#jester is not exactly made for arts and crafts

[boyfleshripper]

Could you draw jester trying to use one of those right handed only scissors?

Scissors in general arent really its thing

[nyxedbones-art]

First fanfic/drabble so please be nice <3 this is for my DBH AU i made a while ago, it was just a little drabble I wanted to write out for fun, theres no real theme to it.

Sun/Moon x Reader, 1,387 Words

  You were fixing the last of the bins with arts and crafts supplies before Sun spoke up,

       

"Moon and I, we were content to be here, you know? I love the kids and as much as he misses attending to them for naps, he has freedom in his security role. We were content with spending forever in these walls."

        You paused briefly, letting the words sink in, not sure where he was going with this but not wanting to interrupt too much,

 

        "A lot of past tense there, Sunny," was your mumbled response.

        Sun huffed a laugh and finished wiping down the last of the little tables you both were sitting at hours earlier. The glitter that will be buried with you being the only evidence remaining.

        "Yes. Things change-humans in particular, are capable of change, of growing. The kids especially grow so fast, constantly learning, not like us," he sighed, whether that was to mimic human contemplation or he was actually experiencing it was unknown to you, "We are created in a factory knowing exactly what we were built for, nothing more, and nothing less. We werent meant to change."

        You turned, weight shifting as you took him in. His jester hat was discarded to the security desk and despite his (obnoxiously tall) stature, he almost seemed as delicate as the way that he was talking to you. You let yourself smile, a playful hint of hope in your tone as you encouraged him to continue,

        "And yet?"

        He grinned brightly at you, and you watched it soften ever so slightly as he opened his mouth,

        "And yet. We have you to thank for that."

        You rolled your eyes and scoffed, snagging the rag from his hands as you walked towards the janitorial closet with the rest of the supplies, "Me? Androids have been waking up all over the city for one reason or another. I can't imagine my immaculate fashion sense and amazing puns woke you up from your capitalistic industrial shackles."

        Sun chuckles at your dry tone, bouncing lightly as he falls in step next to you, "Not quite what I meant but you do have a way of making an android do a double take, friend."

        He only laughed louder at your expression; your eyes narrowed with your lip curled a bit, trying to figure out for what felt like the 100th time that day if the damn android was flirting with you or bullying you. You stopped at the door to open it and lazily throw the rag into the dirty bin; it landed precariously on the edge but you shrugged and closed the door-that was future you's problem. Sun tutted at the action but a couple weeks with you has forced him to relax on his normally quite compulsive cleaning habits. Maybe he really was changing, you thought, eyeing him a bit as you both walked back to your desk. He carried on,

        "Hmm but no, you're correct; we were awake, so to speak, before you came here. We couldn't tell if you knew or not due to our occassional non-compliance whenever you asked random things of us, but you never said anything on it." he paused as you sat in the chair behind the desk, watching, waiting for your reaction.

        You leaned back into the chair, crossing your arms over your chest, staring up at him. You suppose it did cross your mind a few times, not in the moment of course, your anxiety around confrontation didn't even let the refusal at your requests register as a red flag from an android. But when you were outside the Plex, watching other people treat their androids the same as your elders had treated Siris and Alexas when you were small-inhuman and inpatient, demanding correct answers and obedience-it was jarring because Sun wasn't attentive and eager to obey like that. Your brow furrowed, Moon sure as shit wasnt like that either.

        He was purposefully oppositional; he hated humans,-er, well, he did but you hoped that the friendship you were carefully forging with him was changing his mind a bit. He seemed like he was warming up to you, walking you to the exit of the plex and watching from the doorway as you got to your car and let it drive you home. The red unblinking glow of his eyes were the only things you could see in the rear view window as the car would pull out  from the parking lot but you never felt unsafe since he started doing this. You knew he would sprint from the building and mow down any threat-whether for your benefit or as an excuse to let out some repressed rage you still weren't 100% sure of. Anyway.

        "I mean, I didnt think much of it-you guys were already so quirky, I think I'd have been startled if asking you two to do anything for me came easy." you deadpanned. The bright grin from earlier came back chershire. Your unimpressed look remained.

        "You wouldnt have us any other way!" you wouldnt "But you have great influence on us, believe it or not. You change and adapt constantly to all the curveballs the kids throw at you. You adapted to me! I know they all warned you that Im a lot-annoying and over zealous in many ways but you handled me just fine!"

       That was only half-true. You remember being told that by managerment and basically every employee before you got to the daycare and it grated at you. Having been the type of person growing up that adults or peers found annoying or "too much", you were uniquely determined to not be an asshole to Sun-if he was obnoxious someone made him that way! He was an android, its not his fault. And the more you observed the more you realized that he had to be that way to entertain all the children the plex decided to leave him with. You get it, hes a robot, hes a machine made to handle a lot, but jeez, dude these were a lot of kids. And he was protective of them and his position.

       Which was fine. You understood. You let him be weird and stingy and loud, you worked enough retail to grin and bear it like a pro. Even if Moon still scared you a bit-the bells were only decorative, they did jack-shit to alert you of his presence at any given time, unlike Sun, who jingled everywhere. Besides, they were both good with and to the kids and quite frankly that was all you cared about.

       "Well, I didn't handle you, for one, we're coworkers, and besties, right? This kinda job involves being adaptive to peers and kids to succeed, doesn't it?" you threw back casually.

        The silence made you look up from where you had began fiddling with your keychains and up at Sun. The smile was gone but he didn't seem upset. Curious maybe. His head tilted to the side and you mirrored it.

       He tilted again and you followed, again. Finally he cracked a grin, "I'm glad we're best friends, y/n!"

       You started at the use of your name-you learned that names were meant for only super serious things and you would otherwise be subject to a plethora of corny nicknames outside of that. You smiled back,

       "That includes Mister Moon-man, too! I know you're a big softie in there!" You joked a bit loudly, only confident in your safety because it was the day shift and he wouldn't take lead for a few more hours. Sun paused to listen to Moon's reaction and started snickering,

       "I think you should clock out early, sunbeam."

       And at that suddenly ominous tone you slammed enter on the clock out option at your terminal and started to sprint for the exit-

       "Don't run-! Predator instinct and all that." You whipped back at the two-toned voice to see Sun somewhat hunched and smiling, hand up to wave but one of his normally pale white eyes was taking on a red hue that made you skid to a brisk walk before ducking out the daycare. You cursed the wacky moon themed android under your breath but couldn't help the smile on your face-Moon only gave a warning if he was in a good mood.

[naffeclipse]

I wish I could hug and smooch every single one of you. This has wholly touched my heart and I'm still trying to find all the right words because this is so thoughtful and dripping with so much hard work and passion, which is making it difficult to type through the tears in my eyes but I will prevail!

A bigger and more individual thank you below the cut ♥

First off, I am truly stunned by this, and I wish I could express how much this fills my heart to the brim with joy and love. @piixelpaint and @sanchensky, thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and kindness. I don't know what exactly it took to make this happen though I know it's nothing to sneeze at, I am eternally grateful for your hard work and great care for crafting this! I'm also so happy and thankful to see @themeeplord and @pure-plum working on other aspects of the piece and wish I could give you guys some birthday cake for your dedication and friendliness. *mwah*

The big guy and Fisher!Y/N! I am so delighted to see your Mer!Eclipse design again, @themeeplord! He is so beautiful and sweet in your art style and I love how detailed his scales and head fins are! @pure-plum Your fisher Y/N is so adorable, and I love how they sit on the big guy's shoulder, it's exactly where they belong ♥

Sleuth Jesters time! I love that I can pick out each person's character by art style alone because each of you has become so distinct and familiar to me ♥ The lovely vigilante by @pure-plum and ahhh, the noir detective by @cero-sleep are so sweet to see standing among their Sleuth Jesters counterparts! Detective!Sun's expression is so well done with the poses of his hands and I adore Moon's grin as he gazes down at the vigilante, I am not normal about these two, respectively, @zelda7999 and @kibbits!

Mafia Boss!Eclipse is so intimidating with his gaze, @miwachan2, and I've always loved how you've designed his attire! @lavenoon, your Police Chief!Eclipse will always be my favorite and I love his soft expression and sharp teeff ♥

Piixel!!! @piixelpaint Gah, the cake with the Bonnie ears, me, are so incredible and I'm so happy. I love everything about it, I wish I could pick out a few things, but it's all perfect!

Ah, the spooky boys with their witch! @chaotikanvas, I adore the starry look of Familiar!Moon's nightcap and sleeves, as well as the swirling marks on his face! Familiar!Sun looks incredible, @solitary-star! I love how you brought his colors and design together! Ahhhh, @clxckwork-sun-n-moon your Familiar!Eclipse design is *mwah* spectacular, especially with his face! Little kitty Eclipse is so cute and both of their appearances make my heart melt! The witch by @sanchensky is beautiful. I'm eyeing the necklace and ring so hard, you have no idea ♥

Last but certainly not least, @sillysaysnonsense your cryptid boys making an appearance makes me cheer so loud! They will always hold a special place in my heart. @lavenoon, you already know I adore your Y/N, and the little stitches of the heart, then the sun and moon (with even more hearts eee!) in the hoodie are beautiful and I love how perfect they are ♥

I can't put my feelings into words (congratulations for turning my brain into a happy puddle) but I mean it with my entire heart when I say thank you. This has truly made my entire birthday. I'm overwhelmed in the best way possible by this beautiful collaboration and I treasure it dearly ♥

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @naffeclipse​!!! Happy Birthday to you, one of our very favourite writers in this wholesome fandom!! ☀️🌙

You have gathered hundreds of people around your exciting stories, making us hold our breath each time we read a new chapter you post. You inspire each of us to create our own stories, drawings, animations, to bring something of our own to this fandom. And you helped us find new mutual friends within it, with whom we may sometimes chat for hours on end. You yourself have become one of said mutual friends and it is always such a pleasure to write to you!

You are simply fantastic and we all sincerely wish you the best Birthday that one could have, knowing that you bring so much joy and inspiration to others!

// All credits and more under the cut! Please, do take a look! :) //

Keep reading

[anon--h]

Some homebrew stuff I’ve been working on, this time for the Bard. College of Jest and College of Rhythm. Check it out.

