweth not mutation--centuries Are to his being as a day, and days As centuries--Time past, and Time to come Are always equal: when the world began God had existed from eternity. HENRY KIRKE WHITE, "Time", The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke White

Father Time Exhibition

Personification of Time Father Time, Kronos, Cronus, Cronos, Saturn Father Time - Time personified as an old bearded man, usually carrying a scythe and an hourglass Dynamic Vision Board Meta Model by Adam Pierce

1911 New Year Dirigible Air Ship Father Time Driving Time Machine Postcard MHC virtual museum father time symbol is hourglass FATHER TIME, father time symbol, father time images, old father time, father time is grim reaper, father time mother nature, father time statue, father time vintage, baby new year Father Time and Mother Nature Saturn is the sixth planet from the Sun and the second-largest in the Solar System, after Jupiter. It is a gas giant with an average radius of about nine times that of Earth. It only has one-eighth the average density of Earth; however, with its larger volume, Saturn is over 95 times more massive. Saturn is named after the Roman god of wealth and agriculture; its astronomical symbol (♄) represents the god's sickle. Father Time Department at MHC Virtual Museum

Father Time and Mother Nature Time-Space Trinity: Father Time, Mother Nature and Baby New Year Father Time and Mother Nature Father Time Exhibition Mother Earth, Mother Nature Baby New Year Father Time Department at MHC virtual museum The New Year marks the arrival of Father Time to take away the old year. Father Time is often depicted bearded, wearing a cloak, carrying a scythe and an hourglass. Sometimes accompanied by a crow, often Father Time’s companion is Baby New Year. In some renderings he is winged. His arrival marks an end of time and sometimes the death of an era. Time-Space Family Why is it called Father Time?

Father Time Exhibition Father Time - Time personified as an old bearded man, usually carrying a scythe and an hourglass Father Time, Mother Nature and Baby New Year! Dynamic Vision Board Meta Model by Adam Pierce

father time symbol is hourglass

Father Time Exhibition soon at MHC virtual museum 560 Leather Father Time Time synonyms The End of Time Time Travel Management MHC hourglass figure workout

Symbols of Time

In physics, spacetime is any mathematical model which fuses the three dimensions of space and the one dimension of time into a single four-dimensional continuum. Spacetime diagrams can be used to visualize relativistic effects, such as why different observers perceive where and when events occur differently. 343 Angel Baby Whispers to Father Time #342 Elves and Money #341 Science Art Vintage #340 Baby New Year Hourglass #339 Father Time Parade Float #338 Father Time Driving Time Machine Father Time Minstrel Mandolin #337 Baby New Year Mother Earth, Mother Nature, Mother Time Father Time Exhibition First Known Use of Father Time - 1559

What does Father Time look like?

Father Time Department at My Hourglass Collection virtual museum Symbolism of Time-Space

Father Time Exhibition

Personification of Time The ancient Greeks began to associate chronos, word for Time, with the agricultural god Cronos, who had the attribute of a harvester's sickle. The Romans equated Cronos with Saturn, who also had a sickle, and was treated as an old man, often with a crutch. In ancient Hebrew, Saturn is called 'Shabbathai'. Its angel is Cassiel. Its intelligence or beneficial spirit is Agiel (layga) and its spirit (darker aspect) is Zazel (lzaz). Ancient Chinese and Japanese culture designated the planet Saturn as the Earth Star. This was based on Five Elements which were traditionally used to classify natural elements. Father Time Department at MHC Virtual Museum

Leather Father Time

Leather Father Time In Ottoman Turkish, Urdu and Malay, its name is 'Zuhal', derived from Arabic. The wings and hour-glass were early Renaissance additions, and he eventually became a companion of the Grim Reaper, personification of Death, often taking his scythe. Father Time may have as an attribute a snake with its tail in its mouth, an ancient Egyptian symbol of eternity. Saturn is a god in ancient Roman religion, and a character in Roman mythology. Saturn was described as a god of generation, dissolution, plenty, wealth, agriculture, periodic renewal and liberation. Saturn's mythological reign was depicted as a Golden Age of plenty and peace. After the Roman conquest of Greece, he was conflated with the Greek titan Cronus, becoming known as a god of time. Saturn's consort was his sister Ops, with whom he fathered Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Juno, Ceres and Vesta. Saturn was especially celebrated during the festival of Saturnalia each December, perhaps the most famous of the Roman festivals, a time of feasting, role reversals, free speech, gift-giving and revelry. The Temple of Saturn in the Roman Forum housed the state treasury and archives, aerarium of the Roman Republic and the early Roman Empire. The planet Saturn and the day of the week Saturday are both named after him. Around New Year's Eve, the media, editorial cartoons use the convenient of Father Time as the personification of the previous year (or "the Old Year") who typically "hands over" the duties of time to the equally allegorical Baby New Year or who otherwise characterizes the preceding year. In these depictions, Father Time is usually depicted wearing a sash with the old year's date on it. Time is often depicted revealing or unveiling the allegorical Truth, sometimes at the expense of a personification of Falsehood, Fraud, or Envy. This theme is related to the idea of veritas filia temporis (Time is the father of Truth). Father Time is an established symbol in numerous cultures, and appears in a variety of art and media. In some cases as Father Time, in other cases they may have another name (such as Saturn) but the characters demonstrate the attributes which Father Time has acquired over the centuries. More Wiki Father Time is married to Mother Earth; just as the Grim Reaper, the personification of Death, is married to Life who pictured as a young lady in artwork. 