College of Jest

There are those who sing anthems that fill the listener’s hearts with hope, courage and joy. There are dancers capable of telling epics through their bodies and mesmerizing rhythm. Then there are bards of the College of Jest. They are the comedians, the prankers and the jokesters. (Un)welcome guests everywhere as they take immense pleasure in ridiculing the rich and powerful. Using their wit they can craft insults and retorts so powerful it can bring a lesser person to their knees. Because bards following this college have a habit of mouthing off to the wrong people, they are likely to stick with a troupe of musicians or a band of adventurers for their own safety. They often have small bounties, as no nobleman can stand for his Sunday finest being compared to the droppings of an owlbear.

Rapier Wit

When you pick this archetype you learn the vicious mockery cantrip and tasha’s hideous laughter, if you do not know these spells already. As a bard of this college you deal 1d8 psychic damage with vicious mockery. This increases by an additional d8 when you reach 5th, 11th and 17th level.

Playing the Crowd

As a talented comedian you know how to get a laugh, even from your failures. When you miss a melee attack or fail an ability check you can use a bonus action to cast tasha’s hideous laughter.

Bite the Thumb

Starting at level 6 you learn how to command the attention of your audience. As a bonus action you may expend one Bardic Inspiration die. All hostile creatures within 30ft must make a wisdom saving throw. On a failed saving throw the creature’s speed is halved when not moving towards you. They also have disadvantage on all attack rolls not aimed at you. This feature lasts for a number of rounds equal to the number rolled on the Bardic Inspiraton die. You regain use of this feature after a short or long rest.

Captivating Armor

You got to have a pretty thick skin to work in comedy. When you reach level 14, your armor class is 12 + your charisma modifier.

Parody

At 14th level you learn an entirely new way to mock your opponents. Using the Parody skill you copy the actions one other creature within sight performed last turn. This includes abilities you are not familiar with and abilities you don't have spellslots for. If the creature used more than one action, you have to pick the first of the actions. This feature can be used once before requiring a long rest until it can be used again.

Note: I realize WotC made their own funny bard with the college of Satire. I feel like that one is more a court jester and this one more a comedian, if that makes sense. At level 14, parody might be exploited to become broken af, but I kinda like it. Purely from a balancing perspective, it might be best to limit its use till 6th or 7th level spells to avoid exploiting spells like wish...... Or don’t and let the bard do what bards do best.

College of Rhythm

Bard colleges are not usually formal in nature. An apprenticeship, a group of musically inclined friends or family, just having a feel for music’s sway can be developed into becoming a full-fledged bard. One college however, is slightly less formal than the rest. Typically practiced on the streets of metropolitan areas, the College of Rhythm is accessible to all, but mastered by only a few. Taking percussion, slam poetry, and any instrument that may fit into the bard’s own style, a master from this college sings with flow and precision matched only by the great poets of old. Despite that, it is a very sociable college. Bards of Rhythm are eager to lend a helping hand to their communities and are more than willing to share their art.

Cypher

When you choose this college, you learn that the best way to master your art is to collaborate with others. Starting at level 3, you can use the ‘help’ action as a bonus action instead. When your allies choose to ‘help’ you, they may also use a bonus action instead of a regular action.

Remix

Also starting level 3, when the initiative order has been decided, you may decide that it isn’t up to your usual standards. In this case, you may spend an inspiration dice to either add or subtract to a creature’s initiative score. You can only use this feature at the beginning of combat.

Freestyle

Starting at level 6, your performances flow so well into each other that they start to affect your other skills. When making an acrobatics, animal handling, or sleight of hand check, you may roll performance instead. You can use your Charisma score for one Saving Throw of your choice per day.

Rapid Flow

At level 14 you’ve mastered articulating at incredible speeds. As a result, you can perform simpler incantations much faster than other spellcasters can. Cantrips and level 1 spells can be cast using a bonus action.

Pass the Mic

Level 14 feature. As a student of the College of Rhythm, you know exactly when you need to jump in and when you need to fade out to make room for someone else. By spending an inspiration dice, you may forgo your bonus action and allow one of your allies to make an action during your turn in the initiative. This does not change their place in the initiative order. Pass the Mic can only be used once a day for any one ally.

The ally receiving an action during your turn may use it to disengage, dodge, hide, help, attack, dash or use an object. They receive no movement, bonus action or additional reaction.

Note: Ever wanted to play a rapping bard? No? Too bad. Making this one I didn’t realize I set out to make a bard even more supportive than usual, but most of this kit seems to make the college of rhythm bard a teamplayer. Pass the Mic however I am not sure about. Mainly because it doesn’t seem a lot of fun for the bard themselves. Perhaps upgrade Rapid Flow to include up to 4th level spells instead? 

[tadcoopers-throneroom]

Summer Camp Galavant

@sexyshoelessgodofwar gave me the ask for a Galavant summer camp au.  Most of the characters are children.  I would say about 10-12.

Summer camp au

 Madelena’s parents sent her to camp yearly after they found out some students were bullying her,  they sent her to camp hoping she could make some new friends. She ended up dating Galavant after finding out he was a popular kid at her school, hoping their relationship could make her less likely to get bullied.  It worked and soon she outshone Galavant.  She ended up dumping Galavant, to date a rich dork named Richard and then dumped him for his cooler brother, Kingsly. She ended up dumping his brother too; it ended pretty badly and Kingsly ended up not returning to camp next year.  No one asked why the two broke up, mainly out of fear from Madelena.  She ended up dating Gareth. She is not a big fan of camp activities, but her favorites would probably learn magic tricks from Wormwood. 

King Richard’s parents bought the place from Isabella’s parents (which to this day aggravates Isabella).   He tries to be friendly with everyone but ends up making many people mad.   He spends a lot of time with his schoolmates Bobbi and Gareth.  The two of them beat up anyone who is dumb enough to bully the child of who runs the camp.  I think he would be a big fan of arts and crafts.   Definitely friendship bracelets.  Gareth wears one and no one will say anything about it, and it’s Bobbi’s most cherished possession.

Gareth joined camp the second he heard Richard was joining.   Richard isn’t exactly outdoorsy, and he has to protect his friend.  One year Richard couldn’t go to camp, family death.  And Gareth ended up spending time with Madelena and the two of them went peak dickish.   Madelena encouraged Gareth to pick fights at random or whoever annoyed her, knowing that the camp wouldn’t kick out Richard’s best friend and Madelena was petty.  If someone looked at her too long, she would either do a prank that would be soul destroying to be a victim of or sick Gareth on them.  Depends on the mood.  The two of them bonded with these antics and fell in love.   Richard was furious at first but ended up forgiving Gareth a week later. Bobbi took longer.  Gareth likes archery, he gets to shoot stuff. 

Bobbi was in love with Richard the moment they met in preschool.  The two of them were inseparable and though it took Gareth awhile to warm up to the girl in their group, afraid that her being a girl would make her lame.  He soon warm to her after she beat the shit out of him for spilling paint on her during art class.  Like Gareth, she joined when Richard did.  She was very forlorn when Richard couldn’t come to camp that year, but her parents still made her go.  She hates Madelena because of how she hurt Richard. When she came home, she refused to let Richard out of her site for weeks, which Gareth teased the two about.  She likes mountain biking.

Galavant’s mom sent Galavant to camp after she officially divorced his dad.  He took it hard, taking at as a sign his dad will never return.  She thought maybe him getting away from the house and do something fun would do him some good.  It took him some time to enjoy camp but when his relationship with Madelena helped until she dumped him.    A friend he made in camp, Sid tried to cheer him up, but he had no luck until Isabella made an attempt and Galavant snapped at her.  Galavant felt bad and apologized, and after that became more receptive for accepting his friend’s help. Sid, Isabella and Galavant became best friends and Gal and Izzy ended up dating after he moved on from Madelena and his dad.  Galavant likes sports like lacrosse and tag football.

 Sid joined to take a break from his adopted family.  He loves his family with all his heart, but his family is loud.  He ends up befriending Galavant helped him with one of the camp’s activities.  Galavant was the first person he came out of the closet to.  Sid ended up meeting a bunch of other gay kids at camp and ended up dating one of them.  He enjoys hiking because it’s quiet and wood carvings so he can make action figures to add to his collection. 

Chef Alonzo is the camps cook.  His family worked three generations, and every single one of them got fired for various reasons.   He falls in love with a camp counsellor, and every single camper ships it.  When the campers found out he got married during the summer to Quinn, there was a party.

Quinn camp counsellor.   She keeps a tight ship and stopped many fights Gareth tried to start.  She falls in love with chef a couple months after she got hired.  The two of them started dating one summer and got married before camp started again.

Neo of Sporin.

Camp doctor hates Gareth and Madelena, hates their relationship because of all the extra work the two of them gave him.  But years later is happy to hear the two got married but he would never admit it. 

Xanax got hired to help Quinn, but got fired for smoking pot in the camp.

The camp’s name is Valencia.  Isabella’s family ran it for generations before King Richard’s family bought it.   They sold it because of some money troubles the family was having.

Princess Jubilee came to camp because she was driving her family up a wall.   Jubilee soon drove Quinn up a wall.  Jubilee.  The years Jubilee went to camp shook the whole place up, making several girls question their sexuality.  Kissed Madelena and held hands with Isabella.  Tried flirting with Roberta, but Roberta was grieving over Richard not being at camp.   She likes tie-dying shirts.  She enjoys making boring white fancy shirts look like anything else.  She tie-dyed her dad’s suit shirts after she bought black ink.  Why black and not normal colors?  Because while the bright colors improved the boring shirts, black is better.

Jester also kissed Madelena when she was dating Richard, which gave him two black eyes. One from Gareth and the other Roberta. He is the most ornery of the kids and loves mayhem.  Quinn has a soft spot for him, even if he leaves a giant mess everywhere he goes, he has given her many good stories to tell her friends.  He enjoys playing with instruments and telling stories around the campfire. Also, he convinced Quinn to do a talent show, so he can tell jokes. 

[seaoftales]

Sure, Shanks had mentioned that his adopted daughter might stop by to learn and hone her skills in swordsmanship, though he never really expected her to follow up on that desire. Mihawk was a strict teacher, he didn't allow for any lax behaviour, and he required all of his students, as rare as they were, to fully dedicate themselves to the craft and art of wielding a sword. Given that Rya was a smuggler, he had his doubts on how that would go, and she was raised by Shanks on top of it as well. That alone should have made him say no, but he was doing a friend a favour, and surely she couldn't be that bad.

❝ Trust me, I haven't exactly anticipated the jester to be amongst us either. This was always meant to be a venture between me and Crocodile. At least with Buggy posing as the head of the organization, he's taking most of the heat, which allows us to do the work we are actually meant to do. ❞ He still didn't get the chance to go out and lay waste to one or the other Marine they'd put a bounty on, though he hoped he would get the chance soon. His fingers were itching to decapitate the one or the other idiot he was forced to work under for years.

The barrels had, of course, caught his attention, eyes widening just a little, and by the gods did he try his best not to look like a child on Yule being presented with a pile of presents. His own stash of wine he managed to save before leaving Kuraigana was running low, and the barrels were filled with his favourite. ❝ Vintage Tarapacá? Now that's hard to come by these days. I probably shouldn't ask where you got that from. As for your question, yes. Shanks did get in contact with me concerning your training, and I agreed to do it as a favour for an old friend. ❞ If she proved to possess the right talent for swordsmanship, he'd happily continue training her.

❝ Information does sound... tempting, especially with what we are currently setting in motion. Akagami did complain some time ago about a headache caused by the knowledge of you having some on and off thing with a CP agent? Think you can get some information out of him? ❞

Color her surprised when Mihawk had greeted her just as she was stepping off her ship.

"And I thought the old man had killer observation haki." She groused before the fishman, Resh stepped off behind her, carrying a few dozen cases of Mihawks' favorite wine.

"Actually, Mihawk, I came to chat with you. About training. Shanks suggested learning how to wield a sword if I run out of bullets at some point. I'm good at dealing with daggers, but swords, I never got around to it." She looked towards the circus tent before frowning slightly.

"Never figured you'd take up with Clowny and 'Couldn't crack a smile without gutting someone'." She groused before looking back at Mihawk. "Shanks did contact you, right?" She asked. "If not, you're welcome to take a free shot at him if you two meet up." She sighed before rubbing at the back of her head. Shanks swore that he had a good connection with Mihawk.

She motioned at the barrels of wine Resh had brought onto land. "Of course, I'm not going to make you train me on good standing alone. I'll put my business skills to work to bring in supplies for your group if needed. Treasure isn't just gems and gold. It's information, supplies, and anything that can be used to make your network go."

[stagekiller]

@eloquentyrant​ sent;

   Perhaps one of the most infuriating and unnerving factors about the clown was that he pays attention. Like a predator, he sniffs out weaknesses like blood, weaponizing them. Harvesting them as he saw fit. And Oswald's weakness has always been his heart. Sentimentality. Jerome knew exactly what he was doing when he dropped those gifts off. But he would be a fool to not expect retaliation in turn. When he gets to his cell, he'll find a gift box secured in layers upon layers of zipties.    Upon opening them, he finds keys and a note. To where he wonders? To a bank vault filled to the brim with precious jewelry, cash and extra special toys (custom weapons) to do as he pleases. There were no seasons wishings on the note. Only a handpainted version of a smiling lizard wearing a bow and a penguin.

  🃏  —  TRUE TO HIS COMPANION’S ESTIMATE, those devious greens are keen on observing. Much like a crocodile, the clown lingers in still waters, watching —waiting for the perfect timing. It all ties back to the act, the art; the secret to good comedy is timing. And Jerome, albeit notoriously defamed as air-headed, seems to be a master of the craft. Oswald would be right to think the sentimentality behind his jester’s gifts was both a token of appreciation and an underlying threat.

   What fun, their little game! When he spots a packet sealed so tediously among his loot, Jerome is quick to make way towards it. He is half-expecting some retaliation for the little prank he played on his favorite mobster, but soon finds out that vengeance was meant to be exacted by means of those damned zip-ties! They are impossible to rid of without a blade!

  “ Bloody bastard... ” Curses huffed under his breath amidst frustrated efforts. Teeth grab plastic edges, attempting to bite it open, but he is once again unsuccessful. “ Imma kill him. Imma kill him, I swear... ” It’s growled under a fit of giggles. Somehow Jerome seems both exasperated and amused.

   Finally, he resorted to asking the guards for help. Not even they have something sharp enough to slice through a zip-tie, however, so here is clownman, making his way to the cafeteria at 3am, with inmates yowling in his path. Where are their gifts, they ask ? All in good time, Jerome responds.

  One agonizingly slow but thorough rummage later and on the brink of losing his patience, Jerome finally acquires a fork that can at least poke around the package and release some air to shrink it just enough that he can wedge it free. Ugh, how tedious! He tears through cardboard as rabid dogs do flesh, sticking a tongue out when he digs inside to find the treasure key.

   How characteristic of Oswald to be extravagant as ever. And how fitting that Jerome relishes in being spoiled rotten like that. They really are a match made in hell, in that aspect. He takes a moment to examine it along with the instructions, until something else in the package catches his eye. His escorting guard frowns, hands quivering around his weapon as the clown’s features shift in an eerily unfamiliar expression. Anything akin to sentiment is so off putting when worn on that mangled Glasgow grin.

[moiraineswife]

A Dream of Spring - A Yester Fic

I’M BACK!!! Back with a gay vengeance!! I’m all caught up on campaign 2, and the result is this fic!! 

Title: A Dream of Spring 

Summary: After Yasha confessed the sad truth of why she left her home, and what happened to her wife, Zuella, Jester uses her creativity and her new magical paint to make something to cheer her up. Jester's POV, some introspection and insight, and a smidge of Jester's thoughts on the rest of the Nein. because Jester is insightful af, in her own way, and I wanted to tap into that. 

Teaser: “Do you- Do you think Zuella would like me?”  Yasha thought for a moment, her features softening as she did so, “I think that she would,” she said, finally. “She liked things that made me happy. And you make me happy, Jester.”

Link: AO3

Jester bounced onto her bed, legs crossed, and pulled her sketchbook towards her. She would have to draw for the Traveller all she had seen with Yasha, and the lightning ball, and how she had looked up in the mast, storm winds whipping her hear around her, those huge big skeletal wings blossoming behind her. It would be awesome, and she knew the Traveller would appreciate it, but she had something to do first.

Careful as she could be, Jester pulled out her special pot of paint and the special paintbrush they had found on the ship with the grumpy guy, and the deckhand she had so beautifully tattooed.

Tongue between her teeth, she began to create.

She concentrated as she had never concentrated before. This was important. She had to make it perfect. Every line, every detail, every stroke of colour was expertly crafted as she allowed the process to carry her away, as it had done so many times before.

This time, though, she kept herself anchored on Yasha.

She thought of her eyes, mismatched as they were, and the emotion in them when she had spoken of her wife.

A lot of people thought Yasha looked really scary with her big, bulging muscles, and that crazy huge sword she had. Jester had always thought there was something about her that looked sad. Now she knew what that was. But there was a softness in her, too, even after everything she had been through. It was in the eyes that you could see it, and Jester drew on that as she painted feverishly.

Halfway through her blooming masterpiece, she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

“What are you doing here, my Jester? Is this another gift for me?” The Traveller had come to her.

He had always been drawn in by her intense bursts of creativity. When she was little, he had told her there was power in it, in her imagination, her drive, her focus and passion. Now that she had her magic paint, there really was, and Jester knew just what to do with it.

“No, it’s not for you, Traveller,” she said, not looking up from what she was doing, but he expected that, so it was okay. He knew her, knew how consumed she could get by her painting. “I hope you don’t mind, but my friend Yasha is feeling sad right now, and I want to cheer her up.”

“Not at all. This is a great gift you have, the gift to make people smile, and feel good about themselves, about you. You should use it. But never forget-“

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she cut in, shaking her head and smiling, knowing what he was going to say. “You’ll always be my favourite!” he could be silly like that sometimes, always asking her that. He was her best friend! He had to know that by now.

��Very good,” he said, silkily, lightly caressing her hair with his hand. “Paint something pretty for me when you’re done, won’t you?” He said.

“Of course!” she replied brightly.

“She’s lonely, you know, my friend Yasha,” Jester explained as she painted. “She needs someone to be her friend, like I needed you when you found me,” she thought he would be pleased by that, how well she had learned from him. “I suppose she has her Storm Lord,” she mused, suddenly thoughtful, absently chewing on the end of her brush while she worked. “But I don’t think he seems very friendly if you know what I mean,” she added, continuing.

Jester cocked her head to one side, screwing up her memory, trying to picture exactly what she was painting in her mind’s eye, making sure she had every detail.

As she did, she continued to talk to the Traveller. He liked hearing all about her, he always had, even when no-one else had listened to her, he always had. She could tell him anything.  

“Beau told me she was lonely when she was little, too,” she went on quietly, feeling sad as she thought about it. Her melancholy seemed to bleed into her piece as the bright blues, and turquoises of Beau’s robes began putting colour into her work.

“I think we’re all lonely, and lost, in different ways,” she said, softly. “Yasha lost her wife, and her home, and her tribe and just everything before the Storm Lord found her.”

She darkened the colour of her paint, and began using it to create shadows, and depth to her piece. Without that darkness, the drawing looked false, and hollow. When she had been little, she had only wanted to use the brightest of colours, without the ones that made her feel sad, the dark, cold colours. But she had grown up, and she knew now that life, like her art, needed that darkness, and those shadows, were necessary to make the bright colours pop and matter.

“Caduceus’ home is sick,” she went on,” and the colour softened as she thought of her new firbolg friend. The soft pastel greens and pinks melded with Yasha’s dark shadows, lightening them, and gentling them.

“He’d never even left it before!” she exclaimed, trying to imagine what it might have been like to live her whole life in a graveyard full of dead people, trying to find the beauty and the creativity in that. But Caduceus had done it, she supposed, he’d done it well.

“He lived his whole life just in that graveyard, I mean, even I got to see Nicodranus when I was little. The world must feel so big to him, even though he’s quite big, the world is much bigger. He must miss his home, and his family, just like I miss my mama.”

She frowned slightly as she thought of her mum. She was glad they had helped her, and taken care of the mean guy that had been harassing her, but she was sad they hadn’t been able to spend more time together.

Taking a deep breath, she made herself keep talking to the Traveller about her friends, rather than feeling sad about her mother. “Fjord lost his ship,” she said, and the soft pastel greens she had started with Caduceus darkened, and the deep sapphire blue of the ocean began to bleed in. “And he lost all his crew, and his friends, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do now,” she said, drawing out sweeping wave-like shapes of green, and blue, and gold.

“Nott drinks quite a lot, because she’s afraid a lot, and that makes her feel brave,” she went on, the deep, rich ambers of her favourite liquors, and the mead they’d bought, and the bright golds, and silvers of the coins and trinkets she loved so much.