Mother Earth

Hourglass 293 post card, Mother Nature The personification of Nature; The giver and sustainer of Life. Perhaps the most ancient of all goddesses, worshiped back in prehistorical times.  Our home world, planet Earth.In Greek mythology, Gaia is Mother Earth.  Father Time symbolizes the flow of time and its effects. His old body is a reminder that time is the devourer of all things and that, like the sand in the hourglass he often carries, his life will run out, as all good things come to an end. Mother Time, Mother Earth, Mother Nature: Hourglass 292 post card, Mother Time

Baby New Year

Hourglass 235, post card Father Time and Baby New Year driving Time Machine Father Time Department at MHC Virtual Museum The Baby New Year is a personification of the start of the New Year commonly seen in editorial cartoons. Baby New Year symbolizes the "birth" of the next year and the "passing" of the prior year; in other words, a "rebirth". Baby New Year's purpose varies by myth, but he generally performs some sort of ceremonial duty over the course of his year such as chronicling the year's events or presiding over the year as a symbol. The first baby born in any village or city in a certain year may be honored by being labeled as the official Baby New Year for that year Baby New Year at MHC virtual museum: Hourglass 291, Baby New Year Hourglass 235 A Happy New Year Hourglass 260 Father Time and Baby New Year father time symbol is hourglass The Hourglass, with its grains of sands constantly falling, also represents the passage of Time. The sand in the hourglass will run out, and similarly, our physical presence on the Earth will end one day. However, just like the hourglass can be turned upside down and started anew, a new generation of children can continue a family legacy. The effects of time are not wholly destructive. While physical bodies wear out over time, time also gives the gift of wisdom that can only be developed by our experiences gained over a long period of time. FATHER TIME, father time symbol, father time images, old father time, father time is grim reaper, father time mother nature, father time statue, father time vintage, baby new year, saturn MHC Exhibitions Exhibitions:Beauty Bio NetHourglass and CardsArt GlassMHC Dead Sea CollectionThe Full History of Time3DHM ExhibitionHourglass Figure Sophia Loren

Hourglass History, Father Time The Changing Iconography of Father Time Though Saturn-Cronus, as Panofsky suggested in 1939, is the single most important influence on the Father Time of the Western World, the two have been very differently represented. They seem to have little more than age in common, and this impression is strengthened when we consider their natures. The accretions and metamorphoses — as benevolence, nudity, forelock, wings, hourglass, and scythe — which gave to Saturn the symbols that we have come to associate with Father Time are traced through a number of works including the illustrators of Petrarch, the emblem books, and Hogarth. The change that we are tracing is from a Saturn who had castrated his father and devoured his own children — the saturnine and even malevolent patron of cripples and criminals — to a Father Time who by the sixteenth century was frequently depicted as the benevolent father of Truth. Among other developments, Father Time, who had earlier taken over the symbols of Death, stands back aghast from him by the time of Quarles’ Hieroglyphikes (1638). In Hogarth’s last work Tailpiece, or the Bathos (1764), Time — now more sinned against than sinning — expires surrounded by his broken symbols. Though Father Time did not die (Cupid and he are the only characters from the old emblem books that survive), he is today a very different figure from that depicted in the earlier illustrations. The main purpose of my essay has been to delineate the changing iconography of Father Time, while a subsidiary purpose has been to relate this to important developments in technology and society. Keywords Seventeenth Century, Sixteenth Century, Fifteenth Century, Fourteenth Century Full text The Changing Iconography of Father Time here Father Time, the movie (2015) How far would you go to save your daughter from death? Would you venture into the unknown? Would you tempt death itself? Would you give your life away? Director and Writer: Dmytro Latorets More about at IMDb

Hourglass 266, post card, Father Time

Father Time and Mother Nature

Father Time Exhibition soon at MHC virtual museum FATHER TIME AND THE WEEPING VIRGIN Several versions of this topic contain different components which have been related to mythology, Judaism and Christianity; yet it is ultimately a Masonic carving. It symbolizes that time, patience and perseverance will accomplish all things. The most common symbols are Father Time, a Virgin, a broken column, an urn, a sprig of acacia, and a book, all of which rest on the top level of three steps. Father Time is most often depicted as an old man with long hair and beard, and a pair of wings. A scythe and hourglass are symbols associated with him. The scythe represents the Divine harvest and the hourglass denotes that the sands of time bring us closer to death. As the scythe cuts the harvest, so life is ended by Father Time. He stands behind a virgin (or young woman) attempting to untangle the ringlets of her hair. It symbolizes that with time and perseverance all things can be accomplished. The mythological Goddess Rhea is represented by a virgin or weeping woman who grieves over the loss of a loved one. Symbols differ in sculptures, the most common being an urn in her left hand and a sprig of acacia in her right hand. Acacia is an evergreen and represents the immortality of the soul. The urn is a symbol of death and was used to collect tears of the mourners. It is often shown resting on a book symbolic of the Book of Life where names of the righteous were recorded to ensure entry into Heaven. Other representations show the virgin holding a scroll which is a symbol of life. She can also be found holding a chisel or a mallet. She stands before a sundered column symbolic of a life cut short. Click here to see sculptures (Website City of Grove, Oklahoma)

Time-Space Trinity: Father Time, Mother Nature and Baby New Year

Father Time and Mother Nature Father Time Exhibition Mother Earth, Mother Nature, Mother Time Baby New Year Father Time Department at MHC virtual museum

Father Time Quotes

Middle age is the awkward period when Father Time starts catching up with Mother Nature. Harold Coffin Every girl should use what Mother Nature gave her before Father Time takes it away. Laurence J. Peter  Each great athlete must some day bow to that perennial old champion, Father Time, even as I, for Time eventually wins. Major Taylor I try and spend a lot of time with my kids. I try and have fun with my kids. I try to put father time in there. Flavor Flav  I want to go ahead of Father Time with a scythe of my own. H. G. Wells Leather Father Time Father Time Department at MHC Virtual Museum Read the full article

#BabyNewYear #Cronos #Cronus #FatherTime #FatherTimeandMotherNature #FatherTimeExhibition #fathertimeisgrimreaper #fathertimemothernature #fathertimemovie #FatherTimeQuotes #fathertimestatue #fathertimesymbol #fathertimetimeimages #Kronos #MHCVirtualMuseum #MotherEarth #MotherEath #MotherNature #MotherTime #NewYear #NewYearpostcard #oldfathertime #PersonificationofTime #Saturn #Shabbathai #Time #Timesymbolism

[hannahintherockies]

Six Hours in the Met

Date: 01/01/2020 (but I went on 31/12/2019) Timezone: EST Country: USA

(map of level one ^)

Scene: It’s 11:15 in the morning, I’ve just walked past the Guggenheim and to my surprise, it is much smaller than I anticipated. Hoping the Met won’t also turn out smaller than the photos, I cautiously walk along the east side of Central Park and approach the Met.

It’s huge.

Spanning an entire block on its own, the Met is a glorious, grandiose building that not only lives up to, but exceeds my expectations. As I walk up the steps, enter the museum, buy a ticket, and receive the map, the scale of the building becomes overwhelming. While the majority of the exhibitions are in two huge stories, some exhibitions have basements, mezzanines, and include up to four stories.

The lobby is buzzing with activity, as people queue to round out the decade by observing the thousands that have preceded it.

First up is Ancient Egypt, which takes up maybe 10% of the floor plan on only one of the stories. (see map above)

I navigate my way through the dozens of corridors and rooms that make up the exhibit, taking in mummies, ancient jewelry, entire rooms reconstructed from the original Egyptian reliefs, an array of tomb models, coffins, frogs, hippos, cattle, model temples, statuary, stele, papyri...

Two hours later, I emerge.

Totally disoriented, hungry, and starting to feel the litre of water I downed before I left the apartment, I leave Egypt and stumble upon the temple of Dendra. Seeing the queue to enter the ancient building, I decide to find a bathroom first.

While navigating to the loo, I realized that I had missed about half of the Egypt exhibit because of the odd layout of the rooms, but decided it would be best to move on to Greek and Roman art, as I could easily have spent the whole six hours attempting to navigate the labyrinthine, and often dim, series of rooms. 

A sidenote: While this post might make me seem an incompetent navigator, I have been assured by multiple parties that after renovations in the last five years or so, the Met has become almost impossible to navigate without help from the kind staff stationed in every doorway. I understand they have thousands of artworks to display, and thus, needed more rooms with more walls, but Egypt and the European paintings gallery in particular were almost impossible to navigate, even with a map.

After going into the Temple of Dendra and loving the Arms and Armour exhibit, I decided to try find the cafeteria, which probably took me about 20 minutes. With stops at the Faberge collection, under a huge Christmas tree, through a fully decked out 1780s French bedroom, and past countless Vermeer paintings, there were definitely things worth seeing that I saw while lost, but man, I could’ve saved my legs a little if the layout had been a bit clearer. 

It took directions from three separate guides for me to make my way from the American Wing to the cafeteria, which are, believe it or not, in neighboring parts of the museum! (See map above)  

With a belly full of salad and dinner rolls, and a Google search for ‘things not to miss in the Met’ under my belt, I set out for Round 2, determined to check everything off my list in the three hours I had left.