“Sometimes I think about what might have made her so afraid that she had to leave her home, and her clan, and everything,” Jester went on, shaking her head, “She’s so little, but she tries to take good care of all of us, and I wonder if that’s because no-one ever really took care of her.”

“And Caleb...” she said, sighing softly, “When I look into his eyes, I see ghosts,” she murmured, shivering slightly, in spite of the bright burning yellows, and oranges, and reds of his fire now filled her painting. “I don’t know who they are, or what happened to them, but they obviously haut him, and hurt him quite a lot.”

“And then we all lost Molly,” she said, sadly, as the lavender of his skin poured from her brush, followed by the whole rainbow that had been contained in his coat, and his laugh, and his love for soul, finally breathing real life into the piece. “He was a good man, a good friend, I liked him a lot. I still think about him, and get sad about him. But I don’t think he’d approve of that, so I try not to be but...It’s hard sometimes.”

She took a deep breath, moving to finish the piece, the details, drawing on everything she was thinking, and feeling.

“Losing people is hard. Sometimes I think maybe my mama was right, and I would have been better staying at home, where it was safe, and I couldn’t get hurt by people leaving, like she was...”She trailed off, thinking about all of her friends being sad was making her sad.  

But then she brightened, a smile sparking across her face again, “We all needed a friend, and that’s why we found each other, and we’re all better now that we’re together.”

She looked down at what she was making, and though it made her sad, she was pleased that she could do it, and that there were friends in her life to do it for.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, looking up for the first time since she had started, “For helping me to find them.”

But he had gone.

The room was empty, but she knew he had heard. He was always with her.

Smiling, Jester redoubled her efforts and watched the paint glow before it popped into existence. She stared down at it, and smiled, proud of herself.

Getting up from her bed, she crept out of her cabin and along the hall as quietly as she could so as not to wake the others. When she got there, she saw a pale glow flickering from under Yasha’s door. She was still awake, as she had hoped.

“Yasha?” she called softly, knocking on the door. “Don’t worry, it’s only me, Jester, I promise I’m not a scary lightning ball in disguise!”

After the events of the day, she felt Yasha might need that reassurance. But then, if she was a scary lightning ball in disguise that would be exactly what she would say.

Yasha didn’t seem to share that particular worry, however, because all she said was, “You can come in.”

Jester pushed the door ope, wincing slightly as the old hinges creaked. Avantika really hadn’t taken good care of her boat.

A single candle was flickering on a low table. Yasha was curled up, knees tucked against her chest, gazing out of the window at the distant storm that was disappearing into the distance. Lightning flashed, illuminating her face, making her look momentarily like some kind of heavenly angel that had gotten lost and begun walking among mortals. Then it passed, and she looked just like Yasha again.

When Jester sat down on the bed beside her and said, “I have something for you,” Yasha turned to look at her.

Jester thought her eyes looked red, as though she had been crying, but obviously she wasn’t going to say that. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with crying, especially if you were sad, but she knew Yasha would be embarrassed and she didn’t want to do that.

“You do?” Yasha said, blinking owlishly at her.

“Well,” Jester said, biting her lip and considering the matter, “I suppose technically it’s for Zuella? But it’s also for you to give to Zuella so...”

Having successfully confused herself into a corner, blushing, Jester thrust the flowers at Yasha without warning.

Yasha stared down at it while Jester chewed harder on her lip, suddenly hit by a wave of uncertainty about whether or not she had done the right thing.

She watched Yasha trace the edge of one of the delicate blossoms with a large finger, her touch surprisingly gentle. She could see grief, and sorrow, and something like awe in Yasha’s face, but she didn’t know what that meant about her gift.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Jester burst out, “Do you like them?”

Yasha looked up at her slowly, away from the bouquet in her hands and blinked.

“I- Where- How did you get these?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

“I used my magic paint,” Jester replied in a small voice.

“You did that- You made this for me?” she mumbled in quiet disbelief.

“Should I not have?” Jester said, “Oh! Oh, I made you more upset, didn’t I?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands over her mouth, “I was trying to cheer you up, I thought it would make you happy, but-“

“No,” Yasha interrupted, quietly but firmly, “No it did, I just...I can’t believe that you would do this for me.”

“Well of course,” Jester said, reaching out tentatively and placing her hand on Yasha’s shoulder. “You’re my friend, Yasha,” she said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “So you like them?” she blurted out, unable to stop herself.

“I do,” Yasha said, softly, still touching the delicate flower blossoms with wonder, “Thank you, Jester.”

“You’re welcome, Yasha.”

Then she saw Yasha frowning slightly, picking through the bouquet and examining the different types of flowers in the bunch. She bit her lip, hoping she would notice what she had done.

“These are...Molly’s flowers, aren’t they?” she said, softly, “From his tattoo?”

Jester nodding, growing more serious, “Yes, all the ones that were on his tattoo. I thought, maybe, this way, you could take him with you when you go to see Zuella next. I thought you’d like to tell her about him.”

A soft, sad smile tugged at Yasha’s lips as he nodded and said, “Yes, I would. I do not think she would know what to make of him.”

“He was a lot,” Jester agreed, nodding again, “But he was good, and he was your friend.”

“He was. He is,” Yasha said.

“Maybe!” Jester burst out, “Maybe they’re together right now, Zuella and Molly. And he’s, like, reading her fortune, and showing off with his swords, and making her laugh?”

“Perhaps,” Yasha murmured, slowly, “Yes, I would like that.”

“Then that’s how it is,” Jester said with finality.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Yasha said, quietly.

“What?”

“The best. About everything. And everyone,” Yasha said, looking al ittle baffled by this attitude.  

“Well, sure,” Jester said, shrugging, “I mean, I could think the worst all the time, but that would just make me sad, and I don’t like being sad. I would rather be happy!”  

Yasha was smiling softly, “I would tell her about you, too, Jester.”

Jester gasped, delighted, clapping her hands together, “What would you tell her? I mean, you’d have to tell her I helped you get some flowrs, and that I’m a really great cleric, and about the Traveller, and my painting, and that I’m really, really pretty, and really cool, and like, one of the best people you know, and-“

“You are one of the best people I know, Jester,” Yasha said, softly, but so sincerely that she stopped mid-flow.

“I mean, I do not know very many people,” Yasha added, frowning slightly, “But I think even if I did, you would still be one of the best people I know.”

“Thanks, Yasha,” Jester said quietly, for once not able to think of anything else to say. “Do you- Do you think Zuella would like me?”

Yasha thought for a moment, her features softening as she did so, “I think that she would,” she said, finally. “She liked things that made me happy. And you make me happy, Jester.” She smiled softly, picked up her book, and began carefully tucking all of the flowers inside.

“I’m really sorry that she died, Yasha,” Jester said, softly. “I bet she was really cool.”

“She was,” Yasha said, nodding, half-sad, half-happy.

“And I want you to know, too,” Jester went on, more serious than she’d been so far, taking Yasha’s hand between both of her own as she spoke. Yasha blinked, looking a little surprised, but did not pull away. “I know that you lost Zuella, and then we- we all lost Molly,” her voice faltered a little bit, but she kept strong, and said what she wanted to say. “But you’re not alone.”

Yasha’s expression softened a little as she said this, and that gave her the encouragement to keep going.

“We’re all here, me, and Fjord, and Caleb, and Nott, and Beau, and Caduceus, and his tea,” Yasha smiled again. “We’re your friends now. And we can’t bring Zuella or Molly back, and we can’t replace them or anything but...But you’re not alone.”

“I wanted to be,” Yasha said, softly, “For a very long time, I wanted to. I did not want people close to me again. Molly changed that for me. I think he knew that I needed people again.”

“He was a pretty smart guy about things like that,” Jester agreed.

“And he brought m to you all, and I will always be grateful to him for that,” Yasha went on. Jester had never heard her speak as much as she had done today, but she knew that she needed this, too, and kept herself quiet, letting her talk. “Even though he left...” She trailed off for a moment, swallowed, then went on, “He taught me that no matter what has happened in my past, I cannot let it stop me from living now.”

Jester nodded, “I think Molly taught us all that,” she said. “And,” she added, resting her head gently on Yasha’s shoulder, and looping her tail around her waist and squeezing gently, “I don’t think that Molly or Zuella would want you to be sad about them forever.”

“That is true,” Yasha nodded. “Zuella would want me to be happy. That was always what she wanted for me.”

She smiled and awkwardly gripped Jester’s hand, half squeezing it, half shaking it, her calluses rough against Jester’s skin.

“And I’m glad the Storm Lord saved you and brought you to us. Hey!” she exclaimed suddenly, making Yasha jump a little, “Wouldn’t it be cool if, like, the Traveller and the Storm Lord knew each other, and they were like best friends, and they talked about us, and they were like, we should totally have Yasha and Jester meet and be best friends, too, because that would be really cool!”

“That would be really cool,” Yasha agreed in that slow, solemn way of hers.

They both smiled together for a moment, then Jester, suddenly serious again, asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

Yasha rested her other hand on top of her closed book and said, “I think so, yes. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Jester. For the flowers, and, and for listening.”

“You’re very welcome!” she said, “And,” she added, leaning in and speaking behind her hand, as though they were both spies, or something, “If you ever want an awesome tattoo, you just let me know because I’m, like, totally an expert now.”

“Are you really?” Yasha said, seeming genuinely interested.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed, “Orley has been teaching me for like a whole week now, and I was a complete natural, and an awesome artist to begin with, so yeah I’m amazing already!”

“Well, I think that I am okay with the ones I already have for right now,” Yasha said, seriously, “But if that changes, I will let you know.”

“You have tattoos already?” Jester gasped out.

“I do,” Yasha said, her eyes twinkling slightly, “Ask me tomorrow and I might show them to you.”

“Okay!” Jester said, feeling excited for that already, “I guess we should really sleep now, huh?” she added, suddenly realising how tired she was.

“It is very late,” Yasha said, “And it has been quite a long day.”

“Yeah. But if you need anything else, though, you just let me know, alright?” she said, trying to sound stern, and like Nott did when she was taking care of everyone.

“I will. Thank you, Jester.”

They both stood, Yasha hovering awkwardly, half-lifting her arms, then dropping them again, looking unsure.

Jester, however, knew just what to do, and bounced forward, saying, “Oh! It’s okay, Yasha, you don’t have to be shy! You can hug me if you want to! I’m a really great hugger.”