(map of level two ^)

After whipping through 19th and 20th century European paintings to see Van Gogh, Rodin, and Monet (thankfully in neighboring rooms), and giving up on finding photography, I made my way to the Near Eastern collection, where to my exasperation, many of the rooms had been roped off. This meant I had to go all the way back through European paintings to enter Ancient Greek art from the other side. (see above map)

Arriving at the gallery designated for Ancient Greek art, I found that the two parallel galleries near the bottom of the map, Near Eastern and Ancient Greek art were actually both Near Eastern art, with all the Greek and Roman art from level two moved to the Mezzanine level (spoilers: I never found the Mezzanine level). While Near Eastern art is great, with so little time left and an extensive list to work through, I only spent about twenty minutes in these galleries.

Starting to feel tired after four hours on my legs, I made my way downstairs to the Greek and Roman exhibition on level one. This was the first gallery that I went through that had windows, which was a welcome departure from the dimly lit rooms of Egypt, or the artificial lighting of 19th century European painting.

Revived by the light through the windows, I enjoyed both strange and familiar statuary, vases, relief and coinage. A huge atrium in the centre of the exhibit, complete with a fountain and benches, was paradise while I took a moment to rest my eyes, brain, and legs. 

Here, I took a moment to consult two friends and confirm that I hadn’t missed anything unmissable. A message about fantastic jewelry collections reminded me of the Anna Wintour Costume Institute, which I had deemed unmissable at lunch. Slightly frantic with the realization I had less than an hour left, and the knowledge that it might take a fair chunk of that time to navigate to the costume institute, I speed walked through a part of Egypt I had missed on my initial circuit. The route I took went past a fully intact book of the dead, more mummies, sarchophagi, canopic jars, and a discreet stairwell to a part of the Museum that didn’t appear on the map. 

The costume institute was well worth the detour and nervousness of asking two more members of staff for directions, as it had a soundtrack, a beautiful layout, and of course, dozens of beautiful vintage gowns (including the gold lame cape I posted a picture of earlier). These had all been gifted recently to the Met by a collector called Susan, which I found amusing. 

I then walked down the discreet stairwell into the part of the Met that didn’t appear on any map, and had a brief look at the things in that room. For the sake of mystery, I’m not going to say what the room was, but it was interesting for sure, and a nice way to pass the few minutes I had left.

Thus concluded my trip to the Met! 

Overall, it was an amazing experience, and I’m sure I’ll return to the Met to venture into the dozens of galleries I missed. The Egyptian collection was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life, and the opportunity to walk into an authentic Egyptian temple on American soil was extraordinary. Seeing works by my favorite sculptor, Auguste Rodin, was another highlight, as well as seeing some of the Russian imperial family’s Faberge eggs. 

The people-watching was also good fun, with the highlight in this category going to a young boy wearing a kippah, who saw a huge, elaborate hanukkiah and immediately pulled his dad over to see it. Given the events of the last few days regarding the treatment of Jewish Americans over Hanukkah, it was a really beautiful thing to see.

That all being said, the layout of the museum makes it very difficult to navigate, and especially with crowds of people wanting to see famous paintings in tiny rooms (Van Gogh’s self portrait in particular), it was a little bit overwhelming at times. Closures and roped off rooms/exhibits that weren’t mentioned on the website or by any staff members were also frustrating, and I think the map hadn’t been updated for a few months, as some rooms, like photography, didn’t exist at all. For someone with mobility issues or even just someone who gets anxious and overwhelmed easily, I can see this making their trip to the Met more negative than positive, but fortunately I’ve got a good set of legs and kept a clear head. 

9/10!

Hóyòwèlh,

Hannah

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains the Introduction section of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction (you are here)

I. Positives      I.1 Pure Positives      I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style      II.1 Bad Descriptions      II.2 Salvatorisms      II.3 Laborious "Action"

III. Poor Characterization      III.1 "Maestro"      III.2 Lieutenant      III.3 Barbarian      III.4 "Hero"      III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks      IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World      IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril      IV.3 Self-Inconsistency      IV.4 Dungeon Amateur      IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking      V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall      V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes      VI.1 No Homo      VI.2 Disrespect of Women      VI.3 Social-normalization      VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What's Next      VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood      VII.2 Profane Redemption      VII.3 Passing the Torch      VII.4 Don't Notice Me Senpai

What Has Gone

Boundless is the second book in a series that is a turning point for both the Drizzt saga and for the Forgotten Realms novels. Salvatore's dark elf series is the only series to have escaped Wizards of the Coast's termination of the entire franchise's novel line, as it was the only one that interested an external publisher enough for them to adopt it. With the novels in the series now totaling close to forty, Salvatore was keen on Timeless acting as a point of entry for new readers and as something to still entice his loyal followers. However, as it was written, Timeless was a direct sequel to Hero, and as such, many readers, the returning ones specifically, found it hard to follow. Much had transpired, events that they hadn't read, many of which were significant. Timeless might've been less confusing for new readers, but at least of those with whom I spoke, they felt that they'd picked up a book in the middle of a long-running series. Salvatore's goal of defying reality appeared to have fallen flat.

In my review of Timeless, I non-ironically described the book as "Salvatore's best work to date". I'd say that I'm a hard person to impress, especially when it comes to Salvatore's writing, as it has led me to become pretty jaded. In Timeless, I saw improvements in writing style, storytelling, characterization, and consideration of the Realms as a whole. Timeless made me feel bad for having stood by my belief that the Drizzt books are responsible for the Forgotten Realms novel franchise being labeled as third-rate fantasy, because Timeless possessed a potential that never before existed in a Salvatore book. Timeless reignited my guttering hope and made me think that holding out for so long wasn't a foolish exercise in futility. As such, I was very optimistic about the then not-yet-named trilogy that Timeless was kicking off, I sincerely felt that it set a strong precedent for what was to follow. I even dared to believe that the future of the Forgotten Realms novel line wouldn't suffer with Salvatore as its sole author, if the example set by Timeless was followed.

Unfortunately, Boundless doesn’t follow Timeless' example. It is a tragically big step backwards. The tug of potential that I'd felt from Timeless slackened like a severed fishing line. I'd commented that during my reading of Timeless I felt like I was reading the work of a different author. I could say the same regarding how I felt while I read Boundless, but for a very different reason. While Timeless offers noticeably better fare than what is typically served up by Salvatore, Boundless's few good turns of phrases here and there are offset by brain hemorrhage-inducing phrases that feel like they belong in the likes of Fifty Shades of Grey. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that my hopes and dreams for the Drizzt books didn't pan out, but honestly, I didn't expect them to be dashed so thoroughly, so quickly. However, as grim as things are looking, I'm nonetheless sheltering a small flame of faith that things could recover. It's definitely doable, since the final book in the now named Generations trilogy just needs to be up to par with Timeless, and Salvatore did pull off Timeless, though probably with the help of the Harper Collins editors. He still has those editors, though why they don't seem to have been as present during the creation of Boundless as they were during Timeless is a mystery. The inconsistency in quality is as though they checked over a few passages here and there and left the rest as-is, figuring that Timeless was successful enough that they could expend minimal effort on Boundless. This would certainly be consistent with how Salvatore didn't attend ComicCon this year to hand out physical ARCs of Boundless like he did for Timeless last year. Or, perhaps, the text was tedious enough that the editors' eyes glazed over throughout much of it.

All joking aside, At the very least, Boundless' quality hasn't plummeted to the depths of Hero, which isn't insignificant, given that my earlier analysis said, "The best case scenario that I could hope for in reality was that Salvatore couldn’t get any worse, but oh boy did he get worse in the Homecoming Trilogy". As the middle book in a series, there's the potential for things to turn up for the better. Of course, they could also go much, much worse, following the trend in the preceding Homecoming Trilogy. Nonetheless, as usual, I'll discuss all the things that I felt went poorly, the things I found positive, and my own take on how things could be improved.

In an effort to make these long articles less clunky, I'm adopting a new format in which I'll separate my analysis into sections. I'll begin with the positive aspects of the novel before delving into the aspects of Salvatore works that I typically address, which in this case encompass his writing style, his writing practices, his characterizations, his regard for the Realms as a whole, the increasing levels of self-flattery in his books, and the problematic themes he tends to employ. I'll end with consolidating my speculations and forecasts about what's coming next based on the contents of Boundless, my knowledge of the Realms, and my experience with Salvatore's work. In the final section there is a sub-section dedicated to the discussion of Artemis Entreri, who my blog is dedicated to, and who hooked me into the world that I've grown to love so much.

#ooc #Boundless #Forgotten Realms #legend of drizzt #book review #Generations Trilogy #D&D #R A Salvatore #harper collins #Drizzt #Drizzt Do'Urden

[hideandseaking]

could you please expand on your kacchako matching theory?? it's too good and it'd be great to see all your thoughts ;;

Thank you for sending this! Let me elaborate, this is just a theory on kacchako’s basis within the manga, and I am in no way saying that it’s canonical evidence for kacchako but it’s just a weird and fun theory I have based on what I’ve seen! Also, this is no way to bash on other ships, I’m just a kacchako shipper trying to make sense of a pattern I’ve seen! You do not have to agree with it and that’s okay!

First of all, these come from mostly splash pages and promotional artwork, but keep in mind that most of these are digitally drawn and can be color-picked. So let’s start with what made me double take in the first place. This picture:

So in this picture, you notice that everyone is dressed up in colors matching their hero outfits/themes/both from the manga. Some of these make sense like All Might wearing yellow (we see this a lot with suits), Kaminari’s hero outfit is black and white with his blonde hair accenting this, Koda is wearing green to represent nature and trees, Aizawa is an abosolute madman as usual, etc.