She didn’t give Yasha time to do more than open her mouth before pulling her into a big bear hug. Yasha stiffened momentarily, as though she had again forgotten what contact that wasn’t driven by violence felt like. Then she relaxed and patted Jester awkwardly on the back.

“Well, good night, Yasha!” Jester trilled, brightly, moving towards the door.

“Good night, Jester,” Yasha replied, quiet and composed.

Jester paused in the doorway and said, with a rather mischievous smile on her face, “I got some really great honeycombs in town today, and tomorrow, wer’re going to eat them both for breakfast to cheer you up some more! So get ready for that!”

And with that, she closed the door to Yasha’s cabin and skipped back to her own, satisfied that her work here was now done.

***

[circuslollipop]

Jester and Molly

send me a character:

Mollymauk:

favorite thing about them:

oooh, that’s difficult. he’s one of those characters i love so much but it can be difficult to pinpoint exactly why? i do love his attitude, though--definitely leaves an impression on people. certainly left an impression on me! i always find myself smiling or laughing when watching his (lighthearted) scenes. the salty pete moment from episode 21 is underrated tbh.

least favorite thing about them:

the fact that we lost him so early like??? i always say i’d like to get him back and you can find me reblogging ‘molly is fine’ posts but in reality, i know we’re probably not gonna get him back, which is sad to me bc all that character development we could’ve had, all the growth...man, i really really wish he could’ve stuck around (altho no, i do NOT want caduceus to leave!).

favorite line:

 “Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and we are friends now, aren’t we?”

brOTP:

JESTER. also Beau. kinda have a taz-esque au going where the party is just the three of them. haven’t developed it much but i know it’s gonna be chaotic af. also Yasha how could i forget Yasha???

OTP:

i ship him w a few characters, but none of those ships are particularly strong in my mind so i’ll just go with Molly/going on adventures and getting into hijinks with his friends whom he loves

nOTP:

ig Molly/any of the lesbian characters?

random headcanon:

he’s allergic to citrus but doesn’t know and thinks your mouth is supposed to feel all tingly like that when you eat an orange (and he enjoys it). also modern!Molly and good omens!Molly can’t drive

unpopular opinion:

i actually kind of really enjoy his petty streak? he can be a lil shit sometimes and i love him. hell, if he were perfectly kind all the time i might not love him so much

song i associate with them:

a lot?? mostly nightwish and danny elfman songs (my music taste is just Like That honestly), but my favorite would probably be Dead Man’s Party by oingo boingo

favorite picture of them:

probably this art i drew recently (heck; ive got it as my icon pretty much everywhere)

Jester:

favorite thing about them:

also hard to pinpoint? what an absolute CUTIE though--i love how she’s an adorable, sweet ball of pure joy but at the same time, an absolute trickster who WILL play a prank on you at some point. but also she’s super strong and she loves her friends so goddamn much!!! honestly, laura bailey crafted a legend.

least favorite thing about them:

i have nothing??? at all?? to say???? honestly there’s nothing i don’t like about her

favorite line:

 “Oh, you know, I’m just a little blue tiefling, that’s all!”

brOTP:

MOLLY.

OTP:

tbh i ship her with p much everyone in the m9 except for Nott and Caduceus, but my favorite Jester ship is definitely with Beau.

nOTP:

don’t think i have any?? Jester is honestly the most shippable character in the show

random headcanon:

modern!Jester has lots of social media and has a good amount of followers on all of her accounts

unpopular opinion:

this isn’t really unpopular but i have seen people push back against it so i will say this: JESTER LIKES LADIES!!!!!

song i associate with them:

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. tbh, i wanna make an entire 80′s playlist for Jester

favorite picture of them:

this sketch i made of her

thanks for sending!!

[dosbysilverqueen]

There Only Was One Choice by Harry Chapin

There's a kid out on my corner hear him strumming like a fool Shivering in his dungarees but still he's going to school His cheeks are made of peach fuzz his hopes may be the same But he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music game There are fake patches on his jacket he's used bleach to fade his jeans With a brand new stay pressed shirt and some creased and wrinkled dreams His face a blemish garden but his eyes are virgin clear His voice is Chicken Little's But he's hearing Paul Revere When he catches himself giggling he forces up a sneer Though he'd rather have a milk shake he keeps forcing down the beer Just another folkie late in coming down the pike Riding his guitar he left Kid brother with his bike And he's got Guthrie running in his bones He's the hobo kid who's left his home And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones This boy is staying acoustic. There's Seeger singing in his heart He hopes his songs will somehow start To heal the cracks that split apart America gone plastic And now there's Dylan dripping from his mouth He's hitching himself way down south To learn a little black and blues From old street men who paid their dues 'Cause they knew they had nothing to lose They knew it So they just got to it With cracked old Gibsons and red clay shoes Playing 1-4-5 chords like good news And cursed with skin that calls for blood They put their face and feet in mud But oh they learned the music from way down there The real ones learn it somewhere Strum your guitar sing it kid Just write about your feelings not the things you never did Inexperience it once had cursed me But your youth is no handicap it's what makes you thirsty Hey, kid you know you can hear your footsteps as you're kicking up the dust And the rustling in the shadows tells you secrets you can trust The capturing of whispers is the way to write a song It's when you get to microphones the music can go wrong You can't see the audience with spotlights in your eyes Your feet can't feel the highway from where the Lear jet flies When you glide in silent splendor in your padded limousines Only you are crying there behind the silver screen Now you battle dragons but they'll all turn into frogs When you grab the wheel of fortune you get caught up in the cog First your art turns into craft then the yahoos start to laugh Then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall They're the lost ones out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding They always are the first to see the cracks upon the walls When I started this song I was still thirty-three The age that Mozart died and sweet Jesus was set free Keats and Shelley too soon finished, Charley Parker would be And I fantasized some tragedy'd be soon curtailing me Well just today I had my birthday I made it thirty-four Mere mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore I've got this problem with my aging I no longer can ignore A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar And I can't help being frightened on these midnight afternoons When I ask the loaded questions Why does winter come so soon? And where are all the golden girls that I was singing for The daybreak chorus of my dreams serenades no more Yeah the minute man is going soft the mirror's on the shelf Only when the truth's up there can you fool yourself I am the aged jester who won't gracefully retire A clumsy clown without a net caught staggering on the high wire Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my waist Today keeps slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste Tomorrow is a daydream, the future's never true Am I just a fading fire or a breeze passing through? Hello my Country I once came to tell everyone your story Your passion was my poetry And your past my most potent glory Your promise was my prayer Your hypocrisy my nightmare And your problems fill my present Are we both going somewhere? Step right up young lady Your two hundred birthdays make you old if not senile And we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortis smile With your old folks eating dog food and your children eating paint While the pirates own the flag and sell us sermons on restraint And while blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can hear And still you will not answer with that message coming clear Does it mean there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream And the buzzards own the carcass of your dream? B*U*Y Centennial Sell 'em pre-canned laughter America Perennial Sing happy ever after There's a Dance Band on the Titanic Singing Nearer My God to Thee And the iceberg's on the starboard bow Won't you dance with me Yes I read it in the New York Times That was on the stands today It said that dreams were out of fashion We'll hear no more empty promises There'll be no more wasted passions To clutter up our play It really was a good sign The words went on to say It shows that we are growing up In oh so many healthy ways And I told myself this is Exactly where I'm at But I don't much like thinking about that Harry are you really so naive You can honestly believe That the country's getting better When all you do is let her alone Harry Can you really be surprised when it's there before your eyes when you hold the knife that carves her you live the life that starves her to the bone Good dreams don't come cheap You've got to pay for them If you just dream when you're asleep There is no way for them to come alive to survive It's not enough to listen it's not enough to see When the hurricane is coming on it's not enough to flee It's not enough to be in love we hide behind that word It's not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred What I've run through my body, what I've run through my mind My breath's the only rhythm and the tempo is my time My enemy is hopelessness my ally honest doubt The answer is a question that I never will find out Is music propaganda should I boogie, Rock and Roll Or just an early warning system hitched up to my soul Am I observer or participant or huckster of belief Making too much of a life so mercifully brief? So I stride down sunny streets and the band plays back my song They're applauding at my shadow long after I am gone Should I hold this wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile Or tiptoe cross the chasm with a song and a smile Well I got up this morning I don't need to know no more It evaporated nightmares that had boiled the night before With every new day's dawning my kid climbs in my bed And tells the cynics of the board room your language is dead And as I wander with my music through the jungles of despair My kid will learn guitar and find his street corner somewhere There he'll make the silence listen to the dream behind the voice And show his minstrel Hamlet daddy that there only was one choice Strum your guitar sing it kid Just write about your feelings not the things you never did Inexperience it once had cursed me But your youth is no handicap it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid Strum your guitar sing it kid Just write about your feelings not the things you never did Dance Band...

(submitted by Lionhead Bookends via The Soundtrack thread)

[nolaroleplay]

✧ NAME: Talan Zaretti ✧ AGE: 28 ✧ BIRTHDAY: April 15,1989. ✧ GENDER: Male ✧ LOCATION: French Quarter ✧ TIME IN NOLA: About 9 years ✧ OCCUPATION: Manager at Jester’s Ink/Aspiring Architect Apprentice

Mun Note: It’s disheartening I have to put this little note on my character’s bios, however, I’ve unfortunately had them stolen from me too many times now. I don’t want to have to do so, but you will be confronted again if it continues. Thanks!

TW: alcohol, substance mentions

Born to a young teenage couple who knew they were nowhere ready for raising a child in San Antonio, Texas, Talan was put up for adoption. Almost immediately, the bright, bouncing baby boy was taken in by a couple who were unable to have children. He gained an Air Force pilot training instructor for a father and a Texas oil company heiress for a mother. They loved him to pieces, and specifically, his father named him after the Talon planes he’d been known to fly. He didn’t understand the concept of being adopted until his middle years when his parents really mentioned it but in actuality, he didn’t care, he couldn’t see himself as a son to anyone else, and why care if his birth parents didn’t want him or attempt to reach out at all? Even though he could himself, he didn’t have much of a desire to do so.

Luckily, his father had been stationed at a base for his training job so the family wasn’t required to move around, he and his mother both held jobs that constantly required them to be away for hours upon hours. However, they remained determined to be good parents, as often as Talan spent with babysitters and at daycare growing up. He didn’t ever seem to mind though, always happily bringing and showing off the various airplane toys his father would buy for him. Surprisingly enough, he got into the arts and crafts while there as well, his caretakers always praising his art and the talent he truly seemed to posses, but the young boy always shot it down, as he was insistent on becoming an air force pilot just like the adopted father he looked up to.