One of the weird things about this is only five sets of characters potentially match in this picture. Todoroki and Momo, Kirishima and Mina, and Ochako and Izuku are the obvious ones. TodoMomo, KiriMina, and Iz*ch*, are all potential ships or at least character sets with significant connections between each other, as we know now where we are in the manga (189 as I’m typing this.) Todo and Momo are a little iffy cause it could just be them matching the other’s hair colors, so I’m not sure if it counts. Kirishima and Mina are definitely wearing the matching outfit to the other, as it’s blue and orange in the same colors and shades, and these are not colors present in their hero outfits. So it’s obvious they’re matching each other. Ochako is wearing a green armband that matching Izuku’s suit. This makes sense because she is the projected love interest with Izuku. Perfectly fine, because they’re probably going to be the canonical ship at the end!

Deku and Tokoyami also match, which is pretty funny in itself. But they are friends so idk what’s really going on there. But hey, it’s a cute ship so if you need something to push you, here it is! It could also be used a red herring for the last of the five matches.

But here’s the thing: the fifth set is hidden but it’s Ochako and Katsuki. They’re both wearing maroon. And not just any maroon, but:

These are almost the same shade of maroon. Almost exactly the same shade of maroon. Bakugou is wearing orange to represent his hero outfit, and Ochako is wearing pink to represent hers. But why are they both wearing maroon as their base color, when that color is not present in their own outfits? Because they’re matching too. Kirishima and Mina are matching in the same way, but Bakugou’s blue and Ochako’s pink divert from the mainpiece maroon on their outfits. And Kirishima breaks it up. But this is a digital piece and the colors are almost identical. Horikoshi could’ve picked a different shade of maroon for them, but he purposely did this for them. Or this could be the red herring for Tokoyami/Deku! Who knows!!

So that’s a little weird right? Well here’s my next picture:

I love this picture, it’s so dynamic and fun. Anyway! Here we have the characters in alternate outfits again. Izuku is in a similar outfit as the first picture, as is All Might, which is to keep the focus on them of course and keep them in consistency with character design. Everyone else looks like they’re in non-matching outfits though. Except Kacchako.

Now this is more of a stretch, but it won’t feel like it after my next example. Anyway, both are wearing buttons down the front in two sets, and both are wearing orange, though the orange does not match as much as the maroon in the picture beforehand. Katsuki is wearing orange loaders and Ochako’s entire outfit is orange, and black, with pink accents. Where have we seen orange and black before?

Katsuki’s hero outfit is black, orange, and green. The green would match with Izuku, and if Horikoshi wanted them to match, then he would put Ochako in anything but army green right? But no, he put her in orange. And furthermore, Katsuki’s boots have the “double button” design going down, and mimics it throughout his hero costume, which both of their outfits in the current example picture are presenting. And if you look at the first example as well, Ochako is wearing the double button down design on her dress there as well.

Some strange coincidences here. But I can’t say they’re not intentional, as we’ve seen Horikoshi’s character designs and they’re all very well-researched for the character. He is intentionally designing the outfits this way. There is no way that he got just lazy enough to design Ochako and Katsuki similarly.

My third example is from the recent movie promo:

We’ve all seen this one recently, which is really the nail in the coffin for me here. This is harder to see so I did crop it out, but I want you to look at Ochako and Katsuki here:

We noticed recently that Ochako is wearing the same flower in her hair as is embroidered on Katsuki’s vest. After seeing the last two examples, it isn’t weird that they are matching. But here’s the second kicker that I didn’t notice since people were cropping out their feet: Ochako’s shoes match Katsuki’s red shirt.

UPDATE: It was brought to my attention that the flowers symbolize “waiting”. Which may indicate more about the future of the ship that I put in the closing paragraph of this post. Source: https://vanillafriedlover.tumblr.com/post/175412600634/mystery-of-white-flowers

Now the lighting is iffy here, and Deku is wearing a burgundy/reddish suit, which could indicate that she is matching with him. But looking at this:

It looks pretty damn close with Bakugou and Ochako but also Ochako and Deku! Now, a disclaimer to this is that this is a very pixilated picture with some color issues (look at Deku’s hair) so we’ll need the movie to come out to really fathom what’s going on with the colors here. But Deku’s does lean towards brown whilst Kacchako looks… matching with reds….

Now I just came across this while looking for something else, and I did make the argument earlier about if Ochako were to match Izuku, they would use green, except for the army green. And here is this picture:

Ochako is wearing army green in this page. I know that one character doesn’t own any colors, but Horikoshi knows what colors represent and again he’s deliberate on the colors and outfits he chooses, but these two seem to match with lots of reds and maroons as a sort of “color” that represents them, and Ochako is wearing army green (Katsuki’s outfit) with a red inscription on her shirt, and Katsuki is wearing a maroon belt. Not the strongest thing, but it’s there.

Like any good thesis statement, I must put the antithesis. So here is a picture that could offset this theory a lot:

If you recognize this splash page, that’s great! It’s from chapter 23, and that’s the chapter after when the Sports Festival Arc starts! It’s my personal favorite that’s been done so far. But Ochako is wearing a green bandana around her neck that does match Izuku’s hero outfit. This did come out when the sports festival arc was being drawn, and the Iz*ch* hints were very heavy at the time, so that may be what it’s referring too. Though Izuku is not wearing his hero outfit in this picture, but Katsuki is wearing his green as well. So it could be referring to either/or, but I think it’s probably for Iz*ch*.

But I’d also like to point out, in an off-topic manner, Ochako does look like she’s enjoying the explosion from Katsuki, which probably hints at their fight in upcoming chapters. But this is a digression paragraph.

Next up on some weird and iffy choice is this picture:

Ochako is wearing a bandana, which is orange and green. Funnily enough, this matches Deku’s outfit in the splash picture, but also matches Katsuki’s regular hero outfit. Also, her clip going across her chest matches Katsuki’s clips on his pants, and no one else has a clip that matches similarly like this.

Another strange matching example:

Ochako is clearly wearing a black tank top here, which is canonical and part of her style, and Katsuki is wearing some random black armband? Sure, Momo is wearing black too but Katsuki and this random black armband? A little suspicious

Finally, here are some common examples that people reminded me of, in case you weren’t aware of these already:

We all know that the Two Black Dots are the symbol of Katsuki and Ochako’s designer.You can argue that the dots on Ochako and Katsuki’s outfits in the previous examples are a callback to their designer, but… to stan a designer that much… both of them? Strange.

Also, they are the only two characters who match in the Volume 13 introduction page, which has them both wearing black tank tops. Sure, it’s a common fashion choice, but no one else shares any other outfit design so clearly. 

Finally, in a personality swap AU, Katsuki is in Ochako’s body. A weird choice when it could have been anyone out of anyone in this series. But he chose to put Katsuki in Ochako.

They also tend to stand next to each other frequently, even if they’re not matching:

I’m sure I might be missing something here, or the colors are a little off or something, but that’s pretty much my post! If more stuff comes out, I’ll add it in here, but that’s my kacchako matching theory! Horikoshi is very delierate about what he is doing and why when it comes to this series, and it seems a little suspicious that they’re almost ALWAYS matching each other in some way in the pages, even when no one else is matching, and with little potential for anyone to be matching with anyone else. It’s honestly got my brain-gears turning. Even if it doesn’t indicate towards canon shipping, I definitely believe that Ochako and Katsuki may get a deeper friendship eventually in the series! If not, well, hey this was still fun. (:

If you want to see the original thread that started this, look here: https://twitter.com/hideandseaking/status/1012943972329762816

#kacchako #kacchco #bakuraka #bakugou x uraraka #hero academia #Anonymous #kacchako matching theory

[antiques-for-geeks]

Game Review : The Final Fantasy Legend

Gameboy / Square / 1989

‘It has been said that the tower in the center of the World is connected to Paradise. Dreaming of a life in Paradise, many have challenged the secret of the tower, but no one knows what became of them. Now, there is another who will brave the adventure...’

In this original RPG for the Gameboy, you begin in a small town built around a mysterious locked tower. That’s all the motivation you’re going to get to set off on an epic quest into the unknown!

Your first challenge is to put a party together to explore the surrounding landscape and see if you can find a way to get that door open. You can recruit party members from one of three races:

Humans are good all-rounders. They must equip any found or purchased armour or weapons to gain offensive and defensive abilities, and must must be levelled up by purchasing upgrade items.

Mutants gain offensive and defensive abilities at random, and will increase in power by successfully engaging in combat with enemies. They also have limited ability to equip weapons and armour.

Monsters have fixed offensive and defensive abilities, and can only increase in power by eating the ‘meat’ of defeated enemies after battle. This will cause the consuming monster to change form, with the potential to become a stronger or weaker.

Although it’s possible to pick a team from any of these classes, the manual warns against all mutant or monster groups; these classes are particularly weak at the beginning of the game, and the random nature of their upgrades can mean they can change from the most powerful party member to totally useless in the course of a few battles.

Everything is viewed from a top-down perspective, and laid out with simple tiles. Other characters can be interacted with; shopkeepers sell goods, innkeepers allow the whole party to recuperate and strangers give limited but occasionally helpful advice. The graphics in these scenes could charitably be described as ‘basic’.

Once outside the safety of a town, the party is attacked regularly by groups of monsters, though enemy groups are never visible on the map screen. Fights are resolved on a battle screen showing the monsters you’re facing off against, with an intermittently successful option to run away. Like so many games of this type, repeated fighting is vital to the process of levelling up your team; sometimes you have to grind out these battles to make it possible to progress. Defeated enemies also drop gold pieces, which you will need to purchase stronger weapons and armour for you characters, as well as potions to restore health and cure ill effects of battle such as poisoning and blindness. Most bought items (excluding armour) have limited uses, and the inventory of each party member must be carefully managed before exploring too far from a friendly town.

I haven't got choc-ices. I only got the albatross. Albatross!

Party members have limited health points, which can be increased by leveling up. Any party member that falls to zero health dies, and cannot take further part in battle until revived back in town. When all party members die it’s game over - time to reload from the last save!

Members can only be revived from zero health a limited number of times. After that you’ll need to find a replacement, who will be weaker and will need to be re-levelled.