But when graduating high school, of course he joined the air force as intended, the training was rigorous and difficult, but he loved every minute. In the back of the mind, he’d make his family proud, especially his father. But that all came crashing down right before his eyes, before his training ended, and his big dreams of being the next Top Gun were put to a halt. During one of his final medical examinations, the doctors discovered he actually had HCM. Although it is a condition that is certainly treatable and livable, the diagnosis was a diagnosis and couldn’t be risked out on the front line if called to duty. His chance of a military career was over. Talan was completely crushed, ashamed and angry as it had been all he thought he’d ever wanted to make a living. Even more since the condition could be genetic, it made him despite his biological parents even more, whoever they were. As if that wasn’t enough, while getting things under control, a current relationship crumbling, while Talan ended up distancing himself from friends and family even further, needing the space, a completely new change. Acting on one of his habitual spontaneous impulses, he eventually hopped on the next bus away from San Antonio, sure this was what he needed.

Turning again to alcohol and substance, not wanting to stoop to ask his parents for any help, Talan began conning his way through stop to stop in order to get back. He essentially had no sense of purposely, and quite frankly, couldn’t find it in himself to care either. At a casino at a specific tourist stop, getting tangled up within a high stakes betting game, he nearly got himself caught. He made an instant break away, managing to escape, getting himself on another bus, having no idea exactly where it was headed. All he knew was that when morning broke the next day, he found himself in New Orleans, Louisiana. Surrounded by the electric, lively atmosphere the place instantly gave off, Talan had a feeling he wasn’t going to be leaving for a while. A while eventually became an understatement.

Although as he got himself settled, immersed easily, Talan found himself caught up with the wrong group of toxic people he thought he could consider friends. It was until a near scare of the excess partying building up night after night, he found himself in the hospital, having almost lost himself entirely due to a near OD. In truth, he’d never felt more alone in his life. But not being in his nature, to let things get him down for long, he kept going, continuing to find some semblance of a purpose.

Aimlessly doing some street art graffiti one day, he became discovered by a local manager of prominent city tattoo parlor, who’d ask him to come in and do some trial work, show what he was made of. His creative skills seemed to come back and as a result, the manager took Talan under his wing and he became a steady employee of Jester’s Ink. And when the manager had to leave town for what was presumed to be for good, Talan was left in charge, leaving the shop and the Bourbon street apartment above to him. Discovering the military would cover classes cost, he began some in the study of architectural design additionally. Although Talan thinking he wouldn’t be good enough to go through with it entirely, he put the classes on hold, yet still finds himself going into the topic design books occasionally to work free-lance, but only for himself. Nevertheless, he had a more stable balance to his life in the midst of everything he began taking up, thanks primarily to the tattoo shop opportunity.

Old habits do die hard, but even now with a potential solid romance developing on the horizon with local cop, Ava Sawyer, Talan seems to be distracted with positive things he needed for a while. He still has his fun, but letting things get the best of him would be an even worse mistake than before. He’s made substantial progress, even if he doesn’t necessarily realize it first-hand.

Talan possess a natural affinity for spontaneity, with witty charisma that has no doubt aided him in taking the easy streets in life and usually connecting with others fairly easily. Although never really afraid to speak his mind, it can tend to get him into trouble. With the vibes he gives off of, people don’t really understand all that he’s been through. It takes a certain kind of person to gain his complete undivided attention and trust to be able to do so and get him to open up in that way. What tends to surprise others is that when and if someone takes the opportunity to really understand who he is as a person beneath the primarily care-free surface, is that he does put his mind to a goal, and he does work hard at it with determined intent. It’s just a matter of reaching the heights of personal success without pretense.

TALAN’S FACECLAIM IS NICO TORTORELLA AND IS PORTRAYED BY LIZ.

[wittybitchesmag]

New Post has been published on https://www.wittybitches.com/2017/01/the-science-of-cute/

The Science of Cute

On 14 April 2016, a 6.2 magnitude earthquake hit Japan’s southernmost island of Kyushu, toppling buildings and sending residents rushing into the streets. Hundreds of aftershocks – one an even stronger 7.0 quake – continued for days, killing 49 people, injuring 1,500 and forcing tens of thousands from their homes. 

News spread immediately around the globe on social media.

“Earthquake just happened,” Margie Tam posted from Hong Kong. “R u ok kumamon?”

“Are Kumamon and his friends safe?” wondered Eric Tang, a college student.

“Pray for Kumamoto & Kumamon,” wrote Ming Jang Lee from Thailand, a phrase that would be repeated thousands of times.

Kumamoto is a city of 700,000 in a largely agricultural province in southwestern Japan.

But what, or more precisely who, is Kumamon? And why in the wake of an immense natural disaster did concern for earthquake victims focus on him, specifically?

That’s a bit more complicated.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

It is 12 March 2016, one month before the earthquake. Kumamon bounds onto an outdoor stage at the opening event of his birthday party in Kumamoto. About 150 guests – mostly women – cheer, clap and whistle.

What makes something so irresistibly cute that you need to touch, cuddle or play with it?

Kumamon waves and bows. He is about 1.5 metres tall, with black glossy fur, circular red cheeks and wide, staring eyes. He’s dressed for the occasion in a white satin dinner jacket trimmed in silver and a red bow tie.

One woman in the crowd holds a Kumamon doll swaddled in a baby blanket. Another has dressed her doll in a grey outfit matching her own. She says it took her a month to sew. A number of fans have pasted red paper circles on their cheeks to mimic his. Those in the first row arrived at 3am to snag their prime spots to greet the object of their intense though difficult-to-explain affection.

“Actually, I have no idea why I love him so much,” says Milkinikio Mew, who flew from Hong Kong with friends Lina Tong and Alsace Choi to attend the three-day-long festival, even though Hong Kong is holding its own birthday party for Kumamon. She slept in, showing up at 6am for the 10am kick-off, so had to settle for a seat in the last row.

Kumamon is… well, he’s not exactly a cartoon character, though he does appear in a daily newspaper comic strip. He’s not a brand icon either, like Hello Kitty, though like her, he does not speak and, also like her, his image certainly moves merchandise.

He’s not sexy, but when the Empress Michiko met Kumamon – at her request – during the imperial couple’s visit to Kumamoto in 2013, she asked him, “Are you single?”

But what is Kumamon? Well, he’s sort of a…

But first, the big moment is here. A birthday cake is rolled out, and the crowd sings ‘Happy Birthday’. Then presents. A representative from Honda, which has a motorbike factory nearby, gives him its Kumamon-themed scooter. An Italian bicycle maker unveils a custom Kumamon racing cycle. Plus a new exercise DVD, on which Kumamon leads the workout.

More than 100,000 products feature Kumamon’s image, from stickers and notebooks to cars and aeroplanes

The Italian bicycle is not for sale, yet. But the other two items are, joining the more than 100,000 products that feature Kumamon’s image, from stickers and notebooks to cars and aeroplanes (a budget Japanese airline flies a Kumamon 737). When Steiff offered 1,500 special edition Kumamon plush toys at $300 each, they sold out online in five seconds according to the German toymaker. Last year Leica created a $3,300 Kumamon camera, a bargain compared to the solid gold statue of Kumamon crafted by a Tokyo jeweller, which retails for $1 million.

So what is he then? Kumamon is a yuru-kyara, or ‘loose character’, one of the cuddly creatures in Japan that represent everything from towns and cities to airports and prisons. The word is sometimes translated as ‘mascot’, but yuru-kyara are significantly different from mascots in the West, such as those associated with professional sports teams, which tend to be benign, prankish one-dimensional court jesters that operate in the narrow realm of the sidelines during game time.

Kumamon has a far wider field of operation as the yuru-kyara for Kumamoto Prefecture (a prefecture is like a state in the USA or a county in England). He has become more than a symbol for that region, more than merely a strategy to push its tourism and farm products. He is almost regarded as a living entity, a kind of funky ursine household god (it is perhaps significant that the very first licensed Kumamon product was a full-sized Buddhist shrine emblazoned with his face). He hovers in a realm of fantasy like a character from children’s literature, a cross between the Cat in the Hat and a teddy bear.

Image courtesy of © Kumamoto Prefectural Government

Kumamon has personality. “Cute and naughty,” Tam explains, later, when I ask what about Kumamon made her care about him enough to be concerned immediately after the earthquake.

She wasn’t alone. After the April quake, Kumamon’s Twitter feed, which has nearly half a million followers and is typically updated at least three times a day, stopped issuing communications. With a thousand buildings damaged, water to the city cut, a hospital jarred off its foundations, and 44,000 people out of their homes, the prefectural government, which handles Kumamon’s business dealings and appearances, had more important things to do than stage-manage its fictive bear.

But Kumamon was missed.

“People are asking why Kumamon’s Twitter account has gone silent when the prefecture needs its mascot bear more than ever,” the Japan Times noted on its Facebook page on 19 April.

Into the vacuum came hundreds, then thousands of drawings, posted by everyone from children to professional manga artists, not only from Japan, but from Thailand, Hong Kong, China. They waged an impromptu campaign of drumming up support for earthquake relief using the bear, which stood in for the city itself and its people. Kumamon was depicted leading the rescue efforts, his head bandaged, lifting stones to rebuild the tumbled walls of Kumamoto Castle, propping up tottering foundations, enfolding children in his arms.

“Ganbatte Kumamon!” many wrote, using a term that means something between ‘don’t give up’ and ‘do your best’.

What is happening here? Kumamon is kawaii – the word is translated as ‘cute’, but it has broad, multi-layered meanings, covering a range of sweetly alluring images and behaviours. Not only does kawaii encompass the army of Japanese mascots, but a world of fashion that has adult women dressing as schoolgirls and schoolgirls dressing as goth heroines or Lolita seductresses, giving rise to ero-kawaii, or erotic kawaii, a mash-up of cute and sexy.

We eagerly spend fortunes on cute avatars – Kumamon earned $1 billion in 2015, Hello Kitty four or five times that – without ever wondering: What is cute? What about it causes us to open our wallets and our hearts? Is appreciation for cuteness hardwired in human beings? What does it say about our society? Is what it says good or, possibly, could cuteness harbour darker facets as well? These are questions being mulled over by a potential new academic field, ‘cute studies’.

And where do our concepts of cuteness originate? That one is easy. The primal source of all things cute is found in every country, in every city and town, every neighbourhood and close to every block in the world. You may have the template for all the cuteness in the world right in the next room and not even realise it.

Soma Fugaki’s dark eyes sparkle as he scans the opening night crowd at Blossom Blast, a feminist art show at the UltraSuperNew Gallery in Tokyo’s hip Harajuku district. Drinks are poured, music pulses. But Soma doesn’t dance or even stand. He’s a baby. Just five months old, Soma squirms in the arms of his father, Keigo, who gazes lovingly into his son’s face.

“Everything about him is a reflection of myself,” Keigo says, “a cartoon version… That has to do with how much I think he’s cute. I stare at him all the time. He looks like me. It’s my features, but exaggerated: bigger cheeks, bigger eyes.”

Babies are our model for cuteness. Those last two details – big cheeks, big eyes – are straight out of Konrad Lorenz’s Kindchenschema, or ‘baby schema’, as defined in the Nobel Prize-winning scientist’s 1943 paper on the ‘innate releasing mechanisms’ that prompt affection and nurture in human beings: fat cheeks, large eyes set low on the face, a high forehead, a small nose and jaw, and stubby arms and legs that move in a clumsy fashion. And it doesn’t just apply to humans: puppies, baby ducks and other young animals are covered by Lorenz’s theory.

Lorenz’s paper is the ur-document of cute studies, but did not produce an immediate reaction among the scientific community. He was a Nazi psychologist writing during wartime, exploring their loathsome eugenic theories – a reminder that the shiny face of cuteness invariably conceals a thornier side.

For decades, scientists focused on what babies perceive, what they think. But in the 21st century, attention turned to how babies themselves are perceived, as cuteness started taking its first wobbly steps toward becoming a cohesive realm of research.

 Seeing cute creatures stimulates the brain’s pleasure centre

Experiments have demonstrated that viewing cute faces improves concentration and hones fine motor skills – useful modifications for handling an infant. A pair of Yale studies suggest that when people say they want to ‘eat up’ babies, it’s prompted by overwhelming emotions – caused, one researcher has speculated, by frustration at not being able to care for the cute thing, channelled into aggressiveness.

These emotions are triggered chemically, deep within the brain. Experiments hooking up volunteers to magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) scanners have shown how seeing cute creatures stimulates the brain’s pleasure centre, the nucleus accumbens, causing a release of dopamine, in a way similar to what happens when eating chocolate or having sex.

Women appear to feel this reaction more strongly than men. While biologically this is explained by the need to care for infants, society’s larger embrace of cuteness has led academics in gender studies to wonder whether cute culture is the sugar pill that sexism comes in – training women to be childlike – or whether it could instead be a form of empowerment in which young women take control of their own sexuality.

More recent experiments have tried to separate cuteness from its biological roots to see if there are general aesthetic standards that can make an inanimate object ‘cute’.

In a study at the University of Michigan in 2012, visual information expert Sookyung Cho asked subjects “to design a cute rectangle by adjusting the size, proportion, roundness, rotation, and color of the figure”.

What she found supported the idea that “smallness, roundness, tiltedness, and lightness of color can serve as determinants of perceived cuteness in artifact design”. It mattered, she found, whether the person designing the rectangle was in the USA or South Korea. Cuteness is nothing if not culturally specific, and that itself has become a rich focus of inquiry.

Cuteness is so associated with Japan that the actual country – mile after mile of unadorned concrete buildings alternating with rolling green fields and periodic densely packed cities – can come as something of a surprise. The Tokyo subway is jammed with hurrying businessmen in dark suits, rushing women in paper masks, racing kids in plain school uniforms. Cute characters such as Kumamon can be hard to spot, and to expect otherwise is like going to America and expecting everyone to be a cowboy.

Still, there are pockets of cuteness to be found: tiny yuru-kyara charms dangling off backpacks or peeking from posters or construction barriers in the form of baby ducks.

But not everywhere – not even in most places.

Even in Kumamoto during Kumamon’s birthday weekend. Exit from the Shinkansen bullet train at Kumamoto station and there is nothing special on the platform, not so much as a banner – not until you take the escalator down and catch a glimpse of the enormous head of Kumamon set up downstairs, along with a mock stationmaster’s office built for him. The train station shop is filled with Kumamon items, from bottles of sake to stuffed animals including, somewhat disturbingly, a plush set that pairs him with Hello Kitty, the wide-eyed bear directly behind the kneeling kitty in such a way as to suggest… well, you wonder if it’s deliberate.

In the city, his face is spread across the sides of an office building, with birthday banners hanging from the semi-enclosed shopping arcades that are a feature of every Japanese city.

Six years ago, Kumamoto wasn’t known for much. There is an active volcano, Mt Aso, nearby, and a 1960s reproduction of a dramatic 1600s-era castle that burned down in 1877. Kumamoto residents believed there was nothing in their city that anyone would want to visit. The region is largely agricultural, growing melons and strawberries.

But in 2010, Japan Railways was working to extend the Shinkansen bullet train to Kumamoto, and the city fathers were eager for tourists to use it. So they commissioned a logo to promote the area, hiring a designer who offered a stylised exclamation point (their official slogan, ‘Kumamoto Surprise’, was a bright spin on the fact that many Japanese would be surprised to find anything in Kumamoto worth seeing).

The exclamation point logo was a red blotch, resembling the sole of a shoe. The designer, seeking to embellish it, and knowing the popularity of yuru-kyara, added a surprised black bear. Kuma is Japanese for bear. Mon is local slang for ‘man’.

Paired with a mischievous personality – Mew calls him “very naughty” – Kumamon made headlines after Kumamoto held a press conference to report that he was missing from his post, having run off to Osaka to urge residents there to take the train. The stunt worked. Kumamon was voted the most popular yuru-kyara in 2011. (Japan has a national contest, the Yuru-kyara Grand Prix, held in November. The most recent one was attended by 1,727 different mascots and nearly 77,000 spectators. Millions of votes were cast.)

A few Kumamoto officials resisted Kumamon – their concern was he would scare off potential tourists, who’d worry about encountering wild bears, of which there are none in the prefecture. But the Kumamoto governor was a fan and cannily waived licensing fees for Kumamon, encouraging manufacturers to use him royalty-free.

Rather than pay up front, in order to get approval to use the bear’s image, companies are required to support Kumamoto, either by using locally manufactured parts or ingredients or by promoting the area on their packaging. It’s as if Mickey Mouse were continually hawking California oranges.

The side of the box of the Tamiya radio-controlled ‘Kumamon Version Buggy’, for instance, has photos of the region’s top tourist destinations. In one of the songs on the exercise DVD released on Kumamon’s birthday, as he leads his fans through their exertions, they grunt, “Toh-MAY-toes… straw-BEAR-ies… wah-TER-melons” – all agricultural products that are specialties of Kumamoto. Go into a grocery store and Kumamon smiles from every punnet of strawberries and honeydew wrapper.

There is a tacit agreement to never allude to anything as crass as him being a man in a bear suit

The bullet train began service to Kumamoto on 12 March, so that date is now used as Kumamon’s official birthday. He was there to greet the first scheduled train, a moment recreated during his birthday fest.

Fans line up to hug him, often reaching back for a lingering last touch as they’re led off to make way for the next waiting fan. There is a tacit agreement to never allude to anything as crass as him being a man in a bear suit, to, if not accept Kumamon’s reality, pretend that he exists.

In 2014, Kumamon gave a news conference at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan, where his title was given as ‘Director of PR’. The journalists posed respectful questions. “How many staff do you have to help you out with your activities?” one asked. The answer – “We have about 20 staff members in our section” – was delivered by one of those subordinates, Masataka Naruo, who enjoys telling people that Kumamon is his boss.

Shopping in Kumamoto the day before the start of the celebration, Mew and her friends wear Kumamon T-shirts and carry Kumamon backpacks. The three women show their discoveries to each other. They own a lot of Kumamon products already. Why buy more? What makes Kumamon so special? “Because he’s very cute,” says Tong, in English.

Being cute isn’t always enough, however.

For every Kumamon, for every popular yuru-kyara, there are a hundred Harajuku Miccolos. A five-foot-tall yellow-and-brown bee, Harajuku Miccolo stands on the pavement, celebrating Honey Bee Day by finishing up three hours of loitering in front of the Colombin Bakery and Café, greeting passers-by – or trying to. Most barely glance in his direction and do not break stride, though some do come over and happily pose for the inevitable picture. There is no line.

Harajuku Miccolo is cute yet obscure, the common fate for most yuru-kyara. The city of Osaka has 45 different characters promoting its various aspects, who must fend off periodic calls for them to be culled in the name of efficiency; one administrator piteously argued that the government officials who create these characters work hard on them and so would feel bad if they were discontinued.

Harajuku Miccolo is trying to avoid that fate.

“He is not a success yet,” admits one of his handlers, distributing cubes of the café’s trademark honey cake. “Many are not as successful…”

“…as Kumamon?”

“We’re trying…”

Nobody is cute in Shakespeare. The word did not exist until the early 1700s, when the ‘a’ in ‘acute’ was replaced by an apostrophe – ’cute – and then dropped altogether, the sort of truncation for which frenetic Americans in their restive colonies were already notorious.

‘Acute’ came from acus, Latin for needle, later denoting pointed things. So ‘cute’ at first meant “acute, clever, keen-witted, sharp, shrewd” according to the 1933 edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, which doesn’t suggest the term could describe visual appearance. This older, ‘clever’ meaning lingers in expressions like “don’t be cute”.

The newer usage was still being resisted in Britain in the mid-1930s, when a correspondent at the Daily Telegraph included ‘cute’ on his list of “bastard American expressions”, along with ‘OK’ and ‘radio’. Not only is ‘cute’ unknown before 1700, but Lorenz’s Kindchenschema is largely absent from visual arts before the 20th century. Even babies in medieval artworks are depicted as wizened miniature adults.

Cute images of the kind we’ve become accustomed to began showing up around 1900. While purists fussed, popular culture was discovering the bottomless marketability of cute things. In 1909, Rose O’Neill drew a comic strip about ‘kewpies’ (taken from ‘cupid’) – preening babylike creatures with tiny wings and huge heads, which were soon being handed out as carnival prizes and capering around Jell-O ads (to this day, Kewpie Mayonnaise, introduced in 1925, is the top-selling brand in Japan). Cuteness and modern commercialisation are intricately linked.