One of the first things to point out about Final Fantasy Legend is that it isn’t a Final Fantasy game at all. It’s known in Japan as ‘Makai Toushi Sa-Ga’ and is the first part in the long running ‘Sa-Ga’ RPG series, renamed to cash in on the FF brand.  (this isn’t the last time Square would pull that trick on the Gameboy either…). The way character levelling works and the monster transformation mechanic do mark this out as something a bit different.

By 1990, the Final Fantasy RPG brand had some traction in the U.S. market due to the success of the first game on the NES, but was almost a complete unknown in the UK. We didn’t really catch on here until the massive global success of FF 7, with its (at the time) huge production values.

One thing's for certain, there was nothing else like this available on a portable system in the west in 1989. With a tiny blurry screen, most of the early Gameboy games were kept as simple as possible. Despite the lack of space for text, in some ways the simple RPG mechanic of FF Legend is an ideal fit for the machine - no fast moving graphics to shift about, and since you can save at any time the adventure can be consumed in small bite-size chunks. There’s not much compromise here either. The adventure takes the party from a familiar fantasy setting, through a cloud kingdom with flying vehicles, to a blasted post-apocalyptic future wasteland and beyond. There’s plenty to see and do, all set to some beautifully composed musical themes that really add a great deal to the atmosphere. There’s even time for some darker and (somewhat hastily set-up) emotional moments - something of a tradition for Japanese RPGs!

As far as turn based RPGs on the original B/W Gameboy go, this is about as good as it gets ...unless we’re counting the global phenomenon of Pokemon, which was released quite a few years later. Luckily there are 2 well worthwhile sequels to make your way though!

Meat finds a mystery to be solved.

Buying it today

Boxed copies are getting a little expensive, with prices of £100 and up for a good example. Loose carts are in the £30 range. The high prices reflect the continued popularity of the Final Fantasy brand.

Commentariat

Tim : I’d not experienced anything like this before being handed a Game Boy and being told to play this as it was one of the best games on the platform. At first description, I thought it sounded like Rebel Star, which I had not really enjoyed that much. Turning the machine on and playing around with it, I soon found it was far, far different.

Sure, graphically and sonically, it is basic, but the story really draws you in and the gameplay itself is engaging. Easy to learn and hard to master. Soon I found myself engrossed and spending far more time working through this title than with those around me. Which on a holiday is never a good look.

As a title, it made a big impact with me. So much so that Final Fantasy VII on the PlayStation felt like a bit of a disappointment initially, until I pulled myself together and got on with playing it properly!

Pop : Final Fantasy Legend was my first contact with a JRPG, and pretty much spoiled the Gameboy for me! I was quickly completely hooked on this mini epic and was desperate for more of the same once I’d completed it. I didn’t manage to get my hands on the excellent sequel until many years later, so I would pick up anything that looked even remotely similar. That lead to me buying obviously disappointing efforts like Mysterium and Knight Quest, but even excellent games like Gargoyle's Quest were judged harshly for not being ‘Final Fantasy Legend’ enough!

I not sure this should be your first port of call today given the breadth of portable RPGs that are now available, but I certainly still enjoy giving it a run through once in a while. I’d also like to draw as much attention as possible to how memorable the music is in this game is! Sure, it’s as bleepy as Gameboy music always is, but it really elevates the whole experience.

Meat : Any game that lets you one-shot God with a chainsaw is OK by me!

Score card

Presentation  9/10

Nicely drawn artwork, a fold out map and a welcoming and easily readable manual. The whole experience is very solid. You can tell how much care and attention was lavished on this game by the fact that it has a substantial end credits sequence where you get to relive all the most dramatic moments set to a mashup of the previous musical themes from the game.

Originality 7/10

Takes a lot of cues from the earlier NES Final Fantasy series, with a few original twists on character levelling thrown in.

Graphics 5/10

World graphics are extremely basic, even for a Gameboy game of the time, but you can at least tell what everything is supposed to be! Battle screen enemy portraits are well drawn.

Hookability 7/10

There’s a learning curve involved in working out how to level your characters, what weapons are effective and what potions cure certain battle effects, but once you have the basics this is quickly compelling. The manual is extremely helpful, with a tutorial section on the opening parts of the game. Some people will be immune to the charms of this or any turn based RPG.

Sound 10/10

Beautifully composed themes for each new world you visit. About as good as music on the Gameboy gets!

Lastability 8/10

This is an 8 to 10 hour adventure, and is fun to re-play with different party members and equipment. There are some secrets for the diligent adventurer to discover.

Value for Money 9/10

Plenty of content here, and the quality manual and artwork makes it feel like a premium title.

Overall 9/10

By Gameboy standards this is remains an approachable and highly enjoyable title, and would have been a godsend for gamers looking for something with a bit more depth to play on their new portable console.

#Nintendo Gameboy #game boy #Final Fantasy #Square #afg #antiquesforgeeks #retrogaming #retrocomputing #video games