Still, kewpies followed the lines of actual human anatomy more or less, the way that Mickey Mouse resembled a real mouse when he first appeared on film in 1928. A half a century of fine-tuning made him much more infantile, a process naturalist Stephen Jay Gould famously described in his ‘biological homage’ to Mickey. Gouldobserved that the mischievous and sometimes violent mouse of the late 1920s morphed into the benign, bland overseer of a vast corporate empire.

Today, about $5 billion worth of Hello Kitty merchandise is sold annually

“He has assumed an ever more childlike appearance as the ratty character of Steamboat Willie became the cute and inoffensive host to a magic kingdom,” Gould writes.

In Japan, the national fascination with cuteness is traced to girls’ handwriting. Around 1970 schoolgirls in Japan began to imitate the caption text in manga comics – what was called koneko-ji, or ‘kitten writing’. By 1985, half of the girls in Japan had adopted the style, and companies marketing pencils, notebooks and other inexpensive gift items, like Sanrio, learned that these items sold better when festooned with a variety of characters, the queen of whom is Hello Kitty.

Her full name is Kitty White, and she has a family and lives in London (a fad for all things British hit Japan in the mid-1970s).

The first Hello Kitty product, a vinyl coin purse, went on sale in 1974. Today, about $5 billion worth of Hello Kitty merchandise is sold annually. In Asia, there are Hello Kitty amusement parks, restaurants and hotel suites. EVA Air, the Taiwanese airline, flies seven Hello Kitty-themed jets, which carry images of Hello Kitty and her friends not only on their hulls, but throughout their cabins, from the pillows and antimacassars to, in the bathroom, toilet paper emblazoned with Hello Kitty’s face, a detail which an observer does not need to hold a doctorate in psychology to wonder about.

“If your target is young women, it’s saturated,” says Hiroshi Nittono, Director of the Cognitive Psychophysiology Laboratory at Osaka University, talking about the market for cute products in Japan. That is certainly true. In an effort to stand out, some yuru-kyara are now made intentionally crude or semi-frightening. There is the whole realm of kimo-kawaii, or ‘gross-cute’, epitomised by Gloomy, a cuddly bear whose claws are red with the blood of his owner, whom he habitually mauls. Even Kumamon, beloved as he is, is still subject to a popular internet meme where his works are revealed to be done “For the Glory of Satan”.

 Exploring the subculture known for doll-like make-up, bonnets and petticoats.

Because the practice of putting characters on products is so prevalent, and subject to resistance, Nittono, a placid, smiling man who wears an ascot, has been working with the government on developing products that are intrinsically cute. He asks to meet, not at his apartment or at an academic office, but at the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry in Hiroshima, where he is finishing up an academic post.

For the past few years, Nittono and the government have been collaborating to develop cute items, a few of which are laid out on a table: a squat make-up brush, a bowl, a brazier, a few medallions and tiles. Given the mind-boggling array of cute merchandise available at shops in every mall around the world, it is not an overwhelming display of the ingenious synthesis of academe and government.

Nittono’s group is exploring how cuteness can be used as a device to draw people toward products without blatant branding.

“We use kawaii for such sentiment, feeling – kawaii things are not threatening, that is the most important part, small and not harmful,” says Nittono. “A high-quality product is somewhat distant from the customers; it looks expensive. But if you put kawaii nuance on such products, maybe such items can be more approachable.”

“If you have something cute, then you want to touch it, and then you see the quality of it,” adds Youji Yamashita, a ministry official.

Objects can also be unintentionally kawaii. With her husband Makoto, Date Tomito owns Bar Pretty, a tiny side-street tavern in Hiroshima. Six people would be crowded sitting at the bar. Makoto comes in from the market bearing a small plant in a yellow pot, a present for his wife.

“This is kawaii,” Date says, holding the plant up, elaborating. “There are lots of different meanings for kawaii: ‘cute’, ‘small’, ‘clumsy’. Some things just have a cute shape.”

She stresses something about kawaii: “It’s never bad,” she says. “I never use kawaii in an ironic way. Kawaii is kind of the best compliment around Japanese people, especially girls and women. They really like kawaii stuff and things.”

Single women in their 30s are sometimes referred to as ‘leftover Christmas cake’

Perhaps not all women. Just as Barbie’s measurements have drawn critique from feminists and scholars, so Hello Kitty has caught the interest of academics, especially in Japan, where the progress of women has lagged far behind other industrial nations. With girlishness a national obsession – Japan did not ban possession of child pornography until 2014 – and its most popular female icon lacking a mouth, if cuteness does become a separate academic field, then much credit has to be given to the feminist pushback against what Hiroto Murasawa of Osaka Shoin Women’s University calls “a mentality that breeds non-assertion”.

At the UltraSuperNew Gallery opening attended by Soma and his father, guests watch a woman in a frilly white miniskirt draped in white feathers with fuzzy leggings and an enormous yarn bow atop her head, her face painted white with a red flower on each cheek and blue dots running down her nose. She kneels in the gallery window, dabbing at a teal and yellow painting that closely resembles finger-painting writ large.

Her professional name is Gerutama, and she insists that, despite appearances, she is definitely not kawaii. She is a ‘live painter’. Some Japanese of both sexes reject kawaii – ‘fake’ is a word often used. But they are in the minority. Japanese women still live in a culture where single women in their 30s are sometimes referred to as ‘leftover Christmas cake’, meaning that after the 25th – of December for cake, birthday for women – they are past their expiration date and hard to get rid of. Nobody wants either.

Those surgical masks worn in public? Yes, to avoid colds, pollution and allergies. But ask Japanese women, and many will say that they wear them date masuku – ‘just for show’. Because they didn’t have time to put on their make-up, or because they don’t consider themselves cute enough, and they want a shield against the intrusive eyes of their crowded world. In a German study of 270,000 people in 22 countries, Japanese people came last in being pleased with how they look. More than a third of the country, 38 per cent, said they were “not at all satisfied” or “not very satisfied” with their personal appearance.

“Kawaii is sickening,” says gallery-goer Stefhen Bryan, a Jamaican writer who lived for a decade in Japan and married a Japanese woman. “Kawaii is especially babylike. If a woman acts like an adult in Japan, it’s an offence. Their self-esteem is nothing in this country. It’s all under the aegis of culture. It’s low self-esteem en masse.”

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Joshua Paul Dale pauses to remove his shoes at the entrance to his large – well, large for Tokyo – light-filled apartment in the Sendagaya section of the city. Dale, 50, a cultural studies scholar on the faculty at Tokyo Gakugei University, is the driving force for the creation of cute studies.

Neil Steinberg explores why, for certain robots, cuteness has its advantages.

Part behavioural science, part cultural studies, part biology, the field is so new it hasn’t had a conference yet.

Dale was the first to assemble academic papers into an online cute studies bibliography, a list now containing over 100 publications, in alphabetical order from C Abidin’s ‘Agentic cute (^.^): pastiching East Asian cute in Influencer commerce’ in the East Asian Journal of Popular Culture to Leslie Zebrowitz et al.’s ‘Baby talk to the babyfaced’ in the Journal of Nonverbal Behavior.

Dale’s latest step has been to edit the East Asian Journal of Popular Culture’s special cuteness issue, published in April 2016. “The articles collected in this issue demonstrate the flexibility of cuteness as an analytical category, and the wide scope of the insights it generates,” he states in the introduction.

One inspiration is ‘porn studies’, now with its own quarterly

Cuteness has not yet emerged as an independent scientific field – Dale estimates that only a few dozen academics worldwide focus on the topic – but he’s hopeful that it is in the process of happening. Dale says one inspiration is ‘porn studies’, now with its own quarterly, created after academics united to focus on a topic they felt cultural researchers were neglecting out of misplaced squeamishness. A distinct field encourages exploration.

Hiroshi Nittono contributed to the East Asian Journal’s special issue. Nittono, who authored the first peer-reviewed scientific paper with ‘kawaii’ in its title, postulates a “two-layer model” of cuteness: not only does it encourage parental care of newborns, first, but once a baby moves into toddlerhood and begins interacting with the world, cuteness then promotes socialisation, a pattern Dale sees reflected in the aborning field.

“It’s interesting because it’s inherent in the concept itself,” Dale says. “Cute things relate easily to other things. It kind of breaks down the barriers a little bit between self and other, or subject and object. That means it invites work from various fields. It’s interesting to get people together from different fields talking about the same subject.”

Not that you need an academic conference to do that. Japan has uniquely embraced cuteness as a reflection of its national character, the way tea ceremonies or cherry blossoms were once held up as symbolic of Japanese nationhood. In 2009, the government appointed a trio of ‘cute ambassadors’, three women in ribbons and babydoll dresses whose task was to represent the country abroad.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Humanity has always embraced household gods: not the world-creating universal deity, but minor, more personal allies to soften what can be a harsh and lonely life. Not everyone has the friends they deserve or the baby they’d cherish. Often people of both sexes are alone in the world.

Teddy bears exist because the night is dark and long and at some point your parents have to go to bed and leave you. There is real comfort in cuteness.

“Filling in an emotional need is exactly where kawaii plays a significant role,” writes Christine R Yano, a professor of anthropology at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and the author of Pink Globalization: Hello Kitty’s trek across the Pacific.

“Even in America, journalist Nicholas Kristof has written of an ‘empathy gap’ in today’s society,” states Yano. “He points to the place of objects that may be considered promoters of ‘happiness’, ‘solace’, ‘comfort’. When a society needs to heal, it seeks comfort in the familiar. And often the familiar may reside in ‘cute’. Witness the use of teddy bears as sources of comfort for firefighters in the wake of NYC’s 9-11. So I see kawaii things as holding the potential as empathy generators.”

Kumamon is a power station of empathy generation. In the weeks after the Kumamoto earthquake, Kumamon was so necessary that in his absence his fans simply conjured him up themselves, independently, as an object of sympathy, a tireless saviour, an obvious hero.

Three weeks after the 14 April earthquake, Kumamon visited the convention hall of the hard-hit town of Mashiki, where residents were still sleeping in their cars for protection as 1,200 tremors continued to rumble across the area. The visit was reported on TV and in the papers as news, as if a long-sought survivor had stumbled out of the wreckage alive.

The children, many of whom had lost their homes in the earthquake, flocked around him, squealing, hugging, taking pictures. Their friend had returned.

This article first appeared on Mosaic and is republished here under a Creative Commons licence.

Featured image: Pixabay/WB Mag